Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Price
T his can’t be happening to me. Not right now.
Apart from one drunken night I wouldn’t remember if not for a pretty fucking undeniable piece of evidence, women and I don’t mix. They don’t like me, and that’s fine because I don’t know the first fucking thing about what makes them tick.
But it’s not just women that are the problem, it’s human beings in general. I don’t understand them. I don’t get along with them. I don’t get this need to connect all the time, to constantly seek approval from the rest of the world.
That might seem odd, coming from someone with a YouTube channel that generates a multi-six-figure income, but that was a pure fucking accident. I’ve got something people crave. Living vicariously through someone else.
They want to watch someone else doing the dangerous things.
And they love when I fail. When I smack my face into a rock wall or fall on my ass in the mud.
Give me a rope and a challenge, I know what to do, but put me in a social setting of any kind, I’m a fucking duck on skates.
But this is happening. It’s not a dream.
How do I know?
One, my dick is pressing against the zipper of my pants so hard I’m going to have a permanent impression of the metal teeth along my shaft.
Two, this girl has a smile that could melt the polar ice caps, and I can’t help the feeling that I need to make that smile part of my life.
And three, her round face and that left dimple are life changing. I want to start at her lips and lick my way down to what has to be the pussy to end all pussies.
What the hell is happening to me?
When I walked into Earl’s, my intention was to blow off some steam. Have a couple beers—alone—and settle into the idea that my high adventure days are over. I’m now the director of an adventure camp in the western upper peninsula of Michigan, raising my daughter as a single father.
I haven’t had a night away from Hailey in six months. As much as every minute with her is better than any minute I lived before her, she’s a handful.
Yesterday, she plugged the toilet in our cabin with pinecones, telling me she was doing an experiment on the density of the different varieties and wanted to see which one would sink first.
She’s six, for fuck sake. How I’m ever going to live through puberty with her I’m not sure. But one day at a time.
She’s with my best friend Ted tonight, who got me in on the camp partnership and has known Hailey since those first days when her mom, Lainy, dropped the bomb on me that my one-night stand made me a father. She took her fucking time telling me, three years fucking years I missed out on, and if she hadn’t been battling cancer, I may have never known I had a daughter.
So, my plate is more than full, and I wasn’t looking for a hook-up tonight. More people in my life is not what this guy needs. Especially women.
My own fist has served me well all these years, and I don’t see any reason to change that. It doesn’t talk back or expect conversation or after glow.
But then I saw her sitting on that bar stool, looking like a fucking Daisy Duke wet dream, throwing back shots with a guy who didn’t deserve to be in the same state as a perfect ten like her. She’s boner-inducing dynamite in a petite curvy package that has my balls ready to unload right here.
Now, she’s talking about cherries. And that she’s never used a condom. Fuck.
I’m in deep, but even with my hard-on trying to take over my brain, I know this can’t happen. Not now.
“What can I get you?” The bartender braces his arms on the counter, looking from me to the dimpled temptation standing barely to my chest.
“I’ll have another one of those whipped cream shots.” She leans over the bar, her tits resting on top, spilling out from where her shirt is open.
“You mean a blowjob?” he says with a smirk, his eyes locking on her cleavage. My instinct is to rip him from behind the bar and stomp on his head until his brains drain out his ears for looking at her like he’d be winning the lottery if she was on her knees in front of him.
Never gonna happen, bub.
I shift forward, resting my hand on her shoulder as she looks up at me, her cheeks all flushed and those mesmerizing brown doe eyes just asking for trouble.
She’s oblivious to the bartender’s lecherous look as she yells over the sound of the country music and the growing crowd. “Make that two blowjobs.” She holds up her fingers in a ‘V’ shape, crinkling her nose with an impish bite of her full bottom lip, and I’m gone.
On a hard exhale, I nod to the bartender, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a twenty, slapping it down on the counter and fighting off the invasive pounding thoughts of how tight her pussy must be.
She’s swaying a little already. I’m going to let her have this one last shot, but after that, she’s cut off. From the time I sat down, I counted her drinks. She threw back four shots while I watched and who knows how many before I got here.
I’ll be her bodyguard until I get her home safely, whether she likes it or not, but too much is too much, and the idea of her hurt in any way makes me unreasonably angry. I swear, if she fell down and skinned her fucking knee, I’d take a jackhammer to the sidewalk and destroy it for hurting her.
The bartender slides the two whipped cream topped shots on the bar top, and I roll my eyes. He scoops up the twenty as I wave him off in a keep the change and get the fuck away motion. As I look down, the thought that this delightful curvy angel might not be old enough to drink sinks in.
“They card you when you came in here?” I growl, unsure why I care if she’s underage. Unless, of course, she’s under -under age. Because that would make me a depraved asshole and a possible felon if my control snaps, which, right now, is quite possible.
My mating instinct doesn’t seem to care about her age, but I remind myself it doesn’t matter. I’m not touching her.
“I’m twenty-one, big brother. Don’t worry, I’m legal. Barely .” She adds a wink and my cock practically comes through my zipper. “Bottoms up.”
She raises one of the shots toward my face, but even with her arm fully extended, her hand barely reaches my chin. I fill my lungs until they hurt as I accept the ridiculous drink, unsure how I’m ever going to live without seeing her again.
Her scent cuts through the smell of beer and greasy bar food like a sweet, dark Michigan cherry.
Cherry. That word seems to keep coming up, and it’s not helping.
Watching her lick the whipped cream from the top of the shot glass is fucking life changing. I scoop the whipped cream off the top of the shot and throw it to the floor, then bring it to my lips and swallow the sticky sweet liquid then slamming the glass on the counter as she tips hers to her for a tentative sip keeping her glazed eyes pinned to my face.
She lowers the glass an inch, a touch of the leftover white cream decorating her upper and lower lips, and all I want to do is replace it with my own warm, white cream.
“This is my third blowjob tonight,” she whispers with another wink and a deep breath, which makes her tits rise in the tight, tied up cowgirl plaid shirt, delivering another sledgehammer blow to my resolve.
I reach down and manhandle my dick, trying to find a less painful position for the swollen motherfucker as she downs the cream-covered liquor, and I swear, I already want to marry this girl.
But I can’t. I promised myself when Hailey’s mother passed away, and I took on full custody, I wouldn’t let a woman divide my attention. No evil stepmothers for my little girl. When it comes to her, I will never compromise.
She will have the upbringing I wish I had.
Being a single dad has been the best and most challenging part of my life, but I’m all in. I knew from the moment we met when she was three, I was going to dedicate the rest of my life to her.
Her mother, who I only vaguely remembered, offered to do a paternity test, but I didn’t need it. I knew in my heart that Hailey was mine. She has my green eyes and the same crooked smile as my little brother.
She is my number one, forever. First priority, no matter what my dick might be trying to convince me otherwise right now.
Even so, I glare at all the men watching Daisy, letting them know she’s off limits. Just because I won’t be deflowering her, doesn’t mean I’m going to let some other fucker have that privilege.
I reach down and run the pad of my thumb over her top lip, swiping away some left-over cream, then bring it to my mouth to suck it off. The first moment I saw her sitting on that bar stool, I was captivated. Her soft body would feel perfect under me. Diving face first between her legs would turn me inside out.
My heart ticks away in some crazy Morse code, but I push away the message it’s trying to send.
She blinks, her chest heaving, cheeks flushed. She’s a fucking knockout, and even if I was in the market, I know she’s out of my league. Besides the age difference of twelve years, I’ve never been known for my looks. I’m thick, solid and sure, if you took my picture from the neck down, I might understand how someone would find the body somewhat attractive, but my face is another matter.
Being into extreme sports since my teen years, and later into extreme wilderness excursions, I’ve broken my nose three times, dislocated my jaw once and cracked my eye socket when my carabiner snapped as I climbed the sheer face of a mountain in South America, five hundred miles from the nearest hospital.
I straightened it myself the best I could, and it healed like you’d think.
“So, big brother.” She smiles and that tightness in my chest turns into a sharp pain. God, I want her to call me that when I’m ten inches deep in her hot little baby maker. “Ready to make sure your little sister gets home safe and sound?”
My temples start to pound. She’s playing with me. I get it, and I’m here for it. But, on the other hand, I know I’m getting myself into something I shouldn’t.
Besides my daughter, my only focus right now is my new position as director of Camp WanderLust. It will be my other baby for the next couple years, trying to turn it into a reality show worthy wilderness experience.
I’ve made a name for myself on YouTube, and although my social media celebrity has its downside, it’s allowed my bank account to flourish. When Hailey’s mom’s illness turned south, and I realized parenting was going to become full-time, it was a no-brainer to pivot to a life designed for more stability while still keeping my feet in the wild world that I love.
The only woman in my life would be my daughter.
“This way.” I reach for my little Daisy Duke fairy, loving the way she twines her delicate fingers between my knotty, calloused ones. I scoop up her bag, and lead the way.
I won’t deny I’m as happy as a pig in shit to get her out of here before I have to lay out one of the locals for eye fucking her in those barely-there shorts and tied-up shirt.
She toddles behind me, scuffing her cowboy boots with every unsteady step, until I weave us through the crowd and out the door into the cool night air.
The change of atmosphere gives me a momentary reset, grateful for a cleansing breath and a look at the dark, star-filled sky.
Outside, her cherry scent mixes with the smell of the pine forest that blankets the top of the Michigan border, and I know I’d give my left nut to get a lick of her.
She squeezes my fingers and I feel it down into my balls.
“Look,” she says, her manner turning serious, although it’s hard to take anything she says right now as gospel. From the thickness of her words and the sway in her steps, she’s clearly under the influence.
She scratches at her neck, then fiddles with the gold four leaf clover pendant around her neck, zipping it back and forth on the chain a few times as we walk through the parking lot toward the street.
“I’m staying at the Black Swan bed and breakfast, just over there.” She points an unsteady finger across the street, but I saw the place she’s talking about when I drove through town last week. It’s across the park, down about a block certainly within walking distance but there’s no fucking way I’m letting her walk there without me.
“Got it.” I want to ask her why she and her friend are in town, because no way they’re local, but knowing more about her is only going to make it harder to leave her there and walk away. “I’ll make sure you get home safe, just like I said.”
God, I wonder if she’s wet.
Stop thinking about her fucking pussy dipshit. You’re walking her back, that’s it.
“I want to ask you something… brother .” She blinks up at me as I slow my steps, my strides three times the length of hers.
Just thinking of walking her to the bed and breakfast has heat charging up the back of my neck. The way her thighs are rubbing together as we walk is fucking distracting, and I steal a long, depraved look at the way her round ass is working the back of those shorts, the curved bottoms of her cheeks hanging out, making it hard to breathe.
“Ask away,” I grumble, unsure what her question is going to be but already knowing it’s going to be trouble.
“See, I like that we aren’t going to share our names. You’re just big brother, and I’m little sister. That works out perfect because, see, I want to lose my virginity.”
Full fucking stop.
I look around to make sure there’s no cameras because this can’t be real.
But, she keeps talking and I’m all fucking ears. “So, I want to do it, and I don’t want any strings. I feel like you’re the guy.” The words are thick as molasses as she looks up at me, and fucking angels start singing.
She wants me to pop her cherry and never see her again?
That’s the most impossible thing I’ve ever heard of.
My resolve is fraying like a rope over a sharp cliff.
“You’ve been doing shots all night. You’re not thinking straight. What have you had to eat today?”
The words taste like arsenic in my mouth. All my tongue wants to do is say ‘yes, I’ll introduce your untouched sacred ground there to every inch of my dick while planting myself in your belly so you’ll be mine forever’.
All my brain wants is to put her over my knee and teach her never to proposition a near stranger in the middle of a dark street after doing shots all night.
I’d turn that ripe, round apple ass of hers red as punishment, then let her know the new order of her life. I’d kiss away her tears and explain I’ll forever only want what’s best for her. Keeping her safe would be my number one priority.
But that’s not happening, Price.
Not. Gonna. Happen.