Beauty and the Mountain Man Page 7

  “That would be cool, what is the name of it again?”

  “The signage says Wet Whistle, but I’m thinking I should name it something else.”

  We’re walking into the terminal now, and we stop, facing one another realizing this is goodbye. She is so much smaller than me, and I have this ridiculous idea of pulling her into my arms and kissing her. I’d make it softer than I usually kiss women.

  “Oh yeah?” she asks. “What should you name it?”

  “Something like The Mountain Man’s Bar,” I smile, liking her surprised expression. “That would’ve gotten you to come, right?”

  “Yeah, I can see it now. You could hang antlers on the wall and have a big fireplace roaring. It could be cozy, but sexy too. You could require a beard on every man that walks in.”

  “Well, there actually are antlers on the walls.”

  “Then I’m guessing it’s more hipster than mountain man.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  She laughs and takes a deep sigh. “It’s pretty dead in here.”

  We look around the airport, and see that the other passengers from our flight have quickly left the gate; no one wants to be here longer than necessary. It’s after midnight, officially Christmas Day.

  “Yeah, no one’s around. Hope that poor lady with the kids has some help on this end,” I say.

  “That’s the thing about you, Bradley. You say some really surprising things.”

  I run my hand over my beard, thinking that this girl has no idea. “You think the things I say are surprising? I don’t think you’d know what to do with the things I’m thinking.

  “Try me.”

  Maybe it’s the way she says it, so plainly, so clearly. And damn I’ve been looking at her tits for two hours straight, loving the way her sweater pulls tight across them, her little nipples showing through. I’ve watched her eyes as they roam over me; I know she wants what I can offer.

  No woman looks at a man like that if she isn’t having her own dirty thoughts.

  I step towards her and take a gamble. “Let’s Merry Christmas.”

  She laughs, but then her eyes get wide. “Merry Christmas like Merry Christmas?”

  “Why not? It’s Christmas morning. Who knows if we’ll actually see one another again? And even if we do, I have a feeling I’m never gonna forget this night one way or another. But I think if we Merry Christmas before we say goodbye, it would go down in history as the best Christmas morning of my life.”

  “Okay.” She grins. “Let’s Merry Christmas.”

  We stand there, face to face, looking at one another, and I realize she’s just given me permission to fuck her here and now.

  She didn’t blow it off like a joke and it affirms everything I thought was passing between us on that flight. It wasn’t the whiskey talking; it was chemistry, plain and simple.

  I grab her hand. “Let’s find somewhere quiet so I can unwrap my Christmas gift.”

  Chapter 5

  CeeCee

  It doesn’t take long for us to find a storage closet. In a minute, the door is locked behind us and we’ve dropped our bags.

  I can’t believe that he’s suggested having a quick Merry Christmas with me, but I’m more shocked that I so willingly agreed to it.

  But I also can’t believe my luck. Just when I was ready to give up on this holiday altogether. And the fact the person who I was fighting with just hours ago is now staring at me with eyes full of desire -- I feel like I somehow won the Christmas lottery.

  Merry Christmas indeed.

  “Do you have sex with very many strangers?” I ask, raising my eyebrows, teasing.

  “Nope. Can’t say I do. And you?”

  I shake my head, having never done something so reckless in my life. So romantically reckless. This encounter could give a romance novel a run for its money.

  “I think we should just like, go for it. You should rip my clothes off and do all sorts of naughty things to me,” I tell him. Then I cover my face with my hands, not quite believing I just said that out loud.

  “Oh, I’ll do all sorts of naughty things to you, CeeCee.”

  And that’s when I realize, you don’t have to have sex with lots of strangers to make this work -- you just need to know your way around a woman.

  He may not be the quintessential mountain man of my novels, but he definitely is all man. He’s lifting the hem of my shirt and I raise my arms instinctively. Then he runs his hands over my breasts, then up along my collarbone, before holding my face.

  He most definitely knows what he’s doing.

  “I’m going to kiss you now, CeeCee.”

  I manage to eke out a yes, and then his lips are on mine. Pressing against me, soft and wanting, his palms cradle my cheeks and our mouths part.

  Then his tongue is against mine. Exploring my mouth, giving me a rush of excitement, realizing what’s to come.

  If his kisses feel like this... I can only imagine his cock deep inside of me.

  “Oh, CeeCee, you’re so hot, I wanted to rip off your clothes when we were on the airplane. I wanted you to straddle me, and ride my cock across the sky.”

  I toss back my head. “A little cheesy, Bradley. But I like the sentiment. I wanted you to rip off my clothes, too. I want you to do that now.”

  I’m panting for breath as he leaves a trail of kisses from my mouth to my chest. He pulls down the lacy cups of my bra and lets my breasts fall out. He fills his mouth with my nipple, rolling his tongue around the hard nub.

  In an instant, my pussy is wet, full of desire. My hands wrap around his waist, squeezing his ass, and fumbling at his jeans. I managed to unzip them as he unhooks my bra, as if not wanting anything in his way.

  His jeans fall to the ground and my hand moves under his boxers.

  His hands are under the waistband of my pants, too; his cold fingers grabbing my ass from underneath my panties.

  “I bet your cock is so big.”

  “I bet your pussy is so wet.”

  My eyes close as my hands wrap around his hard, stiff, cock. I squeeze him ever so slightly, and he groans against me, his mouth crashing back against mine, as I stroke him nice and slow.

  “You like that, Bradley? You like it when I touch you?”

  “Hmmm,” Bradley moans his answer.

  His fingers find my pussy, and rub against my well-trimmed mound, touching me in soft yet determined ways.

  He is going to undo me.

  “I’ve got to have you naked. Now,” he tells me.

  Obediently, I step out of my pants and my shoes, pulling down my panties as I do. Making sure I turn so he sees my backside as I bend over, my ass on display.

  For him.

  He grabs my ass cheeks, rolling them in his palms, his fingers running down my slit from behind, all the way to my pussy. His fingers flutter over my sensitive spots. I know he can feel how wet I am for him.

  I turn back around, facing him and see he’s stepped out of his clothes too. His chest is chiseled, muscles and strength, covered in inky tattoos. But my eyes run over him quickly and are drawn to his package.

  Without his boxers concealing his cock, it is strong and at attention. Forceful and ready.

  “Holy Merry Christmas,” I tell him. “Your cock is fucking huge.”

  “You mean, it’s Merry Christmas huge.”

  “Exactly.” I lick my lips, relishing his ten-inch cock. Wondering how something so big and delicious could be meant for me.

  I’m also wondering how in the Merry Christmas it’s going to fit in my pussy.

  “You’re going to have to get me nice and ready if you want to fill me with that.”

  Bradley nods, stepping towards me, his hand between my legs he lifts my knee up, and my leg wraps around him, his fingers finding my center.

  “I will get you nice and ready, baby.” He picks me up and sets me down on the table. My ass is on the edge, my pussy dripping with desire. He takes his cock and lets the tip of it run up and down a
gainst me. I can’t help but touch it, stroking him, letting my hands hold his balls. I love the way they feel in my hands, tight and heavy.

  “Your tits are so huge,” he groans, unable to resist touching them. “I want to titty fuck you until my cum is all over you.”

  “Then do it,” I tell him. “Titty fuck me and make me drink your cum. Get it all over me, baby. Give me a White Christmas.”

  Chapter 6

  Bradley

  “Are you sure you’re okay with getting on the floor?” I ask her. She doesn’t answer, instead, her curvy bare body just moves from the table and spreads out my flannel shirt and her sweater, and then she lies down.

  “I want you to do this to me,” she murmurs as seductively as a pussycat. “I’ve never done it before, but you’re right, my tits are perfect for it. Put your cock between them and fuck me hard.”

  This girl is fucking unreal. Everything about her is insanely perfect. Her tits, her round little ass, her feisty words and her willingness to try new things.

  Fuck, there are so many things I’d like to try with her.

  “If you’re sure.”

  She nods again and parts her legs as I walk toward her, and her knees drop open. Her fingers roll over her bare little pussy. She’s rubbing herself, and she knows exactly what she’s doing.

  “You like to touch yourself?”

  “I love to touch myself. Most nights I read a book on my Kindle, my other hand under the covers, moving over my clit, until my hand is nice and wet, until my pussy is slick. Until my knees are buckling and my legs are shaking. That’s what I like to do. Because I’ve never had a man who could pleasure me the way I can pleasure myself.”

  I take a deep breath, knowing my cock is going to pleasure her plenty.

  I sit on top of her and press my stiff cock between her perfect tits. She presses her hands on her breasts, creating friction between my cock and her tits.

  I move my hips, pressing against her, watching as her tongue darts from her lips, rolling around the tip of my cock as I move in and out, back and forth.

  My cock’s rock hard at the sight of her tits, her parted mouth, and her pussy.

  Everything about her screams “fuck me now.” She’s both innocent and a vixen. She is the perfect Christmas gift.

  “I’m coming fast and hard. You ready for that, baby?” I ask her.

  “Yes. I’m ready. Explode all over me. And then I want you to put that cock in my pussy. My nice pussy. You promise to do that?”

  Her words get me even harder, and that’s fucking impossible. I thrust against her, as she touches her tits, she rolls her nipples in her fingers.

  And then I cum against her breasts coating them in my cream. I shoot ribbons of my release against her soft and supple skin. She’s moaning in pleasure, and I haven’t even gotten her off yet.

  She’s moaning because she’s so turned on by getting me off.

  Which gets me off even harder.

  “Oh my God, Bradley, fuck me. Now. Don’t make me wait.”

  I growl her ear, “I won’t make you wait, baby. I’m gonna make you scream.”

  I grab a condom from my jeans; roll it on quickly, before spreading her nice little pussy lips farther apart. On my knees, I dip my head between them and I flick my tongue up and down her sweet little folds.

  “I’m gonna fuck you, CeeCee. But first I need to taste you.”

  When I look at her bare cunt, my cock grows hard again.

  Her pussy is sweet, and I lap it up, her creamy cunt tells me she likes it.

  My tongue rolls over her clit, and I move fast, remembering the way she was touching herself.

  Then, when she’s nice and juicy, I fill her with my hardness.

  I inch my cock into her, nice and slow, knowing otherwise I would hurt this sweet little girl.

  “Oh, oh, it burns.”

  “Do you want me to stop?” I ask, moving slowly against her.

  “Don’t you dare stop. I want to get past the burn; I want to be filled completely by you. Fill me up with your big hard cock.”

  I don’t ask again, instead, I deepen my thrusts until my cock is filling her tight little pussy. As I move against her, she presses her hands against my chest and then wraps her arms around my neck.

  She’s moaning, her back is arched, her tits bobbing up and down as I fuck her hard. As I fuck her with the intensity only a ten-inch cock can offer.

  “Yes, yes, it feels so…” I never hear the rest of the words because then she’s just moaning. Whimpering against me as I rock against her.

  Hard. Hard. Harder.

  Until we both cum. Her legs wrap around me, my hands cup her face.

  “CeeCee,” I tell her as our orgasms wash over us. “You seriously know how to Merry Christmas.”

  Chapter 7

  CeeCee

  By the time we dress and leave the storage closet, it’s after one in the morning.

  “Shit,” I say. “It got late really fast. My dad’s gonna be worried about me.”

  “Yeah, my mom’s probably wondering where I am too.”

  “Okay, well,” I bite my bottom lip. “I’m going to get a cab then.”

  Bradley nods, but hesitates before speaking “Can I see you again, CeeCee?”

  “I can’t think about starting something with you until I get through the next two days with my father. I need to focus on my family today.”

  My mom died a year ago and I haven’t seen my dad since then he sold their house. He may be a crying mess this first Christmas alone, understandably.

  “Maybe I’ll see you at your new bar?”

  He nods, not pushing me -- and I respect that; it would be easy to ask for my number, but Bradley seems to understand I need to be fully present for my family.

  He leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. But I can’t leave it just like just that. It is Christmas after all. I turned my head, his lips brushed against mine. And we kiss again.

  This time it isn’t ravenous. This time it is passionate and sweet. This time it is gentle and holding the promise of more to come.

  “I need to use the restroom before I head down to the cabs myself. Do you want to wait and I can walk you out?” Bradley asks.

  “No, I really need to get going,” I tell him. And I mean it. I know the longer we drag this out, the more conflicted I’ll feel about leaving this unexpected stranger. “But I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve.”

  He nods, giving me a confident smile, and I walk away.

  In the cab, I give my driver the address to my dad’s place. He moved out of the house he shared with my mom a few months ago, and put all of my mom’s things in a storage unit, which is something I’m going to have to deal with this weekend. I hope that his new home will be a good start for him without the pain of so many memories surrounding him.

  He is still young, barely fifty. He has a lot of life left and I want him to be happy.

  The cab driver pulls up to a suburban neighborhood and I’m a little surprised. I thought my dad mentioned downsizing, but it seems that he has moved into a place about the same size the place my mom and him had.

  I’m even more surprised to see Christmas lights hanging on the gutters and a decorated Christmas tree through the living room window.

  I knock on the door, anxious to see my dad. When he opens the door, a rush of emotions covers me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him.

  “CeeCee,” Dad says, pulling me into a hug.

  “Hey, daddy,” I tell him. “It’s so good to see you.”

  I step inside his place, setting my bag in the foyer, looking around confused.

  “This place seems like more than what you talked about wanting.”

  “I tried to send you some pictures of it on my phone, but this damn smart phone is too complicated. I need you to give me a tutorial.”

  “Dad,” I laugh. “You seriously don’t know how to text message a photograph?”

  He shrugs, smiling. “Truth is, I wante
d you to see it in person. Sometimes things can be misunderstood when you aren’t face-to-face.”

  That when I notice we aren’t alone. Someone else is in this house.

  “CeeCee,” he begins. “I didn’t want to say it over the phone....”

  “You moved in with someone?” My eyes widen in surprise, but also grateful to know my dad isn’t all alone for the holidays. When I suggested Match.com a few months ago, he laughed it off. Maybe he didn’t laugh for long.

  I’ve read the statistics; it’s very common for men to remarry quickly after being widowed. I’ve wanted my dad to find someone.

  But this is a bit of whiplash.

  “Are you guys married?” I ask seeing the ring on her finger.

  “Not yet, we wanted everyone to meet.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “We wanted it to be a Christmas surprise. CeeCee, this is Shelly.”

  Shelly smiles at me, warm and friendly. While she isn’t Mom, she does reach out and give me a hug, and when I look up at my father, he is beaming.

  All my fears of my dad being all alone and heartbroken disappear, and relief washes over me. He looks happy, which is all I’d ever hope for him, especially at Christmas.

  “Congratulations,” I tell them. “This is quite the Christmas surprise.”

  Just then another cab pulls up to the house. With the front door still open, I turn and look to see who is here.

  A man walks toward the house but it’s so dark I can’t make out his face

  “Oh, my son is here, I can’t wait for you to meet him,” Shelly says walking out the front door with open arms.

  My mouth falls open, and I wonder when the hell my life became a romance novel.

  My mountain man is here.

  What the Merry Christmas?

  Chapter 8

  CeeCee

  The idea of my father marrying a woman I’ve just met throws me for a loop. But it is nothing in comparison to seeing Bradley walk into the house with Shelly.