Jameson: The Men of Whiskey Mountain Book 2

by Love, Frankie

  “Then what are you waiting for, mountain man?”

  He chuckles, then picks me up off the barstool, naked, into his arms. I expect him to take me back to the bedroom, but instead, he pushes open the back door and takes me outside.

  “Oh, my god!” I shriek as the icy cold air hits my naked body. “What are you doing?”

  Jameson chuckles. “Don’t worry; I got you.”

  “I’m not worried about being dropped. I’m talking about being outside in the cold!”

  “Don’t fret, little one.”

  My belly flip flops at his words. ‘Little one.’ That is how I feel around him. Like I am his little one. I fit in his arms, and I want to fit in his heart too. He makes me feel so absolutely safe.

  “Here we go,” he says, setting me down on a small flight of stairs that leads to a steaming hot tub. “This will warm you up.”

  “Wow,” I exhale, taking in Jameson’s deck. “This is gorgeous.”

  “And so are you,” he says, keeping hold of my hand as I step up the stairs and dip in a toe.

  “I look over my shoulder at him. “You’re joining me, right?”

  He grins. “Oh, yeah. You better believe it.”

  I sink into the steaming water and watch as Jameson undresses. His cock hangs hard between his legs and my pussy clenches as he tugs off his tee-shirt, revealing his ladder of abs once more. He is so muscular, so strong. My body aches to be filled by him, for his arms to wrap around me once more and never let go.

  He steps into the tub and smiles. “You look like a goddess, with your tits bobbing in the water and the bubbles around you. The star-filled sky overhead. It’s perfection.”

  “Well, so are you,” I say, swimming over to him as he sits down. “I was dreaming about you while I napped.”

  “I know.” He takes me by my waist and pulls me to his lap.

  “What do you know?” I smirk. But secretly loving the way it feels to sit in his lap. I wrap my legs around him, utterly aware if his thickness at my belly, between us.

  “You were talking in your sleep. Dreaming up something delicious, from what I could hear.”

  “How do you know I was dreaming?” I ask him, running my hands over his hair and then running my fingers through his thick beard. My thumbs trace over his cheekbones, and I draw my eyes to his. It's like my hands are intent on memorizing him, and my heart refuses to look away.

  “I may have heard you.”

  “Heard me?” I ask, eyes widening. “What did you hear?”

  “I don't want to embarrass you.”

  “Well, you are the one who brought it up,” I say as his hands run down my back, cupping my ass cheeks. I wiggle closer to him, creating heat between us as the steam rises around our bodies. It's so sexy in here, so decadent, so relaxed, so utterly unlike my life. The life I had leading to now was a life where everything was an act, a pre-stage performance, with cash on the table. I got paid.

  I close my eyes, not wanting to think about that. I could feel my shame rising as the memories surface.

  “What is it?” he asks, and I know I've ruined the moment and the mood.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Sometimes, I get caught up in my head, and I forget that I'm not by myself.”

  “Don't be embarrassed.”

  I shake my head. “Oh, I have plenty to be embarrassed about, Jameson, and not just whatever you heard when I was sleeping.”

  “Look, I know you've had a rough go of it,” he says. I press my palms to his chest. His body is so solid and stable. I want to hold onto it. I don't want to let go. “We all have our pasts. All of us have different stories. Ones we wish we could bury. Hell, maybe we can. I know your life's been hard, Jemma, in ways I've never come close to experiencing. My parents had money. That was never my problem. I always struggled with finding my place in the world. Never knowing what to do with myself. I never had a calling, never had a purpose, and I know how goddamn privileged that sounds to someone like you, a woman who hasn't even had a chance to dream because she's been so busy trying to survive, but it's the truth.”

  He looks at me, and I look at him and god, I love him. I love this man I just met. Who I don’t even know, but at this moment, it’s like I know enough. I know the things that matter. He sees me.

  He tilts my chin, and I look up any him as he clears his throat. “I know I'm not your one and only. I know this isn't your first time, and I'm sorry if those other times weren't ones you wanted, Jemma. I wish I could take those memories away. I wish—"

  I press my hand to his mouth. Shushing him. “Don’t,” I say. “You're too generous to me, too good to me.” I shake my head; my eyes squeezed tight. “Jameson, I’m far from innocent. I could've gotten a different job. I chose the life I led. It was the only life I thought I could lead. I thought it was all I was good at.” I wrap my arms around his neck, trembling with my words. “I've never been with someone who I cared about. I've never had a partner who was more than a transaction. I've never been with a man who was a lover and —"

  He cuts me off. “Goddammit, Jemma, let me be your first.”

  My shoulders fall at those words. His clarity makes me see a future I never imagined for myself. And he lifts my ass and I slowly sink on his hard cock and I breathe him in. I wrap my arms around his neck, and I kiss him deeply. His mouth is on mine and, God, it feels good to be taken by him. He kisses me hard as if his mouth is a promise and I lower myself down on him, filling myself with all that he is.

  His big, thick cock is taking over and taking control. I moan against him, gasping as my back arches. Our mouths part, desire on our lips, his hands run over my back, through my hair, cupping my tits.

  “Goddamn, Jemma, I fucking love you,” he says, and my heart pounds. And at the same time, it stills.

  But I don't tell him to be quiet. I don't ask him to stop. Instead, I tell him to keep going, harder and harder. Yes, this is what I want. Whatever this is. A daydream. A fantasy. A forecast, a prediction of a future that one day maybe might be mine. God, how I want it to be. I want Jameson to be the man who holds me tightly in his arms, here in this house that looks like a palace in the woods. His body is so capable, so solidly protective.

  He fills me up so, so thoroughly. Oh, God. I whimper against him, my body shaking, and he holds me tight. The night air is cold, but the steam of the tub so warm as it wraps around our bodies. I cling to him as he fucks me.

  No, that's not what he does. He makes love to me.

  Yes. Yes. For the first time in my life, a man holds me like he wants to take care of me. Like he is scared I might break.

  He won't let me go. Don't fret, little one. His words still ring in my ears. God, they were the sweetest ones I've ever heard.

  “Little one, I have you,” he says as his cock buries deeper inside me, thrusting up, and I move my hips, my body taking him in a way I've never taken a man before.

  He's bigger and thicker than any I've ever had, and God, he feels like my first. He feels like my last. When Jameson comes, I come too, the orgasm reaching from my toes to the crown of my head.

  I fall against him as I crash, the orgasm rising inside of me, burning brightly at my core.

  Our bodies together as one.

  He loves me.

  And God, how I love him back.

  Chapter Seven

  Jameson

  We move from the hot tub to my couch, and I take her again. We’re drenched, and her hair is wet, and skin is bright red from the heat of the tub, and she looks fucking gorgeous on my bearskin rug in front of the roaring fire.

  I told her I loved her, a woman I hardly know, but God, I believe in love at first fucking sight.

  When you see the woman you’re meant to be with, how could you not?

  “You’re so hard,” she says with a smile on her perfect pink lips.

  “I could go all night with you, little one,” I tell her, kissing her shoulders and wrapping my arms around her waist until she laughingly squirms away, moving to
all fours.

  She looks over her shoulders. “Come here,” she says, her eyes aglow. I can’t resist. And why would I? She is everything I never knew I needed. But God, I know now.

  Even though we just met, I know Jemma was made for me. I run a hand over her back, another between her legs, and she whimpers as I touch her sweet, juicy slit.

  “You like that?” I ask as she moans in pleasure. Guiding my cock to her luscious hole, I begin to fill her up, nice and smooth, never wanting to hurt her in the slightest. Her ass grinds against me, aching for more of my length, so I give it to her, all I have to give. Inch by inch, I fill her pussy until she on her elbows panting with pleasure, reveling in the delight of my cock in her cunt.

  God, it feels so right to fill her up, the rug gentle on our knees and I take hold of her hips, easing her deeper against me, and she leans back, my palms massaging her big, luscious tits, her nipples hard and my cock fucking ready because of it. She makes me dizzy, goddamn insane; I want to come so deep inside her, so she never thinks of another man again.

  “What did you say?” she asks, and I realize I must have voiced my thoughts out loud. But I don’t rightly care. “I make you insane?” she laughs.

  “In the best fucking way, little one,” I say, plowing deeper inside her sweet field, her pussy as fragrant as flowers, and I fucking want to drink her nectar every night of my life.

  I roll her over, pinning her to the ground. My hands are on her wrists as we finish, both of us coming hard, our voices loud as we get off, and her eyes close while I say a goddamn prayer. A prayer that she can always be this happy because I know she’s had a hard fucking go, but right now, she looks the part of a princess. She’s glowing.

  She’s mine.

  Her eyes open, and our gazes meet, and her face breaks out in a smile.

  “What would you have done tonight if I hadn’t shown up?” she asks.

  I shake my head, lying beside her, our bodies facing one another. I drape a hand over her hips, loving the feel of her silky skin. “Cried my eyes out, probably.”

  She smirks. “I can’t picture you crying.”

  “No?” I grin.

  “When’s the last time you cried?” She runs a finger over my chest.

  I exhale. “You really wanna know?”

  She nods. “You say you love me. Then I need to know the good, the bad, the downright ugly.”

  “I don’t wanna scare you away.”

  She presses her lips together, the reality of her situation so close to her heart. “And where would I go?”

  “I don’t want you to go anywhere.” I pull her closer to me. My still hard cock presses against her belly.

  “Then tell me.”

  “I cried when my brother, Johnny, died.”

  “And when was that?”

  “About five years ago.”

  “About the time you moved out here?”

  I nod. “Now you understand why I came to Whiskey Mountain. Most people come here to run away from something.”

  “You were close?”

  “We were twins.”

  Jemma’s mouth forms into a perfect ‘O,’ and she nods. “I’m so sorry.”

  “He was the good son, the one who made our parents proud. He wasn’t the one who should have died.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s the truth, Jemma. I’ve always been a wild card. Looking for a chance to walk on the dark side. Johnny though? He was always on the right track. Never veering far from the straight and narrow.”

  “How did he die?”

  “We were on one of my dad’s fishing boats. A storm came out of nowhere, and he was tossed overboard. Just like that, he was gone. I haven’t stepped foot on a boat since.”

  Jemma’s eyes search mine. “Have you seen your parents much since then?”

  I swallow, giving her the slightest shake of the head.

  “Then it’s like your parents lost two sons that night, isn’t it?”

  Her words slice clean through my heart. “Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cry again,”

  “That’s not the worst thing.”

  “No?” I pull her to me, her head nestled against my chest.

  “You haven’t lost your parents. You can still fix things.”

  “You must think I’m a privileged fucking fool.”

  “I don’t, Jameson. I think you’re a leaf blowing in the wind, same as me. Both of us wishing we were a tree, rooted in something. Anything.”

  “I’d put down roots with you, Jemma.”

  “A girl you just met.”

  I nod. “Yes. A girl I just met.”

  “I’m scared you are going to wake up tomorrow, and you’ll no longer be under this spell.”

  “You a witch?” I tease.

  “Sometimes, I wish I was. I wish I could make a potion that would wipe my past all away.”

  “Without a past, how would you know your future?”

  “But isn’t that just what you’ve done, Jameson? Run away, erased the past as best you could?”

  I look into her eyes. “Goddammit, woman, you must be some sort of witch.”

  “Why’s that?” She smiles up at me.

  “You seem to know the exact right thing to say.”

  “Well, right now I’m at a loss for words,” she admits.

  “Then let me help you with that.” I run a hand over her ass, then roll onto my back, turning her around. Drawing her hips down, with her pussy against my mouth, I lick my girl, the way we both need. She dips her head and begins to suck my thick cock. My tongue is greedy as I lick her, up and down until she is dripping in my mouth. I squeeze her ass cheeks, burying my beard against her cunt. I can’t stop myself. I need more. I need everything.

  I press a finger, then another in her creamy hole, and make her moan, her mouth full of my cock, her hands on my tight balls, our bodies moving as one. God, her pussy tastes good, I catch her spilled cream as I finger fuck her hard. Finger fuck her the way she needs until she is gushing against me. My cock is rigid with need, desperate to spill my seed.

  I roll her to her back, lifting her legs over my shoulder. Filling her up hard until she is screaming my name. “Oh, Jamie! Yes, Yes, Ohh.” Her voice is breaking as I fuck her through the night. I come deep inside her, the way she craves, the way I covet.

  “Your pussy is mine now, and no other man will taste it, lick it, devour it. Only me. Understood?”

  She nods. “I hope you put a baby in me. I want you to fuck me until I’m filled with your child.”

  Her words make me relentless with need. We just finished fucking, but there is no way in hell I’m stopping now. “I need you again, little one. Now.”

  I lift her from the floor, toss her perfect form over my shoulder, and march her to my bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Jemma

  Making love to Jameson is otherworldly. It’s like we are addicted to one another’s bodies. And for the next few weeks, there is a simple pattern we follow. Wake. Fuck. Eat. Fuck. Soak in the hot tub while we fuck. Shower while we fuck. Heck, I was scrambling us some eggs when he got on his knees and buried his face in my ass. Breakfast burned because we couldn’t help ourselves.

  One second, I had a spatula in my hand; the next, it was tossed aside, and I was on the counter, legs spread wide, his tongue running up and down my slit until I was panting his name.

  We’re in the hot tub, midday, when he tells me he has to leave for a day or so.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To Anchorage. To see my parents. I’ve been thinking about what you said and I…” He looks up to the blue sky, the tall, thick pines towering above us. It’s not hard to get lost out here. “You can come with me, of course.”

  I run my hand over the surface of the warm water. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but… I’m not ready for all that comes with that. I haven’t even seen my sister yet, so to meet your family first…”

  “I understand, Jemma. I just worry ab
out you being out here alone.”

  “This is the safest place in the world, Jameson.” I shrug. “Besides, I know how to use a gun.”

  Jameson chuckles. “You know that doesn’t reassure me of anything, right?”

  I give him my best smile. I finally got to speak with Waverley the day after I got here, and I can’t stop thinking about seeing her again. “I can’t believe you are alive,” she had whispered.

  “Can you ever forgive me for getting you involved in all that shit?”

  Waverley’s voice is soft, soothing, as sweet as it ever was. “Without going through everything we did, I wouldn’t have met Walker. The father to my children.”

  “You’re letting me off the hook too easily.”

  “No, Jemma. I’m helping you understand that everything happens for a reason.”

  “Everything?” I’d asked, looking around Jameson’s gorgeous cabin. The masculine furniture and sturdy walls make me feel utterly safe.

  “Everything.” I can practically hear her smile through the phone. “You can come to Anchorage, or wait until we get home in four weeks. It sounds like you’ve been through the wringer yourself, so maybe you need some time to recuperate?”

  “Jameson has been taking care of me,” I told her, watching him through the window. He was outside chopping wood. His shirt was off, and sweat was rolling down his back.

  “Good. We all need someone to look after us every once in a while.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “I never did a good job of looking after you, my little sister.”

  “We did the best we could.”

  “My best wasn’t good enough, Wavy.”

  “Listen to me,” she said. “Use this time to figure out what happens next. Jameson isn’t going to kick you out any time soon. And if it gets too hard to live with a stranger, move down to our cabin, okay?”

  “Jameson is really good to me.”

  “Like really good?”

  “Yeah. Like I don’t know what is in the air here on Whiskey Mountain, but it has me thinking crazy things. Things I’ve never thought before.”