by Frankie Love
I don’t hold back.
I kiss her with all that I am and all I have. I kiss her, feeling her shoulders fall. I kiss her, soaking up the sounds of her moaning against my mouth. I kiss her, knowing she feels the current of power coursing between us.
She wants this as badly as I need this and I kiss her until we both forget to breathe and can only inhale one another.
“I fucking love you, Maggie,” I tell her, panting from the kiss that could fucking move mountains. Our foreheads touch again and I look in her eyes, the ones still filled with tears and she shakes her head.
“Don’t, Charlie,” she says, pressing her palm to my chest. “Don’t say that.”
My chest tightens, unable to imagine a world where Maggie and I don’t end up together.
“Then say it, Maggie. Tell me you don’t love me.”
She shakes her head, and I try to still her, to wipe away her tears, but whatever tears her apart is something I don’t understand.
“It doesn’t matter that I love you,” she whispers. “What I have to tell you will change all of that. All of this.”
“So, you do love me?”
Her shoulders fall and her face sinks. “Yes. I love you. I have always loved you. Is that what you hear? Because it’s not something you can cling to, Charlie.”
“I can cling to what I know. And I know you love me and I know I love you. What I don’t know is why you’re fighting what we both know you’ve always wanted. What I just figured out this week I want more than anything else on Earth. Me and you. Us.”
She gasps as if she’s just met her breaking point. Then the words she’s tried to keep back spill from her mouth, “I’m pregnant, Charlie.”
Blood courses through my veins. She’s been out for the last few weeks, with God knows how many men. The only reason she could be scared to tell me is that she’s scared I won’t want to raise another man’s child.
Dammit.
“Listen to me, Maggie. I will stand by your side no matter what happens. Just tell me, who’s the father?”
Her lips fall into a perfect O and her eyes widen in surprise.
“Charlie, you’re the father. You’re the only one. The only one I’ve ever wanted.”
Relief floods my body, my face cracking into a wide ass grin and my heart fucking opening up like the goddamn heavens. I don’t know what this woman is doing to me but it is more than I ever fucking imagined.
“We’re having a baby?” I ask, both incredulous and fucking overjoyed.
“The condom... the night in the kitchen.”
I swallow, remembering that it broke right before her brother walked in.
“Are you okay? Are you angry?” I ask her.
She covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes tight.
“What?” I ask again, having known her forever, but knowing we are treading all new territory.
She lowers her hand, still sitting in my lap, and opens her eyes. “Charlie, I’m not angry. I was scared you wouldn’t want this baby... want me. But then you came here with a cake and ring and a proposal and a kiss and I don’t know. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones ... but ... I just don’t understand.”
I cup her face in my hands, looking into her beautiful eyes and knowing I see her soul. Her fucking life force full of passion and generosity and beauty.
“Don’t understand what, Mags?”
“How I ended up with everything I ever dreamed of having.”
I push the ring on her finger then, as she cries even harder, nodding her yes, and flinging her arms around my neck, and my damn cock is rock hard as she sinks against me.
“I love you, Mags. And I will be the best goddamn father on this side of the mountain. I won’t let you down. I swear it.”
In my ear, she whispers, “Take me, Charlie. Now.”
I pull her tank top over her head, her tits so perky and round, and I bury my face in them. Her skin is soft and her love is mine. She shimmies out of her leggings and I pull my jeans down. My cock is a steel rod and her pussy knows where it belongs.
“I love you, so much,” she says. “I’ve loved you since I was a little girl.” She runs her hand over my length, and I run my hand over her bare back, over her smooth ass. “I have so much to learn, Charlie.”
“About being a mom?” I look down at her belly, imaging our child in there, the size of a seed now, but soon enough it will grow to perfection. Our baby.
She looks at me, biting her bottom lip. “No. I’ve spent a lot of time with Greta’s kids, I know babies and diapers and late night feedings. I’m talking about learning how to please you.”
I grin, my hand running between her legs, feeling her slick pussy so ready for me.
“Oh, baby, do you want me to fill your jelly roll?”
She throws her head back, laughing. “Do these lines work on anyone?”
I pull her down, against me, letting her tight cunt take all I have. She whimpers as she sinks lower.
“They work on you if I’m reading this moment right.” I find her hand, lacing our fingers together, her diamond ring glinting as she rocks against me.
“You’re right, Charlie.” She smiles. “I’ve always wanted you to whisper filthy nothings to me.”
“They aren’t nothing, Mags. You’re the sugar glaze to my snickerdoodle.”
She shakes her head with a laugh, then bringing my hand to her mouth. Kissing me as if she can’t get enough. “Snickerdoodles don’t have a glaze, Charlie.”
“Fine, then you’re my maple glaze to my uh, bar?” I laugh, knowing that one was pretty bad. But Mags doesn’t miss a beat. The thing is, she never has. She saw the best in me when I was at my worst, and she believed in me before I understood how to believe in myself.
“No Charlie. You’re German chocolate frosting to my celebration cake.”
“And what’s the celebration?”
She smiles, my cock growing in size every time she gives me that look. “Our wedding, of course.”
Epilogue 1
Maggie
Snow falls, but the sun is out. The perfect day for a wedding.
After knowing one another for most of our lives, once Charlie and I decided to get married, we have no interest in prolonging what we are ready for.
So now, in the middle of November, a few weeks after I told Charlie that I’m carrying his child, I’m in the back room of a church, putting on my wedding dress.
“You look so beautiful,” Hazel says, as she ties the ribbons on the back of my organza gown.
I could have gone for something simple, something practical-- but I wanted the whole nine yards.
I always imagined walking down the aisle toward Charlie, and now I’m ready to exchange vows, promise to have and to hold from this day forward.
“You are just beautiful,” Greta agrees, looking at me in the full-length mirror, tears in her eyes.
“You can’t cry now,” Hazel says, handing out tissues. “You’ll ruin your make-up, Mags.” Lucy runs into the room, beaming. “Auntie Mags, the sleigh is here!”
Her face is precious, so full of joy, and I ask her how big the horses are.
“This big, Auntie!” She raises her hands high over her head. The sleigh will take us from the church and lead us to a reception, where two hundred of our closest friends will be waiting to celebrate
The sleighs arrival also means it is time for the wedding ceremony to begin.
“Do you think the guys are ready?” I ask, turning around the room, my gown swishing as I move.
“Yes,” Greta tells me. “I was just over there checking on Milo, and everyone looks so handsome.”
“And Charlie, did he look nervous?”
Hazel and Greta shake their heads. “No, sweetie,” Greta says. “He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. Though, I think this spring he’ll be even happier than he is now.”
“It’s crazy to think we will have two babies in the family next year,” Hazel says.
“I know,” I say. “Everyth
ing is changing so fast.”
Greta rests her hands on my shoulders as we turn back in a full-length mirror. My gown has a full skirt and sparkles, with crystals encrusted on the bodice.
“Change is good,” she tells me “It’s a chance to usher more love into our lives.”
“Thanks for supporting Charlie and me,” I tell her and then I look over at Hazel thanking her as well. “I know it’s been a whirlwind…”
Greta shakes her head. “Maggie, you can’t choose when you meet the love of your life. And you met yours when you were eight years old. Do not apologize for finally having the thing you always dreamed of.”
The words from my sister, who carries herself with so much grace in the face of heartbreak, mean so much to me.
And I know she says we only have one love of our life, but I hope for her that’s not true. As much as I loved Luke, I dream that my sister will find another happily ever after. No one deserves it more.
“I think it’s time,” Hazel says. The organ begins to play and Greta reaches for the bouquets, handing them out. Lucy is so excited for her role of tossing petals that she can hardly contain her excitement, her curls bounce as she hops from one foot to the other.
“Auntie Maggie, can I hold your hand when we walk in the church?” Her little voice is so pure and innocent.
“Oh, you can walk her to the church, but Uncle Clive is walking her down the aisle,” Greta explains.
“Oh, right,” Lucy says making a silly face. “And we all know Uncle Clive has lots of opinions.”
I laugh, asking her why she thinks that.
“Because he told me so. He said this wedding was the most important because it was his bestest friend and his baby sister getting married. He said I need to be the very best flower girl because of that.”
I meet Hazel’s eyes. “He told a little girl all that?”
Hazel raised her hands in defense. “I didn’t say a word.”
My heart is so full when I think about how lucky we all are, to have one another. Through thick and thin, we aren’t in any of this alone.
I take Lucy’s hand in mine, my heart swelling with gratitude as we leave the back room and head toward the sanctuary. A wedding thrown together in a few weeks shouldn’t be so organized, but everyone in town is here for Charlie and me.
“And after the wedding, is that when you and Charlie will live happily ever after?” Lucy asks.
I nod, having never been more sure of anything in my life.
Epilogue 2
Charlie
When she walks down the aisle, it’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven.
She looks like an angel walking toward me, her dress bright white and her lips deep red and her eyes on mine. Clive walks her to me, gives her away, and damn, that moment alone has me near tears.
But when I slip the ring on her finger and promise her all my tomorrows, there are undoubtedly tears in everyone’s eyes.
And when the pastor tells us to kiss as husband and wife, I pull her close. With my hand on her soft cheek, I kiss my bride.
I kiss my wife.
I kiss the mother of my child.
I’ve been out on the mountain more months of my life than I can count. I spent time walking that untamed land and traversing the wild.
But nothing compares to the adventure that I have in front of me right now.
The adventure of living my life with Maggie.
She is the life of the party, which everyone knows considering she invited about hundred and ninety-five of the two-hundred guests in attendance.
But no one holds that against her. How could you? She has a way of bringing out the best in people.
She certainly brings out the best of me.
I kiss her again, knowing she has been nervous to have everyone see us kiss, still reeling in the embarrassment of her brother, Hazel, and Greta walking in on us in the kitchen the night I first fell for her.
Then the pastor pronounces us as husband and wife, cheers ring from the church, and Lucy and Milo squeal in the front row. The whole damn room is lit up with love.
During the sleigh ride, Maggie is a sight to behold-- she is absolutely glowing. With the bright white snow behind her, she reflects nothing but happiness, pure and simple.
“We did it,” she says. “No regrets?”
I shake my head. “Never.”
And then I pull my arm around her as the horse-drawn carriage takes us down Main Street.
At the reception hall, we dance until our feet hurt, and people toast until there are no words left. And when it’s time to cut the cake, everyone oohs and ahhs over the piece of art that Maggie created.
“Is it too much?” she asks, leaning in close as a photographer takes our photo.
“No such thing as too much,” I tell her.
Well, in truth, the cake is a little over-the-top.
She has made a miniature cartoon version of the two of us, on top of a snow-capped mountain, and Maggie, apron-clad, holds a whisk, using it to point to something on the map I hold. I am decked out with binoculars and a backpack, a tent set up beside us.
If you look closely, extra, extra closely, you see the map is a tiny replica of our town, and a heart has been painted right where we are now.
Attention to detail, sure, but it’s also pretty damn cute.
“There’s no way I can cut into this,” I tell her as the photographer tells us what we should do in order to line up the perfect shot. “It’s a masterpiece.”
Maggie smirks and takes the knife from my hand, having no problem slicing it herself.
“You’re not shoving it in my face though,” she tells me.
“I know!” Before I can even go back on my word, she shoves a piece right at me.
The room bursts into applause and laughter, and I pull my pretty little muffin to my chest. I kiss her through a mouthful of frosting knowing this cupcake is a hell of a lot more than this mountain man deserves.
Coming Soon!
Greta gets her second-chance at love in
Mountain Man Bun!
Coming November 2017!
TIMBER Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
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 possi
ble.
“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.