by Penny Wylder
Breaking our kiss, he shimmies out of his pants. I help him by hooking a foot in the waistband and yanking them over his ass. Once he kicks them off the bed, he lies beside me again, his hard cock bouncing free, so big and firm, with the tip swollen and dark, covered in pre-cum.
He props himself up on his side, and pulls my leg over his hip, the tip of his cock resting just at my entrance. His fingers are back on my clit, sliding over it again and again until my hips start moving and the tip of his cock is resting firmly against me. With just a nudge, he enters me, but he stops at the tip, pumping slowly and in time to his fingers sliding over me. He keeps me there for a while. A heady combination of arousal and anticipation. I try to bear down and take him further inside me, but he pulls back. He’s a man of his word. He really is taking his time. “You look amazing like this,” he says to me, and then slides in a little further, making me groan. “Fuck, you sound amazing, too. I’m so hard. Do you feel how hard you make me?” He fucks me with shallow strokes, never letting up on my clit, but not applying enough pressure so that I can come. This man is a genius. His beard rubs against my cheek as he pumps into me, and the look in his eyes tells me he’s just barely able to hold back much longer. His jaw is tense, his brow is creased, but despite his growing need, he just focuses on me. Watching me intently as I react to what he’s doing to me. Remarking every time I grunt or sigh. It’s almost as if my pleasure is enough for him.
But then something breaks in him, and with swift hands, he takes me by the hips and pulls me on top of him. He moves me like I weigh nothing, barely using any effort. I can't help but touch his strong his arms, and the muscles that pop beneath the surface, when I straddle him.
My fingers follow the tattoo covering his left arm and shoulder. Long swooping lines and Celtic patterns create a collage on his skin that holds my gaze. Gripping my chin with his fingers, he turns my eyes back to him.
“Eyes on me, I want to see your face as I fuck you.”
The hunger and need are so vivid in his stare it sends goosebumps down my skin. I've never been looked at like this. Not once have I been admired this deeply with just a look. My heart is racing, and my stomach coils up tight like corded rope.
His hands grip my hips tighter and he pulls me down onto him. I'm soaking wet, dripping from my pussy to the point it's slicking my inner thighs.
Resting open palms on his chest, I butterfly my legs open wider, and sink down on his cock so he fills me completely. My walls stretch to make room and my clit throbs, aching for release.
His hands fall to my thighs and he squeezes me as I start to rock. His eyes roll back in his head as I move a little faster, a little harder, driving him inside my body as far as I can.
Riding his thick cock, I dig my nails into his flesh, doing my best to stay upright. I want to fall forward, to drive my face into his neck and just fuck him until I come. But I won't rush this moment. Who knows when I'll have this again.
Softly, he pinches my nipple as he uses his other hand to help drive me down even deeper. I grind against his hard body, sending electricity zipping through my muscles. The hair on my arms stands up and I let out a moan that's throaty and raw.
“Yeah,” he says, “Fuck me.” His finger pinches my nipple harder and he lifts his head up, setting an open hand on my back to pull my tit into his mouth.
This man is touching me in all the right spots. My moans grow louder and louder as I rise and drop, rise and drop. I can feel his cock thicken inside my pussy, stretching my walls to their max.
“Fuck, fuck, I'm coming,” I call out as I slam my pussy down his shaft. “Mm. . .” My moan is drawn out as I finally fall forward, and he captures me in his arms.
He jerks his cock free, spearing it up between my ass cheeks as his dick explodes, shooting hot cum all over my lower back.
We're both breathing heavy, our chests rising and falling in unison. Twisting my face, I brush the hair from my eyes and softy run my fingers through his beard.
“Wow,” I say, my voice nothing but air. “You know what, I never got your name, did I?” Giggling, I wag my brows.
Smiling, he chuckles and says, “It's Anderson, but everyone calls me Anders.” He sounds like he just ran a marathon as he takes in deep breaths of air. “And your name is?”
“Laney.”
“Laney. . . huh, didn't peg you for a Laney.”
“No?”
“Nope.”
“What did you think my name was?”
“I don't know,” he says as I roll off his stomach and sit up, searching for something to clean up with.
“Hold on a second,” he says, and dashes down the stairs. He’s back in a flash with a washcloth and gently wipes at my lower back. “Sorry about the mess,” he chuckles, before throwing the cloth to the floor and wrapping his arm around me to bring me back down onto the bed with him again “I don't know, you look like you could be a Rachel, maybe a Gail—”
Cutting him off, I laugh out loud. “Gail? Seriously?”
We're both laughing and when our eyes meet, my heart stops inside my chest. I don't know if it stops because of how incredibly hot his smile is, or if it's because he's actually looking at me, like he sees me in a way I haven’t been seen in a long time.
His eyes burn into my chest, leaving a mark that I can practically feel.
Shit. This isn't what I wanted. I didn't want a look like that from him.
And I didn't want this tingle in my belly.
I was looking for a one night stand. One and done. But looking at Anders smile, I’m not convinced I found what I was looking for.
4
Anders
Leaning against the kitchen sink, I blow a cool breath across the top of my coffee cup and take a sip. The hot mug feels goods in my cold hands.
The power is still out, and probably will be for a while. That's what happens when you choose to live in the mountains. Amenities are a luxury, not a guarantee.
The fire is finally roaring. It took a while to get the logs to catch, and having Laney looking over my shoulder didn’t make me move any faster. I feel the heat from where I'm standing now, and relish hearing the logs snap and seeing the flames jump. Taking another sip from the mug, I look out the window, and watch as giant snowflakes fall like sheets of torn paper. Storms this time of winter aren’t unusual, but this one’s really picking up and may leave us with a couple of feet by the afternoon.
I can hear Laney in the bathroom. Every so often I hear her curse, and the sound of the tin bucket knocking against the tub. I boiled her a few kettles of hot water so she could wash up. When I handed her the bucket, she looked at me like I was an alien. My mind floods with images of her naked body as she runs a wet cloth up her leg and over her thigh. She’s just feet away from me, behind a single door, and I can’t keep my imagination in check. How would she respond if I just walked right in? Hiked her up onto the sink and took her there, without saying a word?
My cock jerks, eager for another round. It's been a long time since I've been with a woman, and after having just one taste of her, I'm ready for more.
Laney. . . It's a cute name.
The door for the bathroom creaks as she opens it, and she comes down the hall in one of my flannel button-down shirts and nothing else. She's rubbing a towel against her damp hair as she goes to stand by the fire.
“Heat, thank God,” she says with a giggle as she tips her head closer and rubs her wet head with the towel.
She looks so fuckable with her bare legs, and when she bends over to get closer to the fire, I get a delicious peek of the rounded bottoms of her ass cheeks. Biting my lip, I have to look away. I turn instead to watch the snow fall. I'm afraid if I look to long I’ll end up going over and ravaging her.
“Yeah, it'll heat up this whole place in no time now that it's going.” Grabbing a mug, I walk to the wood stove and take the percolator off the top. “Coffee?” I ask.
“Please,” she says, throwing the towel over her shoulder.
<
br /> “Milk? Sugar?” I ask.
“Nah, black is fine. As long as it’s hot.”
I pour her a mug and hand it over. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” My eyes move up and down her body as she looks into the mug and takes a sip.
Fuck, this girl is so gorgeous.
She's stripped of all her makeup and her natural beauty just leaves me speechless. There are little freckles on the bridge of her nose, and her lashes fan her eyes like a jungle canopy. Her cheeks hold a pink tint, but I'm not sure if it's from the hot water she washed with or the chill that's still in the air.
Laney turns on her heels as she talks, looking for a place to hang the towel. She settles on placing it on the edge of the countertop.
“Think you can take me home in a bit?”
No. Stay all day. I'd love to fuck you again.
“Uh, yeah, I can do that.” I don't say what comes to my head first, but my cock is begging her to stay.
“You sure? Even with all that snow out there, you think you'll be able to get me home?”
“I've got heavy chains on my tires, and a big truck. I can get you any place you want to go.”
She looks at me over her shoulder and smiles. And fuck me if that smile isn't enough to draw out every animalistic urge buried in my bones.
Take her! Claim her! Make her yours!
“Okay, cool.” She takes a few steps forward, her eyes dancing around the room. “This cabin is really beautiful. I've never seen anything like it.”
“Thanks. I built it with my father.” My heart stings for a minute as memories come to life. “We spent years carving all this out. I still think I have some splinters to prove it.” Chuckling, I run a hand over my head and through my hair.
“I can't believe you built this. It's incredible.” She touches one of the thick beams helping to brace the loft above.
Her slender fingers slip up down, and my brain goes back to how she stroked my cock. Blood starts to rush from my head to my dick, causing it to throb.
Sucking in a gulp of air, I quickly poor myself some more coffee, and look back out the window. “Yeah, my father was quite the woodworker.”
“Was?” she asks as she examines the spiral staircase up to the loft.
“He passed away six years ago.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry,” she apologizes as she spins back toward me and comes to my side.
Looking down at her, I smile with thin lips. “It's all right. He taught me everything I know, so I've been keeping up with the family tradition. I have my shop out back. You want to see it?”
Her face crinkles with apology. “I really would like to, but I should get home. I have work of my own to do, and a deadline that's coming up fast.”
Damn.
“No problem. I'll start digging out the truck. Take your time with the coffee. It’ll be a little while” My grin is slightly forced because I really don't want her to leave. I want her to stay.
“Thanks Anders,” she says, sitting down across from the fire. “Just let me know when we’re ready to leave.”
I pull on my boots and my heavy coat to head to the shed to grab my shovel. As I walk out the door of my cabin, I cast a glance over my shoulder, at Laney sitting on my couch, her feet tucked under her, staring at the fire and drinking her morning coffee. I’m filled with something that’s warm and comfortable and completely foreign to me. It feels like peace.
Thirty minutes later and we’re moving along, slowly but steadily. The plows have been out, but the snow keeps falling. It takes twice as long as it normally would to get to her place, but I deliver her there safely, just as promised.
She opens her door and is about to get out, when she looks down at herself. “Oh, I still have your shirt on. Do you—”
“No, keep it. I have plenty more.”
Giving me a smile, she reaches out and cups my cheek. Her thumb moves up and down my jaw, combing through my beard. “Thanks, Anders. I had a good time this morning, you know, so thank you for that too.”
Nodding cordially, I say, “Me too.”
Leaning over, she gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and jumps out of the truck. Closing the door, I wait, watching her until she's safely inside.
My cheek sizzles where her lips just touched, and my heart is pounding in my chest.
I really did have a good time. Maybe a little too much.
Tossing and turning in bed, I can't seem to get this girl out of my head. I was halfway home before I realized I didn't even bother trying to get her number.
Fucking idiot. Why didn't I ask?
Rolling onto my stomach, I cover my face with the blanket. I can still smell her there, the scent of wildflowers is faint, but unmistakable. She's still here, right here around me, working her way into my every thought.
It's been five days since our little tryst, and I still can't stop thinking about her. And I've tried. I've spent the last few days furiously working. I’m going through my to-do list so quickly I don’t think I’ll have a single project left unfinished by the weekend. My hands are full of blisters, the callouses I had before are now torn, and new ones are quickly taking their place.
Even working tirelessly, she's finding her way into my projects now. I planned out a custom window for a client yesterday, and the stained glass tulips I’d been planning ended up being lilacs. I can’t get this girl out of my head.
What the hell has gotten into me?
Throwing the covers off, I sit up in bed and check the time. It's six in the morning, and the sun is just starting to filter through the windows, filling the house with natural light.
Heading downstairs, I make a coffee and start a fire. The power could be back on, but I don’t even check, I prefer the wood stove any day over the propane heat I had put in while my father was ill.
Sitting down on the couch, my mind goes right back to her. I haven't been able to even sit in my living room without thinking about my night with her. Without remembering how perfect she looked here in the morning light.
Her perfect body, her full curves, her raindrop shaped tits. The way her lips felt on mine and how her pussy devoured my cock as she slid down.
I'm getting hard just thinking about it. My cock is thickening as I recline back on my couch, and my hand automatically goes down into my pajama pants and I start jerking off. I stroke myself until I’m fully hard before I pull my cock out. I begin to stroke from tip to base with slow, firm strokes. Closing my eyes, I can see her clear as day.
Up and down, up and down, I work my cock like she's riding me again. Licking my hand, the friction eases, and I glide up and down a little faster. I'd give anything to feel her again, to fuck her until her legs go numb, and her eyes roll back in her head.
My hand moves, slamming down at the base and squeezing around my swollen tip as I slip back up. She felt so good around me, she felt perfect in my arms. Her pussy was warm, wet, and tight.
And as I see her in my mind, with goosebumps jumping over her skin and her body riding me harder, my balls start to pull up, and my stomach clenches.
Her moan, the fucking moan that spilled from her lips is enough to send me over the edge as I jerk my dick and ease this ache I feel. Hot cum spills over my knuckles and my heart races as a light sweat beads on my forehead.
Opening my eyes, I take a second before getting up and grabbing a napkin from the kitchen to clean myself off. This has been my reality every single day since she climbed out of my truck. I can't sit by the fire and not get turned on by just thinking about her.
This has never happened to me before. I've never been this hot for a woman in my life, including my ex, Cara.
After I shower and have some breakfast, I spend a little time in my studio working on a few orders and trying to clear my head. I should have gotten her number, and I didn't. That's what’s really killing me.
Why didn't I ask her?
So, what do I do to try and fix that mistake? I’ve spent every single day driving into town with the
hopes of accidentally running into her again. Even Candice is starting to notice the imprint I'm making in her bar stool.
And, here I am again, sitting in my truck outside the Bear Claw, hoping I have some luck.
Pushing the door open, I stand and look around. But the place is empty, as usual. Once summer hits, this place will be packed wall to wall with tourists. The locals will stay away until late autumn.
I take a seat at my usual table in the corner. I look up and spot Candice staring at me from the kitchen. Her lips peel back into a thin line as she shakes her head.
She moves behind the bar and grabs a glass, pouring me the only thing I ever order, Jack and Coke, and comes to the table. Setting it down, she flashes me a big grin.
“I'm starting to think you've got a thing for me, Anders. I never see you this much.”
Chuckling, I lift the glass and take a sip. “Maybe I just really like your gumbo,” I say with a smirk.
“No one really likes the gumbo, not even you.” She wipes her hands on the towel tucked in her waistband and sets her hand on her hip. “I won't say I mind this, though. It's nice to see you getting out and about again. It's been long enough you cooping yourself up in that cabin. I think you might be becoming downright sociable.” She slaps me in the shoulder with her towel and smiles at me.
“Hardly,” I say, taking another sip. “Hey—” I start to say, then quickly cut myself short.
