MY MOUNTAIN DADDY pt 2

Pale morning light seeped through the tent walls when I woke, trapped in the furnace heat of Cole’s body. His thick arm was still locked around my waist, holding me tight against him like he’d never let go, even in sleep. And he was hard. Achingly, unmistakably hard, the length of him pressed between my ass cheeks, pulsing with every slow breath he took.

I shifted, just a fraction, and felt slick heat flood me all over again.

His hand moved first, slowly, sliding up under the flannel shirt to cup my breast, thumb brushing my nipple until it peaked against his palm.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he rumbled against my neck, voice rough with sleep and raw want.

Then his fingers were between my legs again, spreading me open like he owned me, and I realized the day had only just started.

A low moan slipped out of me before I could stop it. His touch was unhurried, maddening, two thick fingers sliding deep, curling just right, stroking that spot inside me that made my hips jerk. His thumb found my clit again, circling with perfect pressure, like he already knew every secret my body had kept from me for years.

“Cole…” I breathed, my back arching, pressing my ass harder against his cock.

“That’s it,” he growled against my ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “Let me hear you.”

He worked me relentlessly, fingers pumping slow and deep, thumb relentless. My moans grew louder, shameless, echoing in the small tent. I clutched his forearm, nails digging in, thighs trembling as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter.

“Please… oh god, please….”

“Come for me, baby,” he ordered, voice dark and filthy. “Soak my fingers again.”

I shattered, crying out his name, walls clenching around him in hard, pulsing waves. He kept stroking, drawing it out until I was shaking, gasping, boneless against him.

Only then did he ease his hand away. I felt him shift, rolling me gently onto my back, leaning over me, those storm-gray eyes burning, lips parted, chest heaving. His cock strained against his thermals, a wet spot darkening the fabric where he’d leaked for me.

I reached for him, desperate, thinking finally, finally, he’d push inside me, fill me the way I ached to be filled.

Instead, he pressed a hard, brief kiss to my mouth and pulled back.

“We should get moving,” he said, voice low but steady. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up properly.”

I blinked up at him, stunned. My body was still humming, thighs slick, heart pounding and he was… stopping?

He climbed out of the sleeping bag, leaving me cold and aching. I sat up slowly, wincing at the throb in my ankle, a sharp sting of hurt blooming in my chest. Did he not want me after all? Was last night just pity?

I limped out of the tent after him, the morning air biting my flushed skin. He was already packing gear with that quiet efficiency, glancing over when I emerged.

“There’s a cabin I rented about two hours down the north ridge,” he said casually, like he hadn’t just had his fingers buried inside me. “Hot water, real shower, soft bed. Couldn’t get you there last night, trail’s tricky in the dark, and with your ankle… didn’t want to risk it. But we’ll head there now. You’ll feel human again.”

He handed me my pack, lightened of everything heavy, and offered his arm. I took it, still feeling off-balance, quiet as he helped me down the trail.

The cabin was beautiful, tucked into a clearing with wide windows overlooking the snow-dusted peaks, warm cedar walls, a stone fireplace already crackling when we stepped inside. It felt lived-in: books on the shelves, a worn leather jacket on a hook, the faint scent of coffee and pine.

Cole eased me onto the plush couch, propping my foot on pillows.

“Sit tight. I’ll draw you a bath.”

He disappeared down the hall. I looked around, hugging my arms around myself. Everything here screamed comfort, safety… and him. Why had he stopped? Maybe I’d misread everything.

He came back, scooped me up like I weighed nothing, and carried me to the bathroom. Steam rose from a deep clawfoot tub filled with hot water. A fresh towel, a spare toothbrush still in its package, everything laid out.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He set me on the edge of the tub. “Need help getting in?”

“No,” I answered too quickly, shutting the door harder than I meant to.

I caught his startled look just before it closed.

In the bath, I sank into the heat, letting it soothe my ankle and my bruised feelings. But my mind wouldn’t quiet. I wanted his arms around me again. Wanted him to lose control, to take me the way his eyes promised he could. Maybe he didn’t feel it. Maybe older, experienced men didn’t lose their heads over girls who threw themselves at them after one bad breakup.

I dried off, saw one of his big flannel shirts hanging on the back of the door, and slipped it on. It swallowed me, soft and warm, smelling like him.

I padded out barefoot. He was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, stirring something that smelled like bacon and eggs. He glanced over, eyes darkening as they swept over me in his shirt.

“Sit,” he said, nodding to the island. “I’ll bring you a plate.”

I hovered instead, staring at the floor.

“I’ve been nothing but a burden,” I said quietly. “I think… I should probably figure out how to get back to my group. Or down the mountain.”

He froze, spatula in hand. Turned slowly.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

I swallowed. “This morning… you stopped. And I get it. You were being kind last night, and I….”

He laughed. A low, rough chuckle that made me look up, confused.

“Sweetheart,” he said, stepping close, crowding me against the counter. “If you had any idea how many times I’ve pictured ripping your clothes off you, bending you over every surface in this cabin, fucking you until you can’t remember your own name, you’d be stunned I’ve kept my hands to myself this long.”

My eyes went wide. Heat flooded my cheeks and lower.

“I stopped in that tent,” he went on, voice dropping to gravel, “because you were hurt, dirty from the trail, and half-broken from that little boy’s bullshit. I wasn’t gonna spread you open on a sleeping pad and take you like some quick fuck. That’s not how you treat a woman you want to ruin properly.”

I stared at him, breath coming fast.

“You’re a real gentleman,” I whispered.

His smile was slow, wicked. “Baby, I don’t have a single gentle thought when it comes to you.”

He turned back to the stove, plated eggs, bacon, toast, and set it in front of me.

“Eat,” he said, eyes burning into mine. “You’re gonna need your strength.”

We ate in charged silence, every glance electric. When I finished, he took my plate, then pulled me up against him, hard.

No more waiting.

His mouth crashed onto mine, hungry, claiming. I moaned into it, hands fisting his shirt. He lifted me onto the counter, stepping between my thighs, the shirt riding up to bare me completely.

“Been hard for you since the second you fell into my arms,” he growled against my throat, teeth scraping. “Not stopping now.”

He shoved my thighs wider, fingers plunging into me without warning, three this time, stretching me, pumping rough and fast. I cried out, head falling back.

“Soaked already,” he rasped. “This pretty pussy’s been begging for me.”

I clawed at his belt, frantic. He helped, shoving his jeans down just enough to free his cock, thick, heavy, flushed dark. My mouth watered.

He didn’t tease. He gripped my hips, dragged me to the edge, and drove into me in one brutal thrust.

I screamed his name, the stretch burning so good, filling me deeper than I’d ever felt.

“That’s it,” he snarled, pulling back and slamming in again. “Take every fucking inch.”

He fucked me hard, raw, the counter rattling, dishes clattering. One hand fisted in my hair, arching my neck so he could bite and suck marks into my skin. The other rubbed tight, ruthless circles on my clit.

I came fast, clenching around him, sobbing into his mouth. He didn’t slow, pounded through it, chasing his own release.

“Again,” he ordered. “Come on my cock again.”

I did, harder, vision whiting out, nails raking down his back.

Only then did he let go, burying himself deep and coming with a guttural groan, pulsing hot inside me.

We stayed locked together, panting, trembling.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes wild and possessive.

“That’s one,” he said, voice hoarse. “We’ve got the whole damn weekend.”

I smiled, breathless, and pulled him back down to me.

I wasn’t going anywhere.