WALKER: The men of Whiskey Mountain Read online

  "You’re fucking beautiful," I tell her because she is. It's not a lie. I'm not a man who makes up the truth. I say it like it is and what I see is this: Waverly is so much more than she thinks she is. She's a heartbeat, a hopscotch, a jump through time. We met what, an hour ago? And already here she is, mine. I won't let her go.

  I wrap my arms around her, needing to feel her soft skin under my calloused hands. I know I'm not much to look at. Intense eyes, a thick beard, broad shoulders that might scare a girl. But Wavy is no ordinary girl. She's my girl. I know it. I will make it true.

  I run my hands over her body, up her back to fist her wet hair in my hand until she's lifting her head, eyes to mine. I kiss her then, my mouth on hers and she whimpers. Not a fearful whimper. A whimper that means yes. A whimper that means please. A whimper that means thank you, God. A whimper that means now.

  I want to kiss her all night. I want to kiss her all day. Her lips part and I find her tongue and when I swirl it against mine, I know that I will get what I want. I will make her mine. Not as a pet, or as a plaything, a toy. No. Fuck that shit. I'll make her my partner, my wife. The mother of my goddamn children. I will make her a life.

  Some guys don't understand that, but some guys haven't held Wavy in their arms, kissed her sweet, sweet lips. Some men haven't drawn her close and then closer still. Haven't lifted her off the floor until they can cup her ass in their hands and carried her to the bed. Some men haven't laid her down on the mattress, running their hands over her from head to toe, kissing her hard nipples, massaging her sweet tits. Some men haven't looked her over and seen her curves, her dimpled cheeks, or her sweet as cherry pie pussy glistening and wet with want.

  "I need you," I tell her. And she blinks, a smile on her heart-shaped face. "Good." Her tongue darts out as she runs her hand through my hair. "Because I need you too."

  "You’ve done this before?" I ask her as I run my hand over her pussy, my fingers finding the place they belong inside of her. "Have you been with a man?" I ask even though I already have the answer. Her cunt is tight. So damn tight and warm. Wet and silky smooth. I move lower, so I can kiss her there on her sweet pink folds.

  "No, I've never."

  "And you want this? You want to be with a man like me?"

  I look up, my mouth watering. I want to suck her and taste her and get her off. I want to make her scream, to come and come again. I want her knees to buckle, her back to arch. I want her legs to wrap around my neck as I lick her cunt up and down. I want it all.

  "I don't want anyone else. Right now, Jeremy Walker, I just want you."

  My heart pounds, this need is so deep and raw and real. This want is so powerful. It's not just a fuck. It's a dream come true.

  "God, those words are perfect," I tell her. And she smiles as I run my tongue over her. When I taste her, my heart pounds in a way it's never pounded before. And that's saying something. Because I've been to dark-ass places, done some dark-ass deeds. I've been to the ends of the Earth and back, but here, right here, is the saving grace I've been looking for my whole damn life. I ran to Alaska to right my wrongs, but I didn't need Alaska. I didn't need the wilderness.

  I just needed her. Wavy. Wavy. Mine.

  My fingers run over her, opening her up until she is exhaling and until she is breathing deeply. Until her fingers are clenching the sheets, then I lick her again. Up and down, I could lick her forever. Her body opens for me, her clit throbbing. Made to be enjoyed. Made to get off. And she is.

  Wavy moans with my name on her lips and it's the sweetest fucking sound. She moans in pleasure as she curls her toes. She begs for more. I give it to her, I finger her sweet little cunt until it's dripping and then I suck hard against her pink folds, her body melting against my mouth. I get her off, the way she needs and deserves and wants. I get her off because it's the only thing in the world that makes sense right now. Taking care of her.

  When she finishes, her pussy is sopping wet, the sheets are a mess, and the smile on her face makes me laugh out loud, cupping her creamy white tits.

  "You like that, baby girl?"

  She nods. "I loved it."

  "And no man, no one has ever done that to you before?"

  "No." She bites her bottom lip. "And I'm glad they didn't."

  "And why is that, Wavy?"

  "Because I wanted it to be you. Because that… that was everything."

  I move, towering over her, my arms on either side of her slight body. "Oh baby, that wasn’t everything. That was just the start."

  "Then, Walker," she says her voice a whisper of want. "Show me how it ends."

  4

  Waverly

  When Walker leans over me, I draw a sharp breath. Not in fear, but because of excitement. I came to Alaska to escape my past, but God, I never thought I'd feel so at home. I am though, underneath this brawny, burly mountain man. Thick beard, dark eyes, hands that know what they're doing. His tongue does too. All those nights alone in a one-bedroom apartment with my sister, living paycheck to paycheck. If that. Some nights, I'd touch myself. I could feel my body open as my fingers teased my clit. But never — not once — did it feel like this.

  This is bliss.

  “I like it when you smile, Wavy,” he says, and I smile wider still. How could I not? Here I am in the arms of a man. Tonight, I'm not alone. I'm not sitting on a cold seat of a Greyhound bus, not hoping the driver who picked me up as I was hitchhiking would bring me somewhere safe. I’m not biding my time knowing that eventually, something bad is going to happen.

  All those worries that followed me the last ten days as I traveled to Alaska are gone. So long gone, in my rearview mirror of life, and all I see right now is the future.

  “Yeah, so I'm taking it you liked that? he asks. He knows the answer, but I think it's cute the way he wants to make sure or maybe wants to hear me say it.

  I will give him what he wants.

  “I loved it when you touched me. It made me feel so good. Made my pussy feels so, so good. Walker, will you do that to me again?? Will you make me feel that good forever?”

  Of course, it's not really forever. It's just one night here with him. But we can make-believe. Sometimes that’s what we need in life, isn't it? To play pretend. Tonight, I'm playing that I am his. That I'm the kind of girl he really would want to wake up with, go home with, bring to meet his mother.

  I smile again, unable to picture Walker as a little boy. As a child who needed a mom at all. He seems so purely male. So absolutely sure of himself. Maybe it's his towering size… or maybe it's his girth.

  I run my hand over his chest, my fingers itching to touch him. To feel him. The heavy weight of his long, thick cock in my hand. I stroke him, loving the way he groans as I do. He's warm and thick, soft and smooth and so, so hard.

  My body wants it. To be filled by him. To be taken away. Swept away.

  I freeze thinking of Jemma being swept away herself. Jemma lost at sea. Where is she now?

  Is her body at the bottom of the ocean? Swimming with fish? Is she buried in the sand? I hope a mermaid watches over her, closes her eyelids, and puts her to rest. God, I miss my sister.

  “Did I lose you?” Walker asks.

  “I’m here,” I say, but this time my voice is a whisper.

  “Where did you go, baby girl?” he asks pointedly.

  I swallow, not wanting to go there. At this moment, I want to be here. I want to be lost and found and filled and taken and claimed. I want to be his… but he sees it. He sees the way my eyes close, the way a tear rolls down my cheek. He sees the way my body tightens.

  I wrap my arms around his neck. “I lost someone I loved. Sometimes, it's hard to forget.”

  I expect Walker to be like every other man. Scoff and laugh it off, then dismiss my heartache, my heartbreak.

  But he doesn't. Of course, he doesn't. He’s the man I'm giving my virginity to. And somehow, I picked right. I picked the kind of man who isn't going to make me feel small when what I need to feel is seen.


  “Some losses are motherfuckers. You're never gonna get over them. The way I see it is when those feelings overtake you, you give it what it wants. Not forever, not even for a minute. But for thirty seconds, give in. Let it all out, baby girl.”

  “I’m not going to cry in your arms the first time I ever have…” I let my voice fall, my sentence trails off. I let it end.

  “It's okay to cry in front of me,” he says. “I’m not scared of tears. I've seen worse.”

  “Have you?” It's like I want him to tell me all the worst things he’s seen in his life. It's like I want him to tell me I'm not alone.

  “Wavy, if I've told you the things I’ve done, you'd be running right now.

  “Is it weird to say that makes me feel better?” I ask, my eyelids fluttering open, my fingers threading through his hair, his thick beard, brushing against my chest.

  “No, come on. It's not weird.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It's honesty, Waverly, and right now you can be as honest as you like. Your secrets are safe with me.

  “I don't want to tell you my secrets.” Tonight is about forgetting.

  “That's not how life works, Waverly,” he says, running his hand over my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear. His cock is in my hand with our hearts pounding. Hard.

  “How does it work?” I ask him.

  “Wavy,” he says. “It works like this: Life is a bitch as long as you let it be. You can play the game, or you can get out. I'm guessing you came to Alaska to leave shit behind. No use bringing it with you.”

  “I thought you said you can't erase your past?” I ask.

  “You can't erase it. Shit is going to stay with you. And sometimes the shit we go through, it comes up the weirdest fucking moments.”

  I laugh. “Like when a really sexy man is about to take your virginity?

  “Exactly,” he says, smiling. “At times like this.”

  “I want you to fuck me.” I know my words sound brash. Harsh. So, unlike me. But I mean it.

  “Are you trying to shock me?”

  “No. I feel like right now, with you, a man I never knew before and will never know again, I can be absolutely honest. And honestly, I want to be fucked.”

  “Truly?”

  I nod. “Truly.” After what he just did to my pussy, I need him to do it again. But this time with his cock.

  “I’ll take you; I'll take you hard. Fuck, Wavy, I'll take you all night long if that’s really what you want?”

  He already knows the answer. We both do.

  It’s time. He looks down at me, massaging my tits as he begins to sink his cock deep into my cunt. My pussy throbs, I'm so tight. I’m tight but also so wet as he moves inside me. I gasp and then his mouth is against mine.

  I let him take me. I want him to take it all. He does. This is not merely fucking. This is fucking everything. He knows it and I know it and maybe that's what makes it so right. I have a past I'm running from and he has a past he's running from, but together it's not like we're lost. It’s like we're found.

  He takes me hard. He knows what I need. Without me having to say a single fucking word. He knows. He knows me.

  How is that possible, for a man I just met to know me so damn well? It doesn't matter, because he does. Whether I like it or not, he does.

  My body opens for him and he grunts as he pounds against me.

  It's hard — the way he fills me up. I bleed, but I don't want to stop and neither does he. We keep on, we keep on keeping on until we’re speechless, dripping with sweat and wrapped up in one another. My body is his body and his body is mine. And oh, my God, he fucks me until I come. Until I scream his name and I can't breathe. Until I beg him for more and he takes me again.

  He fills me up, deep and full and entirely. He fills me up with his big, thick cock and he makes me come. I moan, loud enough to wake the neighbors, but we don't care. We laugh and roll over and he takes me again. He squeezes my ass and I kiss him, and this is still not just fucking. It never really was.

  After I come, I face him and our knees touch, his fingers trace the nipple on my right breast. I smile. Liking the way he touches me, memorizing me. No one has ever tried to memorize me before. What does it say about me that I've always been forgotten?

  Walker doesn't look away. “Where did you come from?” he asks. It's the first question he's asked that is directly about my past.

  “I came from California,” I tell him.

  “You're really far from home.”

  I nod. “There wasn't a home for me anymore.”

  “What happens next?” he asks.

  I don't want to answer. I don't want to tell him that in the morning I'll be leaving because whatever this was, me and him, won't be here tomorrow. Nothing in life lasts and certainly not a moment of bliss.

  Every good thing is fleeting.

  “What happens next is I fall asleep with your arms around me,” I tell him, knowing that's not the answer he wants this time.

  He wants me to say I’ll stay. But I can't. I won't. I promised Jemma and I won't let her down again.

  “Hold me, Walker. Hold me until I fall asleep.”

  Some people might think that's a question, but Walker knows it isn't. I roll over and he pulls me back against his chest, my ass against his still hard cock and he holds me.

  He runs his hand over my skin, pulling a sheet over our bodies. Even though we’re slick with sweat and sex, his arm wraps around me. So damn tightly. I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing it might be a long time before I feel like this again: safe.

  I memorize the moment, the same way Walker memorized me.

  5

  Walker

  When I wake, I roll over, a smile still across my face. I'm more than smitten, that much is for sure. I'm not usually this kind of guy; one who falls hard and fast. I’ve never been like that in my whole damn life.

  There wasn't really space for it before when I was working for the family doing shit that should scare any girl away. So, I never had room to fall in love. Or to take care of someone. I was too busy taking care of the shit my family threw at me. And God knows, there was plenty of it.

  Running loads for them, it was a grind. A grind I bore despite anything else. And that is on me. I gave my life to the family business that my pops created. I'm not proud.

  Hell, I'm ashamed of the things I've done. The man I've been. But that's why I'm here. That's why I left when my father died. I wiped my hands clean and I said a prayer and then I ran. I'm done paying for those sins, even though deep down I know I'll be paying for them for the rest of my life.

  So yeah, I’m smiling when I wake up. The sun's streaming through the shitty blinds of the motel room, there are half-empty bottles of beer on the nightstand, and the late-night pizza we ordered. Wavy and I got hungry after working up such an appetite. She liked hers with extra cheese and jalapeños, which I thought that was cute. The fact someone so damn sweet likes it so damn hot.

  I teased her and then I took her, fucking her again. She was on her knees, and I was on mine, and I took her from behind, holding her tits, squeezing her ass, and coming so deep inside her pussy, she screamed for more. When I open my eyes ready to start all over again, but the bed's empty.

  I sit up, looking around.

  "Wavy?" I ask, calling out her name. I look at the clock. It's barely 7:00 AM. Where is she? We didn't fall asleep until after 3:00 or 4:00 this morning. But she's not here. I get up from the bed, my thick cock hanging between my legs, aching for her relief, but the bathroom's empty. Her backpack is gone. She is nowhere to be found.

  My heart tightens. I'm not going to let her mother-fucking go without a fight. I open the door, looking outside, calling her name. "Waverly, Waverly, where are you?" I shout, but she's not here. The parking lot's empty except for a few trucks. A housekeeper sees me, pushing her cart of supplies, tsk-tsking and looking away. I'm naked as the day I was born, and I grunt slamming shut my door and reach for my blue jeans.
I buckle them up, get back outside. "Have you seen a girl, long blonde hair, bright blue eyes?" I hold my hand up to about five feet. “Prettier than a sunrise?"

  The woman shakes her head as if either not understanding or not giving a shit. Frustrated, I go back inside and get ready for the day, pulling on the rest of my clothes and brushing my teeth and trying to figure out just what could have happened to the girl who I would have given my everything for.

  Waverly.

  I don't even know her last fucking name.

  Waverly.

  Damn it, how the hell am I so stupid as to let her go? I never sleep hard, but last night I must've been out like a baby because this morning I didn't hear a peep. Didn't hear her slip out of bed and dress, then grab her bags and go. The door didn't creak. She didn't even kiss me goodbye. She just left. And now she's fucking gone.

  Wavy.

  I have work to do today and I’d better get started. But it's hard as I head toward the airport, where my plane has been waiting. It's the last thing I want to do, is get in my pilot seat and take off to drop off the supplies I've been paid to deliver. I don't want to go to this middle of nowhere, God-forsaken place. I don't want to leave Wavy behind. But where is she? I head to the bar where we were last night. It's a diner during the day. As I said, there's not much out in this shitty old town. It's empty and desolate and no good for nothing. Except for meeting girls like Waverly and fallen head over heels and falling in love. Where did she go?

  I have to find her.

  I pulled open the diner-bar doors and I walk inside. I shout to whoever might be working, asking if they've seen her, everyone shakes their head. No one has a clue. They're too busy nursing black coffee filled with whiskey and shitty eggs and shittier hash browns. I order myself breakfast and shovel it in my mouth, knowing there's not going to be a good meal waiting for me at the end of the day. Because while the end of the day means me in the cabin I love, it also means I will be alone. Without Wavy.