Single Dad's Bride

by Melinda Minx

  My tongue finds her swollen clit, and her breath gets heavy, punctuated by loud moans and breathy gasps.

  She puts her hand on my head, pressing me harder against her. I lick up her juices and tongue her clit, feeling her body press and rock against me in response.

  I grab hold of her thighs to steady myself, and I increase the pressure as she gets louder. She grabs the pillow and stifles her moan.

  “There’s no one for miles,” I say. “Scream your lungs out. I want to hear you come.”

  I press my tongue against her clit, wrap my lips around, and I suck gently. She throws the pillow down and cries—screams—out. Her hips buck up against me, and I don’t let up.

  “I’m going to come,” she says.

  You sure as fuck are, that’s what happens when you let go. Let me give you what you need.

  A whine escapes her, and then she draws in a breath. Her hips shoot up, and her legs wrap around my head. She gushes wet against me, and I drink up as much of her feminine juices as I can, while still furiously worshipping her clit with my lips and tongue.

  She collapses down, and I reluctantly pull away. I look down at her body in awe, and then I fall down onto the bed beside her. She wraps her arms around me and buries her face into my wide chest.

  She doesn’t speak; there’s nothing she needs to say. She said it all with her moans and whines.

  My cock is rock-hard against her belly, and I want to bury it inside her while she’s still soaking wet from cumming so hard.

  “I bet your favorite position is doggy-style,” I whisper.

  “We’re not playing that game anymore.”

  I laugh, and I plant my knees on either side of her legs. I look down at her body and run my hands slowly down from her shoulders. When I reach her ass, I squeeze, and then I grab her by the hips and pull them up.

  She doesn’t resist at all, and her hips are high up while she’s still face down on the bed. Just how I like it.

  My dick is sprung and pointing skyward, but I force it down and press it beneath her, so that it rests against her warm stomach. I want her to feel my warmth from the outside before I plunge it deep into her.

  “Stop teasing me,” she says.

  “I’ll tease you all I want. Now let’s see if this is your favorite position.”

  “How will you know if we only do it in one position?” I ask.

  I squeeze her ass hard enough that she yelps. “We won’t just do it in just one position. We’ve got the rest of the night.”

  I pull my hips back, and my hard dick runs across her skin, until finally it dips into the outer boundaries of her wetness. My eyes roll back into my head in anticipation as I press my swollen head against her warm opening.

  I press in, and her body squeezes me tight—way tighter than I expected; I guess it really has been more than six months for her—and I stop after just an inch.

  She whines and writhes against me, wanting me deeper.

  “Not yet, Andrea,” I say. “I’m going to work my way in slowly.”

  True to my promise, I press in another half inch, and then I start to pull all the way out. I feel her juices soaking the tip of my cock as I move slowly in and out.

  Each time I press back in, I go a fraction of an inch deeper.

  “Does it hurt?” I ask.

  “No, you’re going too slow—”

  “Do you want it to hurt?”

  “Just a little,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Alright, you asked for it.”

  I pull all the way out again, take in a deep breath, and then I ram my huge cock all the way into her. My balls slap against her belly, and her tight fucking pussy squeezes me for all I’m worth.

  She lets out a gasp, and I leave my cock balls deep inside her, not moving.

  “Fuck!” she shouts. “That hurts so good.”

  That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. I pull out and plunge right back in. I feel torrents of wetness wash across my dick as I pound her hard, in and out.

  I go so fast that my balls are slapping nonstop against her. As I fuck her without mercy, she presses her ass higher up. She moans and screams at the top of her lungs; she knows that we’re the only two people for miles around. We’re cut off from everything by the heavy snowfall and the gale winds. It’s just me and Andrea, and nothing else.

  I pull out, grab her by the hips and shoulder, and flip her over onto her back. She looks at me for a surprised moment, but when she sees my twitching cock covered in her wetness, she simply spreads her legs for me.

  I plunge back into her, and her legs wrap tightly around me. From this position, she bucks her hips against me as I fuck her raw, and her fingernails dig into my muscular back.

  “Yeah, scratch me all you want, you can’t hurt me.”

  Her nails dig deeper in—deep enough to draw blood. Being a SEAL changed my relationship to pain. What would be intolerable to a normal man barely registers to me. Any pain that doesn’t hurt me just feels good, especially when I’m fucking.

  “Are you going to scratch me or not?” I grunt, each word punctuated by me ramming my cock into her.

  With her nails deep in my skin, she pulls them down across my back. The pain lances through me as the skin breaks and bleeds. It finally starts to hurt—just a little—but it’s enough. The hint of pain sets me off, and my balls tighten up.

  “Fuck yeah,” I grunt, and I speed up.

  I fuck her as hard and as fast as the fresh adrenaline surging through me will allow, and soon I feel her tight walls tremble against my cock. It’s like her body wants it so bad that it’s trying to milk the cum right out of me.

  It’s working.

  She moans loud as she cums all over my thick cock. It’s too much for me now. Her nails are still deep in my back, and the sound and smell and squeeze of her has overwhelmed me.

  My chest tightens as my heart blasts against it, and a thick load of cum explodes out of me and into her. Warm chills surge through my head, mind-blowing release rocks through my body and mind, and my cock explodes over and over deep within her.

  Only after I’ve spent every last drop do I pull out. I fall down beside her. We’re both panting and out of breath.

  “Is your back okay?” she asks. “Sorry, I—”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “It felt good. You’ve got some fight in you.”

  I can still feel traces of pain on my back. The scratches will give me something to remember her by. She’ll be gone in the morning, but it’s like I said, I have her all night.

  “You want to try a cider?” I ask.

  “I’m warm and toasty in bed,” she says. “I’m not getting up.”

  “Well, I’m going to go get a cider. I can bring you one if you want.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “You gotta’ save your energy,” I say, grinning, “That was only two.”

  “Two what?” she asks.

  “Two positions. We’ve gotta’ try them all.”

  5

  Andrea

  I’m woken up by the sound of wood being chopped. I look out the frost-fogged window and see Coal outside swinging an axe.

  He’s already fully dressed, and last night’s brutal snowstorm has transformed the forest into a winter wonderland straight out of a Christmas Carol.

  I stumble through the cabin and retrieve my clothes, which are now dry. I get everything on and go outside. The wind is gone. It’s still cold, but the air is fresh and crisp. It smells like evergreens and fresh snow—it smells like Christmas. Though that’s still two months away.

  Maybe the afterglow from our all-night fuck-fest has altered my perception of reality, but everything just feels right in the world.

  Coal swings the axe into the big tree stump, wipes his hands, and looks up at me. He’s wearing a beanie, and his dirty smirk says everything he’s thinking as he looks down at me.

  “I thought you’d still be tired after last night,” he says.

  I yawn. “I
am, but I’m even more hungry.”

  He points to the pile of chopped wood on the ground. “Fuel for the stove. I was going to make bacon and eggs.”

  “You know you could just use propane?” I say.

  He laughs. “Or I could just live in town and use electricity. No reason to live off the land if you’re going to half-ass it with propane.”

  “Live off the land,” I say. “Is that all you do?”

  He laughs. “You asking if I have any real job, or any income? Don’t sweat it, Andrea, this was a one-time thing, and we both know it. You don’t have to stress about whether I’m financially stable.”

  Did I know it? Was I actually planning to see this guy again? I certainly wasn’t before last night, and just because he makes me cum like no man ever has, is that enough to make it worth living in a cabin out in the middle of nowhere with some weird—but extremely hot—PTSD case?

  Probably not, no. He’s also kind of a jerk.

  “Alright,” I say. “Let me help you get the stove going then.”

  I offer to cook, but Coal insists. He says he likes to cook in the morning.

  “It’s all part of the process—the routine. I chop the wood, then I start the stove, then I crack the eggs.”

  I look at the bacon wrapped in butcher paper. “Does living off the land involve making your own bacon? I don’t see any pigs.”

  “I hunt,” Coal says. “And I make furniture. I mostly try to barter goods for goods, but sometimes I just sell a chair or coffee table for cash. That bacon and these eggs are farm-fresh, though.”

  “You go to all that trouble when there’s a supermarket in town?”

  “Like I said,” he says, cracking an egg into the skillet, “No half-assing.”

  I can kind of see the appeal. He’s simplified his life. Rather than spending eight hours a day earning enough money to pay an electric bill and buy food, he chops the wood for fuel himself. He spends his time hunting and trading, and that fills his days.

  It’s not for me to judge that kind of lifestyle, but I doubt it’s for me. It’s one thing to walk into Coal’s life for a night and a morning, to get a taste of it, but I can’t imagine living it day after day.

  “Try it,” Coal says, holding the skillet out to me.

  “Tell me you at least have plates.”

  He grins and puts the skillet back onto the stove. He grabs a plate from the cabinet and puts the eggs and bacon onto it.

  “Where’s yours?” I ask.

  “I don’t have plates. I have a plate,” he says. “But the plate is yours, I’ll use the skillet.”

  I bite into the egg, and fuck it’s good.

  He watches my expression as I eat. “That’s why I don’t just go to the supermarket.”

  “It’s really good,” I say. “I don’t think it’s good enough to justify carrying a piece of furniture down to a farm ten miles away in trade...but it’s delicious.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” he says. “Once we’re done eating, I’ll take you back into town. Enjoy this real food while you can.”

  I nod. I consider bringing up the idea of me staying for another night, but he does seem in a bit of a rush to get me out of his way. I’ve probably already messed up his “routine,” and with the way he lives, he needs to stick to it to keep the cabin warm and food on the skillet.

  “You come all the way up to Evergreen Cove just to hike?” he asks me between bites of bacon.

  “No,” I say. “I work for a major hotel chain. There’s a little, locally owned hotel in town on prime real estate. They sent me and a co-worker here to try to buy them out.”

  Coal laughs. “So you’re the bad guy? You’re running local businesses out of Evergreen Cove so some asshole in San Francisco can make more money.”

  I laugh. “I do what they pay me to do. Though they don’t pay me enough.”

  “What’s the incentive?” Coal asks. “If you succeed, you don’t see a dime.”

  “The threat of being fired, I guess,” I say, shrugging. “They sold the job to me and Lindsay as getting to travel on the company’s dime. It was either the cubicle or the wide open spaces and fresh air of Evergreen Cove. Easy choice. If we take over that space, the hotel we build there will be able to hold a lot of people, so even more people will get to enjoy Evergreen Cove.”

  I grin at him as I say it, but he scowls at me. I mostly said that to get a rise out of him, and I’m glad that it worked. A guy that tries to isolate himself in the woods is not going to be happy about “more people” enjoying his lonely woods.

  He holds up his mug of black coffee. “A toast.”

  I grab my coffee, which I have to admit I am starting to like, and I hold it up to match him. “What are we toasting?”

  “We’re toasting to you fucking up the job—to that little hotel lasting another hundred years.”

  I pull my mug away. “I’m not toasting to that! I’m good at my job, and we’re giving them way over market value!”

  “Good at your job?” Coal asks. “Aren’t you supposed to be working those hotel owners now? You just stayed up all night fucking me, and now you’re hanging around here all morning.”

  I put my coffee down. “Fine, I’m shit at my job! Happy? You still going to take me back into town?”

  Asshole. It’s like eight o’clock, it’s hardly been all morning. I can take a hint. He could have found a more subtle way of telling me to get out of his way.

  “Yeah,” he says, standing up and draining his coffee in one long gulp. “Let’s go.”

  The trip through the snow-covered forest takes a bit of the edge off me, and when I see Evergreen Cove in the distance, a nervous longing fills my stomach. It’s the kind of feeling you get at the end of a vacation, when you realize you’re about to be sentenced back to months and months of reality and daily grind. I look at Coal walking leisurely through the snow in front of me, and suddenly I feel hugely envious of his carefree existence.

  But more than that, I realize this end-of-vacation feeling I have is actually how I feel about leaving Coal. He’s going to dump me in town and forget about me, and I’m probably never going to see him again.

  “Do you have a phone?” I ask, as we hit the big NEVER HIKE ALONE sign.

  “No,” he says.

  “Alright then,” I say, “I guess I don’t even have to give you a fake number then.”

  “Who said I was going to ask for your number?” he says, grinning. “It’s not like I’d call you.”

  His smirk tells me he’s only half teasing me, but I do get the sense that I disrupted whatever it is he’s trying to accomplish out there in the woods. I was a vacation for him, just like he was for me. And vacations always end.

  “I can take you all the way back if you want,” he says.

  If you want, he’d make me impose it on him. “No,” I say. “I’m good from here.”

  “Alright then,” he says.

  There’s a long, uncomfortable pause. Memories of him inside me—his masculine scent overwhelming me—and the sound of my screams hit me like a brick wall. My lips twitch, and I look away from him. Jesus, it was good sex. I consider reaching out to kiss him again, or at least to hug him, but the few steps I’d need to take to reach him from here feel like miles.

  I remind myself that I know I could find his cabin again if I had to. If I ever wanted another “vacation.” I know how unlikely I am to do that, but telling myself that it’s possible makes it easier to walk away.

  “Alright,” I say. “I guess this is goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Andrea,” he says. He holds up a hand, waves, and turns his back to me.

  I turn around as well, and I don’t look back.

  I’m back in the office the next day. The moment I step back into my cubicle, it feels as if everything in Evergreen Cove and Coal’s cabin never even happened.

  It was all too surreal and feels like it was some kind of dream.

  David, our boss, chews us out for failing to persuade th
e hotel owners to sell. The whole time David is screaming at us, I imagine Coal’s smug grin as he basks in my failure.

  “What the fuck did I even pay you both for? I tried calling Andrea all morning and couldn’t get a hold of her at all. Does that shit hotel not even have cellular service? This is exactly why we need to get in there.”

  Lindsay gives me a look. I told her where I was. It’s her fault for bailing on me and not going hiking in the first place.

  “David,” I say. “We tried our best, but the owners have zero interest in selling. They are both in their late 60s with no kids.”

  “So?” David asks.

  Lindsay speaks up. “They just looked really happy. The guy said something like ‘no need to retire when you love every minute of what you do!,’ and then his wife smiled wide, as if that’s exactly what she was thinking, too.”

  I nod. “That hotel is all they want in the world. What’s the point of having a lot of money if you have to sell what you love to get it?”

  “Fucking hell,” David says, slamming his hands onto the table. “You two are up there for three days and suddenly you’re some fucking tree-dwelling hippies? Maybe you just didn’t push hard enough?”

  Now I’m mad. It was bad enough when Coal implied I sucked at my job, but David knows that I’m good at what I do.

  “David,” I say. “It doesn’t matter how we approach them, how we frame it, or how much money we offer them. They are not receptive to a buyout. I am confident about that. You sent us there to assess the situation and give you our impressions. You must have sent Lindsay and me because you trust our judgement and abilities. Correct?”

  His face twitches in anger, but he holds his tongue. I see him cool off a bit, and then he nods. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. You think there is a zero percent chance that they will take a buyout then?”

  I nod. “Yes, that is my assessment. Buying these two out will not get you the land.”

  And it’s the land he needs. Almost every square foot of Evergreen Cove is protected. Only existing structures are allowed to stay, and even if we do buy out the land, there will be hundreds of strict zoning regulations dictating how we can build.