The Mountain Man's Kitten

by Wyatt, Dani

  I get that, and I admire it, but I’m still not happy about her surroundings.

  When she’s not there, I have two choices. Sometimes, me and the kitten drive over to the hospital, or the shelter, or her favorite burger bar, anywhere she goes, and we keep out of sight while we watch her. Just watching her turns me on, and I could do it all night, but there are other times when I leave Miss Muffet in my new property while I go across the street.

  If she’s left the window slightly open, as she often does, it’s not difficult to pry it up the rest of the way. These old locks aren’t much good at keeping people out, they’re really only there to hold the window in place, and since her room is on the ground floor it’s quick to gain entry. I’m not above snooping around her things, taking a sniff of her perfume or rooting through her clothes. Yeah, I’m a dirty fucker, and I’m ashamed every time, but I can’t help myself. And in my defense, when I leave, I make sure the window is properly closed so nobody else can get in.

  I’ve taken a few things home with me, too. Just little things, reminders of her. Miss Muffet has claimed one of them as her own, which is the only thing that has calmed her down. Her cat basket is now lined with one of Katarina’s sports bras, and she’s fast asleep on top of it right now. The basket is tucked away underneath the stairs, so if one of my extremely rare visitors did decide to come round, they wouldn’t see, but it still makes me ashamed to think of it.

  Playing with the phone in my hand isn’t doing me any good. I’ve got wood to chop, but with Katarina on my mind I’m worried I might end up cutting off something I shouldn’t.

  I bring up her number for the eight-thousandth time today, stare at it for a moment, then take a deep breath. I shouldn’t. There’s no need to call her. Truth is, with Katarina’s bra to sleep on Miss Muffet has finally started to calm down. How do people normally deal with this?

  I press the green button before I’ve even thought and put the phone to my ear. It rings for what feels like an hour, and I almost put it back down, but then I hear her voice on the other end.

  “Thickwood Shelter, Katarina speaking. How can I help?”

  I clear my throat, trying to think what to say, but no words will come out. What am I supposed to say to her? Oh, I don’t need anything, I was just fantasizing about your voice.

  “Miller, is that you?”

  What the fuck? How did she—

  “I can’t hear you properly, I think this must be a bad line. Miller?”

  “Uh, yeah, hi.”

  “Hi! How’s Little Miss Muffet?”

  I lick my top lip, looking over to see the kitten’s head lolling out of her basket, eyes closed in blissful sleep. “She’s not good...”

  “Oh no, shall I call the vet?” Katarina sounds panicked, and I think fast.

  “No, nothing like that.” Holding the phone against my ear with my shoulder, I grab both sides of the one remaining sofa cushion that’s still intact and pull hard. There’s an almighty rip as the cushion falls apart, and I lower my voice. “No, Miss Muffet, stop!” The kitten opens her eyes for a moment, looks over at me, yawns, and then curls back down into her bed, covering her eyes with a paw.

  “Oh my god, has she grown? That sounded bad.”

  “Can you come over?”

  “Uh...” She hesitates for a moment, and I curse technology for not allowing me to see her expression. “Sure. I finish in about an hour?”

  “Perfect.”

  I hang up the phone before I’m forced to lie any more than I already have, telling myself it’s just white lies that won’t harm anyone.

  “Don’t tell,” I warn Miss Muffet as I wander past her toward the back door, then out into the yard. Having just spoken to Katarina, I could probably chop wood with my hard-on, but instead I grab my ax as I saunter toward the chopping block.

  I’ve been living out here a long time, and the clouds on the horizon tell me there’ll be a storm later. Best to get the dry wood chopped and stacked in the woodshed that’s attached to the house before that happens, so I’m prepared.

  AN HOUR LATER, I’M sweating like a motherfucker as I head back indoors, the wind starting to howl as it bends the tall trees near the cabin. I discarded my shirt as I chopped the wood, but it’s hot work and I need a shower before Katarina gets here. It’s about a thirty-minute drive up from the town, so I should have just enough time to jump in the shower and then make some sort of a plan for dinner.

  In the shower, I have to relieve myself, otherwise my dick will be the one that needs to be tamed. I jerk off thinking of Kat. Then again.

  Spending myself twice before washing and shampooing my hair. But, my dick still won’t go down.

  Once more, I tell myself, fisting my cock.

  Okay, maybe twice.

  Chapter Six

  Katarina

  “HELLO?” I KNOCK AGAIN at the door, wondering if I misunderstood what we’d arranged. Glancing around, I can see that it’s getting blustery and the sky is darkening. Perhaps I should just turn around and get back to town before there’s any kind of storm.

  Just then, the door opens, and I turn back to find Miller standing there, wrapped in nothing but a towel, and my jaw drops.

  To say that the view is welcome would be an understatement.

  Not only is his upper body on full display, thick curly hair covering every solid inch of wide pectorals and rolling abs, but the bulge I see behind the soft fabric of the towel...

  I draw a deep breath, forcing my eyes back up to his face.

  “Hi, sorry, did I mistake—”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “Sorry. Just showering. You want to come in?”

  I nod, following him into the house, and look around at the devastation. One of the cushions from the couch is ripped literally in two and it’s hard to believe that one small kitten could have such strength. But I know from experience, they can be more trouble than they look.

  “Hey, sorry about...” I trail off as Miller turns around and the towel splits up his leg, nearly to the top. An inch to the left and I’d have a full view of...

  I gulp, hoping he hasn’t noticed me staring. The last thing he needs is the daughter of his biggest business rival ogling him every chance she gets.

  “Sorry? For what?” He asks. “Hey, is steak and baked potatoes with all the toppings okay for dinner?”

  “Uh, don’t go to any trouble, I ought to get going again before the storm comes in.” I reply, watching his ass move beneath the towel as he heads into the kitchen, willing it to come unfastened. “Sorry about the mess Little Miss Muffet has made of your place. You know, if you really can’t cope, we can take her ba—”

  “No!” His voice is almost a growl.

  “Okay, it’s just sometimes adopted animals can be a handful...”

  He steps back around the corner from the kitchen. “I don’t give up on what’s mine. Ever.”

  I try to breathe as he looks me up and down, and I imagine him having that sort of possessiveness when it comes to me. Shielding me from others, making sure I’m safe... “Sorry, of course. Where is she?”

  “In her basket. Under the...” He hesitates, then, “Best not to disturb her. When she’s sleeping is the only time she’s not causing havoc.”

  I laugh and follow through to the kitchen. “So, what can I do for you then? You don’t want me to take her back, and she’s not being a mischief right now, so...”

  He turns and points to the table. “Have a seat. I’ll get this started, put on some clothes and then we can eat.”

  AS I PUT DOWN MY KNIFE and fork, my plate cleaned right down to the pattern, I glance up at Miller, then out the kitchen window. The rain has started, and the sky is so dark you’d think it was the middle of the night.

  “So, Miss Muffet’s still asleep. I think perhaps I should get going...” I stare into his eyes, willing him to tell me to stay, wanting him to forbid me from going out there in this.

  And for a moment, a look passes over his face that almost r
eads as desire. But it must be my imagination. There’s no way he’d ever...

  “Storm’s getting bad,” he says.

  I’m beginning to think that conversation isn’t Miller’s strong suit. Which I guess is fine, since I’m talkative enough for the both of us. I ended up opening up to him about stuff with my dad, the way he’s overbearing, how unhappy he was when I went into nursing instead of joining him selling cars or renting properties. For some reason, I even told him how I disagreed with my dad over the way he treated Miller in the Lathrup Park condo deal that went sideways last year.

  Miller, throughout the entire conversation, said about two words.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “If I don’t get home soon, I may end up spending the night in my car.” I laugh, but his eyes turn serious.

  A moment passes between us, and I almost open my mouth to ask if I can stay, when suddenly there’s a huge flash of lightning, right outside the cabin, lighting up the whole sky. The crack of thunder is loud enough to wake the dead, and the lights in the cabin flicker once before going out, and it’s then that I hear a mewl from the kitchen doorway.

  I can’t say I’m not scared. I hate storms. Thunder and lightning make me hide in the bathroom, but I don’t want Miller to think I’m a child. But seeing Little Miss Muffet standing there shaking with fear over the storm breaks my heart and gives me the courage for both of us.

  Pushing my chair back, I rush to Miss Muffet as Miller goes to the window. Once I’ve got her in my arms, I turn back to find him staring out, shaking his head.

  “No fire, by the looks of it, but that big old Cottonwood has fallen. It’s blocking the driveway. I can clear it in the morning, but no way you’re getting out of here tonight.”

  Miller huffs out of the living room and down the back hall, as the rain and wind whip against the small cabin and Miss Muffet clings to my chest as I cradle her.

  When he comes back a few minutes later, he’s carrying a blanket and pillow, which he throws in a heap on the sofa.

  “You can have my bedroom. I put clean sheets on the bed.” He’s half-grunting the words my way, sounding angry, and I’m embarrassed because it feels like he’s pissed I have to stay. “There’s a t-shirt on the bed for you to sleep in. I lit some candles.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. I’ll take the couch...” I start, trying to keep my voice from shaking as a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning make me wince.

  “No.” He barks. “You take the bedroom. Good night.” He turns away and my eyes start to burn. I thought things were going well, but he’s so hard and short with me clearly I misread whatever my lust-addled brain imagined.

  “Good night then.” I whisper as he stands looking out the window.

  “Night.” He grunts and my cheeks burn as I work my way down the dark hallway toward the flickering candlelight coming from the open door.

  Once inside, I throw myself onto the bed and let the tears come.

  Chapter Seven

  Miller

  SLEEP IS IN-FUCKING-possible.

  She’s in my house.

  In my god-damn bed.

  And I’m laying here on the couch with a hard on even though I’ve jerked off twice in the last hour since, like an asshole, I sent her down the hall.

  Why am I always waiting?

  “Fuck.” I grit under my breath, fighting the urge but losing, and reach into my boxers again, running my fingers around my shaft, giving it a death grip as I imagine how her opening would feel around me.

  My balls draw tight and if I could only tell her how I felt. What a maniac I am when it comes to her. I mean, I finally fucking get her here—

  There’s a window-shaking clap of thunder that cuts off my thoughts and lightning so bright the entire living room is lit like daylight.

  Another ground shaking thunder boomer, and then I hear it...

  Low screaming.

  Crying.

  Coming from the bedroom.

  I’m on my feet, tearing down the short hall and strong-arming the door open when I see her.

  She’s in the corner of the bedroom, surrounded by the pillows from the bed, using them like shields with her head on her knees and her hands behind her neck, looking like she’s ready for a bomb raid.

  “Baby. Kitten.” I launch myself across the room, down onto my knees next to her. “Hey...it’s okay.”

  Another clap of thunder, and she turns into me, throwing her arms around me like she’s drowning, her body shaking as I slip my arms around and tug her tighter.

  “I’m here. Nothing is going to hurt you. Ever.”

  Jesus, yeah, so again, I finally get her in my fucking house and she’s crying.

  Not just crying, terrified.

  “I’m sorry.” Her muffled voice quivers into my shoulder. “I know it’s stupid, I can’t help it.”

  “It’s not stupid. I’m here.”

  “I know. Thank you.” She looks up, licking her lips, and her cheeks are rosy, but her eyes are red rimmed and I hate it.

  I never want to see her cry ever again.

  We sit there for a few minutes, the rain still coming hard, but the thunder diminishes, and I feel her body soften.

  I hate that this is how I got to put my hands on her for the first time, but I guess I needed the push. Mother Nature must be rooting for us.

  She has no idea my obsession with her. She’s been my world for three years, and being this close, feeling her against me, the broken groan caught in my throat, makes it hard to breathe. I want to use this moment to my advantage, but that would make me a bit of an ass.

  I’ve had years go make peace with my infatuation, my love for her, but she may need some time.

  I’ll give her five minutes.

  If she only knew the hours I’ve spent following her. Preparing for her. I know where she goes and gets her hair cut. That she doesn’t always look both ways when she crosses the street. She sleeps with a stuffed alligator and still gets on her knees by the side of her bed and folds her hands to pray before she gets into bed at night.

  She falls asleep on her side, but ends up on her back, and she snores a little bit.

  How do I know? Because I fucking stalk her. I bought this little house across the street from her apartment and go there just to watch her with the high-powered binoculars and the listening equipment I researched online like some psycho. I have thousands of pictures of her on my computer. A few hundred I even had printed and I keep them in a folder in my office. They are worn around the edges now, from being handled.

  Too many of them held in one hand while my other eased the ache for her. I’m a sick fuck, I sometimes even cum on the photos imagining my release on her tits. Her face. Her cunt. But letting myself go onto some two-dimensional fantasy of her never comes close to easing the pain I carry around, wanting her.

  I can’t count how many times I fantasized about getting her here, all the things I want to do with her, to her. Playing out a million perfect scenarios that would woo her, make her love me the way I love her...

  I shift, and she takes a deep breath and I feel it...crouching down next to her now I realize, my hard on is free from the opening in the front of my boxers and it’s resting its head on the pillow she’s holding.

  If she looks down...

  “Hey.” I start, trying to keep her eyes upward. “I think the storm is moving away.”

  There hasn’t been another clap of loud thunder or a flash of lightning in a few minutes, even as the rain still comes down against the bedroom window. My mind races, thinking of how to make this moment perfect. I don’t want to fuck this up.

  “Yeah.” Her eyes flit to the window, then back to my face, and before I can stop her, she pushes back, sets the pillow down next to her and shifts up onto her knees, my cock in full view between us. “Oh my god.”

  Her sapphire eyes go round, and I see her swallow as her eyes stay pinned to my dick, which to add to the moment, is dripping cum from the tip.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry—”


  “No.” She cuts me off and I hold my breath. “It’s okay.”

  I scoot backward, reaching down to try to put the fucker back in the barn and I’m shocked as hell when her hand comes to my forearm, holding it there.

  The touch of her hand makes my balls twitch and more drops of cum slip from the slit of my cock, dripping down onto the top of my thigh. This isn’t how I wanted this to happen.

  Her eyes are still red from crying, my dick is taking center stage and even with the flame in her eyes, knowing I could take what I know is mine right here, she’s not ready. I need all of her. Not just some moment of fear and then a hard on of distraction.

  “No.” It nearly kills me, but I reach down with my other hand and put my erection back in my boxers and looking at her face I see the confusion. “Kat...I want to tell you something.” I grunt, reaching for her hands and pulling her up with me, then walking us to the edge of the bed and sitting her down.

  I take her face in my hands, then push a few wild strands of her blonde ringlets behind her ears.

  “I’m sorry.” She looks embarrassed and I need to make her understand before I fuck this up completely.

  “Don’t be sorry. You need to know...” I swallow and push forward. “See, when I came to the booth yesterday...it wasn’t just some accident. I didn’t wander by for no reason. I’ve been trying to talk to you for three fucking years. But every time I’m close to you,” I shake my head. “Well, as you can see, the blood leaves my brain and takes a deep dive to my other brain. The one that isn’t always so smart.”

  “But,” She licks her cherry lips. “You’ve barely talked to me in all these years. Even when I tried...”

  “I know. Like I said, I think I had a blood flow issue.”