Big Mountain Daddy

by B. B. Hamel

  “Bastard,” I groan. “I haven’t.”

  “You have. The way you look at me, like you need cock more than anything. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you, Mia?”

  “No,” I gasp, a little whine in my voice. “I just can’t help it.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I know you can’t.” He smirks and thrusts deep inside of me. “I want you to call me daddy,” he whispers in my ear.

  “What?” I say.

  “Call me Daddy.” He thrusts again. “You want me to fuck you, right?”

  “Yes,” I groan, begging him, feeling it all over my skin.

  “Then call me Daddy.”

  “Please, Daddy,” I gasp, mostly a moan, pleasure ringing through my body, desire washing through me.

  He gives me what I want. I knew he would. He fucks me hard, thrusting his huge cock inside of me, filling me up. He pulls my legs apart, spreading them wide, up on his shoulders. He grabs my hips and lifts me slightly into the air as he rocks into me, splitting me into pieces as pleasure washes over me.

  He holds my hips tight as he works his big cock inside me. He fucks me deep and rough, my breasts rocking. I grab onto the rug, needing to grab onto something, the pleasure too intense, mingling slightly with the pain of his enormous size. He’s everything I wanted him to be and more, my big strong mountain man.

  He pulls back out, teasing me, dropping down between my legs to suck and lick my pussy. I moan and grab his hair, and I can feel sweat starting to roll down my body as he laps at my clit, his tongue sliding inside of me.

  He moves back and grabs my hair, rolling me over, putting me onto my stomach. He presses his cock inside of me, fucking me from behind, my ass exposed to him. I’m on my elbows and flat on my stomach as I look back at him. He slaps my round ass hard enough to leave a mark and I gasp, but he doesn’t relent. He fucks me deeper, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back.

  He fucks me rough then, slamming into my tight little pussy, hair tight in his hand. I want more, so fucking badly. I move up onto my knees, ass still in the air for him to do whatever he wants with.

  “You want more?” he asks me.

  “Please, Daddy,” I say. “I want to feel it.”

  He smirks and roughly presses himself deep into me, all the way to the brim. I gasp, tossing my head back. He grabs my hair.

  “You can’t handle it all,” he says. “This tiny, tight little cunt will break all over my thick cock.”

  “I want that, Daddy,” I say. “I really want that.”

  He gives me a few rough strokes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you, little Mia.”

  “Fuck me,” I whisper. “I fucking dare you.”

  That ignites him, lights a fire even deeper inside of me. He grabs my hips and rocks into me, just the way I want. I move back against him, slamming my ass against his hips as he plunges his cock into me over and over again, not holding back. He fucks me hard, and the pleasure and pain mingle again, giving me that intense, heady high that I crave so badly with him.

  He pulls my hair, slaps my ass nice and hard, and I know I’m going to come. I can’t help myself, can’t hold back. I wish I could last all night, like he can, but he gives me exactly what I need to get there. He groans as he pulls my hair back, sensing my desire, his cock plunging in and out of my tight pussy.

  I come hard for him then, the orgasm rocking through my body. “Come on Daddy’s big cock,” he whispers in my ear, and I gasp as he grinds himself tighter, deeper. His cock fucks me harder, unrelenting, as the orgasm tears through me.

  It’s intense and my whole body feels like it’s tingling. He grunts his pleasure and I keep moving back against him, needing more and more of it. He groans and I push myself back, taking his cock deep into my pussy as he comes. I can feel him inside of me, warm and wet in my pussy, and he groans. I keep moving, taking every inch, getting every single drop inside of me.

  And when we’re done, he pulls me onto the couch next to him, arms wrapped around me. The record is still spinning, but making just a thumping noise. I don’t remember when that side stopped, maybe hours ago, I can’t tell.

  As he kisses me, I can’t help but think about the baby growing inside of me. I still haven’t told him, and I’m so afraid to do it now. It’s been too long. I’m afraid that any closeness we’ve managed to build up will be destroyed completely if I admit that I’ve been keeping this from him.

  And so I fall asleep in his arms, worrying about the future, but so content in the moment.

  16

  Ethan

  I look at her and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Oh, you asshole,” she says, but she’s smiling too.

  I nearly double over. It’s just too much. She makes a face and stomps off, but I follow her. “Hold on, okay, wait,” I say, still laughing. “It’s not that bad.”

  “I look like a freaking ‘80s workout video,” I say. “I mean, come on. Seriously? Leg warmers?”

  I gasp for air, doubled over again. She takes off one of the leg warmers and throws it at me. I let it hit me in the chest, just making me laugh even more.

  She groans and throws the other leg warmer at me. I fall over onto my side, cracking up, tears in my eyes. She comes over, laughing, and pushes at me, falling on top of me.

  “You’re an asshole,” she says as I finally control myself.

  “I know. But you look hilarious.”

  “Dick.” She knees me in the gut, not too hard, and stands up.

  I sit up and grin at her. “Come on, I’ll stop. I promise.”

  She crosses her arms. “Promise. Right now. No more comments.”

  “Fine. I promise.” I grin at her, and push back more laughter.

  She sighs, shaking her head, and gathers up her leg warmers.

  I follow her back into the living room. I have the ski equipment out in the garage already. She’s wearing a bunch of old clothing from the ‘80s, stuff I didn’t even realize I still had, shoved up in a box in my attic. I think it might be some of my mom’s stuff, clothes I never got around to throwing out and just kept lugging around with me over the years. Either way, it’s brightly colored, made of that awful swishy material, and the most ‘80s stuff in the world. But at least it’ll be warm and it fits her.

  “Come on,” I say, still smiling to myself. I get my boots on before she follows me out into the garage. Jones barks and wants to come out, but I don’t let him. “We’ll be back, Jonesy,” I say. “You can’t be outside for that long, it’s too cold.”

  He barks again and I just shut the door. Poor guy, but he’ll just sleep all day.

  “Okay,” I say, grabbing a set of skis and slinging a backpack on. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” she confirms, grabbing my old skis from when I was younger. We trudge out into the snow and around to the side of the house where I have a snowmobile parked.

  She climbs on the back behind me as I get on and turn on the engine. It starts effortlessly. I keep my snowmobiles in good shape, since they’re the only way to get around when the snow gets to a certain depth like it is right now.

  We ride out around the side of the house and start to head uphill. There are some decent slopes around here, although some of them have trees. I know a good spot where it’s not too steep where we can glide down and trudge back up a few times, just for something to do.

  It’s a five-minute ride up around the back of the house. We make pretty good time, since the snow is nice and fresh and the snowmobile gets through it easily. She clings tightly onto me as we fly through the trees, maybe afraid of how close they’re getting, but I’ve done this a thousand times. I weave my way up along the hill.

  Finally, we make it to the end of the slope we’ll go down. I park the snowmobile off to one side and climb off.

  Mia follows me. “This looks pretty good,” she says.

  “Not too big,” I agree. “We can go further down if you want.”

  She nods. It’s clearest up ahead, but if we go back the way we came, th
e trees encroach closer to the empty path.

  We trudge up the slope together. It’s slow going but eventually we make it to a good spot. I toss down my skis and she does the same, stepping into them and latching down.

  “Ready?” I ask her.

  She nods. “Is it too late to tell you that I haven’t been skiing since I was a kid?”

  “Yep!” I say, and hop forward. I start down the slope, flying in the breeze.

  I love skiing. It’s part of why I came up here. There are some even better slopes up further north, but I figured we’d stick to something easy. This one’s maybe a quarter-mile long, which is pretty decent. Mia catches up with me as I start to make my turns, cutting side by side, but she blurs past.

  “Loser!” she calls out, flying forward. I laugh and realize that she’s better at this than I thought.

  I catch up with her and we come up to the snowmobile. We both stop this time, breathing and laughing.

  “Again!” she says. “I thought this was going to be lame, but that’s actually pretty good. I just wish there were a lift.”

  “I know. Haven’t gotten around to installing one yet.”

  She grins as we take off our skis and head up the slope.

  We make the trip down a few times over the afternoon. It takes us a while to get up to the top, and the last time we make the climb, she’s a little winded.

  “Last run?” I ask her.

  She nods, looking thankful. “I’m not really in mountain-climbing shape anymore.”

  “I hear you,” I say. “Not everyone can keep up with me.”

  “You think you’re so fast?” she asks.

  “Definitely am.”

  “Okay then. Keep up with this.”

  She hops forward and starts flying down the slope. I hop and go after her, leaning forward, loving the feeling of hurtling through space, the wind whipping against me.

  As we get closer to the snowmobile, she doesn’t slow down. I grin to myself as she plummets into the more dangerous part of the slope, keeping well in the middle of the trail, but making cuts to slow her speed.

  I plunge past her, laughing and hollering as I go. She’s clearly too worried as I whiz in around the trees, cutting past them, kicking up fresh powder.

  Mia yells something, but I can’t hear her. I can’t hear anything but the thrill of the moment as I push ahead, heart beating fast.

  Suddenly, there’s a crack, and I look ahead to my right. I cut hard then, pushing against the snow, knees bent and straining, as a huge tree branch cracks off a tree and drops down inches in front of me.

  The top of the branch catches my skis and I go over. I hit the snow and slide before tumbling once or twice. I skid to a stop, maybe ten feet away.

  I stare up at the sky, blinking, as Mia stops next to me. “Holy shit, Ethan, are you okay?”

  I turn my head and nod. I don’t feel hurt at all. “The snow broke my fall,” I say, grinning.

  She’s not smiling. “You could have died,” she says. “That branch was huge. It nearly hit you.”

  “But it didn’t.” I get to my feet slowly, unlatching the one ski that I didn’t lose. The other one’s about six feet away in the snow. I trudge over to it and grab it.

  Mia takes off her skis and follows me. We head over to the broken branch and stare at it.

  She’s right, the thing’s huge. If I hadn’t turned at the last second, it would’ve fallen right on me, or at least I would’ve ran right into it. I could easily have died, or broken some bones.

  “How’d this even fall?” I ask softly.

  “I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head. She walks around to the end and looks down at it. “Check this out.”

  I follow and look down at the edge of the branch. She points and it takes me a second to realize that it looks smooth until the bottom, like someone sawed it mostly off before pushing it down.

  I stare at the branch then at Mia. She stares back at me, eyes wide.

  I grin at her. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s get back.”

  “Wait, hold on,” she says. “That branch was clearly—”

  “No,” I say, holding up a hand. “Don’t say it. That’s just too insane.”

  “But you can see it.”

  “I see a broken branch in the middle of nowhere. Covered in lots of snow. Maybe an animal gnawed at it, and the weight of the snow did the rest.”

  “So you’re saying that’s just bad timing?” she asks.

  I shrug. “Bad timing, and wind, and whatever else. Definitely not what you were going to say.”

  She bites her lip. “Are you sure, I mean, it looks like someone—”

  “Mia, please don’t say it.”

  “—cut it,” she finishes, and I sigh.

  “Nobody cut it.”

  She watches me quietly for a second, and I want to throw up. I know she might be right. In fact, I’m almost positive that she’s right. There have been some strange things happening ever since Mia came to stay with me, nearly six days ago now, and I’ve been trying not to look too deeply into it.

  But this is hard to ignore. That branch is clearly cut. I just can’t admit it to myself.

  They’re finally coming for me, and Mia’s caught in the middle.

  “Come on,” I say, suddenly cold. “Let’s get back.”

  She nods and doesn’t argue any more. I trudge up, back toward the snowmobile, and she stays close. When we get there, I half expect to find it smashed and broken, but it starts up with no problem and we head back to the house.

  17

  Mia

  The look on Ethan’s face tells me everything. He thinks that branch was cut, and he thinks we’re in danger.

  I’m afraid as we ride back to the house. I don’t know what he’s keeping from me, but he thinks his past is back to haunt him. Maybe it’s the people that gave him money to start his business, whoever they are. Clearly they’re some bad guys, or else he wouldn’t be so worried about this.

  That was so long ago, though. I don’t understand how or why someone would still be after him at this point. I know it connects with the explosion in his mill, the one that took the lives of seven men, but I just can’t put it all together.

  We speed back to his house, faster than when we came out since we’re going downhill. He parks the snowmobile in the garage and I help him unload everything.

  When we finish, I notice something strange. “I don’t hear Jones,” I say.

  He pauses. “You’re right. He should be barking.”

  A chill runs down my spine. He hurries inside, not bothering to knock off his boots. I follow him, and watch as he hurries into the laundry room to grab the gun he has propped up next to the dryer.

  My blood runs cold as he hurries back into the house. I follow him, nervous and afraid, but I can’t be alone. We move into the kitchen, and I stop to stare.

  All of the cupboards are open.

  “Stay here,” he says.

  “No way,” I answer. “I’m staying with you.”

  He watches me a second, and then nods. “Stay close. Scream if you see anything.”

  We head up the stairs together. Each room is just like the kitchen: doors are open, drawers are pulled out. Things are scattered on the ground. He checks each room, one after the other. My heart’s pounding so fast I can barely breathe.

  Finally, we get upstairs. The door to the movie room is shut. I’m so afraid of what we’ll find, but he doesn’t hesitate. He throws it open, gun leveled.

  Jones barks and comes bounding out.

  “Good boy,” Ethan says. I breathe a sigh of relief. I partially expected to find Jones hurt or maybe even dead, which would destroy Ethan.

  We finish going through the house. Each room looks like someone tore through it, looking for something, but there’s nobody in the house. We check through it twice, being as thorough as possible. Jones runs around, sniffing and wagging his tail, but he doesn’t bark or act strange.

  Finally, we end up
back down in the living room. Ethan goes over to a panel on the wall and types in some numbers, and the panel beeps.

  “Alarm system,” he says, putting his gun down. “I never use it. I mean, why would I?” He shakes his head and goes into the kitchen. He shuts the cupboards and pours himself a drink.

  I sit down by the island, still shaking. My nerves are totally shot and I’m watching him, suddenly afraid that everything he said is true. Maybe he is too dangerous.

  He looks back at me and we stare at each other in silence. Jones prances around at my feet until I pet him softly.

  “They were friends of my father,” he says finally, softly at first. “Communists, from back in the day. At least they used to be Communists. My father was big into that when he was younger.”

  “Russians?” I ask.

  He nods. “Russians. They’re not Communists anymore, far from it. They’re what people call ‘Oligarchs,’ rich guys in the oil business. They approached me, offered me a lot of money for my business, and I stupidly accepted it.

  “I couldn’t have known back then what that meant. I started the business, and it did really well, probably because the Russians were supporting me quietly. I started paying them back, but they kept wanting more and more. I paid back the original loan plus interest, but they weren’t done with me.

  “I was stupid, so fucking naïve. They started drilling on my land, illegally siphoning off the oil and selling it offshore. They used my shipping infrastructure to help. I let them, because they threatened to destroy me and hurt my people if I didn’t do what they said.

  “But slowly, I started to cut them off. I moved my business away from just logging and into new mills. I started to log less and less, which provided them less cover for their illegal drilling. Their money started drying up, and I stopped sending them bribes. They were angry, but I was done with them. Done with the whole fucking thing.”

  He stares at me as I listen. I can suddenly feel the weight of this truth, crashing down around me. All these years he’s been blackmailed by Russian thugs, threatened and pushed into helping them run a black-market oil drilling business under the cover of logging. Clearly it benefitted him too, since he’s rich as hell now, but it also took its toll.