6 Mountain Brothers for Christmas

by Rye Hart

  I rushed up her body and uncuffed her wrists before dragging her to the edge of the bed. One simple command, that was all I had given her. I laid her over my lap with her ass in the air for me and I could feel her clinging to my legs as she panted in anticipation.

  “You’ll have to be punished for disobeying me, my beautiful songbird,” I said.

  “What?”

  I ran my hand along the sumptuous globe of her ass. Her skin looked so pale in contrast with my suntanned skin. I raised my hand back and smacked her softly, hearing her gasp in shock while she processed what was going on. I massaged the area I’d hit, giving her a chance to digest the situation and then I reared my hand back and brought it down hard.

  She cried out and arched her back. My hand came down hard onto the other cheek. She wiggled around in my lap, looking vulnerable and beautiful. My hands left handprints on her ass, causing my dick to ache harder underneath her flailing body. Her hands hooked around my leg as her ass began to glow a tantalizing red and, just as I thought she was going to give in and call it quits, I stopped.

  I could feel her pussy dripping onto my pristine suit, so I slid my hand down between her legs and slowly inserted a finger into her tight, virginal channel.

  Her body tensed while her walls fluttered around my finger. She was so tight that I considered stopping. My handprints were clearly visible on her skin, causing me to bite back a groan while I allowed her to make her own decision. Her innocence shook me to my core as I sat there with my thick finger buried in her sweet pussy but, the moment she started writhing against my hand, I knew I had my answer.

  She needed this as badly as I needed her, and there was no stopping this train that had started the moment she allowed me to pull her off the dance floor.

  I picked her up into my arms and laid her against the cool satin sheets. She sighed with relief as the coolness hit her aching ass but I soon cuffed her wrists over her head with one of my hands. I studied her facial reactions, the way she scrunched up her face in pleasure. I slid my other hand back down between her legs, finding that swollen little clit that had peeked out so beautifully for me earlier.

  The moment my fingertips pressed back down into it, she bucked against me.

  I circled slowly, fluidly, without pause and without hesitation. I could tell she was being bombarded with feelings and sensations she’d never experienced before. I treasured the look on her face as her lips puckered, sucking in air and moaning while her breasts jumped for me. The harder she bucked, the harder they bounced, teasing my tongue for a taste. But I wanted to see the ecstasy flow over her.

  I wanted to watch her very first orgasm given to her by a man wash over her face.

  “Please,” she said breathlessly. “Please, my prince.”

  My movements ceased and I felt her juices spilling from between her legs. She was so wet for me. So ready for the cock that was threatening to burst right from behind my zipper. I tilted my head lightly, watching as her lips grew chapped with the air she was pulling in.

  I bent down with my tongue and slowly ran it over her lips, causing her to shiver as her tongue tried to catch up to mine.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  My lips hovered over hers, waiting for the response I wanted. I needed to hear it from her. I needed her to give me consent to ruin her body for any other man that might come along in her life.

  I needed to hear her give me permission one last time before I drowned myself in her.

  “Please, just… show me.”

  In that very moment, I pulled my hand from her pussy and began unbuckling my pants. I shoved them down to my knees, freeing my aching cock as I kicked them off my legs. My shoes and pants fell off the edge of the bed, hitting the floor with the sound of a desperate man ready to venture into new territory. I parted her legs with mine, my fingertips finding her clit again as she gasped and lifted her hips from the bed.

  “Show you what?” I asked.

  “Everything,” she said, moaning. “Show me everything.”

  “Say it,” I said as my lips approached hers. “I need to hear you say it,”

  She raised up to capture my lips, surprising me with her outburst of dominance as she whispered her secret into my skin.

  “I want you to fuck me.”

  Without warning, I grabbed my cock and buried myself in her. My mouth encompassed hers, swallowing her gasps and groans while reveled in the feeling of her tight wetness. I could feel her trying to back away from me, instinctively trying to get away from the pain she was experiencing. I kept my legs strong and my hips connected with hers, feeling her desperate pussy spread for me while her walls throbbed and pulsed.

  I could feel her trying to push me out; her body trying to reject me. But our lips continued to move with one another’s, even as she whimpered out in pain. My tongue tangled with hers as her urgent pants finally settled into her regular breathing.

  Then, I felt it.

  I felt her body finally relax with a sigh underneath me.

  Now, it was time.

  It was time to fuck her until she cried out for me to stop.

  Big Daddy

  The Mountain Man’s Baby Romance

  PROLOGUE

  He carried me over his shoulder, as his hand expertly worked its way up my skirt and into my panties. His fingers began to work pure magic, as if they were playing an instrument with skill. The pleasure began to build between my legs, becoming more and more unbearable with every second that passed. With growing anticipation, he walked me to the bed and dropped me onto the silk sheets, never once freeing his touch from my folds.

  He pumped his hands, scissoring his fingers to stroke my walls and I moaned in pleasure as he growled and proceeded to bury his face between my legs.

  He worked his tongue with skill as I steadily ascended my way over the edge of bliss. I gripped his hair gently, holding him against me, rubbing my slit against his tongue as he licked and lapped at my tender, wet flesh.

  “I could devour you, baby. You taste so fucking good.” He slipped his fingers down and against my ass, pushing against the back entrance as he tongued the front.

  The pleasure was more than I could stand and yet I had this burning emptiness and a need to have something fill it up.

  “I need you inside of me, please.”

  I wanted… no needed to feel his bulging cock inside; throbbing my channel and taking me to the edge of passion and beyond.

  I knew he wouldn’t disappoint.

  He stood, leaving me with my panties pushed to the side, and my skirt hiked up over my hips. He waited for me to strip off his pants, which I did with great pleasure. His cock fell forward, jutting from his hips and begging for attention.

  It was the most beautiful sight I’d laid my eyes on.

  I was one lucky girl.

  CHAPTER ONE - CHANCE

  Here’s a scenario for you: Let’s assume you want to remove all traces of masculinity from a man. So, how do you do it?

  Pluck his ass down in the middle of a big city; domesticate him with a pretty little wife and a pretty little house with a white picket fence, then just sit back and watch. Pretty soon he’ll think that getting a callus on his hand is as bad as leprosy. There you have it. Modern day pussification at its finest.

  Fuck that.

  This is exactly the opposite of the world I created for myself in the mountain town of Buffalo, Wyoming. Out there, in my cabin, I could see more sky than I ever knew existed. It was both exhilarating and desolate in a way that one can’t appreciate until they’ve seen it first-hand.

  Solitude was almost everything to me.

  Unfortunately, what I considered solitude, most people considered isolation. It took me six months to realize that I didn’t own a mirror. When I finally saw myself again, I was pretty much the same: six-foot-four, buzzed brown hair, blue eyes, broad as a barn door, and sporting a beard that was headed for Grizzly Adams territory.

  I relished in the isolation for years. It
was a welcomed sanctuary after experiencing hell on a silver platter.

  After I was medically discharged from combat and lost my leg to an IED, I returned to my hometown, Boston, and my welcome-home present was the discovery of my wife’s pregnancy with another man’s baby. The fucktard happened to be a man I’d considered a friend. Needless to say, it led to a nasty divorce and my eventual move thousands of miles away to no man’s land.

  The way I saw it, I had two options: murder the dick who knocked up my wife, or leave town and shut myself off from everyone.

  I chose the latter.

  Isolating myself in the foothills of the Bighorn Mountains in Buffalo, Wyoming was just what I needed. That’s where I belonged, and where I started my new life. It was a stark contrast from my life in Boston, but it was exactly what I needed.

  Little did I know, it would be the future home for my niece and I. Life had a way of kicking us both while we were down. Even so, we sure as hell weren’t going to give it the satisfaction of taking our dignity. Not on my damn watch.

  ***

  As I walked into the elementary school Star attended, I glared over to the playground hoping to catch the five-year-old doing something resembling fun.

  Crap, am I even cut out for this?

  I asked myself the same damn question that filled my mind for months.

  Since Star moved into my cabin, we’d experienced roadblock after roadblock. To say she’d been having trouble adjusting to her new environment would be putting it lightly.

  In truth, it’d been a complete shit show, and I couldn’t blame her one damn bit. Star had every right to hate the world. The poor kid went through years of hell, and three months of living with an uncle who practically cut himself off from everyone he knew wasn’t going to give her the warm and fuzzies.

  Before walking inside, I finally caught a glimpse of the cute little cotton-top girl whose blond hair was a mess of curls, pulled back into a confused ponytail. Like most mornings, I tried to do her hair and failed royally. I couldn’t figure out how many times to loop the damn hair band. It was either too loose or so tight it would give her a facelift. And those baby hairs—what the hell was I supposed to do with those little hairs?

  Star was sitting on a swing, slowly moving back and forth and seemed to be watching a crowd of kids who were playing Red Rover. I could tell she wanted to play, but it was as if she was afraid of some invisible force lurking in the darkness.

  Star was afraid to get close to anyone. If only she could open up and learn to trust others enough to be happy. I’d give anything to see a smile on my niece’s face again. There was just one problem: her sole caretaker was just about the worst example for any kid to mirror a life after. We both found comfort in locking the whole damn world out.

  I walked inside, angry that I couldn’t do more for her. She deserved the best, and as far as I could tell, I was failing miserably at giving her that. Whereas most kids her age couldn’t be paid to shut-up, Star barely spoke a few words in a day. It was a stark contrast to the chatty two-year-old I remembered my brother gushing about.

  “I’m here to see Counselor Durdin.” I rattled the keys in my pocket, playing it cool, but not fooling myself.

  The woman behind the counter pushed up her glasses. She was a pretty girl, with bright blue eyes and a soft complexion, but she had a severe red slash across her mouth that had been done up with too much lipstick. The woman didn’t need that much makeup, but noticing the scar marring her lip, I could understand.

  I understand probably more than most people.

  To this day, I could still feel the presence of all ten toes from my left leg, even though it had been torn from my body in combat. It was easier to mask the injury, than give others the opportunity to ask me about it, or even worse, pretend like it didn’t exist. I hated the moment others would stare, the way their postures would change ever so slightly, the way they’d avert their eyes like they’d been caught staring at something they shouldn’t be seeing. It was easier to avoid the whole damn experience all together. I’d rather stick needles in my eye.

  “Have a seat, and she’ll call you back in a moment.” She pressed a button on her phone and then as I took a seat in a black plastic chair, which had been molded for much smaller people, I heard her relaying the message that I was there.

  I stared at the Bison mascot mural for what seemed like ten minutes, before I heard my name called. “Mr. Owens?”

  I looked up to see a professionally-dressed older woman, with long black hair down to her waist. I stood as she held out her hand and took it, surprised when she gave it a firm shake.

  “I’m Hattie Durdin, the school’s counselor. I’m so glad you were able to make it today.” She turned and led me into her office, shutting the door behind her. She offered me a seat across from her desk and I sank my large frame down into it before speaking.

  “I’ve been wondering how Star has been progressing in school. Thank you for arranging this meeting.”

  “Mr. Owens, Star’s adjustment at this school is important to both of us. I was assigned to follow up with her by her case-worker in Boston. The case-worker called me earlier this week to ask how Star has been holding up.”

  “Case-worker? I hadn’t been aware one was assigned to Star.” I said, slightly annoyed that no one from the state of Massachusetts cared to inform me of such a pressing matter.

  “I’m sorry you were not made aware. I’ll be working with you to keep you abreast of everything going forward. I learned the move for Star has been quite a change for her. The poor girl has been showing signs of it too. Are you aware that she doesn’t speak here at school? That’s a sign of a child that’s been through severe trauma much like Star.”

  “Yes, I’ve had conversations with Star’s teacher about it. We are doing our best to help Star adjust. It hasn’t been easy.”

  “I see.” She paused to write something down in her legal pad. “Mr. Owens, normally we would use discipline in such matters, but Star’s situation is unique.”

  “Discipline? Why would you discipline her?” I asked, getting more annoyed. This wasn’t going very smoothly so far.

  “Well, my concern is that this may be more of a defiance issue—” she started.

  “Hold on a second,” I said, cutting her off. “Didn’t the teacher tell you that she doesn’t talk at all? It has nothing to do with defiance. She doesn’t talk to me but a few words here and there.”

  “Oh, I see. So this isn’t simply a school issue.”

  “No, ma’am. Not at all. She has a trust issue. Rightfully so. If you’d been through what she has in the past few years, you’d be leery of the world too,” I said sternly.

  I’d be damned if anyone was going to overlook Star’s traumatic past, and use defense mechanisms against her.

  Star’s father, my brother Luke, passed away in battle when she was two. Her mother spent her time drowning her sorrows in alcohol, to the point she became neglectful and frankly a poor excuse for a mother. I didn’t care how depressed she was after my brother’s death. It was no reason for her to abandon Star.

  Star was thrown into the foster care system when she was three. Most of the homes had only been temporary, so she’d been moved around seven times in the past two years until I’d taken her in only months ago. I’d only had custody of Star for the last three months. It would have been sooner had I been made aware of the matter, but I’d shut off communication from friends and family for some time following my move to Wyoming. I still felt damn guilty about not getting involved sooner, but I was there for her now. Nothing was going to change that now.

  “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry for coming across as inconsiderate. It’s just that Star’s situation is concerning and we all want the best for her. What are your thoughts about exposing her to some outside support? She seems to be struggling with reading, but that’s inconclusive. Since she won’t talk, it’s been a challenge to come to this judgement. We feel if she were to have a tutor, someo
ne who could help her build a bit of confidence using her voice in private, then maybe she’d open up a bit here in the classroom and participate.”

  “I see your point. I’ll make it work. I haven’t really read her any books, but I’ll start.”

  I had just recently gotten the bedtime routine down, and it didn’t include storybooks. I told her tales about me and her dad when we were kids. She seemed to like those stories a lot, so maybe she’d enjoy a fairy tale or fable book as well.

  “That would certainly help, but I’d still look for someone to tutor her. We don’t want her to fall behind.”

  The idea of Star struggling through school had me worried. What she learned could take her through life, and I couldn’t let her be shortchanged. More importantly, she needed to feel confident that she was just as smart and capable as other students - if not more. That type of thinking would be a trap, leading to low self-esteem onto her adult life.

  I sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “Is there anyone you can recommend?” I asked.

  She reached into her desk and handed me a paper with a list of names. “These are a list of older students and teachers who don’t mind helping with tutoring. You can call and set something up if you like, just let us know when you do. We want to mark her progress. And don’t worry, Mrs. Marsh will be doing everything she can on her end to see that she keeps her levels up. She is a bit younger than the other kids, too, so that makes a difference.”

  “Well, her birthday is tomorrow. She’ll be six.”

  “Yes, I saw that in her file. Have the two of you made any plans?”

  “I’m taking her out for pizza and ice cream."

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea. Star’s lucky to have an uncle like you in her life. Without your help she would be in a far dire situation.”

  I nodded and cleared my throat.

  Unfortunately, luck was something Star lacked most thus far. Before Star came into my life, I was living life for myself. I was isolated from everyone and a selfish bastard telling the world to fuck off in every way imaginable.