Surrendering to the Mountain Man

by Asha Daniels

  “Mmm!” She jutted her hips up in an effort to break the connection, but there was no way she was getting out of my hold.

  I was falling for this girl, no longer the frail waif in my mind. She was strong and independent, capable of taking care of herself.

  Breaking the kiss, I kept the harsh hold as I growled then sucked on her neck, biting down brutally, my teeth marking her.

  “Oh! Ohh…” Bucking, she was panting, the anguished moans becoming seductive whimpers.

  I kept the hold on her neck as I moved my lips down to her breast, licking and nipping.

  “Razer…” Her arms were still, her breathing ragged.

  Grunting, I eased my hand away and slid between her legs. Gathering them into my arms, I pushed both back until her knees were butterflied, her sex completely open for me. Damn this woman could drive me insane, stripping me of every fear, every thought about the kind of man I’d become. I buried my face into her pussy, thrusting my tongue deep inside.

  “Oh! Yes!” Jerking up, she dropped her head back, her hands clenching the bedding.

  Even in the darkness, I could see a smile crossing her face. I licked up and down, taking my time to enjoy the taste, the feel of her. Her wetness slicked my face as the scent of her sweet cunt rolled into my nostrils. I wanted nothing more than to make her come, explode into my mouth.

  No, I wanted to ravage her.

  Megan went limp, placing both hands over her face, her moans more like soft purrs.

  I swirled my tongue around her clit in lazy circles as I eased one arm from underneath, tickling her pussy lips with my index finger.

  Her body was quivering, the tiny tremors matched with her breath sounds.

  Easing my tongue down to her opening, I slid the tip inside, pushing two of my fingers in and flexing them open. As I began to thrust in and out, I sucked on her sweet tissue, savoring the flavor, the scent and everything about her. She was so open, so exposed to me.

  “Yes. Yes!” One hand fluttered to the top of my head, raking her nails through the long, disheveled strands.

  Adding a third then forth finger, I plunged in a practiced method, allowing my thumb to slide in between the crack of her ass.

  She pulled her legs back, holding them with her arms, lifting her ass into the air.

  I licked all the way up and down, darting my tongue between her ass cheeks before taking her entire clit into my mouth, sucking. Using my slick fingers, I slid them to her asshole, darting the tips of two just inside.

  “Fuck! I…” She opened her mouth wide then clamped down, as if trying to hold back a scream.

  Pressing two fingers inside her dark hole, I kept the action slow and easy, hitting the tight ring of muscle. When she tensed, I pushed harder as I licked and sucked her cunt.

  “Oh God!” Tossing her head back and forth, she jerked up again, grunting under her breath.

  I knew she was close, so damn close. I continued my brutal actions, driving my fingers into her tight ass, my tongue inside her pussy, the pace frantic.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes!”

  When her pussy muscles clamped around my tongue, I shoved several fingers deep inside, pummeling into her, my other fingers driving into her ass.

  “Oh… Oh!” Megan lifted her head, sounds of raw ecstasy rolling up from the depth of her being.

  She came in my mouth, filling my throat with sweet cream. I lapped every drop, the thirst unable to be quenched. I would eat her again.

  After she stopped shaking, she eased her arms from under her legs, lifting them above her head. “Oh. Amazing.”

  I kissed the insides of both legs before resting beside her.

  She rolled over, planting her arm across me, nuzzling into my chest.

  I’d never been a satisfied man, not with my life or the women I longed to care for, but this morning, I was sated, as happy as I suppose I could ever be. I thought about her story, wondering if her father really was a criminal. I would soon be forced to learn her name. And why? Because the coincidence would be too extraordinary.

  And I didn’t believe in coincidences. They didn’t exist. Only enemies and those determined to break my back, destroying what little I have left.

  They’d hunted me.

  They’d found me.

  Now, it was my time.

  Time to kill.

  Chapter 8

  Megan

  Love. For some insane reason I woke up thinking the word. There was no exacting reason, no fabulous dreams to push away the nightmares Razer had learned about. But love seemed to be the only concept that could fill my mind today. Mind you, I’ve never been in love and the only aspect I’d ever felt was for my mother. I’d never been allowed a pet and my friends were special to me, but nothing more.

  Yet on this snow filled day as limited light streamed in through the dirty window, I envisioned the concept for the first time in my life. Razer. I understood that my thoughts were perhaps childish, a fantasy that could never turn into reality, but the night had been something out of a fairytale.

  I blinked several times, rolling back and forth in bed, inhaling his scent that covered every inch of my body, the bedding and even my hair. While he’d never told me more about himself, I felt closer, as if I’d caught a magical glimpse inside and I was happy. As crazy as that might sound to everyone else. I. Was. Happy.

  Rolling over, I lifted my head, listening for any sounds. The wind had died down to some degree, but I could tell the snow continued to fall. The room was chilly. Grabbing and tossing the blanket around me, I walked to the door, opening it just a crack. I could smell the roaring fire before I heard the wonderful crackling sounds of logs as they burned. Padding out into the living room, I was alone and for a few seconds, I wanted to explore, but I knew better.

  Razer needed to tell me about the man chained inside without provocation. Pushing wasn’t the answer, in any manner. I walked toward the fire, holding out my hands, allowing the warmth to cascade against my naked skin. Maybe a shower would help. As far as clothes, well… After feeling the stiff jeans, the sweater from the day before, I sighed. How had everything changed in a single day? I laughed and could almost taste his cum on my lips. He’d finally filled my mouth and throat and I’d taken every drop. Well, almost.

  I walked into the kitchen and the modern appearance was surprising. While the area was small, almost galley like, the appliances appeared new. I brushed the tips of my fingers across the granite, my thoughts drifting to whatever life he’d once led. He was obviously educated, even sophisticated by nature. Who’d condemned him to a life of solitude?

  A flash drew my attention to the window. Even though the snow was falling, covering the massive wood pile, Razer was swinging an ax, chopping pieces into quarters, standing them ever so neatly in a crossing pattern. I remembered the wood pile at the hotel. He was fastidious in everything that he did.

  I watched him for a few minutes, the man only taking a break to puff on a cigarette, his face pensive as he studied the clouds.

  The smell of fresh coffee filled the air, adding to the warmth of the cozy space. I hesitated before attempting to find a mug. My hand was even shaking when I held the handle. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was going to have to get over some of his concerns. The mismatching cups held another surprise. Every one of them had a saying, two coming from the resort itself.

  If you find a real man, he’ll be on the mountain. The saying brought a laugh, a warm and fuzzy feeling. A perfect mug for a mysterious man. The dishes positioned next to the cups were of varying colors and sizes and I would bet if I found the silverware, they would be a conglomeration of styles and shapes as well. He certainly didn’t care for material things, or maybe this was nothing more than a rented cabin. All answers that would be difficult to obtain.

  The coffee poured, I watched him work for a few minutes before deciding on the shower. My mischievous side wouldn’t allow me to pass by the art room. The door was closed and even the wooden paneling a
ppeared more ominous in the light of day. I maintained some level of restraint, although I’d come dangerously close to ignoring the newly imposed rules. The paintings were truly remarkable, some of the most beautiful depictions I’d ever seen. And Daddy had forced me to go to art showings and gallery openings from the time I could walk and knew right from wrong.

  Right from wrong. The notion was ridiculous given my father’s work ethics. And I’d opened up to Razer, blurting out ugly details about my family as if they meant nothing to me. Maybe they no longer did. Maybe I was ready to leave everything behind and find a life I could live myself. I pressed my hands against the warm cup, blowing on the hot liquid. Alone. No money. No tuition. The thought was…

  Delicious.

  Hearing the rush of wind, feeling the instant chill, I bristled, expecting Razer to yell, to demand that I walk away from his precious privacy. I heard nothing. The only sound the door clasping shut, a pile of wood being dumped by the fire.

  I remained where I was, anticipating another round of punishment. I wasn’t entirely certain if the reason for my shallow breaths was because of excitement or trepidation. I heard the sound of his boots thudding, coming in my direction. I lowered my head, allowing the steam to infiltrate my nostrils. I was no longer afraid of this man, my lover. I was terrified of disappointing him.

  “I started painting when I was thirteen. It was a way of seeing the world because I wasn’t allowed outside.” Razer’s voice was clear, the tone husky but there was a distinct glitch, as if telling me was far too personal.

  I ignored the obvious. “Were you trained?”

  This time he laughed. “Hell, no. I was given paints, charcoal, a few canvases and brushes that had seen much better days. I stood at a window, learning my craft, envisioning dragons and heroes. When I grew bored of believing in heroes crashing through the doors, I studied the birds and trees, flowers that were right there, so close that I could almost touch. Every once in a while, I captured a person, sketching them quickly before they faded out of my limited life, so I could paint them later.”

  My lower lip quivered. What in God’s name had happened to him? What horror had been inflicted? “You learned so much.”

  After a few seconds, Razer sighed and eased his body against mine, not quite touching but the warmth of his body heat was sizzling nonetheless. “I had nothing else to do. At least in my paintings, I could pretend I had friends.”

  What could I say? What could I offer him? Nothing. I had nothing to say that would make a bit of difference to this poor man, this untrusting soul who’d been cast out of society. “They really are amazing.”

  He issued another strangled sound before walking away.

  “Razer.” Please don’t walk away. Please don’t leave. Talk to me. Tell me. I want to know everything about you. I wanted more than anything to find the courage to say these words, to offer something. Anything. But I knew he was going back to work.

  Easing around me, he gave me a single nod before moving toward the door, turning the handle slowly.

  I held my breath, terrified that this would end, that it was nothing more than a dream.

  “Come inside with me,” he whispered, the sound so full of angst.

  I offered a slow smile, my eyes never leaving his as he guided me into the room. This was his enchanting forest to show and tell. In the gloomy light, the pictures were still vivid, yet the textures were more noticeable, every nuance of the various paintings coming to life, telling a story. I could do nothing but shake my head as I walked closer, still keeping enough of a distance that he wouldn’t feel pressure.

  “I painted all of these here, mostly from memory. There are very few flowers as brilliant as these begonias,” he half whispered chuckling.

  “You have a wonderful memory or maybe I should say imagination.” I moved toward a painting of a mountain, a dazzling and almost crystal clear stream, various blooming vines crisscrossing the landscape. “This has to be of a location close by.”

  “Very good and yes. The spring is amazing, summer rich with detail and color.” Razer inched closer to the window, shoving his hands into his pockets. He still wore the coat, puffy and warm yet tattered from rugged use.

  “How long have you been here?” I dared to ask.

  He wrinkled his forehead, his gaze never leaving the frosted glass. “Almost two years.”

  “Two years.” The statement seemed ridiculous. “Who is this?” The woman in the painting was shopping on a cobblestone street, the various buildings surrounding her colorized in shades of peach and lilac, purples and even the lightest hues of pink. In her hand were several packages and she stood over a vegetable cart, eyeing ripe tomatoes, their crimson color capturing my attention immediately.

  “She’s someone I used to know.”

  A hint to a secret, a woman who’d been special in his life. “She’s lovely.”

  She also looked a hell of a lot like me.

  “She reminds me of you. Fire and brimstone, unfettered by the bullshit called life. Yet, almost innocent in other matters, as if the world hadn’t quite been able to taint her visions of life.”

  I heard the choking sound in my breath. “I’m not innocent, Razer, just naïve to certain ways. But I’m learning the hard way.” I took slow and steady steps as I moved away from the picture and to another, very large painting.

  “Does your father really want to marry you off?”

  I laughed softly, doing my best not to burst into tears. “Oh, you bet he does. I met my future husband at a party just a couple days ago. I’ve known him half my life, but only as an acquaintance. Travis made no bones about the fact that I belonged to him. He’s a pig.”

  Coughing, Razer finally snickered under his breath. “You don’t mince words.”

  “I guess I can’t afford to. If I want to make something of my life, then I will do it all by myself. That is, if I can still afford to go to college after I refuse the engagement.” I reached out, tracing the lines of the flowers, but keeping my finger a full inch away.

  “And what are you studying?”

  “Law. I’m going to be an attorney, prosecuting the heinous criminals who feed on humanity, killing the spirit of so many men and women in this country.” When he didn’t say anything, I looked toward him, catching his expression.

  Horror.

  Secrets and lies. The saying rushed back to me.

  “I know. That is crazy, I suppose. Maybe I’m a dreamer, but I want to help people, at least to some degree.” I could feel his eyes following me. “The paintings. Have you ever had a showing?”

  Another laugh.

  “Life took over and I went to the university, then obtained my masters. I had no time for my paintings. They were either destroyed or stored, locked away as if that portion of my life didn’t matter. I had responsibilities that had nothing to do with art.”

  I bit my tongue. “At least you’re painting again.”

  He nodded several times. “I enjoy being able to, at least the majority of the time.”

  The second I glanced at the floor, to the location where the ripped picture had been, I sensed a change in him. He was closing the door. “May I ask you something?”

  Shifting from foot to foot, he debated before nodding again.

  “What kept you locked away when you were a boy?”

  Razer eased away from the window, taking deliberate steps in my direction. When he stopped only inches from me, he did something that shocked me.

  He took my hand into his, intertwining our fingers, his thumb rubbing back and forth.

  The same electricity was there, only altered, changed forever. I held my breath, unsure of what I expected to hear.

  “I was very ill. Cancer. The leukemia was stage four, and I wasn’t expected to live. The disease stripped me of my immune system, forcing me to live inside a locked room, a gilded bubble for almost two years. Two long years of my life taken, and they expected me to die. I learned to be alone.”

  I opened my m
outh, lifting my gaze to meet his. The slight but powerful entrance into his past was all consuming for both of us. As soon as the door was opened, he shut it down, taking a step away, leaving me cold and restless. “I’m so sorry.”

  “But I lived.” He turned sharply and walked to the door, stopping short. “Take a shower. I’ll find at least a shirt that you can wear. I tried to dry your clothes. I don’t know.”

  “Thank you.” He left the door open, didn’t try and force me away, but the angry and restless yet sweet and amazing man was vacant inside, uncertain of what to do. Or say. The terrified little boy had turned into a man, one vowing some level of vengeance on an enemy that I knew was tangible.

  If only in his mind.

  I took one last longing look at the paintings before dropping my head and walking out into the living room.

  He was nowhere to be seen.

  The bathroom seemed colder than it had the night before, but the water was hot. I gazed almost longingly at the tub, able to notice the detailed claw feet, the brass polished so it gleamed. The shower was separate but large enough for two. I chuckled at the thought. As if the tangled beard and mound of massive hair had seen a shower in months. What I found interesting was that Razer was so meticulous about every aspect of the cabin but couldn’t care less about his appearance. Still, the scent of the man, sandalwood and musk, testosterone and the forest was by far the most appealing on a man.

  I dropped the blanket, folding it into a neat pile before stepping into the shower. Closing my eyes, I allowed the water to roll down over my neck and back, finally dousing my head. I stood there, my head lowered, my hands planted on the wall in front of me, at first laughing about what Becca or Pepper would say when they found out how I spent my time. Would they chastise me for horrid choices or swoon like teenagers, the emotions I was used to? I’d been born older, forced to make hard choices.

  The bitter laugh was cut short as thoughts about Travis floated into the back of my mind. I knew in my heart that I would be forced into servitude. I had no way of getting away from my father’s control. None. At least not without ruining what little I had in my life. Things weren’t important, but certainly connections were. A myriad of emotions rushed into my tense muscles, every cell, digging in deep as if never letting go again.