Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men, #2)

by S.J. Tilly

“Work for me.” “Work… for you.” I shake my head. “I appreciate you’re trying to help, but I’m not handy. I can’t build furniture.” He huffs a laugh. “I love you, Kenny. But I will never hand you a power tool ever again.” I roll my eyes. You saw through one electrical cord, and the world will never let you forget.

I don’t have a usual drink. There are too many good options in the world to always drink the same thing.

Her hair hangs perfectly straight, long enough to brush her shoulders. Her bare shoulders. She’s wearing a white tank top, and the fabric is stretched tight over full-size tits.

Society likes to make it seem as though men don’t like thick, curvy women, but that’s not true. Not for me. Not one fucking bit. I like to watch my women bounce. Like to watch my fingers indent into soft flesh. I like tits that can suffocate me.

“You want me to take a tequila shot with you, Doll?” Doll. I flatten my palms on the bar for balance. Yeah, Daddy. I want you to take a shot with me. Off me. Whatever.

“Okay, Papi,” I breathe. Wait. No. I did not just say that. My mouth snaps shut just as his opens.

I feel like I’ve heard that name in a movie as the bad guy, but who needs superheroes if this is what the villains look like?

“Relax, Baby.” I make a shushing sound. “Just do as I tell you and relax.”

He pulls my panties to the side. “Let go.” A finger pushes inside me. “Come for Daddy.”

He hums. And I fight to breathe. “Do I taste good, Daddy?” He bites my nipple. His hips pound into me. Harder. His cock stretches me more with every thrust.

Dad has the same dark hair as I do—only his is graying, and he keeps it short. But that’s where our similarities start and finish. He’s a solid six feet tall. I’m five and a half. He has a slender build. I… don’t.

His lips part. A drip of syrup falls onto his plate. I wish I was that plate.

“So… you know what Luther’s R-rated sounds are like? Is there something you two want to tell me? Is that what this breakfast is all about?” Dad sputters for a moment before throwing his head back with a laugh. Luther lays a hand on my dad’s shoulder with a wicked grin aimed my way. “That’s right, Kendra. I’m your daddy now too.”

He’s not trying to limit me. Not giving me different food than what he eats. Not telling me to eat less. Have less. Be less. And it’s shit like this that makes him even hotter.

“One of these years, I’ll get him to take me to his place in Vail for a romantic weekend.” “Next anniversary,” Luther replies. “We have an anniversary?” Luther shakes his head. “This is why I don’t take you.”

I shift the plant in my grip. Act normal. Act like an adult who has control over his body.

“Hurry up.” My fingers are frantic over her bundle of nerves. “Hurry up and come before we get caught.” I roll my hips. “Unless you want to get caught with my cock buried in this greedy little pussy.” I shove deeper. “Then everyone will know that I’m your Daddy now.”

If having a Daddy kink is wrong, I will never be right.

Not wasting time, I tug my skirt up, and, like a lady, I pull my thong to the side and use Luther’s clean kerchief to catch the evidence of our rendezvous.

And my gluttonous pussy throbs. If you’re going to fuck me, then feed me, you might as well wife me.

“The second problem is…” He lifts a shoulder. “I like you a brownie amount.”

Grounded. Sparks light in my belly as I think about him grounding me in another way. Heat fills my cheeks. I have a feeling I’d enjoy any punishment Luther would dole out.

Me: Don’t worry, Daddy. I’m not coming without you. I slap a hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I sent that. Papi: Dammit, Doll. I’m in public. I laugh. Me: Sorry. Papi: You’re not sorry. Me: I’m not sorry.

“There’s my pretty girl.” His words are a purr, and they settle over my skin like a fuzzy blanket.

It feels like the first time. Feels like we’ve been doing this for years. Like the best thing ever. It feels like it will hurt when it’s over. “What if it ends badly?” “It won’t.” “Promise?” “I promise, Baby Doll.”

Sitting on the couch with a sleeping baby sprawled across her chest. Her eyes find mine, and she lights up. And she looks so perfect. So happy. It’s like getting a glimpse into her future. But it’s not a future I can give her. And I don’t know what to do about that.

I love her.

It’s an Alaskan King. Too big for one man. But perfect for fucking a feisty brat.

“It’s time for your punishment, Brat.” I palm my hardening cock. “You ready?” “Yes, Daddy.”

“Crawl to me.”

She nods. “So wet.” “Try that again.” She blinks at me, those pretty green eyes sparkling in the dim light. “I’m so wet, Daddy.” I flex my jaw. I’m going to blow the second she fucking touches me. “Turn around.” My voice is gravel. Kendra shifts around until her back is to me. “Hands on the floor.” Like a good little girl, she bends forward onto all fours.

And standing here, nude, dripping sex, I feel as comfortable as I’ve ever felt. Insecurities… Body-image issues… Who are they?

“Okay, but fair warning, if you’re gone for more than an hour, there’s a one-hundred-percent chance I’ll be asleep in your bed when you come back.” His look softens. “And I’m super certain that I’ll like finding you there.”

I press a kiss to the top of her head, shushing her. And it feels so right. It all feels so fucking right, having both my girls under my roof. My daughter safe in my house. My woman safe in my arms. And I want to keep this. This feeling. This sense of peace. I want to keep it so fucking bad that it breaks my heart.

“Of course you’ll get along. You get along with everyone.” He smiles and drops his hand. “And if Ashley doesn’t like you, we’ll fight them.” A laugh pops out of me. “Them?” He nods. “Yeah. Father versus daughter.” “Versus?” I laugh again. “Yep. I’ll take Ashley, you get Luther.”

Her tank top is modest, but it’s clinging to her every curve. She clearly doesn’t understand that no matter what she wears, she’s always going to look like a goddess of desire.

“Here you go.” I hold the beer out for Luther. He sits up from his reclined position, taking the bottle. “Thanks, Baby.” My heart stops. He just called me Baby. In front of his daughter. “Goats.” Luther coughs the word while he pats his chest, like he swallowed something wrong. “You can hire them to eat your lawn.” I cannot with this man.

“The twenty-year age gap? No.” “Twenty-four,” I correct her.

“Do you love him?” The question slides over me like molasses. Do I love him? The man who brings me food. The man who cares for and provides for his family. The man who can make me laugh and swoon and melt all in one night. Do I love the man who makes me feel desired? The man who makes me feel loved, even if I don’t dare ask him for the words. Do I love Luther? I lift my shoulder again.

He’s watching me. Staring. And I feel like I can breathe again. I feel settled. Luther stands, but I stay where I am. I didn’t even realize how off-kilter I’ve felt until now.

“She seemed fine when I saw her.” “At the grad party?” I ask. “That was like four days ago.” “Huh? Oh, right.”

I feel all of it. That’s something I learned from my therapist. I learned how to feel it. How to feel the bad, the unknown, the uncomfortable. Feel it. Let it live. Let it die. Let it go.

Buddy darts his head down, snaps up the string, and then he shakes it like he’s trying to kill it. A real laugh bubbles out of me. “Yeah, you tell that string who’s boss.”

“Now, don’t get so lazy that you forget how to hunt.” I set the bowl of meat down next to the towels. “This is a one-time thing.” I’m pretty sure we both know this is not a one-time thing.

What’s that bullshit saying? It’s better to have loved and lost… I don’t think so. Whoever said that is full of shit. Whoever said that never really loved someone. Because if they had, they’d know that there’s bliss in the ignorance of not knowing what you can’t have. There’s bliss in the lack of hope. Because for a few weeks… I hoped. For a few weeks, I pretended she was mine. For a few weeks… I breathe. I wish I’d never… I breathe again. Met her. Seen her. Touched her. Tasted her. Known her. I try to breathe.

“So if you tell me you met a fox named Buddy, then I’ll believe you, okay?” This time I snort. “I didn’t make him up.” He nods. “I believe you.” I brush away another tear as I smile. “Dad.” “Yeah?” I point past him to the back door. He glances to where I’m pointing, then rears back. “Holy shit.” Buddy, who is sitting just on the other side of the glass door, lets out a scratchy shout. Dad slowly turns his head back to me. “It’s a fox.” I grin. “It’s a fox.”

In the results is a suggested question for How long do foxes live. I click on it. I should not have clicked on it. That sadness inside me folds in on itself. Doubling. Tripling. “That… That can’t be true,” I sob. Unable to help myself, I search more. And the answer is still the same. Buddy tilts his head, looking at me. “It’s not true.” I lie to him. “Foxes can live forever.”

“I broke up with her. It’s over.” I take the shot. Jessie’s mouth drops open. “What? Why the fuck would you do that?” “I’m not right for her,” I croak. “Bullshit,” Jessie snaps, then leans over the bar. “That’s total bullshit. You might be a giant dumbass, but you’re perfect for that girl.”

A family of… six is walking up. Four kids? Pull out already.

I do my best to engage Joe in conversation, asking about things I know will keep him talking. Like how his garbage day changed to Tuesday.