Page 3 of Mountain Dr.'s Sweet Thing

But Ash is unphased. Still smiling sweetly, she pulls a couple of bottles out from under the bar and makes my drink. She hands it over, and I set a bill on the bar-top. Ash takes it and thanks me with another one of her gutting smiles. And that’s it. That’s the extent of our exchange. The whole time I’ll be here, wewon’t talk, not even random pleasantries or comments about the weather. I’ll stare at her while she’s not looking my way, eating up the soft line of her neck, the full swell of her breasts, the way the dim light of the bar plays on her dark brown skin. How she moves and talks. Always so sweet, so fucking kind. I’ll fill my ears and heart with the sounds of her throaty voice and laughter. Rearranging myself in my seat every so often when the pressure of my straining cock on my fly gets too much. I’ll hungrily eat up the sight of her full, swaying hips, her thick thighs molded in those goddamn jeans I want to rip off, and that fucking ass… Big, round and juicy. Perfectly made for my huge hands and dirty mind. Fuck, I’m getting hard again.

It’s becoming more difficult to just sit here and watch her, hear her interact with a bunch of assholes who don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her. I want to take her to my cabin up the mountain, in the middle of nowhere, where no one will hear her moans and my grunts of pleasure. No one to save her. Just my mouth all over her sweet body. My hands, fucking everywhere. My cock finally inside her.

* * *

For as long as I can remember, there’s always been this dark side to me. I’m not sure how or when it started, but my twisted desire to fucking love, possess and entirely own Ashley Samba has been a live, wild thing since high school.

I avoided sitting next to her in class because I knew all I would be able to think about would be to run my hand over her thigh, slide between her legs and climb, up, up, up… till I cupped her plump pussy.

I wanted to invite her to prom, spoil her rotten, make her my girlfriend before leaving for college, write her fucking loveletters, come home to my girl every chance I’d get, have her come visit me in Stanford, and take her fucking virginity.

I still have fantasies about pushing my big dick inside her untouched pussy. Spreading the wet, engorged lips of her cunt. Popping my swollen cock-head inside her and watching my blood-stained shaft pump in and out of her hot, tight, dripping hole.

I wanna make her fucking heavy with our babies and take her from behind, with my hands wrapped around her swollen belly. I want to pump her full of my cum and watch it drip from her gaping holes. I wanna lick and suck on her milk-filled breasts after she’s fed our little ones. Drink from her body, wrap my mouth around her nipples and suckle until she moans and begs for me to breed her again. I want…

Fuck. I’m a sick motherfucker.And that’s why we can never be together. I can never tell her how I feel. Because Ash would be sick if she knew the things I want to do to her. All the dirty shit I want to whisper in her ear. The ways I want to mark and fucking own her. Leave my teeth-marks on her tender skin, see the imprint of my fingers and palm on her perfect ass.

She’s had enough shit to deal with. With that scumbag ex of hers. I’m glad she broke it off. Because that motherfucker was this fucking close to getting his fucking limbs ripped off. The way he talked to her, the way he fucking looked at her, when he’s the one who ain’t shit. Huh-uh. The man has no clue how fucking close he was to losing his fucking useless, miserable life. I sat in the shadows, biding my time, just fucking waiting for him to give me a reason. It’s good for all our sakes that the things he did never went beyond nasty looks and a few sarcastic comments, at least in front of me. I crack my knuckles, feeling my blood pressure rise. Grinding my teeth to fucking dust.Calm down, man.

She’s single now. But for how fucking long? How long do I have until another son of a bitch throws his hat in the ring?

My very pleasant thoughts (NOT!) are disturbed when I notice some commotion on my right side. Fucking Steven. Great, just great. He’s all frowny and agitated, and it takes me a second to catch on to what he’s saying to my girl. But the moment I cotton on, I’m up, my stool crashing down to the floor.

“The fuck did you do, you fucking whore? Got yourself knocked up? We just broke up, for fuck’s sake,” he sneers, leaning into the bar-top, talking low so the other patrons don’t hear his words. But his entire body language is hostile. Waves of fury emanating from him. I’ll fucking show him furious.

I’m on the dipshit in a second, first elbowing his nose, hearing a satisfying crunching noise, then when he’s on the floor, wailing and holding his bloodied face, I set the sole of one of my heavy boots on his chest. Not hard, just enough to make him stay in place. I’m fast and strong. I went against men who were much bigger and ruthless than this asshole on the football field. And that was for the love of the game. This is about my woman. My fucking everything.

I growl, “apologize.”

“She’s fucking pregnant, man! Fucking look at her!” He’s holding his nose with one hand and raising the other one in Ashley’s direction.

A circle forms around us, but no one intervenes. First, there’s my size. But also, people know me here. They know I don’t look for trouble. Contrary to Steven, who’s a known shit-stirrer.

“I said, apologize.” My growl is more pronounced, the weight of my foot on him heavier.

His eyes grow huge as he tries to move away, but I don’t let off. Then he finally squeezes out in a nasal voice, “I’m sorry, okay?” His voice is cracking, and there’s so much blood I’m pretty sure I broke his nose. Good. That will do. For now.

I kick him in the ribs for good measure and finally turn my gaze back to Ashley. She’s shaking, her eyes wide, lips parted. So goddamn beautiful that my heart aches. But I can’t let my thoughts go down that road right now. My girl fucking needs me. Because it looks like this motherfucker may have been right. The front of Ash’s shirt is stained with two small circles, where I’m sure her nipples rest against the layers of her clothes. My woman is fucking milking. I fight not to let that sink in, push away my questions for now. She’s the priority.

I lay a hand on the bar-top and jump above it. No time to waste. Shrugging off my jacket, I wrap it around her shoulders and take her in my arms. She raises her beautiful brown eyes to my face, and I wanna fucking die. They’re filled with tears. It’s like my heart is getting ripped out of my chest.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you,” I rumble in her ear, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. I just want it to be a reassuring gesture, but my entire body hums at the contact.

Fuck, she feels good. Ashley Samba fits perfectly into my side. Like she was fucking made for me. A whole foot shorter than my six five, and so fucking small in my arms.

I quickly usher us out of the bar and away from prying eyes and whispers. It’s time to take care of my girl.

Three

Ashley

Oh My God, what’s happening to me?!

A million thoughts bounce through my head as Jackson fucking Saddler ushers me out of The Wild Spot.

Why did I continue taking the herbs after the prescribed period? What’s happening to my body? Is it gonna stop? Am I gonna die?

At that last thought, I burst into tears even harder, clinging to Jax. I bury my face in his shirt, not caring about the tears or snot I’m getting all over the soft cotton, and sob hard. At the same time, unable to keep my hands from roaming all over his large, muscular chest, and my nose against his bulging pecs, inhaling lungfuls of his amazing scent. God, he smells good. Like earth, pine, and wilderness. Something strong, untamable. Dizzying and grounding all at once.

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