by Frankie Love
I connect my fist to his jaw, and there’s a loud crack. The men with him jump into action, pulling out their guns on me.
“We got him,” one of the men call to her uncle. “You go get Rosalind.”
“Over my dead body,” I shout, reaching for my gun.
“You better think twice,” her uncle responds, making a break for the door, holding his face with his hand.
I don’t hesitate. I pull the trigger, connecting the bullet to his leg. Knowing the blow will drop him like a fly.
“Motherfucker,” he screams, falling on my porch.
“You want to play this game?” I ask his entourage. “Because I know two things. You aren’t getting inside and I have back up on their way.”
Jaxon kicks the gun out of the uncle’s hand the moment he tries to pull himself up. Grabbing the gun, Jaxon and I leer above the two asshats who think they are in the same league as us.
At that moment, an ambulance rolls up the drive, lights blaring, siren roaring. The jerkoffs drop their guns, realizing we mean business.
We aren’t fucking around and we sure as hell aren’t letting anyone near our women and children.
We are mountain men.
Epilogue
One year later …
I finish adding candles to the birthday cake the moment Buck’s parents arrive, arms filled with wrapped gifts for the girls, smiles on their faces, flowers for me.
It never gets old, this family. The love they offer so freely.
Last year, after the twins and I were transported to the hospital, Buck called his parents, letting them know the news. All of it.
That I came back. That I was pregnant with his twins. That I’d had them that morning.
That he’d shot a man. Shot my uncle.
But I don’t want to think about that right now. Right now we have a celebration to worry about. Clover and Poppy – our mountain wildflowers – are turning one.
“Where are my granddaughters?” Cherri asks, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“Buck is getting them in their party dresses,” I tell her, giving Dirk a hug, then offering him a Bud Light. “How is the new menu working at the diner?”
I helped Cherri come up with a new menu, and I go down there a few afternoons a week to help out. It’s a nice way to get out of the house, but also I love it there, cooking and working on recipes.
“It’s going good, but it’s always better when you’re there. As soon as these babies grow a bit, the place is yours, Rosie.”
Cherri says this often enough that I’m beginning to believe her. Who would of thought all those years cooking and cleaning for my uncle could be redeemed?
Buck walks into the kitchen, his girls in his arms.
“Oh, my goodness sakes,” Cherri coos. “Those dresses are adorable. Where’d you find them?”
“Harper and I sewed them. They turned out pretty cute, right?”
“Where are Jaxon and Harper?” Buck asks.
“They’re on their way. Harper wasn’t feeling very good this morning.”
“That poor thing has the worst morning sickness, doesn’t she?” Cherri shakes her head, then reaches out for Poppy. “Was it like that for you, with the girls?”
I meet Buck’s eyes, I hate talking about my pregnancy because I know how much Buck wishes he could have been a part of every doctor visit, every ultrasound. He would have been one of those daddy’s who put headphones on my belly and played our girls his favorite country music.
But he missed all those firsts.
“I was pretty sick, so maybe that means Harper is going to have herself a girl this time around.”
“Bet she’d like that,” Dirk says, clinking his beer against Buck’s. “That woman is stuck in a cabin with lots of boys.”
We share a knowing laugh, Jaxon’s sons are two and we call them the wild pack. I can’t imagine a more grizzly bunch of boys. Aspen, Cedar and Spruce are loud, louder, and loudest.
“Well, Harper has all the boys and you, my dear,” Cherri says to Buck, “have all the girls.”
Buck leans over, kissing me on the cheek. “I’m pretty sure I got the better end of the deal.” His hand wraps around my waist and I draw in a long breath, loving that this moment is so calm compared to the day the girls were born.
I truly didn’t know if it was Buck who had been shot. When I was carried into the ambulance, and saw Buck climbing in behind me, I lost it. I clung to that man and vowed I’d never, ever, let go.
I haven’t.
We got married a month later, on Christmas Eve. There was no reason to wait. We knew that life was precious, something to hold.
“I love you, darling,” he whispers now, in my ear. “I don’t think I could be any happier than I am right now.” He kisses me on the mouth, a mouth I love, a mouth I have memorized.
I kiss him back, knowing that tonight, I am going to make him even happier.
Late at night, after family and friends have left, and after we’ve tucked the girls into bed, Buck and I have our fun.
Like we do most every night. He can’t keep his hands off of me, even though I am easily fifteen pounds heavier than the day we met, and even though my curvy ass is even more curvy than before – he loves putting his hands on me, and I love how it feels to be touched by a man who loves me more than life itself.
My ass is in his face, mostly because I get off so fast when he licks my pussy. And I love to touch his long, hard cock when he’s flicking my clit. His tongue rolls up and down my length, tickling me, causing me to pull his cock from my mouth and laugh. “Buck, let me focus,” I tease.
I run my tongue up and down his thick shaft, worshipping the cock that made me a mother. I suck him hard, wrapping my lips around him, and filling my mouth up nice and good. He likes it when I take him as fully as I can, and I won’t deny my man what he loves.
Especially not when his beard is between my legs, making my pussy wet as hell, as he sucks hard against my clit.
“Ohh, Buck,” I moan, so close to coming. I want to taste his salty come though, so I keep sucking as an orgasm rolls though me.
“Oh, baby,” he says. “You taste so fucking good.” His tongue moves so fast against me, I feel myself slick, and it makes me move my hips, grinding my ass against him. He is so close too, and I pump his shaft as I suck, until he comes, hard and fast in my mouth.
I swallow his seed, loving the way he tastes, too, and I pull him from my mouth wanting his come on my breasts, on my nipples. Wanting to be coated in my husband, in the father of my children.
“Oh, fuck, fuck,” Buck groans, coming in ribbons of sky cream on my tits. He presses a finger in my pussy, thrusting deep against my g-spot as I come harder and harder, until I am gasping for breath.
I fall over in the bed, completely undone.
“What the hell was that, Buck?” I grin in the darkness. “You just completely finger fucked me. The sheets are soaked.”
“My darlin’ loves nothing more than to get her pussy pounded.”
We stop laughing, eventually, and catch our breath.
The lights are off; the house is quiet besides our blissed out sighs of contentment. Buck runs his hand over the soft hair between my legs. “You make me so happy, Rosie,” he whispers in the dark.
“Can I make you happier?” I ask, cupping his balls, just the way he likes.
“I just got to lick your perfect cunt for a solid hour, I think that was my birthday, Christmas and anniversary gift all wrapped into one.”
I crawl closer to him, tracing the deer tattoo on his chest. “Nope. I have something else to give you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmmhhmm.” I kiss his collarbone, his ear. I kiss his lips, his nose. I love Buck so completely, so fully. Want to make him the happiest man on earth. I pull up, and straddle him, and then taking his hands and resting them below my belly button.
“I’m pregnant, Buck.”
Even in the darkness, I swear I can see his smile beamin
g bright.
It brings tears to my eyes.
“Don’t cry, Rosie,” he says, bringing his hands to my face.
I hold his hand against my cheek. “No, baby, they are tears of joy. All the things we missed last time, when we were apart, this time, we can share. This time we can have these firsts together.”
He pulls me to him, and he kisses me deeply, our bodies colliding, our hearts one. I lay on his chest, cradled in his arms, our new baby between us.
I have a house that is a home, a man who is mine, and three children to watch grow.
Buck is my mountain man, but he is also my forever.
TIMBER (Jax and Harper’s Story!)
JAX
I've been called wild. Dirty. Untamed.
I moved to the woods to get away from the bullsh*t of the city. People there don't understand a man like me.
I work hard, and my hands are as calloused as my heart.
And nothing's gonna change that.
But now I've met Harper.
And my whole f*cking world has changed.
But this girl keeps running.
I need to make her stay because she's having my baby.
I'm gonna make sure my c*ck is the only one she ever needs again.
HARPER
I never expected my fiancé to break things off.
I'd saved myself for my wedding night, and now I'm left wondering why.
Needing to get away, I ran to my uncle's cabin in the woods.
But a storm has left me stranded on Jax's doorstep, and soon enough he takes me in his arms.
And on the floor. And on the table. And in the great outdoors.
Our time together has left me with a big problem ... a problem a wild man like him can't fix.
A problem that makes me run ... because I need a man who believes in true love and commitment.
I need a man who is ready to be a father.
WARNING: This story contains an untamed man who takes a virgin. Please don't read if you're not ready to reach for that vibrator under your pillow. If the batteries are out, your own hand will do.
No shame, babycakes. Enjoy this steamy story! You deserve it.
Chapter One
JAX
I swing down against the trunk a final time before getting out of the way. I call out to Buck, making sure he moves.
My dog, Jameson, barks wildly as he watches the swaying pine.
The tree falls with a strong, heavy rush that sends a chill over my skin.
It happens every time.
I feel most alive when I've taken something, using my own hands, and brought it to the ground.
I used to do that with women. There was nothing I liked more than fucking a woman I'd just met, giving them my solid wood, something they would remember. Then they could go home to their pansy-ass boyfriend or husband, and think of my trunk when someone else tried to get them off.
But then things changed. Fucking a woman I didn’t know got me in trouble.
With everyone.
And I had to get the fuck out of town.
I moved out of the city a few months ago, and I haven’t looked back. I came out here, to the dense forest.
The only thing I miss about life back in Coeur d'Alene is the women. While I find a lot of raccoons in these parts, good pussy isn't as common as it was back home.
Now, instead of taking a woman hard and fast, I swing my axe. Some guys might use a chainsaw, but I like the feel of the blade biting into the wood. The power in each stroke.
I take down pine trees. I call myself an old-school lumberjack, but that's mostly just a joke I tell myself. I'm not doing anything with this pile of wood besides burning some of it and putting the rest in a heap at the side of the cabin.
I watch as the tree falls; timber.
“That was a big-ass motherfucker,” Buck says, taking a swig from the beer I gave him when he showed up an hour ago.
Buck owns the gas station and post office in town and drops off any packages I receive. I avoid town as much as possible.
“Damn straight,” I agree, dropping the axe blade into the base of the chopped tree.
I pull off my leather gloves and then run my hand over my thick beard as I assess the fallen pine. It will take me most of the week to cut this tree into stackable pieces.
“You wanna come down the mountain, head to the bar?”
I don't want to laugh in Buck's face—but the last thing I wanna do is sit on some plastic stool in a podunk bar, drinking cheap beer and listening to Buck and his big game–hunting buddies talk shit.
I'd rather sit in my own goddamned chair. I'd rather drink my own goddamned beer. And I sure as hell would rather listen to silence than discuss target practice.
I may live in the sticks, but I'm no motherfucking hillbilly.
My mother calls me a modern day Thoreau. I don't really give a shit what that means—but I think it means I like to sit in the quiet and think.
I also like to swing my axe. As I've mentioned. It’s the only sane thing in the world anymore. The only thing I can, without question, hold onto. Everything else is liable to fall apart.
“I don't like that scene. You know that, Buck. Not sure why you keep asking.”
“I'm asking because you're the crazy fool living in the woods, talking to yourself. You don't even have wi-fi out here.”
“That's intentional.”
Buck doesn't understand why I don’t go into town with him. It’s mostly because I have no interest in discussing my personal shit with anyone—especially him.
“Yeah, well, it's January. This shit's gonna get cold real fast.”
“It's cold already,” I tell him as we cross back to my cabin, passing the frosted tips of the pine trees. Jameson trails us as we make our way over the icy earth, the ground crunching with each step.
“Well, you're the fool who moved out to the woods at the end of fall, not me,” Buck says. “Just wanna make sure you don't become a recluse.”
I don't tell Buck that being a recluse is exactly what I'm after.
“I'll see you around then. And stop by the store if you need anything, ya hear?” Buck heads to his big pickup truck, hollering as he swings open the door, “Oh, and thanks for the beer, Jax. Though I'm not sure what that shit was.” He gives a hearty laugh as he turns the ignition.
Fucking fool, I think, shaking my head. He doesn't know what home-brewed beer is. I may be living in the woods, but I have a kegerator all hooked up inside my cabin. I brew beer, and it's the good stuff.
I watch him backing down the drive, grateful to see him go. He's a good guy, but I prefer my own company these days.
Heading to my cabin, I let Jameson in. I notice that snowflakes have begun to fall as the night sets in. I shut my door, knowing I need to add wood to my fire if I'm gonna stay warm tonight.
There sure as hell isn't anything out in these parts to get me heated up.
HARPER
The tires on my modest hatchback come to a dead halt, in the dead of winter, in what is quickly becoming the dead of night. I'm trying not to full-on panic.
I remind myself of the quote that's my new life motto—that is to say, the quote I read while I scrolled through Pinterest this morning at a gas station on my way out of Boise. I was deleting every single wedding picture I'd pinned, and came across this classic gem:
Keep Calm and Carry On
Okay, so I know it's cheesy, but I've gotta hold onto something right now. If I don't, I'll fall apart.
And I can't fall apart until I’ve at least pulled up at my uncle's cabin.
Which should be right here. Or right … somewhere.
This would all be a lot easier if 1) it hadn't grown pitch dark in, like, four seconds, 2) Google maps would pull up on my phone, and 3) it wasn't snowing.
And these flakes are coming down fast. This hatchback isn't four-wheel anything. It doesn't even have four seats.
How did I end up here? Oh, right, my fiancé ditched me a week befo
re our wedding.
I drop my head against the steering wheel, not wanting to lose it, pinching my eyes closed tight. A full-on sob will not get me somewhere warm and toasty and safe.
I quickly lift my head as the horn on my car begins to blast. This is about the same time I realize that, if I want to be warm and toasty tonight, I'm going to have to light the fire myself.
In the dark.
This wasn't the greatest plan.
Keep Calm and Carry On.
I blink back my tears and scan the old logging road. I doubt anyone has been out here in ages. My own uncle said it's been two summers since he came.
But I have nowhere else to go. I want to avoid the social media meltdown that will surely ensue once everyone gets word about Luke ditching me.
My parent didn't want me to go alone, which under normal circumstance I would understand. I still live under the covering of my parents, and believe that they know what’s best for me.
But this is different. We were all shocked by Luke's choice—after all, he and I had courted for two years. He had become family. So when I insisted that I needed some time away on my own, my family helped me find a place where I could ride out this storm. I spent twenty-one years earning their trust and they know I would never allow myself to get into a compromising position.
And my uncle offered his old cabin, which was so generous of him. I don't come from gobs of money. Or even slivers of cash. I come from humble people, I'm the daughter of a hard-working preacher.
It's not like we have lake houses and time shares—and even if we did, they wouldn't be wi-fi free.
Which was my one and only request when I told my family I needed some time away.
Granted, wi-fi would be really helpful at the moment, as I can't get my bearings and have no clue where my uncle’s cabin actually is.
Besides, my car is stuck in this snow. I'm not going anywhere.