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I was never going back.
Not after this.
End of Sneak Peak. Would you like to know how this continues?
Click Here: 6 Mountain Brothers for Christmas
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.
