Mountain Man Baby Daddy

by Vivien Vale

  My chest heaves as I take a big inhale and exhale it slowly. I feel like my lungs are full of helium. Like if it wasn’t for Braden’s body on top of mine, I might float away entirely.

  “Are you sure we’re not taking things too fast, Braden?” I ask, searching for scraps of reality in this insane, blissed-out state.

  “Jenna, honey, have you met me?” Branden grins down at me. He’s got an incredible smile. This is the brightest I’ve ever seen it shine. “Fast is kind of my M.O.”

  When he kisses me, it feels like campfire burning through the middle of the night.

  Jenna

  I wrap up my little speech to my pupils as their eyes glaze over. I know when to stop. It is also time to call it quits anyway. Our lesson for the day is over. Parents are waiting to pick up their charges.

  “Okay, guys,” I say, and smile brightly. “Time to call it a day. Don’t forget to read over today’s notes. It’s just as important to know how your engine works as it is to drive.”

  Braden teaches them how to drive and I teach them about the mechanics of the engine.

  When we first thought of opening a driving school, I wasn’t sure what my role would be. It was Braden who suggested we incorporate theory with practice. It was he who said knowing about the workings of the engine was just as important as driving. And he was right.

  The students grumble something that could be agreement or something else. It’s too hard to tell. But I don’t care. I know they’re learning.

  Braden gives them a nod and they leave. He walks with them to their parents. I watch like a proud parent. It’s more rewarding to teach than I first thought it would be.

  If someone told me a year ago I’d enjoy teaching students about cars, engines and stuff, I would have told them they were crazy. And yet here I am. Here we are. Braden has taken to his new role like a fish to water.

  I love that about him. He doesn’t just say goodbye to his students; no, he makes sure they’re taken to their parents. Sometimes he exchanges a few words with a mother or a father of one of our students. Obviously one of the reasons we’ve become so successful.

  Our driving school is thriving. We’ve had to create a waiting list, that’s how popular it is.

  When Braden first had the idea, I wasn’t sure at all. But just like with most other things, Braden was pretty convincing.

  I watch him bound back to me. His lips are curled into a devilish smile. He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the office.

  “You do know how exquisitely sexy you look in that black top and tight skirt?”

  His fingers flick my hair off my face. I laugh. I pretend to smack his fingers, which accidentally brush against my breasts on the way back from my hair.

  In return he grabs me harder.

  “You can’t get away from me,” he mutters and locks the door.

  As soon as he turns back to me, he pulls my top off. Then he strides to the blinds to pull them down. Quick as flash, he comes back and unclasps my bra.

  Then his lips lock onto mine. I melt into him, ecstasy gripping me, and I arch against him. Just like the first time we kissed, I fall under his spell. His lips are demanding and his tongue pushes past my lips and starts to duel with mine.

  I don’t hold back. I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him closer. He holds me tight by my hips.

  As I drown in the intensity of his passion, I can’t help but think of my state. There’s a slight hesitation in me. I think about the life growing inside me right now. I can’t believe I’m almost twenty weeks pregnant. I press my belly against Braden, keen on sharing the experience with him.

  Braden’s lips leave mine. They go down to my breast, where they start sucking. Soon someone else will be demanding access to this. The thought is very strange. I giggle, wondering how Braden will feel about that.

  But his hands, which are exploring my body, distract me. Fingers caress my back and squeeze my ass. I groan and fumble with the button on his pants. I need to free his throbbing cock.

  When I get it undone, I push his pants down onto the floor. With incredible nimbleness, Braden steps out of them. He pushes me backwards toward the desk. His teeth are biting on my nipples. My hands reach for his cock.

  His mouth leaves my breasts and moves up toward my neck. Butterfly-like, he kisses me all over. My pussy is so wet and ready for him I can barely contain myself.

  Without asking, Braden pushes my back onto the table. He stops. I glance at him. His eyes are fixed on my tummy. So far there’s only a little bulge, barely visible. Those who don’t know I’m pregnant can’t see much. Sure, my clothes have become a little tighter, but I don’t have the huge ball sticking out in front yet.

  Gently, softly and full of love, Braden puts both hands on my belly. He smiles. His eyes light up. Briefly I grab onto his hands, and we’re all connected—the baby, him and me. A little family.

  “You okay?” His voice is husky, his eyes full of lust and desire.

  I nod.

  “Fuck me, Braden, please. Fuck me now.”

  His hands move to my pussy, where they’re met with my slick juices.

  I groan and thrust my hip up toward him. I want his cock in me right fucking now. I want to fuck him so bad it hurts.

  His fingers play with my clit and tease me to the point of orgasm. The lips of my pussy are shuddering against his fingers. I don’t want to come, not just yet.

  I pull him toward me. This means he’s partly lying on me. I kiss him again. I demand entry to his mouth and explore it like I’ve never been in it before.

  His cock is pressing against my pussy. We were made for each other. Braden adjusts his position to shove his cock inside me.

  His hands are holding my hips. He slams against me. I can feel his balls hitting my skin. He thrusts deep and hard, in and out.

  I throw my head back in sheer pleasure. His hands leave my hips and grab my breasts. He massages them and keeps thrusting.

  Braden grunts, and I know he must be close to coming. I use my fingers to find my clit as he keeps thrusting in and out. I love his cock inside me and I love when his hands play with my nipples. My pussy is starting to spasm against his cock.

  Since I found out I’m pregnant, fucking Braden has become even more intense. My orgasms are even more extraordinary. It’s beyond words.

  I lift my head to look at him. His muscles are tense. I can feel his passion with each powerful thrust.

  It won’t be much longer before I come. He’s getting close, too. I can feel it.

  He slows down a little. Then he stops. His breathing is hard and fast. His lips find mine. He whispers into my ear. “You still okay?”

  The tenderness is overwhelming, and I almost cry. I nod. I may be pregnant, but I still feel the need to have him come inside me.

  “Do it, Braden. Don’t stop fucking me. I want you to come inside me,” I demand, and thrust my hips to meet him.

  Braden starts again. My fingers now dig into his back. I’m so close to the edge.

  His rhythm is increasing. I feel the orgasm build deep within me. My muscles tense just as he starts to tense up as well. We come together. Shockwave after shockwave of pleasure rips through me. I groan and moan in ecstasy. All of me is tingling with pleasure. Brandon calls out my name as his muscles start to spasm and he empties his hot cum into my pussy.

  The pleasure wave we ride is fucking unbelievable, and as he finishes, he lays down on top of me, gently.

  I kiss him on the neck. He’s breathing heavy and I feel his sweaty chest against mine.

  I wrap my arms around him, overcome with emotions.

  “I love you,” he whispers into my ear.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper back.

  I watch him grab his clothes and put on his pants again. He helps me up and his eyes linger on my little baby bump.

  “You okay, little fella?’

  I laugh. He’s going to be such an awesome father. I can feel it in my gut and heart.

  I pull my cloth
es back on. Life’s good. No, life’s great. Perfect.

  “Ready?” He holds out his hand and I take it. I smile at him.

  We head out the door together to go for our customary evening drive. I glance out the window before looking at Braden as he maneuvers the car along the road.

  His skillful fingers are pure poetry in motion. I love watching him drive a car.

  We’ve come a long way. We’ve mellowed a fair bit, and I can’t wait to welcome the newest member of our family into the world. Will it be a wild child like his or her father?

  I smile. It doesn’t matter.

  I turn to Baden. “Do you miss our wild days?”

  He smiles and puts his hand on my thigh.

  “What’re you talking about? Sounds like you’re talking past tense. We’re still living our wild days, and they’re about to get wilder.”

  We both laugh and I grab ahold of his hand to give it a squeeze. Like I said, life’s absolutely perfect.

  Caught On Tape

  By Daphne Dawn & Natalie Knight

  Copyright 2017 by Crimson Vixens

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

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  Daphne Dawn

  Natalie Knight

  Todd

  I just became the lead story on CNN. Fox News has a therapist analyzing what happened, and TMZ is running the same clip of me over and over, ad nauseum.

  It’s all lies, of course. But it doesn’t matter because most people don’t have an appetite for the truth, anyway; in a sense, it’s like an unwelcome guest at a dinner party. What people want is gossip, rumor, and innuendo.

  And the media is more than happy to oblige. Anything to goose their fucking ratings.

  Jordan Ray, my public relations agent, a man I pay an obscene amount of money―which is most of the money he earns―is sitting across from me. He seems to think I’m in need of some damage control.

  We’ve been working together since the day my career took off, six years ago. And the truth is that he has gotten me out of a lot of situations I didn’t think even a fairy godmother could extricate me from. But this time, I don’t agree with how he wants to handle it.

  This…this…shit I’m seeing on Access Hollywood―the only thing I can do is scream at the ninety-two-inch screen mounted over the marble fireplace in my office. And I still don’t feel any better afterwards.

  Jordan patiently waits, tapping his fingers on the shiny mahogany. It’s obvious from the expression on his face that he has something to say. But I’m not interested in that right at the moment; I’m still pissed off and need to get the anger out of my system.

  “Go fuck yourself!” I scream at the screen, loud enough to practically blow it off the wall.

  Jordan clears his throat, and I finally stop pacing and join him at the table. I nod, as if to say, go ahead, take your best shot. And he does.

  “I tried to stop you. You couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself?” Jordan yells as he stands and begins pacing the length of the room.

  I’m so not in the mood to listen to this. I want to walk around the table, pick him up by the lapels of his thousand-dollar suit and toss him out the window.

  Yeah, I know, he’s my best friend and the best PR man in town. I also know I’m lucky to have him. But what he’s telling me to do…it just doesn’t work for me.

  “Jordan,” I say in my most commanding voice before giving a slight look at the chair.

  It’s all I need to do. With that one gesture, I communicate that he needs to shut up, sit down, and listen to me―I’m an actor, so I know how to command any situation. I’m good at what I do, and he stops and sits.

  “So, how bad is it?” I ask.

  “Bad” is Jordan’s terse reply.

  “I’m gonna need more specifics,” I say. “On a scale of one to ten, where are we at?”

  Jordan places his hands on the desk and looks into his palms as if the answer will magically write itself in the air in front of me. “I’d say you need to lay low, leave town, go visit a sick relative, go on vacation, take some downtime. That bad.”

  “Fuck,” I shake my head, “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Yeah, well, it doesn’t look that way— “

  “Make this go away,” I interrupt him before he can say anything else. “Are you keeping up with me here? I need you to have this entire saga dry up and disappear.”

  “It will be much easier if you aren’t around, where the paparazzi can follow your every move,” Jordan responds.

  I just stare at him in disbelief.

  “You’re a distraction, Todd. We just need you out of the picture for a while if we’re going to do our job.”

  This doesn’t sit well with me. Jordan knows what really happened, and he needs to figure out a way to get the truth out, not the version of the ‘truth’ that’s playing all over TV and YouTube. I’m fed up. Enough.

  “Just make it go away!” I yell and storm out of the room.

  Walking down the long corridor of my penthouse apartment, I glance at the dozens of photos of me hanging on the walls.

  Six years ago, I was a struggling actor. Now, I’m on top―and when you’re on top, there’s always someone who wants to take you down. But I’m not going quietly.

  Not me.

  I yank out my phone and give a good hard swipe to the right. Pulling up my Twitter feed, I can see it’s not good. “Damn, word spreads fast.”

  I can’t believe it. It’s a hashtag fiesta: #ToddSucks, #LoserTodd, and what instantly becomes my personal favorite, #CLIT, which apparently stands for, Chump, Loser, Idiot, Todd.

  “Assholes… don’t these people have anything better to do with their time?” I say to no one.

  With my eyes glued to the screen, I walk into my bedroom and slump to the floor at the foot of my bed, still scrolling through my feed.

  Jordan knocks on my door.

  I turn and scream, “Go away, and don’t come back until you fix this!”

  There’s silence from the other side of the door, so I know he gets that I’m dead serious.

  “In case you don’t know how I feel, let me break it down for you. The media, collectively and individually, are a bunch of hairy sleaze ball suck eggs, with a fucking twisted sense of the truth. You and I both know that tape has been edited to make sure I look bad.”

  “I know, I know,” Jordan says, obviously trying to placate me.

  “Then go away and do your fucking job.”

  I really have had enough of this bullshit. It’s time to change my mood, and there’s only one way to do that: change of atmosphere.

  I jump up, strip off my clothes, and head for my walk-in closet.

  I gotta admit, sometimes this is my favorite place in the apartment. I had it built to my specifications when I moved in.

  I gave up one of the bedrooms to make sure it was big enough to accommodate all my clothes, a couch, and a work out bench. This six-pack didn’t come in the mail.

  I give a pat to my flat stomach, “All muscle, baby,” I say to my reflection in the full-length mirror.

  “He thinks I’m okay with laying low,” I mutter to myself, looking through my built-in drawers “Yeah, right…go on vacation, as if.”

  I push a button that brings the revolving clothes rack to life.

  “Disappear? Fuck that! The only place I’m going is out,” I push the button again, the rack stops, and I rip a pair of jeans off their hanger.

  Finally dressed, I check my reflection again from head to toe: black V-neck tee, jeans, and boots. I have to admit, I look good―like I always do.

  I reach for my phone. Flipping through my options, I see a number that makes me smile, and push it.<
br />
  “Hey, baby, let’s go get something to eat.”

  Sophie

  Alice is tugging at my shirt.

  “Now, Sophie, now.”

  I finish typing the text message to my mother. As usual, she’s agitating me to firm up plans for our proposed lunch next week.

  “You’ll miss it,” Alice tugs harder.

  With a sigh, I put the mobile down and roll my eyes.

  “I don’t even know if I want to see it,” I start and reach for my mug of coffee.

  “Of course you do.” Alice corrects me, and I laugh.

  “No, I don’t. And I really don’t think I want to work with him either. From what I’ve read on social media, he’s a prima donna of the highest caliber, not to mention rude…”

  “Shush,” Alice puts her hand over my mouth.

  Luckily, she’s been my best friend since way back; otherwise I might have objected.

  The television screen is filled with none other than Todd Alexander: current mega star and bad boy.

  “Turn it up, I can’t hear.”

  I lift cushions off the couch, push Puff the cat off, and find the remote to the TV. As I turn it up, we can hear Todd’s angry voice. A close up of his face shows his eyes narrowed and his lips tightly draw into a thin line.

  “You’re nothing,” yells Todd at a little Italian man who is holding up a tea towel. “Who the fuck do you think you are, wog boy?

  “I don’t give a shit about your money. So what if you can afford this place? Why don’t you do us all a favor and crawl back down into that hell hole you crept out of.”

  I cringe. It’s worse than I thought it was going to be. Todd’s eyes are now wide open; he is baring his teeth at this poor man who is still holding up his tea towel.

  Was Todd going mad? Rabies? Brain tumor, or simply a personality disorder?

  My money is on the latter.

  Whatever that was, my mind is made up. I don’t need to see the rest.

  Just then, Todd lunges forward, and I watch horrified as his right fist makes for the poor man’s face.

  Jordan, his PR guy, appears out of nowhere. He grabs Todd and tries to pull him back. It is to no avail.

  Terrible Todd seems to be frothing at the mouth. Left jab, right jab and left again.

  I’m holding my breath.