by Velvet Veers
* * * *
The cabin stood nestled in a wooded area overlooking the lake. Once she slid out of the Jeep, Claire stood looking at the water. A peace she'd never known washed over her. Walleye Joe came up behind her, wrapping her tightly in his arms while pulling Claire back against him. Warmth joined the peaceful sensation and total happiness, a feeling she'd never had, exploded in her.
"It is beautiful here. I think you might be right. I may never leave."
"I could only be so lucky.” He kissed her neck and went to retrieve the luggage.
After a few minutes of enjoying the view and the tranquility, Claire walked into the cabin and removed her snow-covered boots. A fire roared in the fireplace and she smiled with contentment, realizing he had seen to this comfort for her before he unloaded the luggage. Her eyes misted at his considerate nature. No man she'd ever been with had ever been truly thoughtful and caring with her. Maybe it was the independent streak she showed to the world, but even so, men should know women like to be taken care of sometimes. It was the little acts of kindness that meant so much.
She was standing by the fire, holding her hands in front of it when Walleye Joe deposited the luggage in the middle of the living room. He walked up behind her and kissed the back of her neck, running his hands down the sides of her arms. Claire shivered when his warm, wet lips touched her sensitive skin. She wanted more, much more. Would she never be satiated with this man?
He lifted her shirt over her head and unsnapped her bra. Dipping his hands gently into the small of her back, his lips touched her dewy skin softly, sending her libido through the roof. His hands roamed to her front and kneaded her breasts, and wetness pooled in the center of her loins, desire surging through her with insistent force. She panted breathlessly as her heat mounted.
She could barely contain her excitement when his hands moved down to her waist, gently easing her pants down her legs while he lovingly kissed his way down one butt cheek, moving slowly to the other. Moving his hands to her clit, he stroked her while he pressed his lips hard against hers, his tongue urgently exploring the delicate membranes inside her mouth, imploring, teasing, inviting more. All her senses were alive and singing, her clit swelling in response to his dexterity. Claire turned to face him, placing her hands on his shoulders to brace her fall. Spreading her thighs wider to receive him, Joe flicked his tongue over her clitoris, and then stopped, his hot tongue resting on the tip.
"Ohmigod, Joe,” Claire screamed, as she pushed harder against the force of his hot, liquid movements. “I'm going to come."
Joe's breathing grew hard and urgent, his face feverish as he buried his tongue in her canal. Finally he came up for air. “Nothing could give me more pleasure.” He placed his hands under her buttocks and pulled her in to reach deeper with his tongue.
"It feels incredible the way you use that hard, thick tongue of yours. You make me feel so good. Nobody's ever made me feel this good, Walleye. But I don't want to come yet. I want us to climax together. I want to feel you come inside of me while I come."
Joe slowed down, circling her nub again, and made her stomach clench and release with the erotic sensation.
She slid her hands into his hair and moved his head in the rhythm that gave her the most pleasure. He talked to her and moaned with pleasure, the vibrations of his voice on her pussy sending her back to the sky again. She cared about nothing except that glorious warm tongue and silky sensation of his beard rubbing the sides of her thighs.
The dam built inside her until she tensed and cried out, “I'm going over the top, baby. Here I go, Joe,” and she tensed with her release, then collapsed into her own heat, waves of orgasm pulsating through her loins, her muscles taut then quivery.
After kissing his way back up her body, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his pants. In short order, he had removed all his clothing and gently tugged Claire down to the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. Claire lay nude on the rug, her pussy still drenched from her orgasm, perspiration illuminating her skin.
She looked up at the spectacular male specimen before her, his penis pointing straight out in front of him, hard as an iron girder, the firelight flickering off his perfectly splendid musculature. She raised her arms to him, desire building again in her like a never-ending inferno.
"Make love to me, Joe, all night. I want to wake up in the morning full of you. I want it to ache when I walk so I can remember our love-making with every step I take."
He knelt down on the rug next to her, placing his hand on her bush, sliding a finger between her labia, and she felt her juice run down his hand. She grabbed his penis and rolled it in her hands as he stroked her velvety wetness, removing his finger and licking it. Then he descended slowly on top of her, her hand still on his penis. Claire spread her legs wide as she guided his penis into her tunnel.
Joe pulled out until only the tip of his penis spread her opening wide, and her hips drew up for him to sink deeper. She slapped the cheeks of his buttocks, gently at first, then harder. On the last slap, she pulled him down, feeling him diving deep into her constricting fortress. As she contracted her vaginal muscles around his penis, he built up speed, breathing hard and erratic, wild and untamed, like an elk in rut.
She kept up with the rhythm, feeling his balls slap hard against her skin, and the tip of his penis hit the back wall of her vagina, probing, boring, drilling deeper. When his hands moved up and down the curves of her body, her muscles tightened and she began to quake with the impending implosion.
"Oh, Joe, I'm going over the top. Come with me, baby.” She saw the glazed look in his eyes as he pumped harder, his face drawn in an ecstatic grimace.
"Oh, Claire,” he roared. “You're making me come, baby. Here I go.” Collapsing onto her, she felt his penis pulse, releasing his juice into the depths of her being.
Claire dug her nails into his shoulders. When she kissed the spot, she tasted blood. She'd never felt so sensual, sexual, wild—and free—like an animal that had been in civilization for too long and had just been let loose in the wilds. Glancing out the window, she could see the silvery full moon, clouds scudding over it, and then she heard it—the lonely howl of a timber wolf calling across the woods.
With Joe still inside her, she reveled in his sweaty weight on top of her and the musky scent of raw sex. She never wanted to leave this place. A new and ancient part of her had been reborn tonight.
* * * *
Claire woke up shivering. Walleye Joe's heat had vanished but she heard the heavy stomping of boots on the porch. The door opened and he entered, carrying a load of wood, a huge gust of wind slamming the outer door behind him.
Kicking the inside door closed with a foot, he dumped the load of wood in front of the fireplace and began stacking it. “Cold?” he asked.
She snuggled further under the blanket he'd thrown over her and smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for the blanket."
"Well, it wouldn't suit my purposes for later if I let you freeze to death now. I'm going to bring some more logs up on the porch to dry. When you get warm and toasty, how about opening some cans of stew from the kitchen pantry and heating them up? I'll go into town and get groceries tomorrow."
"Stew. That sounds heavenly. Will do."
Joe left the cabin again. As soon as the fire warmed the cabin, Claire began to dress—under the covers, of course. The romance of the howling wolves and the call of the loons didn't feel quite so appealing in the stark, freezing cold morning. All she wanted to do now was hibernate under the covers—an electric blanket that she could control the thermostat, unlike the one in her body.
Once dressed, she went to the kitchen and opened the cans. Thank goodness Mr. Wilderness doesn't have one of those wood-burning stoves for cooking, she thought. She'd heard that in some antique Minnesota cabins, that's all they had to warm the cabin and cook on.
Waiting for the stew to heat, she grabbed Joe's telephone to touch base with Sam. “Hey, Sam, it's me, Claire."
Sam let out
a sigh of what sounded like relief. “Claire, where the hell have you been? I've been ready to send an all points bulletin out on you."
"I'm in Minnesota with a wilderness freak. It's a long story, Sam, and I don't have time to go into it right now, but I wanted you to know that someone attacked me in my car and then ransacked my apartment and stole my laptop, including all the software."
Sam waited until she finished before he exploded. “Shit! Are you all right, Claire? Level with me. If you need me to, you know I'll drop everything and come up there to get you."
"Thanks, Sam. I appreciate your concern. Yes, I'm fine. I was just a little shaken up at first. The guy I'm with, Walleye Joe, saved me from the attacker and has appointed himself my full-time bodyguard until we find out who's after me and why. I wanted to let you know where I am so you can contact me if you need to."
Claire gave Sam the phone number and general location of the cabin. The less anyone knew about her exact location, the better. Though she trusted Sam implicitly, she wasn't sure about all of her co-workers. Someone at the newspaper could possibly be working as a mole for the fishing commissioner—if that, in fact, was the source of the problem.
"I'm not sure when I'll be back. Walleye Joe has some friends of his investigating for me. I will tell you this, though, our prime suspect is the fishing commissioner since I have corruption evidence on him."
"Claire, listen to me. I'm relieved you're in Minnesota. I want you to stay there and stay low. The paper will get an investigator of our own and I'll let you know when I find out something."
"Thanks, Sam. You take care as well. If this person or people find out you're sniffing them out, you could very well be in danger, too."
Claire went back to the kitchen and had the stew in the bowls by the time Walleye Joe came in from the arctic tundra. He stomped his feet by the door and took off his boots and coat. “Whoa ... it's starting to snow again. We might even be in for a mini-blizzard tonight.” Joe's eyes lit up. “That means great fishing tomorrow. Have you ever been ice fishing?"
"No. I've never been any kind of fishing—except in the seafood section of the grocery store."
"What? You've never fished? You just don't know what you're missing. Well, I'll do my best to remedy that tomorrow. Among other things.” He cast her a teasing—inviting—glance.
She coyly tossed her hair over her shoulder. “It's too cold outside for my blood. I think I'll just curl up by the fireplace with a book. I don't want to go fishing."
"Sure you do. Everyone likes to fish. Where is that reporter inquisitiveness now—that adventuress I saw in you? I dare you."
Claire crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the floor in a huff. Damn, he dared me. How could he possibly know she was a sucker for dares? “Okay, smarty pants, I'll try it, but I refuse to bait the hook. And if my fingers or butt gets cold, I'm heading back to the cabin where I'll keep the home fires burning until you come in with your catch."
Laughing, Walleye Joe said, “That's part of fishing, honey."
As he took his last bite of stew, Joe announced it time for bed.
"What?” Claire exclaimed. “It's only eight o'clock."
"This is the midwest, sweetheart. Everybody's in bed by nine. That's part of the reason why Minnesota sports such large families. Not much activity at bedtime—except one I've been thinking of quite a bit over the past few days."
Claire grinned, feeling her face warm. It was one thing to cut loose in bed like a newly awakened Aphrodite, and another thing to talk about it in the light of day with a new lover. But the thought sounded rather appealing.
* * * *
Joe, sensing a bit of modesty for the first time in this most brazen woman, walked over and kissed her ear, rolling his tongue around the hollow. He marveled at the goose bumps that appeared on her flesh. He could tell he was getting under her skin—and fast. He sensed her reaction to him was that her base instincts took over and she had no control.
Joe took her in his arms and whispered, “So how sore were you today after our all night love-making session?"
She looked up at him. “On a scale of one to ten, I would say an eight. But I'm not complaining. It's a good kind of uncomfortable."
"Sooooo ... does that mean you're up for another round?"
Claire laughed. “I can't think of anything else to do on this cold, blustery night with the snow falling all around us. I mean we can't waste all this atmosphere, can we?"
"I don't believe in wasting anything.” Joe picked her up and walked to the bedroom. “See, I can be a gentleman after all. I bet you didn't think I had it in me."
Claire smiled at him tenderly. “I always knew that about you, Joe. I just had to pick through your frozen exterior. You'd been in the arctic tundra for far too long. I guess the south melted you a bit."
He looked at her in earnest, plopping her down on the bed as he unbuttoned his shirt. “It wasn't Dallas that caused my meltdown. It's you, Claire."
Joe gazed at her with such tenderness in his eyes that a lump formed in Claire's throat. She had to admit, she'd had a meltdown, too, in a different kind of way. Never had she felt this strong a bond with a man, this total sensual pleasure in his presence. She wanted him—not in an obsessive, possessive kind of way but in a sharing, caring way—with all the physical desires to go along with it. With Joe, everything felt fun, her senses were alive, and she was able to give, open herself up in a way she'd never been able to do with a man. She felt her heart open wider with every encounter. This felt right—and this was the last thing in the world she'd been thinking about or looking for.
Then the realization struck her. The bet—she'd won the bet!
Claire laughed out loud.
"Oh, making fun of the newly exposed now, are we?"
Claire laughed harder. “No, it's not that, Joe. I'll tell you later.” She stood up to remove her clothes and Joe sat on the bed—watching.
"Here, I'll put some music on,” he said.
Strains of Bob Dylan sang from the speakers. Claire began to swing her hips as she sensually drew her hands over her head to remove her shirt. Then she shimmied her pants down and let them fall down her legs.
* * * *
Joe held his penis, stroking as he readied for her.
Claire pushed him back on the bed, climbing on top of him. “I'll do all the work tonight. You just kick back and relax.” Claire sank down on top of him.
Joe could feel the heat and wetness already forming in her pussy. He reached up and kneaded her orbs, tweaking the nipples with his fingers. She looked like a goddess—her red hair wild and untamed—like the wilderness that surrounded them. Hearing a faint sound outside, he put his fingers to her lips. “Listen."
Claire heard a faint haunting call, almost like a dove. “What is that?"
"That's a loon, honey. Doesn't it sound beautiful?"
"Very seductive."
Joe laughed, his erection growing inside her. “Lucky for me. Good timing."
"As if you need any luck. Right now I think you have all you can handle."
Claire spread out on top of him, moving over his penis in circles. “And what would be your pleasure tonight, my dear?"
"Anything you do pleasures me enormously, Claire. I love you on top of me. You feel so good and soft.” His fingers searched for her pussy, and he found her clit.
Back and forth he stroked, until the redness filled her face again. She braced herself over him with her hands on the bed and moved her hips in circles. Then she grabbed his penis, sliding it into her, and lifting her body off of him, allowed only the tip of his penis to keep her open. Forcefully she slid back down on him enjoying the feel of his penis expanding her canal.
Joe felt her muscles clench his shaft, then release, as if massaging it. Her white, creamy skin glowed in the moonlight. Joe felt he'd never been so amorous, so sexual. Always before, he'd held something back. Not with Claire—she knew just how to move in tune with what pleasured him; her slick, w
hite, inner heat drew him deeper into her vagina, swallowing him. His passion rose to a peak quickly with the last thrust of hers, and he clenched her back, pulling her down on him harder, kissing her face, her mouth desperately, his tongue probing deep into her throat.
Then with a roar, he came, spilling his seed once again in the sweet ecstasy of the moment, willing it to last an eternity.
* * * *
The next morning before daylight, Walleye Joe, dressed and ready for a day of fishing, woke Claire gently, bringing her coffee in bed. Claire groaned, rolled over and put the covers over her head.
He patiently pulled down the covers, easing the coffee cup under her nose, hoping the aroma would give her a much-needed wake up jolt. “I made you coffee, princess. Now be a good girl and get up. The train leaves in fifteen minutes. Oh, yeah, dress real warm."
* * * *
She threw a pillow at his retreating back and heard him laughing as he walked into the kitchen. Luckily for her she had been snow-skiing a few times and had warm clothes. She wolfed down her coffee and layered her clothes, trying to remember what went over what. After twenty minutes, she hurried to the kitchen for another cup of coffee and found Walleye Joe missing.
Looking out the window, she saw him driving a four-wheeler, pulling a wooden structure that resembled a life-size playhouse. Curious, she donned her coat and gloves and stepped outside to investigate. He asked her to hop on the four-wheeler behind him and they took off, dragging the building behind them.
The lake, now a large white ice cube, loomed ahead of them. Claire did not feel comfortable riding on this contraption on the ice, although she could see others already fishing in their ice huts—they had not fallen through the ice.
"Are you sure this lake is solid enough for us to be on it, Joe? This building looks heavy to me."
"Don't worry. The ice measures around seventeen inches thick this time of year. That's strong enough to hold a medium size car or SUV."
"Okay, if you're sure. You're the expert.” She still held her breath until they stopped, expecting the ice to crack and swallow her any second. She watched the fish swim under the surface of the ice.
