Bed of Ice

by Sk Quinn

  Patrick laughs. ‘I’m not “one of those men”.’

  I feel a blush creeping up again.

  ‘Still embarrassed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’re going to have to do something about that embarrassment of yours. It’s not good for you. Especially out here.’

  His eyes go all hard and strong. ‘Get over here.’ He pulls me to his chest.

  ‘So charming.’

  ‘I want to show you something.’

  ‘Show me something?’

  Patrick slides his hands around to my backside and pulls me against his crotch. Which is rock hard.

  He leans down and whispers in my ear, ‘I was thinking of you, half-naked behind that tree.’

  ‘You really are messed up aren’t you?’ I laugh.

  ‘Very, very messed up where you’re concerned.’

  Patrick presses his lips hard against mine.

  I feel his thick hair against my cheek and smell his amazing, clean Patrick smell.

  His hands go to my waist and he undoes my cargo trousers and pulls them to the floor. Along with my panties.

  ‘Oh!’ A rush of freezing cold air flows around my legs. ‘Cold!’

  ‘You won’t be cold for long,’ says Patrick, kneeling down and pushing his face between my legs.

  ‘Patrick!’ I try to push him back. ‘I’ve just been … well you know what I’ve been doing.’

  ‘I don’t care.’ He pushes my legs apart and presses his mouth against me.

  17

  I feel the warmth of his lips and then …

  ‘Oh,’ I moan as I feel his tongue. ‘Patrick. Please. Not when I’ve just been weeing.’

  Patrick ignores me. He presses his face back between my legs and I’m powerless to do anything.

  My knees turn to mush and I reach out a hand to steady myself against a tree.

  As Patrick’s tongue circles between my legs, I feel him untying my shoelaces. He lifts my feet out of my boots.

  I hop up and down as my feet feel cold ground.

  Patrick pulls my cargo trousers over one foot, then the other. Then he tosses them over a branch.

  His hands grab my thighs. I moan as his fingers dig into my skin.

  Patrick lifts my legs up and around him and forces my back against the tree until my spine feels the bark.

  As he kisses me, he pushes his body between my legs and moves up and down.

  Oh that feels good.

  I love the hardness of him.

  He’s right. I definitely am warming up.

  After a moment, Patrick frees himself from his trousers. I catch a glimpse of him. Tanned and huge in the sunlight.

  He holds me with one hand while he gets a condom from his pocket and tears the packet with his teeth.

  ‘You really did come prepared,’ I say, as he slides on the condom.

  ‘I told you. I was a very good boy scout.’

  He moves both hands onto my buttocks and begins to slide himself inside of me.

  I moan as he pushes himself in, slowly, slowly.

  When he gets most of the way inside, he pushes my bare buttocks up and down against the tree bark.

  ‘Ooo!’ I murmur, as the bark grates my skin.

  Patrick drops his head to my neck and kisses me ferociously, while he pushes himself further and further inside.

  I tilt my head back so my hair falls away from my neck.

  ‘It … hurts,’ I gasp, as he begins sliding back and forth. ‘But … it feels so … good.’

  I nearly scream the last word as he pounds right into me, slamming me hard into the tree.

  He moves back and forth, rubbing my backside against the rugged bark.

  I feel a delicious, scratchy pain as I move up and down, up and down.

  Patrick’s fingers dig into my thighs as he pushes into me, deeper and deeper.

  Over Patrick’s broad shoulders I see sunshine through the trees. I sigh and moan at the beauty of everything I’m feeling and seeing.

  ‘The tree is hurting you?’ Patrick asks, lifting his head so his eyes meet mine.

  ‘Yes,’ I gasp.

  ‘But you like it,’ says Patrick.

  ‘Ye-es.’ I admit.

  Patrick pulls my thighs wide apart and wraps my legs tight around him.

  I let out a shout, and Patrick moans again.

  ‘I want to be all the way inside you,’ he whispers. ‘As far as I can be. Tell me if it hurts too much.’

  He tilts his stomach towards me and starts lifting me up and down, rubbing me against his abdomen.

  He’s only moving in and out of me a little, but the sensation of my clit rubbing against him is amazing. Just amazing.

  Patrick moves like that for a few minutes, watching my face as I get more and more lost in pleasure.

  Before long, I’m powerless to resist him.

  ‘Oh! Oh Patrick! I’m coming. I’m coming,’ I yell, feeling a warm wave wash over me.

  My body tingles against Patrick’s warm crotch and chest.

  I collapse against his strong shoulders, feeling my breathing, hard and fast, against his neck.

  18

  I see Patrick’s eyes close and his lips go tight. He takes in a few deep breaths, then pulls back and launches himself forward.

  I cry out.

  The feeling of Patrick disappearing inside me when I’m so warm and soft … it’s just soo good.

  I feel myself tense and release around him.

  Patrick lets out a long roar as he comes and slips his hands under my buttocks.

  I hear him panting and feel his chest going up and down against mine.

  Patrick holds me, with my legs wrapped around him, for the longest time. We’re pushed against each other, entwined, breathing fast, our bodies all soft and relaxed.

  ‘I didn’t expect that,’ I finally manage to stammer.

  ‘Expect what?’ Patrick growls.

  ‘To come so quick.’

  ‘You should be used to it by now.’

  ‘Oh so arrogant. But seriously. It usually takes me ages.’

  ‘And seriously. It’s never taken you long with me.’

  ‘I guess … with you … ‘I shake my head. ‘I suppose it’s been sort of extra exciting so far.’

  Patrick laughs. ‘Extra exciting? Should I be flattered?’

  ‘I don’t know. But … I mean, we probably shouldn’t be together. So … it kind of makes it feel a bit forbidden.’

  I feel Patrick soften inside me and he slides out.

  I take the hint and put my feet on the floor.

  ‘Oo! It’s cold.’

  Patrick does up his trousers, then reaches into the tree for mine.

  I put them on, and Patrick kneels down to help me back into my boots.

  He’s frowning.

  ‘Did I say something wrong? You seem offended.’

  ‘I’m not the sort of person who gets offended.’

  ‘What then?’ I say, sensing a change in Patrick’s mood. ‘You’ve gone all … distant.’

  Patrick does up my shoelaces. Then he pulls my cargo trousers down sharply over my boots and stands up.

  ‘You need to eat,’ he says, matter-of-factly. He shields his eyes from the sun.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask, feeling a knot in my stomach. I miss the warmth of him already. ‘Was it because I said about things being forbidden?’

  ‘I love you Seraphina. The way I feel about you … I’ve never felt this way about anyone. It’s so powerful, this feeling. This isn’t a game. It isn’t role-playing. I would die to protect you. Do you know that? Do you know how strongly I feel?’

  ‘My eyes search his and I see hurt.

  Whoa. Where’s my arrogant, full-of-himself Patrick gone all of a sudden?

  I touch his arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I … I do love you Patrick. I’d be lost without you.’ I look at the ground.

  ‘And when exactly are you going to tell me about your past?’ Patrick says, hitting me with thos
e beautiful stern eyes of his.

  ‘You know most of it already,’ I say, managing a little smile. ‘I mean, you’ve been spying on me since we met.’

  Patrick laughs. ‘Do you know how fuckable you are when you smile like that?’

  My smile broadens. ‘How fuckable I am? How romantic.’

  ‘I told you. You want romance and flowers, go somewhere else. You want someone who’ll take care of you, truly take care of you, and make you come in two minutes …’ He spreads his hands. ‘Look no further.’

  ‘Ooo!’ I give an exasperated shake of my head. ‘You’re just impossible, do you know that?’

  ‘So people tell me.’

  ‘Which people. Other women?’ The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I hate how jealous I sound. But I am jealous.

  Patrick smiles. ‘You want to watch that jealousy of yours Seraphina. It only makes me want to fuck you again. And right now I think you might need a break.’

  ‘You’re right there.’ I put a hand to my sore backside and feel the rawness between my legs where Patrick pounded away.

  ‘And for the record – yes.’ Patrick goes to his rucksack and opens it up. ‘I have been told by other women that I’m impossible. And they were right. I was impossible with everyone else. But with you … I’ve met my match.’

  ‘And here was I thinking that I’d met mine.’

  Patrick takes a knife from his bag. ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the “where you come from” conversation. I intend to find out what you’re hiding from me. That’s a promise.’

  So we’re back here again. My mind races through ways of changing the subject. Of making Patrick forget …

  ‘Don’t look so sad,’ says Patrick. ‘I won’t love you any less. No matter what you’re hiding.’

  I nod, my stomach lurching.

  19

  ‘There’s nothing I could find out about you that would make me stop loving you,’ says Patrick.

  ‘I don’t know about that. Didn’t you say something about lunch before? It must be lunchtime by now. I’m starving.’

  ‘Don’t try and change the subject.’

  ‘I wasn’t—’

  ‘You were.’

  ‘Maybe I was a little,’ I admit. ‘So. Um. It was good to meet your grandmother. May. Tell me about her.’

  ‘I know what you’re doing,’ says Patrick. ‘And I’ll humour you for now.’ He begins sawing at a skinny branch with the saw edge of his knife. ‘What exactly is it you want to know about my grandmother?’

  ‘Oh I don’t know. How long she’s been stashed in the castle tower …’

  ‘A few years now. She likes it. She’s happy up there.’

  ‘She must love her son … I mean, your father, very much. To have faked her own death for him. Just so he could get his hands on her money.’

  ‘She’s a wonderful woman,’ says Patrick. ‘And she liked you. No surprise really. She’d been asking about you since you got here.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘I think she worked out pretty quickly that I was besotted with you.’

  ‘Besotted. Nice word.’

  ‘It’s a good one isn’t it?’ Patrick keeps sawing the branch.

  ‘So tell me more about her.’

  ‘I love her. She raised me and my brothers when my mother was ill.’ Patrick snaps the branch free and flexes it between his fingers.

  ‘Your mother was ill when you were a child?’

  Patrick lowers the branch. ‘For a while. Yes.’

  ‘Was it serious?’

  ‘In a way. A lot more serious than what she’s in hospital for right now.’

  ‘What was wrong with her?’

  ‘She had a breakdown.’

  ‘Oh. God Patrick, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Patrick doesn’t look at me. ‘All forgotten now. It was a long time ago.’ He turns to me. ‘Have you interrogated me enough now, do you think?’

  ‘Not nearly enough.’

  ‘Let’s eat.’

  I laugh. ‘I’ve hardly asked you anything and you think I’m interrogating you. Well I’ve got bad news for you Patrick. I want to know more. Much more.’

  20

  Patrick cooks damper bread wound around the tree branch and hot chocolate with butter melted into it.

  The bread is pretty good. But the hot chocolate is a heart attack waiting to happen.

  ‘How can you drink this stuff and stay so fit?’ I ask Patrick, watching him crouch by the fire.

  ‘You need calories out here,’ says Patrick, downing his hot chocolate.

  He grabs a piece of damper bread and tears it into chunks.

  ‘Are you feeding the birds?’ I ask, as he throws chunks of bread at the trees.

  Patrick shakes his head.

  I see then that he’s making a little trail. Each piece of bread lands nearer to him.

  ‘Are you marking our path with breadcrumbs then?’ I ask. ‘Because if you are, you should know that Hansel and Gretel got lost that way.’

  Patrick laughs. ‘You think I could get lost out here? I know these woods blindfold.’

  ‘That’s some claim.’

  ‘But a true one.’

  ‘Everything looks the same to me.’

  ‘The same?’ Patrick raises an eyebrow. ‘If you think everything looks the same, you’re not looking hard enough. I can see I’m going to have to train you a bit better.’

  I laugh. ‘Good luck with that one.’

  ‘I don’t need luck.’ Patrick’s blue-green eyes hit me. They’re so clear right now. Like water. ‘With you, I have determination.’

  My stomach flips over and I’m pretty glad I’m sitting down.

  ‘Seriously though,’ I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. ‘How do you know where we are?’

  ‘The trees. The air. The ground. We’re about ten kilometres from the castle. North is that way.’ He points.

  ‘But how do you know … mmph!’

  I’m cut off by Patrick’s huge hand clamping over my mouth.

  I twist my head back and forth. ‘Mmph! MMPH!’

  Patrick just clamps his hand tighter, kneeling behind me.

  ‘Shush!’ he whispers fiercely in my ear.

  I’m about to protest again when I see a bright orange grouse bobbing through the trees.

  It’s pecking at the breadcrumbs.

  Patrick drops his hand.

  I watch in amazement as Patrick moves, but doesn’t move. It’s like someone is pushing a statue slowly forwards. Little by little he gets nearer to the bird.

  He doesn’t make a sound.

  Within a few minutes, he’s right next to the grouse. But the grouse hasn’t noticed. Patrick has moved so slowly and stealthily that it doesn’t realise anything much has changed.

  It’s still focused on the breadcrumbs, pecking away.

  Before I realise what’s happening, Patrick reaches out and snaps the bird’s neck.

  I gasp.

  The bird goes limp, its wide eyes hanging over Patrick’s fingers.

  ‘Oh my god,’ I murmur. ‘You just … you killed it.’

  Patrick grasps the bird by the neck and slings it over his shoulder. He throws it down by the fire.

  Its black eyes stare at me.

  ‘Why have you gone so pale?’ says Patrick, crouching down and picking up one of the bird’s wings. ‘You eat meat, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, my voice heavy.

  ‘Can you pluck a bird?’

  Oh good god.

  ‘You’re kidding me. You want me to pluck that thing?’

  ‘Unless you want to eat it with the feathers on.’

  ‘I don’t want to eat it.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Patrick drops the wing. ‘It’s a good bird. Healthy. He’ll taste delicious.’

  ‘Oh, it’s a he you killed is it?’

  ‘It’s exactly the same as meat you buy from the butchers. Except this one is fresher.’


  ‘Don’t you feel guilty?’

  Patrick looks at me like I’m crazy. ‘Guilty? Lord no. I’ve just caught our lunch.’ He pokes the bird. ‘I’d rather eat this than some scraggy little chicken that spent its life in a cage.’

  ‘I suppose he has had a good life.’

  Patrick laughs. ‘It’s an animal. Don’t go giving it a personality. Out here is the real world. You want to eat, you have to hunt. It’s as simple as that. If you eat meat, you ought to be able to kill it. Or at least see it be killed.’

  He has a point there.

  21

  ‘Well?’ says Patrick. ‘Are you going to sit there looking at it, or are you going to start plucking?’

  ‘Okay, okay. Give me a minute.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never plucked a bird before,’ says Patrick, with a half smile.

  ‘I have actually,’ I tell him haughtily. ‘A man used to come by the boat with chickens sometimes. I don’t know where he got them from, but they were cheap. It was the only time we could ever afford fresh meat. I’d pluck and gut them and make the meat last all week.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘I hadn’t seen it killed right in front of me.’

  ‘What difference does it make?’ Patrick asks.

  ‘All the difference in the world! That poor bird was alive a moment ago. And now it’s all limp and dead.’ I sigh. ‘But you’re right. I know you are. It doesn’t make any sense, the way I’m feeling. It’s irrational.’

  ‘Feelings are there to be mastered.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, taking a deep breath. ‘Right. Fine. I’ll pluck the damn thing.’

  ‘Good girl.’

  ‘Do you think you can manage not to patronise me for … oh I don’t know. An hour or so?’

  ‘For you, I can try.’

  22

  After I’ve plucked the bird, Patrick guts it with his knife and cleans the meat in a nearby stream. Patrick roasts the grouse on a spit.

  By the time our lunch is cooked I’m absolutely starving.

  Patrick slices up grouse with his knife and we eat from leaves.

  ‘So where are we sleeping tonight?’ I ask, wrapping bird bones in leaves.

  ‘There’s a cave. A few miles from here. Near fresh running water.’

  I burst out laughing. ‘You have to be kidding me. You really are a caveman.’