Surrendering to the Mountain Man

by Asha Daniels

  I continued to work, hoisting the wood until the stack disappeared. I leaned against the truck, yanking off the confining gloves and wiping the sweat from my eyes. There were no stars to light my way, no reminders of the life I’d once led. When I threw open the door, grabbing the thermos, I allowed a single nod. Marty had placed the envelope in exactly the same place as always and if I knew him, the payment was rich.

  The man took care of me. I had no idea why, but he did. Maybe he didn’t have any family left or felt sorry for me, but the extra money was appreciated. I waited, watching the party on the deck until my cock was throbbing, pushing hard against my jeans. Yeah, I longed for a woman, but I wouldn’t let anyone get close, not even for sex. The experience at Club Torture confirmed the thought if nothing else. I shifted my cock before climbing into the cab. The dingy glow of the overhead light allowed me to see the money inside. Yeah, the old man had given me extra. The hundred dollar bill had a neon sticky note attached.

  You work too hard.

  Snickering, I patted the envelope before starting the engine. At this point, I was glad the damn bitch even started. I’d paid cash, purchasing the rusty bucket off a damn kid going to college. At least the Ford had been reliable up until now. When the resort lights were in my rearview mirror, I turned on the radio, trying to catch any mind numbing crap that would keep my brain occupied. I made a quick decision to stop at the local grocery and liquor store. The idiots at the resort didn’t know, but the storm was rolling in fast. I had one more trip to make down my mountain and that would be the last for over a week. One more glance into a life I had no business living.

  I fucking hated the damn thought.

  The owner of the local grocery store acknowledged me as I walked in. He always had a wary eye given the look of me. I was no fashion fucking model. With the long beard and the dirty clothes, I must have looked more homeless than anything. Far from it, but no one needed to know.

  I gathered what I needed: meat, chicken, some vegetables, juice and two gallons of liquor. This should keep me until the blizzard blew past. The moment I stepped toward the register, a group of girls came in. Six girls and all looked like they came out of Vogue. Shit. What the hell did I even know about fashion any longer?

  “Look. Candy, Ashley,” the long haired blonde laughed as she twirled in a circle. “We can party tonight. Daddy doesn’t have to know.”

  “What about your curfew?” the redhead asked as she grabbed a bottle of vodka.

  “I live by my rules,” the blonde exclaimed, another laugh bubbling from her slender throat.

  I looked. I hungered. I couldn’t help but study their expensive down jackets and snow boots, although I doubted any of them would leave their thousand dollars a night rooms.

  Two of the other girls groaned as they grabbed a basket and flitted down one of the aisles. I glanced at the owner. His furrowed brow said it all. Everyone in the small burrow was sick to freaking death of the tourists, but they were the bread and butter, keeping the group of family owned businesses in operation.

  I pointed toward the smokes behind the counter, indicating three packs and pushed the rest of my shit onto the counter. I could still hear their laughter ringing in my ears. Sure, they were all beautiful, no doubt their parents providing every little thing they ever needed in life. As if owning an iPad at the age of two was a requirement.

  “That’s it?” the owner asked, his eyes never leaving the group of girls.

  “A lighter,” I answered, the tone hoarse.

  “Whoa, what do we have here, girls? A real mountain man. I hear all mountain men have really big cocks. Is that true?” The blonde made certain I heard her chastising words.

  “I’ve seen him around. I bet he looks tasty without all those shitty clothes,” another one said then burst into laughter.

  “Are you all muscular? Everywhere? I bet you long for a woman to fuck. Don’t you?”

  I didn’t even have to turn to know the blonde was asking me the question.

  The owner stopped what he was doing, imploring me with his eyes to let it go.

  I heard him huff, saying something under his breath. These girls were the same type that came every year, hungering for adventure, even fucking a few of the resort staff. I’d seen it all. I also knew their type all too well. They were like leeches, taking and never giving. Their daddies gave them everything they asked for.

  I held my tongue and tossed several candy bars onto the stack.

  “He obviously doesn’t have a tongue,” the smaller brunette scoffed as she swung her hips back and forth, the group getting closer to me.

  I could see their reflections in the smoky glass behind the counter. I could smell their desire. I refused to react. I also didn’t want to care.

  But I did.

  “That’ll be one hundred twelve dollars and four cents,” the owner half whispered, as if afraid the girls would hear my total.

  “Maybe he’s too stupid to understand what you’re saying.”

  “I bet he can fuck. Who needs talking if they know how to fuck?”

  The laughter grated my nerves to the point I gripped the edge of the counter, hearing a crack in the thin Formica.

  The owner shook his head and took the cash from my hand. My visions, the ones I had every night pushed into the front of my brain. My thoughts turned ugly and for a moment I could only envision capturing, keeping. Fucking. I had to get the hell out of here.

  “There you go. Hope you have a nice night, buddy.” He scuttled backwards yet kept his eyes directly on me, terrified. Sure, I had a reputation. Some called me dangerous. Others called me deranged. I allowed them to think of me that way. No one was ever going to get close enough to know any different.

  “I bet he doesn’t even have a dick.” The other girl spoke this time and I could smell her scent, her perfume and something else.

  “Dickless wonder.” The blonde was cooing.

  Her desire.

  She wanted. She craved.

  The thought left me disgusted as well as excited. I grabbed my things, determined to leave without an incident. Another one in my life I didn’t need. When the blonde jumped in front of me, I narrowed my eyes, hovering. Waiting but not touching. Yet my cock was hard, pushing against my jeans until I was in anguish. The craving intensified, creating sweat dripping on the back of my neck. I was fine. I could control this. No fucking twat was going to get to me.

  Until she showed me her breasts, her eyes flashing as she pulled up her pretty pink sweater, cupping her breasts and squeezing as she undulated her hips back and forth, moaning and licking her lips. “See something you want, big boy?” She pinched her rosy nipples as if for emphasis, feigning an expression of raw pain.

  Anger boiled within me to the point I was sweating along every inch of skin, adrenaline pumping. Take her. Fuck her. That’s all I could think about in the blinding agony pinching against my brain. Inching closer, I leered down, studying her perfect face, whitened teeth. “Go back home to Daddy, where you belong. You couldn’t handle what I have to offer.”

  “Oh!” the girls exclaimed.

  “Is that so?” The look on her face haughty, she inched closer, rubbing her body against mine, pushing her breasts closer to my face. “I can tell you’re hot for me. I know you want to suck my pussy. All boys do. How about my breasts? Do you want to feel them? Pinch my titties? Fifty bucks and you can. Two hundred and you can fuck me. Would you like that?”

  At that very moment, I wanted nothing more than to rip off her clothes, expose her smooth, porcelain skin, her voluptuous breasts. I craved shoving her against the thick pane of glass and fucking her like the whore she pretended to be. I envisioned the way her pert mouth would wrap around my cock, sucking until I emptied every drop of cum into her throat, becoming the monster I used to be. Perhaps the freak I still was.

  Using every ounce of self-restraint that was left inside, I slapped my hand against the door and walked outside, praying the cold air would suffice, saving me
from my inner beast. Laughter followed me out into the parking lot, vile feminine voices chastising a would-be man. I wanted the blonde. Hell, I could take her and the others would enjoy watching, but I knew better. The tightly knit community wouldn’t stand for barbaric behavior, not with the net worth of each vacationing family in the millions.

  Besides, she wasn’t the one. She couldn’t be the salvation I’d longed to find in a sea of bullshit. Perhaps there never would be a woman capable of squelching the ghosts haunting me every day. After shoving the groceries inside the cab, I gave the blonde one last look. She didn’t know how close she’d come to being captured, taken and used.

  I growled at the thought as I started the engine. No one would ever know what darkness lived just miles from their precious resort doors, harboring the night as if for anonymity. Yeah, I was no one with nothing to offer.

  A flash of the past skittered its ugly head, allowing a series of visions to become a nasty, blinding reminder of the traumatic moment haunting me. Haunting my dreams, creating almost violent nightmares. I gripped the steering wheel, trying desperately to control my breathing, to stop the madness. But I would never be allowed to forget.

  I would also never forgive myself.

  “I don’t understand.”

  I remained behind my desk, puffing on the cigar. After a few seconds, I eased my feet on top of the desk, leaning back. “I’m not certain what you can’t understand. I believe I was very clear: I’d been around Tucker Haven, my one time best friend, since I was six years old. I’ll never forget the first day of school, the way Tucker stood in the middle of the field, bawling for his mommy. He was always smaller than every other boy, until somewhere around the time he turned sixteen. Still, he was sensitive and kind to a fault.

  “You can’t do this. Why would you do this?” Tucker asked, an incredulous look remaining on his face.

  “This is nothing more than business, one you should understand by now.”

  “Business?” Tucker shot me a nasty look as he leaned over my desk, his lower lip quivering, but I wasn’t entirely certain if it was from anger or fear.

  “Yes, business. You knew the score the day you signed the papers.” Yes, I had the advantage, in more than one way. I knew what I was doing would destroy him, but I’d lost all care about anything but moving forward, achieving all the goals that I’d dreamt of, planned for and salivated over.

  Tucker hesitated, the expression on his face changing from anger to sadness. He finally leaned back, taking a step away from my desk.

  “What? Nothing to say any longer?” I heard the laughter in my voice and for only a split second did the man I used to be shove at the surface, longing to change the scenario, to go back about six months. But there was no chance of regrouping or maintaining any concept of a business relationship.

  And our friendship was shattered.

  Stopping just before he reached my office door, he turned slightly, this time a subtle yet powerful smile on his face. “You have no idea what you’ve just done. You were an amazing man. Kind. Thoughtful. But you’re nothing but white trash faking your life.”

  Wham!

  “My life is exactly where I want it to be!” The slam of my hand on the desk caused a ripple effect, papers scattering, files shooting across the room. Hissing, I rose to my feet, puffing almost desperately on the cigar.

  Tucker shook his head. “Then you can take the rest of what’s mine. I want no part of you or your life. Goodbye, Razer. One day you’re going to be very old and completely alone and don’t worry, I won’t shed a single tear.”

  “No!” I slammed my hand on the steering wheel several times until I heard a clicking noise. Then I heard laughter from the girls as they crossed by my truck. Staring. Pointing. They were making fun of the big homeless looking man falling into a fit of despair. And all I wanted to do was to stop them, to smash their pretty little faces. Swallowing, I started the engine and jerked the gear into drive, roaring past them in an effort to get away.

  Even if from only myself.

  Tucker had been my first business partner, or the one my illustrious father had hired. Perhaps my father thought the match would be a perfect combination. Ruthless on one side, caring on the other. Sadly, Tucker hadn’t survived the first year. I’d ruled alone, perhaps waiting for my father to die. Then I chose to run the business as I saw fit.

  What in the hell did I know?

  The ride back proved to be treacherous. I’d have to use the snowmobile for the next trip, which would mean the small trailer and less wood. Less money. I’d get by.

  I had enough to keep me going for long enough. The long ride was calming and when I reached the cabin, I breathed a sigh of relief. The sky was clear, creating a pristine blanket of stars. From where I stood, high on the mountain, the world was beautiful, snow and ice hiding the scars. Yeah, I was some philosopher.

  When I walked inside, I realized how close I’d come to losing control. Shaken, I dropped the bags and pulled out the fresh bottle of whiskey, foregoing the ice. I needed the shot to calm the beast within. The glass filled, I swirled the liquid, my imagination soaring into the blackness.

  I leaned against the counter, my thoughts ravaging my very sanity, remembering. Trying to forget. There was no recourse to the action I’d taken. Shoving away the life I’d led had been the only decent thing to do for everyone involved, including myself. I took another shot, savoring the burn in the back of my throat. Some days only liquor dragged me down from the precipice. Today was one of them.

  After stoking the fire, I turned on the music. My music. My love of classical came from a quiet time, a happy place and one that had been short lived. Yet, the power of the piano, the ebbs and flows allowed peace to move past the fury, the bitterness. If only the effect could last.

  I remained edgy, current running through every cell in my body. Relief was a requirement and there was only a single method. One. The very one that had stripped me of my previous life. After unlocking the padlock, I stormed into the room, turning on the lights, allowing the warm glow to cascade over my work. I don’t know why I felt the need to lock away the room I enjoyed more than anything in my life. Afraid of what I’d do. Horrified at myself.

  The drink remained in my hand as I walked from one painting to another. The colors were vivid, bold and the designs discerning. I’d captured the rage, the anxiety and the telling of my life. Pictures. They were a lifeline to something lost and something else found. Using just the tip of my index finger, I traced the hard edges of the latest creation, the haunted face and soulless eyes. This was beautiful, almost perfection. I moved into the shadows, trying everything to control my breathing. I couldn’t let tonight go. I was unable to move past the girl, her nasty words and the even worse aspect – the truth.

  “No!” I fisted my mouth and willed the treachery to disappear. After concentrating, I was calmer, even ready to hone my craft.

  I found the brush in my hand, the feathered end covered in red. In the next few seconds, I took stroke after stroke, adding, forming, shaping the remainder of the unfinished painting, the large creation more of a portrait. The face was beautiful and haunting. The girl too beautiful for a freak like me. No. No! I had to let go. I had to move past tonight. I had to… “Fuck!” The word reverberated in the space, a booming sound mixing with the sweet lullaby of the concerto.

  No. This wasn’t right. Panting, I willed my hand to stop shaking. Work. Just fucking work. The anger continued swelling until I could no longer breathe. I had to walk away. Tonight, the wretched needs refused to allow me any peace. Growling, I left the room, standing in front of the roaring fire. The flames were mesmerizing, beautiful in the concept of total destruction. The hissing sound drew me in, taking me to that place. That. Fucking. Place.

  “Stop!”

  But the rage refused to be denied, would never cease. I was shaking all over, my muscles screaming, my mind reeling. Go away. Just go the fuck away!

  Wham!

  The glass
shattered into hundreds of shards of crystal, the alcohol flaming the fire, sizzling against the wood. I stood, shaking violently as I relived every damning moment, every horrible aspect. Enraged, I took long strides until I was back in the room. I stood, hissing, the creation coming to life. Taunting me. The woman was taunting me. No. “No!” I punched through the picture, ripping and shredding the canvas as I howled, screaming until my voice was hoarse. But the pain was still there. The anguish I’d accepted, burying into the dark recesses of my mind. Still there.

  Dropping to my knees, blood red paint oozed through my fingers. I held my hands up into the bright light, wincing as the paint slithered down my palms to my wrists. My blood. I could only see my blood. I’d never be given salvation. There was no forgiveness for the Devil himself. I would burn in Hell for all eternity. Blood, gore and fire. Twisting and turning as the screams continued, blanketing what was left of my mind.

  She was dead. Dead!

  And all because of my greed.

  Chapter 4

  Megan

  Damn him. Damn him. Damn him. I couldn’t get my mind off the experience with Travis. I should have cut off his balls and fed them to a dog. And even bothering to mention anything to my father had resulted in being dismissed entirely from his office, the comment what I’d expected.

  “He is the perfect man for you, Megan. He will know how to keep you in line.”

  I’d bitten my tongue to keep from spoiling the trip, but the anger remained, eating away at my insides. I wanted a man I could respect and trust, love in order to honor and obey. Not a pimped up replication of my father.

  “Champagne, ladies?” the flight attendant asked.

  “Your father thought of everything,” Pepper purred as she held up the crystal glass.

  “He’s pretty amazing,” Becca added.

  I kept my thoughts, my nasty retort to myself. The trip was nothing more than a payoff. Perhaps a bribe. Father wanted me to accept my station in life; perhaps even become married to a man I didn’t love. A controlling asshole. Sighing, I waved off the champagne given the intense nausea remained. I hated to fly, but I was sick to my stomach for several other reasons.