by Ellie Jean
“I left some clothes for you on the sink.” Opening the door slightly, a gush of steam clouds my face and my eyes try to scan the shower for her deliciousness but all I see is a fogged screen. Probably lucky. If she is anything Iike what I am imagining in my head, I would pounce on her in a heartbeat. Which is possibly not the best idea since she’s already like a little mouse, cornered by a jaguar.
“Thank y-you.”
Shutting the door, the red from the flames flickers around the small room. There’s a wooden breakfast bar with two stools placed at it, a kitchen which was probably built thirty or forty years ago but it does the job, a small bathroom with the necessities, a bedroom with a king-size bed branching off the small lounge area, with a tan two-seater lounge and a one-seater chair in front of a screen. The reception’s lousy out here but I’m not here to catch up on the latest episodes of Lucifer, I’m here to think about the direction my life should take.
“Feel better?” A squeak from the wooden door lets me know Bluebell is finally out. “Those clothes are huge on you, but they will keep you warm.” A smile erupts on my face and I can’t help but laugh. She looks ridiculous in my clothes. Small and petite, the pants are rolled up from the bottom, and the sweatshirt is down to her knees.
Her face lights up, blue eyes sparkle back at me as she laughs with me.
“How are those pants even staying up?” I try to calm my laughter and walk back to the kitchen without letting her eyes leave mine.
Lifting up the layers of material, the fleece is rolled up under itself.
“That’ll do the job.” Nodding her head, she drops the sweatshirt back down.
“Yeah, they are gre-great.” Bluebell’s voice is small and quick. With her shoulders tight, shifting on her feet from foot to foot, she looks uncomfortable.
“I’ve brewed some coffee, can I get you some?”
“Yes, please. That w-wo-would be ni-nice. Milk, no su-sugar.” Arms wrap around her waist and she walks toward the couch and sits down. A flash of pain flashes across her face.
“How’s your leg feel after the shower? Were you able to clean it up?” Pouring the hot liquid into the cups, I add milk and place them on the rickety wooden table near the couches.
A smile graces her face and if I’m not imagining things, a sigh leaves her lips, releasing the tension coiled within her body.
“I meant it when I said I won’t hurt you.” Raising the cup to my mouth, blue eyes watch me carefully and she does the same, nodding that she understands me.
“How’s your shoulder?”
“Sore.” Looking into her cup, I take the opportunity to move slowly from my chair.
“I need to have a look at it, so we can see what damage you have.” Walking toward her, wariness mars her pale skin. “I’m just going to run my hand over your shoulder to see if it’s muscular damage and nothing more. Otherwise, it will be a trip to the doctor tomorrow.”
Without giving her a chance to react, my fingers wipe over the cloth of the sweatshirt. I don’t miss the jump when I touch her, but she relaxes after a minute. Pressing my fingers in softly to try and ascertain what’s happened, it’s hard with such a huge pile of material in the way. My hand delves under it through the large neck opening and it’s met with warm, silky skin.
Tingles spread up my spine and neck, I close my eyes savoring the sensation. Gliding my fingers over her skin, her chest rises faster and her breaths come out quicker. Or is that mine?
Pressing into the muscles, I lean a little forward, smelling her. Citrus from the soap used in the shower wafts and mixed with her sweet smell, it is heavenly. Shaking my head to clear it, her body stops moving, Bluebell holds her breath. I quickly resume moving my hand over her collarbone and then the back of her shoulder.
“Owww.” Her breathing resumes.
“It’s sore in there?” My thumb runs down the front of her upper arm and my fingers knead underneath it.
“Yeah, at the fr-front of the arm.”
“I’d say it’s bruised from you hitting the concrete at full pace, landing on it. The bone’s not protruding out or anything.”
“Yeah?” Finishing up her coffee, she rests the mug on her knee.
“Yep. Dr. Ocean says your arm should be fine in a few days and you should keep off that ankle for a while so the swelling goes down.” Her foot looks twice as big as what it should. I don’t want to take my hand from her skin, but I have to before she becomes freaked out.
Bluebell looks at her leg and I watch her carefully, studying her like a rare diamond, committing to memory every line, facet, and gesture she makes on her face.
Bluebell fascinates me.
She’s so familiar and easy to be around.
Yawning, she lifts her head and covers her mouth with her hand. “Whoops.”
“You must be exhausted.” I stand and take the cup from her, relocating it to the small sink. I want to ask her so many questions, but it will have to wait. “I’ll take the couch and you can take the bed in the room.”
“No.” Shaking her head, her hair softly sweeps over her cheeks. “You’ve done s-so much al-al-already. I’ll sleep here.”
“This argument you won’t win, baby. Bed for you.” Getting up, I stride to the bedroom and take out a blanket before walking back to the couch. “We have a lot to talk about, but it can wait for tomorrow. You need your energy.”
With hooded eyes, Bluebell looks at me and smiles gently. I don’t think this girl would hurt a fly if it came to it. She’s tender, quiet, and delicate. “I appreciate everything you have done for me.”
I nearly drop down on the ground fainting. Bluebell got a full sentence out without a stammer in sight. The slight grin on her face in realization, lighting up her darkened features sends shocks through my chest.
Stunning.
“It’s my pleasure.” And it really has been a pleasant afternoon and night with this unpretentious stranger. Although she hasn’t spoken much, there’s an instant connection there. I felt it weeks ago at the hospital and it’s still there now.
Becoming stronger with each passing minute.
She doesn’t turn, but leaves me, entering the bedroom groaning quietly as she puts weight on her sore ankle. “Goodnight.”
“Sleep well, Bluebell.”
I need a shower before I sleep. It’s been a long day. But I better call Melody to ensure she’s safe. She answers right away.
“Sis, I’ve arrived at the cabin. You all good?”
“Hey big brother, would you stop worrying about me. I’ve got this. You know I’m a grown woman now.”
“You’re still younger than me. Call me if you need me, anytime.”
“Goodnight, Ocean. Thanks for always caring.” Hanging up before I can overwhelm her more, I shut my open mouth and go to the bathroom thinking about how today got better as it went on.
Cascading hot water runs over my muscles and I recall what Emerald said as I left, she is like an old mother hen: albeit a very stubborn and sassy one, trying to keep us all together. I know I will always belong with these guys, I have to get my head around how, now that they have families. Bluebell was a unique addition to the day.
An exceptional distraction from everything.
Drying myself, a loud snuffling catches my attention. Towel slung over my hips, I vacate the bathroom and head toward the light coming from the bedroom.
“Christ. For someone so gentile and petite, she sure can snore.” I inwardly laugh as I look in the opening. The bedside lamp is on and the covers are almost covering her head completely. Her hands cupped under her chin holding the blanket.
Her body jolts as her breath releases.
I jump with the sound.
“Damn.” Feeling lighter than I have in months watching this sleeping beauty snoring, churns heat from deep within. A lot like when I spoke to her at her shop. I’m still unsure what it means, but it’s going to be worth exploring considering it’s happened twice now with the same girl and I can only remembe
r one other person who affected me like this.
Asleep in a matter of minutes, her body exhausted from the craziness of her day and I still have no idea what it’s all about. Obviously she is fearing for her life, coming with a stranger over staying in the hospital grounds. No one in their right mind would do that.
Yet, here she is and here I am.
Blinking my eyes, light shines in them as I open them marginally.
Is it morning already?
Looking around, it’s pitch black everywhere except near the lamp I left on. As a child and still now, I had to leave a night light on, or I couldn’t sleep. Anxiety will do that to you especially when it’s caused by the ones you are supposed to feel safe around but don’t.
I’d shocked myself awake, snoring so badly, my breath had caught, and I jostled myself awake. It only seems to happen when I’m dead tired especially when I usually sleep light enough that the creaks from the person walking above my apartment wakes me.
Shaking my head at myself, I cannot believe I’ve fallen into one of the deepest sleeps, in a cabin, in the middle of nowhere, with a complete stranger who looks a hell of a lot like a younger version of Adam Levine. Stubble, tattoos and ripped like Maroon 5’s lead singer, but with longer black hair.
Truly, I have no self-preservation.
Licking my lips, my mouth is dry and I’m overheating under this blanket. I think to be truthful my temperature shot up ten degrees just thinking about Ocean. Carefully taking the blanket off me, I try to tiptoe out of the bedroom, but my foot is too sore, so I tread slowly at a snail pace out to the kitchen.
Heat radiates in the lounge room from the fireplace in the corner. Ocean sure knows how to make a good fire, it’s still raging even hours after he lit it. The soft glow lights enough of a path to the kitchen where I take a glass and pour some water into it. Casting my eyes over the room, it’s basic but homey. My rescuer sprawled out on the small lounge looks uncomfortable, but he is sound asleep. His fingers twitch and his breathing is even and deep. Looking serene is probably something I wouldn’t picture him ever looking but studying him from afar, without him scrutinizing me, I can study him in detail.
I’m treated to him having his shirt and jeans removed because they are spread out on the floor and upon further investigation, naked broad shoulders hang slightly off the cushion and a few tattoos peek out from under the blanket. His neck is slim and long, covered slightly by raven straight hair, his squarish chin is covered in more than day-old stubble but more like the beginnings of a beard. Ocean is a tall guy and his large bare feet hang off the couch. Studying them, all I can think about is the adage: big feet mean a big cock. Heat flows up from my toes as I study his further, unable to stop myself from looking to where his dick is.
Whack…Whack…Whack.
My heart pounds against my ribs and thumps in my ears.
“Sheesh.” The water spurts from my mouth as I stifle my cough, looking at the ridge in the blanket and his feet again. Could it be that long?
Redness overtakes my face, lighting me up like the fire blazing in the corner. I cough again trying to expel the water that went down the wrong way.
Ocean murmurs and moves, the blanket falling off his body.
“Oh Lord.” My body quivers and I’m startled.
Jumping back in shock, as though something’s about to eat me alive, I almost trip over his enormous black boots and crash into the stool.
Inwardly laughing at myself, I hop so my sore leg is up and I brace myself on the counter.
He goes commando to sleep.
“Yes, his cock is definitely as big as his feet.” My pulse pumps rapidly. Light-headed with a rush of blood to the head, my limbs go limp.
Damn…
Blinking so my eyes are clear and focused, I scan every inch of his flesh.
He looks so edible and a delicious sight.
Abs are firm and defined even asleep, he has a few black tattoos and his chest is smooth. The glow of the fire reflects off his tanned skin. Of course it could be my embarrassed fervor thoroughly enhanced from the latest reveal.
It’s a first for me. It’s the biggest dick I’ve seen in real life but coming from an inexperienced virgin I’d say it could mean nothing. For all I know it could be small.
But it’s so goddam thick as well.
A sweat breaks out and I hold my breath. I am no longer worried about my sore ankle, I have to get out of here in case he wakes up. He can’t find me ogling his cock.
Limping as fast as I can go, heaving because I still haven’t regained my breath back correctly, I fall into bed.
Laughing at my stupidness, I’m behaving like a teenage girl. Lightness fills my body.
Pulling the covers back up, I close my eyes thinking of what it would be like to have a virile guy like Ocean want me. To be held close by a strong powerful body who would protect me from anything. To feel the warm skin of such a dominant man who would treat me with respect and kindness. To be claimed by a man who understood me.
It doesn’t hurt to fantasize.
I’ve been doing it for long enough and really, how the hell would I know what to do with a guy like that?
It doesn’t matter anyway.
All I will be doing is dreaming.
“I need a girl like you, yeah yeah. Yeah yeah yeah. Yeah yeah yeah. I need a girl like you, yeah yeah.”
A soft voice greets me.
Rubbing my face, my eyes blink trying to find the source of the singing. Stretching my arms above my head, I turn on my side and raise my head onto the cushion to find Bluebell in the kitchen looking in the oven at something, repeatedly singing that line over and over again.
Without stuttering.
Her short hair bounces around with her small steps, her body carefree and loose.
“Looks like you’re feeling a little better this morning.”
Surprised, she jumps and turns smiling brightly.
“I had a good night’s s-sleep. My ankle’s still s-sore.”
“I think it will be for a while but don’t stop singing on my account.” Only seeing this girl in her shop, professional and rigid or hurt and scared, this is a nice development. “What’s in the oven?”
I’d planned to shop before I came out here but with the commotion of yesterday, I didn’t get there. No one’s been out here for a few months. I can’t imagine what she found to bake something edible with.
“Scones. They’re ready but t-th-they’re going to be dry ‘cause there’s only butter to put on them. I was lucky to f-f-find some flour and milk powder.” Opening the oven door, the smell makes my stomach rumble.
“I can’t remember ever having a scone before.” Rising from the couch, the blanket slips off and I’m naked. Shit. I don’t want to scare her back inside herself. Looking up quickly, her back’s toward me and she is bending down retrieving plates from the lower cupboard. Her perky butt pokes out, although it’s difficult to see the outline due to the pants swimming on her. My cock hardens as I pull up my jeans thinking about the treasures underneath the material.
“Mom was English, we had scones of-often when I was l-little. They have hardly any ingre-ingredients and easy to make.” Turning around, she places a plate covered in small dough-like cakes on the counter and I take a seat on the stool.
“They smell delicious.”
“I hope they are.” Setting aside two other plates and some butter, she takes the knife and cuts one in half, putting butter on it. Steam billows out, the butter melting in.
“Here.” Gracing me with a smile and a baked goody she continues to make herself one. “Thank you again for helping me.” Bluebell keeps her eyes down and concentrates.
“This is good.” Licking my lips, the heat and buttery goodness is welcomed. “How have I not known about these?”
“I don’t see you as a s-scone and t-tea type of guy.” Casting her gaze over me, her cheeks light up as she peers down at my bare chest, tattooed with images that are significant to me.
We both burst out laughing together.
Bluebell’s eyes sparkle and her lips lift up into a smile that would give a diamond a run for its money, dazzling anyone who looked at her.
“Are you telling me I need to be in a suit and tie to enjoy these delicacies? Like a Brit?” Taking another mouthful, I watch her carefully trying to work out if I am serious.
“Umm… nope, not at all. But to be h-honest, most people who eat scones I think, would have to be middle-aged w-woman who go out for a High Tea. And you don’t fit that description either.”
Shaking my head, I laugh. “Definitely not. Well, let’s say, we add a new category to eating scones; two people who don’t know each other, resting in a cabin with limited supplies getting to know one another? Deal?”
Wide-eyed she looks in amazement at me and I could watch that curious look on her face all day. “Deal.”
Getting up to pour coffee for us both, we eat in silence, looking at each other every now and then. I remember doing the same kind of thing in school when I was unsure of how to get a girl’s attention and insecure. That hasn’t happened for a very long time. Yet it’s exactly how I’m feeling now.
Reaching for another scone, I break the silence. “So, shall we talk about what scared the daylights out of you yesterday?”
Her spine straightens marginally, and she puts the piece of scone she was about to put in her mouth, back down on the plate. Her eyes stay down. Bluebell’s breathing increases.
“We’ll take it slowly. But I need to work out how to help you.”
“Okay.” Lifting her cup slowly, she lets the coffee slide down her throat slowly, in no hurry to start.
“Did someone try to hurt you?”
Her fingers latch tighter on to the handle, her knuckles white. My hand reaches forward and cups her chin, turning her head so she’s looking directly in my eyes.
