Long Distance Lover

by Rylee Swann

  I nod with a teasing grin. “If you can keep up with me.”

  She laughs as she shrugs into a green trench coat and slings a gray bag over her shoulder. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”

  I open the car door for her but don’t give her room to get in. She quirks one brow at me, and I bend my head to hers until our lips meet. As much as I want to linger, I don’t, and break away after a chaste hello kiss. I step aside and she gets in without a word. I’ve stunned her to silence. She’ll have to get used to my public displays of affection as much as I will.

  Back on the road, I point the car north and head out, glancing at Dee. She’s quiet, thoughtful, as she looks out the windshield. I hope she’s not regretting her decision to go with me. At least her brow isn’t furrowed. There might even be the hint of a smile on her lips.

  “A coworker told me about a good hiking trail only a couple of miles from here,” I say to break the silence.

  “If you’re talking about Kelly Hollow. Yeah, good choice.”

  “Ah, so you’ve already been there?” I’m a little disappointed. I wanted to share something new with her.

  “No, I was meaning to go but never did.” She shrugs. “When I first moved up here, I wanted to do everything, but with work and writing some of the things on my list never got done.” She motions with her hand to encompass the landscape outside the car. “It’s a good day for it. It might be damp but the weather warmed up at least. And no sun will keep us from sweating too much. Part of the hike is uphill.”

  I nod, keeping my eyes on the road. The turn is coming up soon and I don’t want to miss it. A little while later, we arrive at the parking lot and get out. The area is beautiful, with tall spruce trees and streams near to overflowing. It’s noisy with the chirping of birds, rushing water, and the skittering of small woodland creatures. As we start the trek, I reach out to take Dee’s hand.

  Startled, she blinks at me but doesn’t pull away. Instead, a slow smile spreads over her face.

  We talk of simple, safe things as we walk. The weather, my job, my apartment, the tribulations of getting my work visa. I tell her everything, answer every question. When I try to steer the conversation to her, she backs off, unwilling to share. She needs more time, I realize, but the warmth of her hand in mine is enough for now.

  “Look!” Her free hand darts up and she points to a spot on the left. “A rabbit!”

  I follow her gaze and pointing finger, catching a glimpse of brown bunny ass hopping away into the brush. It makes me smile, more so at Dee’s exuberance than the rabbit itself. “Remember that black squirrel you saw in Ontario?”

  “Yeah,” she laughs. “I’d never seen one before and you thought I was nuts.” Her hand takes a firmer hold of mine as we walk. I hope it’s not my imagination. “I never told you that I saw one on Long Island after I moved back. I think it followed me.”

  “Yes, because there is only one black squirrel in all the world. It lies dormant until called forth by one who has great things to do. One who has gifts but is blind to them. The black squirrel nurtures these gifts.” She snorts as I prattle on with my nonsense. “So, I’m not surprised that you saw it again. Just beware if you see the white one. That tricky bastard is pure of heart but worships complacency.”

  “You should write that story,” she says in a serious tone.

  I scoff at her. I once fancied myself a writer but when Dee so far surpassed me in that talent, I gave it up. Much to her chagrin. She talked me into writing a couple of books that she assisted with but I didn’t want to hold her back. It always gave me the greatest joy to read what she’d written.

  We continue on up the path, following the stream, joined in companionable silence most of the time. Other times, jabbering about the sights and sounds, stopping to pick up interesting stones or leaves. I’ve never been more content.

  Dee suddenly stops walking and squeezes my hand. “Did you hear that?”

  I offer a little uncomfortable laugh. “Are you trying to turn this into a bad slasher movie?” I turn to glance behind us. “I don’t see Freddie coming up behind us.”

  “That’s because we’d have to be asleep. It would be Jason coming after us.” She laughs, no doubt because of the name.

  “Very funny. It could also be Michael Myers but then you’d tell me it’s not October.” I tilt my head, strain my ears. A howl. Very distinct and coming from the left. “Who ordered the werewolf?”

  “Ah, you heard it!” She pulls me by the hand toward the sound. “Hello? Hello!” she calls out. The only reply she gets is a lot of frantic barking. “Maybe someone is hurt. We should check it out.”

  Nodding, I let go of her hand and break through the tangle of branches that block our way off the beaten path. The ground is muddier here and we leave a trail of footprints as the dog keeps up a pitiful howling. The downward descent continues to get steeper, to the point where we’re more sliding than walking.

  “Stay here,” I tell Dee. “I’ll go down a little farther to see if I can find him.”

  “Alright, be careful.”

  I take a few sliding steps and glance back at Dee. She’s gnawing on her lower lip. I smile, wave, and keep going. Two more steps and the saturated ground gives way beneath me. I go tumbling head over ass with nothing but the sting of branches to break my fall.

  “Jayson! Oh my god. JAYSON!” Dee shouts.

  I crash through the trees a few more feet, finally coming to rest beside the dog. It yips and licks my face. He’s a good-looking black dog, part lab I’m guessing, and young. Probably not more than a year old. He’s muddy, a little on the thin side, and not wearing a collar.

  “Jayson! Please answer me!”

  I try to stand and groan. I’m going to be sore in the morning, definitely black and blue. Placing my weight on each foot, I gingerly get to my feet and heave a sigh of relief. “I found the dog,” I shout up to Dee.

  “Thank god! Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, a little beat-up but okay.” I hold my hand out for the dog to sniff and he obliges. “Good dog.”

  He prances from the praise. Noticing a limp, I motion him to me and examine his paw.

  “I’m coming down!” Dee says, a bit of panic lacing her voice.

  “No, don’t! It’s too dangerous. I’m fine, really. I’ll be back up in a minute.” The dog whines when I lift his paw but he seems to sense I’m trying to help. “Dee, the dog has a lame paw. It’s cut. Must hurt like a sonofabitch. Probably why he was stuck down here. I’m coming up with him now.”

  Hefting the midsize dog into my arms, I stumble back up the muddy track with him. It’s a frustrating climb. Even though the dog stays still in my arms, for every four steps I take, I slide back one or two. At last, Dee’s worried face appears and I let go of the dog. He skitter-limps up the remaining couple of feet and sits like a good boy to watch the rest of my progress. Dee braces against a tree and stretches her hand out to me. I grasp it and heave myself up.

  I start to brush the mud off of my jeans but Dee grabs me in a hug and holds on tight. “I thought I lost you. I didn’t know how far you’d fallen. I didn’t…”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry I scared you.” I return her hug despite my complaining bruises. “I’m just a clumsy oaf.”

  The trail we’ve walked is circular, and since we hiked farther than we have left to go, we continue on the path. I try to stifle my grunts as the dog limps happily alongside us. We soon come to the lean-to that my coworker told me about. Most of the trails in the area have one and it’s a first come, first served for using them.

  I hobble over, greatly exaggerating my bruises, slyly looking for extra sympathy, and sit down on the stone floor of the three-sided little building. The dog uses me as an example, curls up in a corner, and rests his head on his paws. I imagine, given enough time, the worn-out critter will be fast asleep.

  “Oh, I heard about these.” Dee steps inside and runs her hand over one of the stone walls. “I think campers come here with sleepin
g bags.”

  I scoot back to rest against the nearest wall. She moves to the dog and pets him on the head. He lets out a contented sigh and closes his eyes. I watch her every move, my cock twitching and threatening to come alive. December Jagger is the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. Ever seen. I have a deep need to undress her. To do evil things to her out here in the wild. With that thought, I lower my hand to my crotch and arrange my growing cock to a somewhat more comfortable position. My jeans are suddenly too tight.

  “C’mon, sit beside me for a few.” I keep my voice low and insistent.

  She turns, her head tilted at the tone, and comes over. I’m pretty sure she knows something is up. Literally.

  She starts to hunker down beside me but I grab her and bring her down onto my lap, facing me. She squeals, then gasps when my hardness pokes her. “You’re a naughty man.” I nod as she settles on my lap, her arms wrapping around my shoulders, her mouth close to my ear.

  Gazing into her bright eyes, I lift her until she’s squatting just above me. Again, I lower my hands to my crotch but this time I unbutton and unzip my jeans. Another gasp from Dee as I release my rod from its confines.

  “Are you serious? Out here? In the open?” She stares at me with wide eyes, yet there’s a quiet rousing of lust growing in them.

  “There’s no one but the dog around,” I growl. “If you don’t want to…” Dropping my hands to my sides, I hope she doesn’t scurry away, but the choice must be hers. I’d never force her.

  I’m rewarded with her standing up, her legs still straddling me, and the quick unzipping of her jeans. She scoots them and her panties down to her ankles and slowly, maddeningly, settles back down onto my cock. I groan as the head passes through her entrance, as inch by torturous inch she lowers herself, taking more of me inside of her.

  Bracing her hands on my shoulders, she squats with her feet firmly planted on either side of my hips. Throwing her head back, she takes in the last of me.

  A needful groan builds in my throat. Fuck, how I want to thrust upward and screw the life out of her, but with sheer force of will, I don’t. This is all for her. I want Dee to know she can have me unconditionally.

  “That’s it, lover. Use me. Make yourself come.” I place my hands on her waist only to help steady her if she needs it. She doesn’t. This woman is in kickass shape. Her flexing muscles make me harder than I ever thought possible. Her pussy is so soft, so wet, so tender against the flesh of my cock that when she starts pulsing on me it’s a shock at how hard she clenches.

  “Oh, god.” Her cry comes around her teeth biting her lower lip. Rising up almost completely, so that just the tip of my cock is still in her, she gazes into my eyes and begins a slow, circular pulse with her hips. Her powerful gaze is the death of me. I could come in an instant as I drown in it, but I know she’s not near enough yet.

  Reaching up, I yank her shirt and bra over, revealing one breast, and suck a ripe nipple into my mouth. She gasps and rocks harder on me. She is fucking spectacular as she works herself into a frenzy. If I was in control, I’d be pulling back, teasing her, making her wait, beg for release.

  As her downward thrusts grow stronger, I remind her, “Your pussy is so fucking wet. So tight. Use my cock, lover. Give yourself what you want.”

  As she gasps out a ragged breath, I bite down on her nipple just enough to give her a shock. She arches her back, moaning with abandon. She’s near, her pussy pulsing and gripping my cock almost painfully. She needs just a little bit more to send her over the edge. Sucking hard on her nipple, I lower a hand to where we’re connected and find her clit. Taking the tiny bud in my fingers, I stroke it, pinch it. Her juices flow and she stiffens just before a great shudder rocks through her. Collapsing against my chest, her body still spasming, I’m left buried deep in her.

  With a savage growl, my ass tightens and I thrust up hard. Once, twice. Again and again. Pistoning into her. Ten long years I waited and now this, joining with her two days in a row. It’s a miracle, a blessing, a damned gift. With a roar, I come so hard my legs shake.

  She’s the only drug I need.

  In perfect silence, we bask in the afterglow. With her draped over me, her head against my shoulder, my flaccid cock giving an occasional contented twitch. I wrap my arms around her lithe body, wanting to keep her close. Breathing in deeply of her feminine scent, a sweet mixture of sweat, sex, and gardenia, I have to remind myself I’m not dreaming.

  Eventually, Dee stirs, offering a dreamy sigh. I raise a hand and stroke her silken hair.

  “You’re different,” she murmurs, breaking the silence. Her breath tickles my skin.

  There are so many ways I could reply. How I am different, how hard I worked to get here, what this means to me. But all that matters is what she thinks of the new me.

  “Different, good?”

  She raises her head to give me a long, considering look. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Progress.

  I smile, my heart bursting at the seams as she lays her head back down on my shoulder.

  11

  December

  The dog Jayson and I found yesterday wags his tail furiously as I dump a can of Alpo into a dish. After our time in the lean-to—a delicious shiver rushes through me at the memory—we took the dog to a local vet. He stayed overnight and when I picked him up this morning, he’d gotten a clean bill of health.

  The vet said his paw is healing nicely and nothing to worry about. I can take the bandage off in a few days and he’ll be good as new. I took in the information with a smile, already growing attached to the pup and hoping that the vet never discovers any owners. I’d hate to give him back.

  Yeah, I have a dog now. Hopefully, forever. Mac—as I’ve started to think of him as—wasn’t chipped and somehow Jayson convinced me to foster him. I shake my head in wonderment.

  “Okay, Mac, here you go.” I set the dish on the kitchen floor and he wolfs it down in almost no seconds flat.

  He licks the empty dish and peers at me, hoping he might wrangle more, but I shake my head. “Two cans a day is plenty, Mac.” He whines and pads over to where I’ve sat down on the couch. Placing his head on my knee, he looks up at me with big brown soulful eyes. “Do you like the name Mac?” I scratch behind his ear. His tail thumps like a drum on the floor, and I take that as a yes.

  Loud pounding at my front door interrupts my quality time with Mac and I jump to my feet, startled. What the hell? No one needs to knock like that. Mac gives a little whining half growl and I pat him on the head before going to the door. The dog strides along beside me, which I find that I like. Why did I never get a dog before now?

  I usually just open my door—I live in a safe building, in a safe area—but this time, I call through the door. “Who is it?”

  “Let me in, Dee!” Isaac shouts, his tone angry.

  I sigh, just what I need—a pissed off teenager. “What do you want?”

  “Open up. I gotta talk to you!”

  I glance down at Mac. His fur is bristling and his tail is no longer wagging. He’s going to be one hell of a watchdog when he gains more weight.

  “Come on!” Isaac insists when I hesitate.

  “Mind your manners,” I say as I open the door to him.

  Frowning, he tries to weasel his way past me but pulls up short when Mac barks. “Since when you got a dog?” Sullen tone, angry eyes. Lovely.

  “Since now.” Opening the door a little wider, I step aside to let him in. “What’s so important you feel the need to shout, Isaac?”

  He brushes past me, giving Mac a wide berth. “You fucking said you wouldn’t tell my mom. You lied! She took my phone, won’t let me go—”

  I’ve about had it with his attitude. “You watch your mouth. Show me some respect or I’ll kick your ass right out of here. Got it?”

  I don’t know when I became my mother. I’m almost horrified as the words come out of my mouth. Yet, they’re the right words. I guess Isaac has become something of a son to me. Hi
s mom is my best friend, and I’ve known him for a few years now. Odd how things happen when you’re not looking.

  Isaac gapes at me for a minute then lowers his eyes. He mumbles, “Sorry,” in a surly tone that doesn’t sound like an apology to me at all.

  “We can talk about this another time when you’ve calmed down. Besides, you’re grounded and shouldn’t be here—”

  “I’m grounded because you fucking told her!” He winces, probably not meaning to curse this time, but he did.

  I’m out of patience. “You know what? You’re going back to calling me Miss Jagger until you lose the attitude. Go home, Isaac.” I open the door and wait for him to leave.

  “This is bullshit. I thought I could trust you!”

  He doesn’t move, and we stare at each other in a standoff for a moment.

  I’m the adult so I break the tense silence. “You can trust me.” I soften my tone. We won’t get anywhere spitting out angry words at each other. “Your mother needed to know what was going on. Besides, I’m not the one who suggested—”

  He narrows his eyes, looking down at me. When did he shoot past me in height?

  “She grounded me. Grounded me! What the hell, Dee? Miss Jagger. Whatever.”

  I want to laugh at his sullen shock and disbelief. Jayson was right. The boy needs discipline. He’s been without it for so long he doesn’t even recognize what it is when it’s handed to him. Wait? What? Jayson was right? Somewhere, pigs must be flying and the sky is green. Or, and this one is harder to take, he really has changed. Damn, I need time to think this through. And without an angry and confused boy standing in front of me.

  “It’s called punishment, Isaac. She caught you doing something wrong, something she doesn’t approve of, and most importantly that is against the law.” I raise my hand and put it on his shoulder, ushering him toward the door. “You’re getting off easy with being grounded for only two weeks. You know how much trouble you’re in. That if your sessions with Mr. Fox don’t go well, you’re facing going to jail.” He grunts. At least he’s not cursing at me anymore. “I think you should discuss all this with Mr. Fox. He can provide insights you probably haven’t thought of.”