Mountain Man Snatch

by Quinn Peachwood

  My skin cools as he lifts his palm away. And immediately sears as he brings it down on my left cheek. This time I don’t get to savor the burn.

  His hand lifts and comes down again and again. The slaps land on one cheek and then the other and sometimes across both so that the resounding sound of my wetness filling his palm echoes around the room.

  My fingers gouge into the plastic sofa and Grayn’s forearm slides under my ribs to support me as my spanking continues. His hand is so close, grazing the underside of my right breast. It screams for attention and I buck wildly in an attempt to fit it into the cup of his palm.

  I need him squeezing and mangling that flesh in tandem with his slaps to my ass.

  The more I writhe, the faster and harder the slaps rain down. Grayn must assume I’m trying to wriggle out of his hold rather than encouraging him to intensify it. He could take me now. He could spread me apart and slide his cock into me.

  I have no doubt that it’s enormous, having sneaked a peek over my shoulder at the bulge almost ripping his jeans apart.

  His need for me is as gigantic as mine for him. I’m so wet his girth would slip right in, filling me and stretching me to deep satisfaction. I give another arch of encouragement and a welp of pleasure pain escapes my lips.

  Grayn’s hand comes down with a last resounding slap and then rests there covering my ass, his knuckles nestling my crevasse and the heat from my livid skin percolating into his palm.

  We’re both panting with heavy desire. Please. I want to beg him but I won’t, even though my hunger for him is filling me to the max. Please.

  His hoarse breathing slows a little. His arm shifts and slides across my belly. His hands move to my hips, presumably to get me into the right position. But then they slide down the outside of my thighs, sending more sparkles of lust up into my core.

  I need his length inside me more than I need to inhale.

  “Loulou.” I whimper. My attempt to get him to come closer by giving him what he wanted - my name.

  But he appears to have lost interest. He hooks his fingers into my underwear and drags them back up my legs. He’s man enough to settle them into position, not all bunched up, before following up with the leggings.

  “There now.” He grunts. “That should give you an indication of who’s boss in this house.”

  “What?”

  My disappointment, mixed up with pent up desire, outrage, and the heat emanating from my butt cheeks is more than I can control.

  “That’s it?”

  Grayn’s gaze flies to mine with a questioning look. He seems confused about where we are in this little game of cat and mouse. I’m enraged.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” I shout.

  “Outside to the left and down the hill some.”

  “Are you kidding me? There’s no indoor plumbing?”

  “No bath either.”

  As I storm out of the house, I make my frustration felt by stamping on the wooden floor as loud as possible. Grayn responds to my childishness with a triumphant husky chuckle.

  I hate him.

  4

  Grayn

  Loulou.

  Kind of an odd name but it’s cute and it suits her somehow. Her dark red hair grows more fiery when her temper rises and she rocks a dusting of freckles across the rosebud complexion. I like it.

  And I like her. Even more than I figured on liking her when I first saw her.

  It took every ounce of self control I possess not to toe her feet wide apart and slide the full length of my shaft into her heat. I could feel how much she wanted it. Or could I?

  I felt our chemistry the moment I set eyes on her in the street but bringing her here didn’t quite work out as I envisaged. She’s nowhere near content with her surroundings.

  Or me.

  Have I staked a claim on her with the spanking? I can’t be sure but one thing I am sure of is that my cock is still rock hard in my pants and enraged at not being unleashed. Blood rushes through my veins, pressing too violently in each artery.

  I want her that bad.

  Wait, how long have I been sitting here reliving the last five minutes. Her splendid heart-shaped ass tipped up to receive my spanking with a special kind of keenness. Her little pants and whimpers that I longed to extend, as I pounded into her and brought about her screaming my name.

  I got lost in my fantasies and she’s been gone way too long.

  Where is she?

  I dash out onto the porch where the old man is sitting with his glass of hooch in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

  “Have you seen Loulou?” I ask him.

  He inhales a long drag before replying.

  “Who dat?”

  “The girl of course, who else?”

  “She came out of the privy a while back. Headed down the trail.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I yell.

  “I thought you had your woman under control.” He says with a smug grin. Anything to get the upper hand.

  I take off running, down the track toward the outhouse.

  “This bride of yours ain’t working out too well so far.” The old man shouts after me.

  Loulou can’t have gotten too far. It’s only been fifteen minutes or so - I think.

  Time is a strange beast up here on the mountain. You lose track of it so that sometimes it’s running off without you and others it’s boring as fuck But she doesn’t have my advantage of knowing the terrain like her own palm - the same one that just took possession of her.

  I won’t give her up that easily.

  The door to the outhouse is wide open and she’s not inside or anywhere around. The land falls away in back and I notice a slide in the mud track. It looks like she headed down that way and slipped, leaving a telltale sign of her movements. I hope to hell that she didn’t go off track and end up in the cess pit.

  I dash full throttle down the hill and still I can’t see any sign of her.

  Picking up speed, my heart racing at equal tempo, I run this way and that through the trees before taking another steep run down toward the stream. I gather enough momentum as I descend to come hurtling out of the woods into the clearing and almost run headlong into Loulou sitting on a rock.

  She’s sobbing.

  The sight of her so unhappy almost breaks my chest wide open.

  But when she looks up, startled by my abrupt arrival, she brushes the tears from her cheeks with an aggressive slap. Her luscious lip sets into a firm downward crescent as though she’s biting down to halt the flow of sadness.

  I literally cannot bear it.

  I walk across and drop to my knees in front of her.

  “What is it, Baby?”

  I take her hand in both mine and she doesn’t pull away. A single rogue tear rolls down her soft cheek and I thumb it away before reclaiming her hand.

  “Tell me please.” I beg.

  “What are you going to do to me?” She croaks.

  “I’m going to take care of you and support you and make you happy.” I assure her.

  “So I’m to be a prisoner in this hell for the rest of my life?”

  “That wasn’t what I said. You’re going to be my woman. We’re going to be a team.”

  “You mean I’m going to be your maid in a place with no water to even wash my hands.”

  “Sweetheart, there’s water right there.” I indicate the stream rushing alongside us, the reason we chose to construct our hut in this location.

  “How the hell do I wash my hair in that? Where do I take a bath? I can’t even wash my hands.”

  “Is that the only thing bothering you? The facilities?” I grin at her but she’s having none of it.

  “I want to go home. Back to my life.”

  “But you’re mine now. You belong to me.”

  “I don’t even know you.”

  “You’ll get to know me. We’ll be good together.”

  “I don’t think so. And I’m not a possession, least of all yours. I hate you.�
�

  Those words are like a knife in my gut but I hold back from a response because I guess all this must be a big adjustment for Loulou.

  “Let me go. Please. I’ll do anything you want if you just let me go.”

  “I can’t do that.” I don’t want to do that. Loulou is mine.

  Her shoulders slump in defeat but I refuse to surrender. She’ll come around. I’ll make her come around. And I won’t claim her completely until she does.

  Only when she begs me will I make her mine finally.

  Dusk starts to filter through the tree canopy so I assist Loulou to her feet and lead her by the hand back up the steep track. Close to the top, she skids as her shoes have no grip.

  “I’ve got you.” I scoop her up into my arms and carry her the rest of the way back to the house - or ‘shack’ as she calls it.

  She’s so tired, or her emotions are so spent, she doesn’t resist me. Her arms go around my neck and her head rests on my shoulder.

  As we go inside the house I fire a warning glare at Denver, still on the porch. He’d better not make some smart remark. He better not try to move in on me and Loulou.

  He gets the hint and sits there, gazing straight out into the darkness. Inside the house I set Loulou down on the couch then put pans on the stove to boil. I’ll cook up some pasta and add some salted meat I hunted last season. First I go to the still and pour a shot of liquor that I feed to Loulou to enliven her.

  The booze has the reverse effect and she falls asleep, presumably because of the overwhelm of the day’s events. I let her sleep and the old man and I eat. We’re even more silent throughout the meal than usual. A sense of aggression fills the atmosphere.

  Once he’s passed out in his cot, I wake Loulou and offer her some food.

  “I’m not hungry.” She moans, turning her face away.

  “You have to eat something.”

  “I can’t. I feel sick to my stomach. I feel grungey.”

  “I have a surprise for you.” I say. I’ll do almost anything to make her feel at home.

  She doesn’t look remotely interested. When I reach out my hand to pull her up off the sofa and lead her to see what I have in store, she ignores me. It’s as though she’s sinking into a depression. This isn’t going the way I pictured at all. Not at all.

  Once again I pick her up in my arms, at the last minute deciding not to toss her over my shoulder again which seemed to incense her last time.

  I carry her bridal style in both arms, outside, down the steps and around the back of the house. I walk a couple minutes with her arms around my neck, the side of her breast mashed against my hard pectoral. to where there’s a waterfall into a small lagoon.

  But that isn’t why we’re here. I have something she’ll like even more, I hope, but this setting at the water’s edge is nice. She barely looks up, her head hangs down like she’s lost the will to continue.

  I set her down.

  “Let’s get your clothes off.” I pull her tee shirt up and that brings her back to the present.

  “Don’t touch me.” She squeaks.

  “You wanted to bathe and you’re going to.” I snap, irritated now that she doesn’t appreciate the effort I went to.

  I drag the tee up, forcing her arms overhead to get it off her. She crosses her arms over her chest.

  Apparently she’s forgotten how she edged her legs open for me a few short hours back. Now she’s all innocence and modesty personified.

  Once again I tug the leggings down her thighs and get on my knees to work them down over her feet. She kicks out at me with the raised foot and gives an almighty shove that sends me back on my butt.

  “I said don’t touch me.” She backs away, those eyes firing a battalion of rocket rounds in my direction.

  “Watch out.” I say - too late.

  She backs into the surprise I had all laid out. Her knees make contact and buckle so she tumbles backward with a huge splash into an old tin tub that I filled with water boiled on the stove.

  She surfaces, spluttering and coughing but unharmed. I’m sitting on my backside laughing my head off.

  “You think it’s funny, hillbilly?” She yawps.

  “You would too if you could see yourself.” I say through gasps. “And you’re welcome.”

  It dawns on her that she’s in actual hot water and her face softens.

  “You did this for me? Boiled water and everything?”

  “I did - while Madame took a lazy nap I made dinner and cooked you up a bath. ‘Bout time that old tin tub saw some action.”

  “You’ll go to any lengths to get my clothes off it seems.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind earlier.” I counter. “In fact I’d swear you wanted them all off.”

  “Pig.” She mutters.

  But her cheeks are flaring with a lovely red rose bloom on her milky skin. Without her tee shirt, all I can think of is how her skin looks like the most expensive cream.

  But now she lies back, resting her head on the side and luxuriating in the still warm water. I wish I had bubbles or fragrance for her but I don’t. This is a man cabin and for the first time ever I regret that.

  Her eyes are closed but every now and then, she gives a side glance in my direction, maybe satisfying herself that I’m not making a move to take advantage of her.

  Wow, some people have a hard time letting go.

  She wriggles out of her underwear under the water, making my dick spring to attention. Painfully now, since it’s been thwarted a couple of times today, it’s getting irritable.

  Her eyes again flick over to me, checking me out and I can’t read what she wants. Or what she’s thinking. She seems scared of me.

  I get up and see her flinch. That does it. I stride toward the house, leaving her there.

  “Hey, where are you going?” She calls.

  I ignore her. Let her wonder about how she’s going to shift back to the shack in the dark.

  But once inside, all I can think of is that Loulou isn’t with me. Is she okay out there? I grab a towel and head back out, certain I see relief cross her features when ahe sees me returning.

  I hold out the towel wide so she can stand and wrap without me getting a peek. It wouldn’t possibly make my dick any more engorged than it already is, so the towel comes in handy for covering that as well.

  I envelop her and help her step out. When she’s dry, I hold up the cleanest tee shirt I own, for her to put on while she rinses out her clothes in the bathwater.

  As we walk back to the house together, she looks up at the blanket of stars above us. She’s trembling a little, whether from the cooled night air or for what’s coming next I don’t know.

  I put an arm around her and pull her into my side to share my warmth and I’m grateful that she puts up no fight.

  “So -“ I ask, because it’s been on my mind constantly like a somg that won’t stop playing. “Who is Jared Splinky?”

  5

  Loulou

  I know what’s going to happen when we get back inside the house. It’s the reason Grayn plucked me off the street to bring me here - he wants a wife and he’s going to want me to perform , um ‘wifely duties’.

  I ought to be telling myself ‘triple ugh’ so why am I pulsating with anticipation?

  His arm around me is nice and warm and makes me feel safe for the first time in a long time. But that doesn’t mean I can go any further with him.

  Okay, I can go a little further and lean into his side, feeling his hard muscle ridges crush into the tender side of my breast. Needless to say my nipples go on full alert, ready and eager for more. But they’re going to be disappointed because it is not going to happen.

  Not tonight. Not ever.

  My body may be crying out to feel Grayn’s huge bulk weighing down on me, his huge hands both rough and tender all over me. But if I surrender, he’ll never let me go. And that’s my one true goal. To get the fuck out of this hillbilly hellhole.

  “Did you hear me?” He asks
in a rough tone. “Who is Jared Splinky?”

  The sound of his name on Grayn’s lips sounds all wrong. You couldn’t find two different men if you searched to the ends of the planet.

  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” I say.

  “I want to know everything about you is all.”

  “No one. Just my ex. Sort of. Back in Boston.” Where he pushes drugs to students.

  “No one. Sort of.” Grayn repeats. “Sounds like it was serious.”

  “It was but not in that way.”

  “Does he know it’s over.”

  “Yes of course.” No.

  “So you won’t be pining after him. And your life back East?”

  “Why so many questions about my ex?” I say trying to deflect the inquisition.

  “Because we’re getting to know each other.”

  “Getting to know each other is what you do on a date - that is when you invite the other person to go out and they agree.”

  “I saw agreement in your eyes the instant we connected.” Grayn says, with a finality I better not challenge. Let’s put him down as delusional.

  We enter the house and he keeps his arm around me to lead me into the bedroom. One bed - barely large enough for Grayn, low slung and covered with a grubby quilt that reminds me of dorm boys back in college.

  “What, aren’t you going to set me to do dishes, sweep the coal grate?” I snip.

  “You aren’t Cinderella.” He says. “If you don’t want to do chores, don’t do them. That’s not why you’re here.”

  I don’t dare to ask why I am here. My body has a damn good idea though.

  His gaze scoops up my lowered one and holds me trapped there. I see all the pain and loneliness in his stare and wonder whether he sees mine too, despite how I’m trying to keep it buried it deeper than treasure.

  Who am I kidding that my life was so much better than his?

  As his intense gaze burrows deeper into me, my body starts tingling all over. Sparkles like the stars outside light me up. There’s no way I can find to smother them.