Runaway Nanny’s Mountain Men #2
"Hi, I'm Wade," he says. "I'm the guy who put the ad in the paper. Emmy's my little girl—she's asleep right now, but you'll meet her in the morning. In the meantime, this is Johnny."
He gestures with his head toward the giant surrounded by engine parts, who looks up at me once again—almost shyly—but there's a depth in his eyes that holds me.
Still waters run deep, I think.
"Johnny's the quietest of the three of us, but don't let that fool you.
He's also by far the brainiest. He just doesn't choose to share his wisdom with us everyday folks—well, occasionally, but not often.
My advice? If he ever says something to you, listen carefully.
Whatever it is, it'll probably turn out to be useful. "
"And this…" Wade swings his arm in the direction of the first man—the one who came out onto the verandah with a gun and then introduced himself as Karl.
"This is Karl," he says. "But I imagine you already know that.
In fact, knowing Karl, he probably already has your phone number and is even now planning how to get a first date with you?—"
"Now hold on just one minute!" Karl protests from the doorway. "That's not fair! All I did was say hi and carry her bag into the house. What do you take me for—some kind of savage?"
"Pretty much, yes. At least when it comes to women."
"That is so unfair! You're just jealous because I'm younger, fitter, and way better looking than you.
I should sue for slander. If you were nearer my age, I'd take you outside and teach you a lesson.
" He winks at me, showing he's only pretending to be offended.
"But right now, I've got more important things to do. "
He turns to me. "Come on, Louise. I'll show you where the guest room is. I expect you could do with a shower if you've been driving all day. Maybe something to eat afterward?"
"Thank you—yes. Both of those things would be wonderful."
Now that he mentions it, I realize how exhausted I am—and how stiff my muscles feel after hours locked in one position. And I'm starving. I haven't eaten since my last gas stop somewhere near Buffalo, just after I crossed into Montana.
"Good. This way."
He picks up my valise and strides back into the hall. I follow, my head spinning—so much happening, all at once.
"Here we are!" he announces, throwing open a door at the far end of the hallway. The room is sparsely furnished but functional. There's a double bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers doubling as a dressing table, a bedside cabinet, and—rather delightfully—an old rocking chair.
It's the kind you'd expect to see out on the polished wooden verandah of an antebellum town house in Savannah. I imagine some elderly landowner in it, sipping iced tea and rocking slowly in rhythm with fading memories of tobacco fields, dinner dances, and the good old days.
Karl drops my valise on the bed and gives me a wide grin, his eyes locked on mine.
Despite myself, I feel a flush creep back into my cheeks.
This man is just… too much.
He holds my gaze for a fraction of a second too long, then moves to a door and throws it open.
"And in here is your very own private bathroom," he announces.
That's a relief. I hadn't packed a robe, and flitting between bedroom and bathroom in the middle of the night could've been awkward. This way, at least, I could preserve some dignity.
"It's a nice room, and the en suite is great," Karl says. "We installed it when Brianna was still living here—that's Wade's partner and little Emmy's mom. She ran off with the circus, though. About three years ago. No one's heard from her since."
He pauses, as if gathering his thoughts.
"But I'm sure Wade will fill you in with all the details. You'll love Emmy—everyone does. You'll meet her in the morning. For now, why don't you unpack, take a shower, and come back to the kitchen when you're ready. I'll have some late supper waiting."
And just like that, before I can respond, he's gone.
As the first jets of delicious, steaming water hit my body, I let out a deep, shuddering sigh—one I feel like I've been holding in all day, ever since that mad rush to leave Denver and Randy and go somewhere new.
Make a fresh start in a new state, with a new career, under a new name.
Eden Shaw—the waitress, the punching bag, the woman owned by Randy Taylor's psychotic rages— is gone.
In her place stands Louise Smith from the middle of nowhere in Montana, the new live-in nanny and home help to…
to who exactly? To a very strange and one would think dysfunctional family, if you can even call it a family.
Though actually they seem to all get on just fine.
I mentally shrug. Who cares? The point is I'm in another state, using another name, living in a place where no one from my previous life will ever bump into me by accident.
Finally, I am safe! Finally, I am free from the jealous rages, moody sulking, and swinging fists of my ex-partner, Randy Taylor.
Oh, he'd behaved like the perfect gentleman when we first met.
Polite, observant, considerate, complimentary.
He was an older man—he in his fifties and me just in my twenties—but he was fit and healthy, with a full head of hair and a toned and suntanned body from years of gym membership in the summer and skiing in the winter.
And he was wealthy—very wealthy! A successful architect who had won prizes for his designs and ultimately he had set up his own practice in downtown Denver, where he had fulfilled several important commissions for landmark buildings in the city.
He'd carved quite a name for himself within his industry.
Which, of course, is why no one believed me when I tried to tell them what he was really like.
The shouting. The pleading. The threats of violence—first to himself, then to me.
And then eventually the violence itself.
It started with pinches—hard ones, in places no one would see.
But it didn't stop there. Finally, one day, he lost all control and punched me right in the face, knocking me over and blackening an eye.
I'd gone to hospital that time, and I'd had to pretend it was a skiing accident.
I don't think the nurses believed me though.
I'd warned him then. If it happened again, just one more time, I'd leave him for good. That's when he had turned to me with his cold, grey eyes and very calmly, very quietly he had said "If you leave me I will hunt you down like a wild animal, and I will find you. And then I will kill you."
And the thing is… I believe him.
But for now at least, I am safe. My thoughts drift away from Randy and toward the three huge men I've just met.
Who the hell are they? They all had long hair, wore leather or jeans, and carried tattoos like battle scars—that much was obvious.
So were they some kind of motorcycle gang?
Were they a Hells Angels gang? Drug dealers, or gun runners?
But no, that didn't feel right at all. They were certainly wild enough looking, and the way Karl had handled that gun made it look like he knew his way around weaponry…
but no, they didn't come across as bad guys.
Well, I smile, not very bad anyway. Of that I am sure.
Real baddies don't advertise for nannies to come look after little girls for them. So then… who are they?
Whoever they are, they certainly have a presence.
Those muscles – yikes! I wonder idly what it would be like to trace my fingers over those ripped chest muscles or feel the power in those biceps…
and that's when I start to get a tingling deep inside me.
An unmistakable tingling. A growing tension, but a sweet tension, yet also an insistent one.
One that wants—demands—satisfaction. This is unexpected—living in constant fear of a beating is not conducive to feeling horny, and I haven't felt like this for weeks.
But, on reflection, all the stresses and strains of the last few days need to be released.
Perhaps this is the ideal way in which to do so.
My hand drifts south towards my belly, and I let the shower play on my freshly shaved and oh-so-sensitive mons.
I let the water stream onto my moist lips, just for a delicious moment, before flicking the water away, and then on again, and away again.
I use my fingers to open myself up a little and now I let the water stream right onto my inner labia, finding my stiffening clit.
I let out a groan that is part human, part animal, as I let my mind wander back to the three giants in the kitchen.
I imagine them walking in on me, naked in the shower.
In my mind I feel them surrounding me, kissing me caressing me, lifting me, piercing me, owning me, mastering me.
My fingers work faster, my heart pounding, my breathing ragged and intense.
The sweet, sweet throbbing in my clit intensifies and builds, stronger, faster, harder until with a half-muffled scream, I cum, and cum hard, my whole body shaking.
As the feelings diminish, I slowly come back to my senses, my heart rate slowing, my breathing normalizing. Oh God—how long have I been in this shower, and how much noise have I been making? If those men have heard me I will never be able to look them in the eye again.
I turn off the shower and step out of the cubicle, clutching the towel from the rail, and tiptoe to the bedroom door.
I open it a crack, listening for sounds.
Nothing. Phew, I think I've gotten away with it!
But what had I been thinking of! What is wrong with me today?
After everything that has happened… but then perhaps that's precisely why it happened.
I certainly needed the release. I feel like a changed woman.
I feel fresh, strong, ready for anything—certainly ready for food, I'm starving!
I dress quickly and make my way back to the kitchen, leaving my hair wrapped up in a towel. I'll worry about it tomorrow.