Surrendering to the Mountain Man

by Asha Daniels

  What little I remembered remained foggy. Skiing. I’d been the last on the run, the instructor pushing me to go in order to beat the approaching storm. The snow was falling harder, spilling into my eyes. I should have never attempted to head down the slope. Exhaling, I shifted my gaze toward the cracked door and tried to smile. “Oh,” the moan was barely audible, yet I somehow knew he’d heard the slight exclamation, waiting to burst in through the door. Easing my hand to my lips, I rubbed the tips of my fingers back and forth across the cracks, resisting issuing another whimpering sound. While my fingers were tingling, partially numb, I was able to feel the cracks.

  Creak…

  A floorboard shifted just outside the bathroom door, as if a heavy weight had displaced the wood.

  He was there, hovering. I’d caught the concern as well as the level of frustration in his eyes. He was worried about me, uncaring for his own condition.

  I’d also seen the look of desire, different from outside the resort. There was a level of protection mixed with a quiet reverence, yet I couldn’t put my finger on the other emotion. He was so much like the man of my dreams, authoritative yet harboring guilt, disabling his ability to act on his feelings.

  The water was finally soothing and some of the tension eased, allowing me to glance around the small room. Wood paneling covered the walls, the color of warm honey, creating a cozy feeling. Plush towels were hung just so on the towel bar and for some reason, the hue was just as surprising as the man. The most beautiful shade of plum.

  Who was this man and why was he here? Would he hurt me, keep me captive for an extended period of time? What about my friends? Would they even bother to look for me? And what about my father? I almost laughed out loud just thinking about my daddy. Other than the fact Travis had a deal with him, there was no real reason for him to be upset. My father wanted me out of his life in any way possible. Marriage to a man of a particular upbringing would be perfect. Allowing a long exhale, I had to fight the ugliness. This wasn’t going to help anything. I was alone with a stranger. That was the only aspect of my fears and thoughts to be concerned with.

  I’m certainly not religious, not given the way I was brought up, but I do believe in karma. The fact this man, this rugged and cautious, angry and volatile mountain man had saved my life was unfathomable. Then again, my mind remained fuzzy, uncertain of almost everything at this point. I continued to ache, my legs, my arms and even my back. I remembered the increasing terror as I skied onto a slick patch of snow, the action pitching me forward, finally hitting the base of a tree then nothing else but blackness. And the cold. The terrifying bitter cold that had lured me into a light slumber almost immediately.

  Sliding my hands down to my stomach, I fingered the skin, pressing hard given the tips of my fingers had difficulty sensing anything. There were no overt sensations of pain, no outward signs that I had internal injuries. I continued exploring, touching my thighs and knees, easing the flats of my hands back to my groin, fighting to keep from smiling. The various details were very much a blur prior to the accident. Laughter. Conversation. Then nothing. I do remember the girls going on and on about the man in the other room, the hired help. My mountain man. There’d been no sense in arguing with them. They couldn’t understand our connection, an extreme current that was found perhaps once in a lifetime.

  He is the one you’ve been longing for.

  Closing my eyes, I did everything I could to relax, sliding further down into the tub, floating as if in a dream state. Perhaps I was. I was here, in a stranger’s home, rescued from a horrific fall, a despicable snow storm. The realization that I was at his mercy was both alarming and exciting, leaving my pussy clenching. Darting my eyes toward the door, I moved my hand in circular motions just above my clit. The ache deep within was much worse than the tingling in my muscles.

  Imagining his face, I opened my legs as wide as the confining space would allow, darting the tip of my index finger around my clit. I had to bite back another moan, so shocked that I was this turned on. There was no rationalizing the temptation both the mountain man and the circumstances allowed. For this moment in time, I belonged to him.

  Surrender…

  “You will kneel at my feet. You will obey my every command.”

  “Yes, sir. Can I please you?” I dropped onto my knees, keeping my eyes lowered. He required complete respect, complete submission.

  He stood over me, his muscular arms folded, his legs spread wide. “You will in everything you do.”

  I kept my hands on the floor, waiting for his command, willing him to use me, whip me. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to please him.

  “Open your mouth.”

  I obeyed without question, my entire body quivering from anticipation. As he slipped his throbbing cock into my mouth, shoving the tip to the back of my throat, my eyes watered, my throat tightening.

  “You will learn how to suck a man’s cock.”

  And I knew I would.

  Swallowing, my entire throat was dry, and I could swear the rugged man was standing in the room, directing me to do his bidding. Obedience. He wanted absolute submission, body and soul. He would break me down, teaching me to surrender to him in ways that I could only imagine. He would train me, using methods of control and punishment, providing the discipline that would mold me into the perfect woman, one belonging to him alone.

  Dear God, what was I thinking? The concept was insane, but all I wanted to do was escape to another world, a life that had no tethers, other than those to a man controlling me, dominating me. I no longer cared about the life outside of this place, this cabin nestled in the woods, far removed from the world I’d been forced to live in. Had I always known this insane need? Absolutely. Could I understand the hidden meaning? There was no way of answering.

  Surrender…

  The word lingered as I rubbed two fingers up and down the length of my pussy several times, finally sliding them inside. I could feel the smile crossing my face as I thrust in and out, savoring the slight quivering, the way my cunt muscles grabbed onto the invasion. With my other hand, I cupped and squeezed my breast, kneading the soft flesh. Boys had called my breasts large, only a few using the term voluptuous. A laugh bubbled to my mouth, memories of the awkward methods used in trying to suck on my tits.

  I’d sucked a man’s cock before, a few times in fact, but the event had never been satisfying, only a method of playing a game. There had never been a man who’d cared enough to satiate my yearnings. They’d only wanted for themselves.

  I added a third and fourth finger, plunging in an easy rhythm, longing to feel anything other than the chill creating goosebumps even in the warm water. After glancing at the door again, I eased one leg over the edge of the tub, cognizant of water streaming over the side, cascading onto the well-worn floor. Would he be angry? Would he punish me? The actual truth was that I hoped to find out.

  Pain. Anguish. Punishment. Even during the times of the most brutal discipline, I’d secretly craved the pain invading my body. There was no understanding of why and even though I’d been taught early on that punishment was a way of life, a traditional method that would be used in my father’s household, I craved even more.

  I craved his firm hand whipping my naked ass.

  I longed for his dominance.

  I wanted nothing more than to follow his rules.

  Twisting and pulling my nipple proved to be exactly what my body needed to feel alive, to come back from the invasive accident. I thrust harder and faster, my breath skipping, and I could only envision his face, his command. His authority. “Mmm…” My legs were finally tingling, my heart racing and I arched my back until my forehead bobbed up and down, floating on air. The climax was close. So deliciously close. Oh, God. Yes! My fingers were slick, and I shoved my curled hand in as deep as possible. But I wanted more. I wanted the almost torturous feeling of being taken, used. Yes. Yes!

  “Oh!” The moan came unexpectedly, floating up toward the ceiling as my cunt muscles
clamped around my fingers, throbbing, creating echoes in my ears. Embarrassed, I slid all the way into the water, holding my breath, my eyes remaining open, searching for answers. What was wrong with me? How could I feel this way?

  Whoosh!

  Hands grabbed me, yanking me out of my quiet reverence, the hold tight.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was gruff, demanding. His breathing was scattered, his eyes full of questions.

  Gasping for air, I coughed and blinked several times as water beaded into my eyes. “I…” He was shaking me, the man who’d carried me on his back through a blinding snowstorm.

  “Damn it! No.” He jerked me out of the water, his expression stern, almost angry. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  Take me. Use me.

  Oh, God! I don’t know why I remained still, completely unable to say a single word, a coherent sentence defending myself. I realized how strong he actually was, carrying me as if I weighed nothing. His strides were long and with purpose, and he darted only a few glances down at my face. In his arms I felt so helpless, so small and even frail in comparison to his enormous frame.

  “I’m fine,” I managed but I’m not entirely certain he heard or even cared. He was on a mission, storming into another room. The walls were similar to the ones in the bathroom, wood paneling and timber breams crisscrossing the ceiling. The light was dim, glowing from some unknown source, highlighting the austere environment. I dared to steal a peek around me. I could see two sets of boots positioned together, as if strategically placed. Two items of clothing were hung on a simple coat rack, but there were no other adornments. No pictures. No plants. No life.

  “You will rest. Understood?” He wasn’t asking, merely telling me what rules to follow at this time. He eased me down onto a bed, pulling a thick blanket over my naked body. Narrowing his eyes, he placed both hands on either side of my shoulders, leaning down. “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” I managed. There was no way of telling his actual age. His eyes seemed so tired, so full of rage, lines surrounding his brow deepening as he frowned. The beard and mustache covered far too much of his face but there was little if any gray, merely a soft dark blond and for some reason, I longed to run my fingers through the dense strands. Would the hair be soft? Coarse?

  Cocking his head, he studied my face, his mouth pursed. Then he nodded and turned out the bedside lamp, stomping toward the door, deep breath sounds escaping his mouth.

  I could still see his frame in the doorway, a light source from another room highlighting his broad shoulders and long legs, his muscular arms that were bulging even in the bulky shirt. I had no idea what to say or even if I should try and talk. He was utterly and completely in charge.

  He stopped momentarily, a single finger tapping on the door.

  I could tell he wanted to say something to me, as if to issue some statement, but instead, he sighed and closed the door.

  Pitched into total darkness, I shivered, almost violently even though the bed was very warm, the blanket made of soft material. The chill had nothing to do with my body temperature, but rather the lurid thoughts I’d allowed to filter into my mind. The wind howled, swirling against the cabin and I lost myself in the sounds of nature, tree limbs slapping against the roof, the shimmer of ice crystals hitting the siding. How could he live here like this? So far away? No one close in case of emergencies.

  That’s what he wanted. To be very much left alone. What in the hell had occurred in his life or had he always been like this? The questions came fast and furious in my mind, but as soon as one was there, another crowded it out. My eyes were stinging, much like areas of my skin. Sleep was vital, if for no other reason than to allow time for my body to heal. Would I be safe?

  I would be safer here than almost anywhere else I’d previously known. I realized that this man would do anything to keep me safe. How odd. How fascinating. Maybe we were both loners, destined to meet. Maybe karma had allowed this mountain man into my life. A single laugh bubbled up and I realized my mind was far too befuddled to be making any sense.

  I rolled over, jerking the blanket over my head, determined to get some sleep. Exhaustion hit me all at once. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving me with questions and fears, worry and uncertainty. There was no way to comprehend the situation I was in. As I wrapped my hand around the pillow, I inhaled and the scent of him was startling. Musky. Full of testosterone. He was one hundred percent all male. Large hands. Muscular. Rugged.

  As the concept began to lure me to sleep, I thought of Jamie and her relationship with my father. Did I loathe the concept that he continued to search for happiness or was I simply terrified that Jamie would fall into my father’s trap? I just didn’t know what to think. I just…

  Megan…

  “Mmm… Yes?”

  Megan…

  Very slowly I opened my eyes, searching for the sound of the voice. There was only darkness surrounding me, as if I was in a cave or a prison. Disoriented, I tried to remember where I was. There was nothing but blackness. Oh, God! I’d been taken. I was being held prisoner! I was going to die. I wasn’t prone to drama and even though I was uncertain of my surroundings, I was coherent enough to realize there was a purpose. The moment I rubbed the flat of my hand across the material just underneath, I began to remember. Everything around me was laced with comfort. “Mmm…” I heard the murmur of my voice and experienced a dull throbbing in my head. You bet I felt like shit, as if I’d wrestled with an eight hundred pound bear. I concentrated on the sounds and after a few seconds, my eyes adjusted, allowing me to understand that I was in a bed.

  His bed. My savior.

  I remembered.

  Him. The man. Some might say the monster, yet I knew better. He was entrapped just like I was. I’m not entirely certain why the idea flashed into my mind, but I was almost never wrong with my gut instincts. There were times I believed I’d been preprogramed or at least wired to delve into various souls. I lay quietly, gathering what was left of my wits.

  After a few minutes, I sat up, listening for any other sounds. I knew I’d been in a deep sleep, only vaguely remembering the dream. A green pasture. Flowers. A lake. An amazing feeling of belonging. Shaking it off, I felt the covers over me before pulling them down. I don’t know if I’d expected that he would join me in bed, even though the thought was ridiculous, but the oversized bed seemed so very lonely. I pulled his pillow against my face, enjoying the rush of tingles flowing into my fingers and toes. At least I was warm, even though the wind continued to howl.

  The floor was cold to my bare feet and I grabbed the blanket, pulling it around my shoulders. I had to know more about this man and my instinct told me that clearly, he wouldn’t tell me very much, if anything. Why should he? He had no clue as to the woman I was, only a brief glimpse into the life of what he had to consider privileged. How disgusted he must be.

  I eased the door open and waited, pressing my ear to the wooden surface. The fire was still burning, the scent filling my nostrils, the crackling of wood allowing a single smile. The door creaked seconds before I slipped out into the hallway, padding toward the open room. I passed the darkened bathroom and walked silently into the living room, the blanket dragging behind me.

  I noticed he’d laid out my clothes close to the fire, no doubt trying to dry them. The thought was sweet, a pleasant reminder that he’d actually yanked me from a terrible storm.

  His hulking form was on the couch, bundled up with another blanket. I moved closer, unable to resist taking at least a single look. The rise and fall of his chest meant he was sleeping soundly and I could only make out the bridge of his nose and a portion of his forehead. Still, I could easily tell the man was gorgeous. His nose and forehead were almost aristocratic, perfectly formed, as if carved out of the most exquisite bone. His hair had no doubt once been luxurious, cut by the most fabulous hair stylists. There was no real reason for me to suspect he’d once lived another life, one far removed from here. Perhaps I wanted th
is man to be more than just a simple caretaker of wood. I inched closer, rubbing my arms, longing to reach out, but I knew better than to awaken the sleeping giant. Not yet. He had to be even more exhausted, his body completely drained.

  I took several careful steps backward when I noticed another room off to the side. The door was closed, an instant draw to my rather wicked mind. There was a padlock attached but the hasp wasn’t closed. What could be so important to lock away? What was he hiding? Would the contents explain his jaded answers, the fact he was hidden away from the entire world? There was no distinct reason, no real need to invade his space, yet my gut was telling me to find out what was behind magic door number one. Stifling a chuckle, I darted a look over my shoulder before moving in the direction. The second I placed my hand on the knob, I had the most dazzling series of sensations rocketing through my fingers into my hand. Were they some vibrations or simply a sixth sense?

  Every action slow and easy, I turned the knob and slipped inside. The room was devoid of any kind of light and I could only hope there was a switch or a lamp to illuminate my way. Feeling along the wall, I held my breath and flipped it. I’m not entirely certain what I might have expected after opening the door. Even my concept of an office for such a man was off kilter. I didn’t see him as a scholar or a creature who adored devouring books. I could see hunting gear, even traps or… Harnesses and whips.

  What I walked into was something else entirely. Paintings. Beautiful, vibrant paintings that seemed to cover every square inch of the room inside. From every angle and every side, different size canvases to what appeared to be strips of paper, floor to ceiling, there were landscapes and portraits, faces of animals and even children. And the amazing flowers. Oh my God. There were no words to describe the sensual nature of every piece, the almost perfect lines, colors melded together as if every flower had come alive on the page.