Mountain Man's Accidental Baby Daughter (A Mountain Man's Baby Romance)

by Lia Lee

  The constant ache of my nipples only makes me wetter, needier, and I look at Nathaniel helplessly. He seems content to watch me.

  “You like those, huh?” he asks in a low voice, and I nod. If I don’t come soon, I’m going to lose my mind. I lower my hand between my legs and start rubbing myself. Nathaniel’s eyes lock on to my hand, and now there’s this dark, hungry look in his eyes that I know well. It’s the one he gets right before he’s about to fuck me so hard I can barely walk. He crawls to the bottom of the mattress, still watching me.

  “Spread your legs, baby. I want to see you,” he says, and I obey. Obeying him is second nature to me now, and the fact that he’s just told me what to do has me even wetter.

  Now what had been me trying to relieve myself is a show for his pleasure, and I imagine what he sees now: me, wearing my little nipple clamps, thighs spread, fingers circling my clit.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls, not taking his eyes off me. “Look how wet you are. All this from sucking my cock and having your nipples clamped. You’re perfect,” he adds, and I’m so close. He’s hard now, and as I watch, he takes his dick in his hand and gives it a long, hard stroke.

  “Come for me now, Poppy,” he says, and my body responds to the command in his tone immediately. I come hard, my hips bucking against my hand, and I hear him groan. When I open my eyes again, I see him rolling a condom onto himself. He pulls my hand away from my pussy and presses both of my hands into the mattress over my head, and then he enters me in one fast, hard trust, and I scream. I’m so tender from the night before and my recent orgasm, and he seems like he’s out of his mind with lust, fucking me so hard, so deep that I feel like I’m about to split in two.

  “Did you like touching yourself for me?” he asks roughly as he thrusts into me. He stays there, deep in me, still waiting for my answer.

  “Yes, Nathaniel,” I moan, writhing beneath him. He pulls back and slams into me again.

  “And you liked sucking my dick?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re very, very good at it,” he says as he slams into me again, so hard he lifts my hips off the mattress. I scream, coming so hard I see stars, and then he’s taking me fast, hard, and another orgasm builds under the intensity of the way he’s fucking me. I can tell he’s close, his breathing ragged, his motions becoming jerky and rough. He reaches between us and gently pinches my clit as he slams into me again, and I fall apart, screaming his name. My orgasm spurs his release, and he shouts—a stream of filthy curses that I would not have suspected him using before I started sharing his bed.

  When Nathaniel is spent, he collapses on top of me for a moment, crushing me into the mattress. Both of our bodies wear a sheen of perspiration, and we’re both breathing like we just ran a marathon.

  He presses a kiss to the side of my neck and gets up to get rid of the condom. Then he’s back, lying beside me.

  “I think you’ll like this part, too,” he murmurs. I hold my breath as he removes the first nipple clamp. The surge of pain as it releases is almost overwhelming, and then his mouth is closing over my aching nipple, soothing it, gently sucking it until the pain subsides. He does the same thing with my other nipple, then settles next to me, his eyes searching mine.

  “Okay?” he murmurs.

  I nod. “Better than okay.”

  He smiles and pulls me into his arms. We’ll doze for a while and hopefully spend this weekend mostly naked. Monday, we’ll have to get ready for work again, and then I’ll have to spend all day pretending that I didn’t spend the morning masturbating for him and that my pussy doesn’t ache from the hard, deep thrusts he tortured me with.

  His eyes are closed again, and I replay our lovemaking as I look at him. I knew it after that first night, but I know it even more now: he’s ruined me for anyone else. No one will ever make me feel the way Nathaniel does. No one will ever be so intuitive about my needs and where that erotic line between pleasure and pain lies for me. He pays attention. His attention to detail is what makes his gallery one of the best in the city, and it’s also what makes him a phenomenal lover.

  I’m trying to learn from him. Based on how he responds to me, I have the feeling I’m doing a good job.

  He opens his eyes and pats my ass. “I wish I could spend all day in bed with you, but I have a meeting at the gallery in a while. Vanessa Duchamp wants to look at the exhibit before it opens tonight.”

  I give him a little faux-pout, and he smiles.

  “I’ll be counting down the minutes until I have you naked again,” he tells me, and my pout turns to a smile.

  “Me too.”

  He gets out of bed, and a moment later, I hear the shower turn on. Showering with Nathaniel is my favorite way to shower, but I leave him alone to get ready. Tonight, maybe we’ll shower together.

  I stretch out in his king-size bed, my head resting on the fluffiest pillow I’ve ever slept on, the cool white sheets caressing my body. I close my eyes and listen to the shower, then to Nathaniel moving around in the bathroom as he shaves and brushes his teeth.

  When he comes back into the bedroom, I watch him get dressed, and when it’s time to put his tie on, I kneel on the edge of the bed and tie it for him. He rests his hand on my naked hips and watches me as I tie and straighten the knot.

  “Make yourself at home. Relax,” he says. “The kitchen is fully stocked, and the pool and Jacuzzi are both at your disposal.”

  I smile and run my fingers down his tie. “I might end up watching reality TV on the big screen in your living room,” I tease, knowing his opinion of those shows.

  He grimaces, and I laugh.

  “Will you at least be watching them naked?”

  I shrug. “You’ll just have to wonder, maybe.”

  He gives my ass a not-so-gentle slap, and I bite my lip. He’s mock-threatened to spank me a few times, and the idea of him tossing me over his lap and doing that to me turns me on.

  “Maybe I’ll reprogram all of your favorites, so they show reality TV networks,” I say.

  “You must want me to spank you,” he murmurs.

  I smile up at him. “All talk and no action, Mr. Stone.”

  He groans and squeezes my ass. “Teasing is definitely punishable by spanking.” I wiggle my ass beneath his hand, and he gives a snort of a laugh.

  “When I get back,” he says. “I’m pretty sure you have a good spanking coming your way.” He cups my breasts, and I moan. “These might have a few smacks coming, too.” He lowers his mouth to one nipple, tugging it gently into his mouth, and then does the same with the other. He stands up straight and meets my eyes. “Rest up today. You’re going to need your energy later.” And then he kisses me, leaving me breathless and needy, and then gives me one more sexy smile before he walks out the door.

  I shake my head and pull on one of Nathaniel’s button-down shirts, then make my way to the kitchen to find something for lunch. I’m absolutely starving, and if Nathaniel is to be believed (which I know he is) I’m going to need my energy later.

  His penthouse is enormous, full of light from the big windows that look out over the city. Wood floors gleam, and the furniture is modern and expensive. A Jacuzzi is in one corner of the living room, near the windows. I blush as I remember the way he took me there, fucking me from behind as I braced my hands on the glass, telling me that anyone who happened to look this way would be able to see me, watch me being taken by him.

  I shake my head and continue looking through the fridge. I end up settling on a plate of fruit and cheese, and I eat while looking around. It’s all very Nathaniel. Larger than life, refined, but with an undercurrent of wildness that very few get to see. The modern furniture and expensive art lives side by side with an almost ridiculous collection of swords and knives, which are displayed on one wall. The neat bedroom hides a whole lot of naughtiness, from the nipple clamps he used on me that morning to a collection of ropes and other sex toys I haven’t been brave enough to try yet.

  I�
��m getting up to put my plate in the dishwasher when I hear the door open, and then, to my shock, a child’s laugh echoing down the marble-floored hallway from the foyer. I look down at myself, wearing only Nathaniel’s shirt, and start to make a mad dash for the bedroom.

  I reach the living room when I realize it’s too late. A little boy and an older woman are standing there, looking at me. He’s maybe five years old, with dark hair and… hazel eyes.

  “Hello,” I say, tugging at the bottom hem of the shirt. I’m glad Nathaniel is so much taller than I am.

  “Hi,” the boy says. I glance at the woman.

  “I’m terribly sorry, but I have a family emergency. Please pass my apologies along to Mr. Stone. I’ll see you soon, Micah,” she says, and then she’s gone, and it’s just the kid—Micah—and I left standing there.

  “Um…” I begin.

  “Do you know my dad?” he asks, and my heart sinks.

  What the fuck is this? Nathaniel has a son? Does he have a wife tucked somewhere after all? Was all of this just a torrid affair?

  Fuck. Am I the other woman?

  I look at Micah, who’s studying me with big eyes that remind me far too much of his father’s. He seems unsure of me, and I can’t blame him.

  I’ve been there.

  Seven years old, walking into my dad’s office at his old job, surprising him with the muffins I’d made. I’d opened the door, and the first thing I’d seen was his secretary, Marlene, bent over his desk, my dad standing behind her, thrusting and grunting. Their focus hadn’t been on me, or the door, and I’d left before either of them realized I was there.

  My mom had been waiting in the car for me.

  I didn’t tell her. Didn’t even know what I’d seen, really, except to know that it was wrong. I’d never looked at my dad the same way again, and, a few years later, Mom had passed. I’ve never forgiven him.

  I blink, forcing myself back to the present. This changes everything. I can’t continue our arrangement. I won’t fuck Nathaniel if there’s an innocent child in the mix who could be hurt by what we’re doing together.

  A wife. He probably has a wife somewhere. Or a girlfriend. So not only am I being paid to sleep with him, whether he wanted to admit it or not, but I’m also probably a home wrecker.

  I hate myself more than a little when the realization hits me.

  “Where’s my dad?” Micah asks shyly.

  “He’s at work. I’m going to go get dressed, and then I’ll take you to him. Okay?”

  Micah nods. “Okay.”

  “Are you hungry?” I ask. I don’t know why. It just seems like the sort of thing you should ask a kid. Something normal, other than “Sorry I’m screwing your daddy.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.” I head into the bedroom and close the door, then rest my head on it as I try to get myself under control. I want to cry. I want to punch Nathaniel Stone in his stupid perfect face.

  Most of all, I want to pretend none of this ever happened.

  Chapter Ten

  Nathaniel

  I stand there, half listening as Vanessa prattles about a show she saw, some resort she went to, and shopping, shopping, shopping. I glance at her, taking in her thick red cascade of hair, her slick red lips and very nicely enhanced curves. But today, it’s doing absolutely nothing for me. And I realize why most of the time I spent with Vanessa was in bed, where the only words she bothered with were, “Yes,” “More,” and “Harder.” I hide a grimace. Today, of course, she’s not here as one of my favorite fuck buddies, but as an artist my gallery is launching this evening. More importantly, perhaps she’s standing here as the wife of one of my best, wealthiest clients.

  Why we even started our secret trysts eludes me now. Although, even as I begin to think about it, the answer is coming. Something to do with Danneel… the loneliness of being alone… the need to touch and be touched…

  “Hey, boss.” I turn to the doorway leading into the gallery and see Bruce, dressed in his usual gray uniform. A pang of guilt hits me, and I try not to let it show. “Vanessa’s paintings are all in the exhibition room. Do you need me to do anything else with them?”

  “No, Bruce. That’s perfect. Thank you.”

  He gives me a grin and a small wave, and another, harder pang of guilt hits me. I was fucking his daughter not even an hour ago, and I’ve done absolutely filthy things to her over the last couple of weeks. When I’m between Poppy’s thighs, the last thing I think about is how great and loyal her father is an employee. When I’m sucking her clit and making her scream my name, the thought of the potential, very nasty, very public lawsuit that could come from this doesn’t even enter my mind. Conflict of interest doesn’t even begin to describe it, yet I can’t seem to bring myself to care. Spanking her sweet ass, seeing my handprints on her gorgeous, smooth skin… I don’t think about much at all during those moments, except for how much I want Poppy.

  Vanessa keeps talking as if Bruce hadn’t been there at all. She’s very good at ignoring things that she considers beneath her interest. For all of her talent artistically, as well as in the sack, she has a personality that’s distinctly lacking.

  And what does it say about me that, until recently, I never even gave that fact a second thought?

  “It’s been a while, hot stuff,” Vanessa says in a low, sultry tone. She reaches out and runs her fingertips over the edge of my tie, long red nails gently scraping along my chest. “What’s been keeping you so busy lately?” she asks with a faux pout.

  I give her what I hope is a casual smile. “Work. You think all of this magic happens on its own?”

  She laughs, throwing her head back, and thrusting her chest toward me. “It’s not the only type of magic you’re good at,” she murmurs. She inches toward me, breasts pressed to my chest, the scent of her perfume surrounding me.

  A few weeks ago, I would have been ready to take her up to my office and succumb to the pleasures of a convenient quickie to sate both of our libidos. Vanessa’s talented with her mouth.

  Not as talented as Poppy though.

  The thought comes to me, and I give Vanessa another small smile. I have no interest in fucking her, and that thought alone rocks me. I never cared one way or the other about her personality before, and if she were around, we’d always been good at finding ways to slip away and do the nasty, sometimes right under her husband’s nose. Up until now, I’d never felt guilty about that—mowing another man’s lawn. Yet the idea of it has presently left a bad taste in my mouth.

  Vanessa starts rubbing up against me, and I gently put my arms on her elbows, ready to push her away from me. I don’t want to offend her. Not only do I have to work with her to get this opening off the ground, but her husband and his money help keep this particular gallery very much in the black. The last thing I need is her telling him that I’ve been fucking her behind his back for the past few years, which is something she’d totally do out of spite. I know that much about her, for sure.

  But… then again, she loves her husband’s money even more than I do, and outing what we’ve done together would have her out on her ass within minutes. So, I’m not overly worried about it, but I’d still rather avoid any stupidity if at all possible. I take a small step away from her, but she follows with a glint in her eye.

  “Ooh. Playing hard to get, Nathaniel? I like it. Maybe I can tie you up and have my way with you,” she adds with a smile.

  “Vanessa—”

  “Or… you could just take me up to your office, bend me over your desk, and give me what I need. You know it’ll be good,” she murmurs, and I glance toward the doorway to the main gallery.

  “We should probably go over the final layout for the exhibit to make sure you’re pleased with it,” I tell her.

  “You always, always please me, Nathaniel,” she states, drawing herself closer to me and putting her arms around my neck. Her body is plastered up against mine. And all I keep thinking is how much I don’t want this
. Not with her, anyway.

  Poppy’s face imprints on my brain again, and all I want to do is ditch Vanessa and go back to the penthouse so I can demonstrate to Poppy just how much I’ve missed that sweet little body—despite the short amount of time I’ve been away from her.

  “I’m seeing someone,” I tell Vanessa, more abrupt than I intended.

  She laughs, low and teasing, and then she lifts herself up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. “So am I, remember?” she murmurs and kisses me harder.

  I raise my hands to her upper arms, ready to gently push her away, when I hear someone clearing their throat nearby. Shit.

  I spring away from Vanessa and look toward the door.

  The first thing I see is Poppy. And though most people wouldn’t recognize it, I can tell between the raised eyebrow and the set of her jaw that she is utterly pissed. I’m already heading toward her to explain when I notice a small figure come up to stand beside her. Micah.

  “Hey, buddy,” I say to Micah.

  For some reason, this only seems to piss Poppy off more. She gives me a cold glare and puts her hand on Micah’s shoulder, gently leading him away and into one of the other parts of the gallery. She doesn’t even give me a backward glance, and my heart lurches. My gut twists. She knows he’s my son.

  “Your new toy is a bit young, Nathaniel,” Vanessa purrs, and I catch the edge to her tone. Vanessa might come off as a bimbo, at the best of times, but she’s from a wealthy family and is educated. She’s smart enough to call out sexual tension when she sees it. “Not the smartest idea for a man of your position and wealth—to play with girls barely out of high school.”

  “Mind your own business,” I mutter, and then I take off, heading toward the doorway to find Poppy and Micah.

  Damn Vanessa for being so clingy.

  Damn Mrs. Henderson for bailing on Micah today.

  But most of all, damn my own stupidity for not at least telling Poppy about Micah so she wouldn’t be surprised by something like this.