by Frankie Love
I need to splash cool water all over myself. I need that ache in my belly to be taken care of.
Maybe I’m just hungry.
I look over at the refrigerator in the corner, and know in an instant this craving has nothing to do with wanting to be fed.
It was to do with wanting someone to eat me.
Oh my gosh. I clamp my hand over my mouth, shocked at my own vulgar thoughts.
But I know it isn’t the first time I’ve thought this way.
So many times I’ve asked God for forgiveness over wanting the things I shouldn’t. So many nights I’ve laid in bed, imagining a strong, rugged man running his hands over me. Wanting to put my hands down there, wanting to rub my hands over my nipples, as I imagined a man doing the same thing to me.
But I’ve always refrained, practiced self-control. Repented for having such forbidden ideas about men and their parts.
Not that I’ve ever actually seen a man’s parts. I’ve never seen a man naked, never seen a cock—a word I used in my own head after hearing rebellious girls at church camp talk about having sex and using the word cock in their descriptions.
I love the sound of the word. Cock implies something hard and dirty. It offers a fullness that a word like penis never could. Those girls had referred to their vaginas the same way, calling them pussies.
While I’ve never spoken either word aloud, I’ve imagined saying them. Of course, I’d never have been able to talk to Luke that way. He always spoke about God’s word. Which, who knows if he meant any of it.
He ran off on me.
Gosh, I do not want to think about Luke right now.
I want to think about Jax.
Which I know is completely inappropriate.
I put my coat on one of the hooks by the door and yank off my heavy boots as gracefully as I can. Which is to say, not very.
When Jax walks back into the cabin, my rear end is probably the first thing he sees, as I’m bent over trying to tug off one of my boots.
“Need help?” he asks.
“Ugh. Pathetic, right?”
“Not pathetic. These kind of shoes are motherfuckers.”
When I grimace, he asks, “What, you don’t like a man who swears?”
“I just haven’t been around many is all.”
“What, your daddy a preacher or something?”
My face feels flushed and, when I shrug, Jax laughs.
“Fuck. Shit, I didn’t know. No wonder you’re acting like a lost puppy. You’ve probably never been off your leash.”
As he says that his wolfhound walks over to him and nuzzles his leg.
“It wasn’t a leash.” I smile and shrug again. “More like a harness.”
Jax gives a bigger laugh this time, setting down my bag and taking off his coat. Revealing that rock hard chest again.
“But they let you take off the harness to come to the woods in the dead of winter, alone?”
“It was necessary. And it’s not my parents who kept me tied up so much as my fiancé. Ex-fiance. My parents are decent, and knew a little time on my own was what I needed. I’m not a child; I’m a grown woman. They know I can take care of myself.”
“Which is why you’re in my cabin without any clothes to wear.”
“Hey,” I say, finally able to yank my boot off in a huff. “That wasn’t intentional.”
“Still, sometimes we make choices subconsciously because they’re what we really want.”
Every time he speaks, my body warms up a bit more. I’ve already taken off my boots and coat, but if he keeps this up, I think I’ll be down to my panties in no time.
“I don’t subconsciously want to be here without any clothing.”
Jax runs his hand over his thick beard and smirks.
“Maybe it isn’t so subconscious. Maybe it’s exactly what you wanted to do.”
“You saying you know what I want?” I ask, standing a few feet in front of him.
“I think I know exactly what you want.”
I toss him a flippant smile. “Then I’m sure a gentleman like yourself knows I’m starving.”
“Oh, honey, I’m no gentleman.” He walks toward the kitchen and I trail after him.
“What are you then, Jax?” I ask as he lifts the lid off a Dutch oven, revealing a roast with potatoes and carrots. The whole cabin smells like rosemary and fresh pepper. Divine.
“I’m a bad boy—one you couldn’t handle if you tried.”
“You don’t know what I can handle. I just met you about ten minutes ago.”
“Maybe you’re right. I didn’t scare you off with my cursing or my tattoos or my axe.” His eyes dart over the fire and land on the polished tool.
“You don’t scare me at all.”
Jax sets the lid back on the pan.
“Maybe you don’t want to eat right now?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.
My throat tightens. Oh dear, this is getting a little too real, too fast. I don’t know what complete indecency has taken hold of me, but I need to backtrack, ASAP. I need to get to neutral, God-fearing territory. I need to eat my dinner and say thank you and go to bed.
That. Is. All.
I watch as Jax tugs off his flannel altogether, revealing tattoos covering his arms, too. I want to inch toward him, examine each piece of art—but I know I can’t. Actually, I could; I just don’t trust myself.
I don’t trust myself not to take his big hand and push it down the front of my pants.
Oh my goodness!
I must really be having a nervous breakdown about Luke leaving me.
I’ve never entertained the idea of having sex before marriage vows, and here I am wanting Jax, a perfect stranger, to undo me.
“It really is hot in here,” Jax says, walking to the fire and dropping another log on the already burning ones. “If you get hot, honey, just take off another layer.”
“I don’t have anything under my sweater,” I say, knowing a thin lace bra is the only thing between this sweater and my bare skin.
“No worries. I know it can get real hot in here, though.” He tries to hide a smile, but he does a poor job of it. He unhooks his belt buckles, and rips the belt from the loops, then tosses it to the floor. It skitters across the wooden floorboards.
I drop my jaw, realizing his game. He’s gonna create a sweat lodge in here, forcing me to take everything off.
I turn back to the food and lift the lid.
“Mmmm, smells good. I’m gonna eat.”
Jax saunters over to me, his body right behind mine, and he leans over my shoulder, looking at the roast. A hardness presses against my bottom and I have to force myself to step forward, step away from him.
What I really want, what my body impulsively desires, is to arch myself right into him. The hardness that I feel press against me drenches my panties.
I’ve never experienced so much wetness down there, and it forces me to clench the lips of my pussy tight, as if I am scolding myself for such ideas.
But as I clench the lips of my pussy, it only makes the desire grow. This is all so new for me, these mounting sensations. I’ve never had them once with Luke. Never had them in my life.
Now I feel like I am on fire.
Just like those logs burning in the fireplace Jax has stoked.
Instead of pushing himself back into me though, he backs off and reaches around me for two plates.
“Have a seat,” he tells me, as he places the plates on the table. I do as I am told.
He brings the pot to the table and scoops some vegetables onto our plates, and cuts a few slices of the roast for us as well.
Before he sits down, he grabs two pint glasses from the freezer and then pulls the tap on a second, smaller fridge. He fills each with frothy, amber beer.
Bare chested, his jeans slung low on his hips, hinting at what is below, he hands me a glass.
I take it nervously.
“Cheers,” he says, clinking his glass to mine.
“Cheers,” I say,
raising it ever so slightly but not taking a sip.
He takes a long swig, and eyes me warily when I don’t follow suit.
“It’s the good stuff, I swear,” he says. “I made it myself.”
“I believe you, it’s just … I’ve never had a drink before.”
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he scoffs. “Wait, let me guess. It’s against your fucking religion?”
“Yes,” I say defensive. “My family isn’t super uptight or anything like that, but we don’t drink alcohol. And I don’t really mind. I’ve never felt the desire to go against my father’s wishes. Or even been in a situation where it was offered.”
Jax sets down his glass, nearly empty.
“How old are you?” he asks.
“Twenty-one, why?”
“Just checking. I’ve never met a woman who hasn’t been to a bar.”
“Why would I ever go to a bar?” I ask, picking up my fork and spearing a potato.
“To meet a man like me.”
“Then why are you alone in a cabin in the woods and not in some swanky bar in the city, with other hipsters, drinking fancy beer?”
“I’m not a hipster,” Jax says, but his artisan beer and beard and flannel say otherwise. When I laugh, he fake-glares at me. “That is a low blow, Harp.”
“Already with the nicknames, Jaxon?”
He smiles at this, and it warms me up again. Not the heating up between the legs warmth—something comforting and safe.
“To answer your question, I don’t go to bars because this is my home now. I used to live in the city, but I’m done with that scene.”
“Why?” I ask. “What in the world could make a man like you decide to come out here?”
His eyes drop to his plate, and I can see that he isn’t ready to open up to me.
Not like that.
But oh, my heart, I’m ready to open up to him.
I know it’s wrong, but as he looks down at his plate, all soulful and full of a past I know nothing about … I can’t help but wonder if maybe tonight isn’t about either the past or the future.
Maybe it is about being present, waking up tomorrow a new person.
Maybe I can Keep Calm and Carry On, by letting go of the one thing I’ve held so tightly to.
My virginity.
CHAPTER 4
JAX
Something has shifted in the room when I look back up, and into Harper’s eyes.
I can tell her mind is working in overdrive.
I don’t want her to think at all.
We finish our food in silence. But she’s mostly pushing the food around her plate and then looking at me, blushing, and then looking away.
“What the hell is going on, woman?” I ask her, hoping her answer will be what I want it to be.
She sighs, then drops her fork.
“It’s just getting so hot in here,” she says, breathlessly. “I think you were right. Maybe I should take off some layers.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have any layers,” I answer smugly.
“I was wrong. I have one layer under my sweater. I have on my bra.” She swallows, looks down at her chest, as if this is the dirtiest thought she’s ever had in her whole damn life.
Fuck, maybe it is.
And maybe the things I want to do with her are the dirtiest things I’ve ever desired.
And that is saying one hell of a lot.
“Well, do what you need to do, honey,” I say, pushing away from the table, my legs kicked open, my thumbs hanging on the loops of my pants.
“Oh, I know what I need to do, Jaxon,” she says. She stands and walks to the fire. Her back is to me as she reaches for the hem of her sweater. She pulls it over her head in one fell swoop.
My hard cock is aching for her to turn around, to reveal herself to me.
I want to see her big beautiful breasts exposed.
Above the waist of her pants is bare skin and then the band of her bra. I want to snap it off her. Lick her from her nipples to her pussy and back again.
But first I want her to turn around.
“I’ve never done something like this before,” she whispers into the fire.
Harper is different from the women in my past. Sure, those women were strangers, just like Harper. Just like her, they were looking for something with a desperation, a need—a hunger for my cock to satiate them the way only a one night stand can offer.
But Harper is nothing like those women.
She isn’t experienced, has never been filled the way I intend to fill her now.
I moved to the woods because I needed to get away from everyone. Once the Sherriff started screwing with our business, I knew there was no point in sticking around. I thought that taking my money and moving out here, to the woods, would be enough.
But I was wrong. Nothing will be enough unless I can have Harper.
Not forever—I don’t do that bullshit. But one night? Yes. One night is something we both need.
I walk over to her at the fire, my cock aching with each step I take.
“I’m so nervous,” she admits, still not turning around. “I was going to save myself for marriage. But maybe….”
“Maybe you were really just saving yourself for me,” I growl, placing a hand on her shoulder and spinning her to face me.
Her eyes are filled with desire, with longing. I can’t wait to fill everything up. And I know I will. Just as I guessed, she’s a virgin. And her tight pussy is gonna explode when I set her down on my thick wood.
She’ll never be able to walk again without thinking of my cock inside of her.
Looking down I take in her perfect round breasts. I want to take off that bra so I can see her nipples, so I can run my hands over them, massage them, suck them as she sucks me.
“Are they okay?” she asks, looking down at her breasts. “I’ve never taken my shirt off for a man before.”
A smile dances over her lips.
“I did take off my top once with my fiancé,” she adds. “I was trying to see how far we could go before he made me stop … but he wasn’t a man. He was nothing like you.”
“So he’s the one who wanted to stop before?” I ask, surprised. “Not you?”
“Does that make me slutty?” she asks. The word on her lips shock me. Everything about her has been so sweet and sincere—a word like that sounds so crass.
I like it.
“Wanting to make love is not slutty. It’s natural,” I tell her.
She bites her lip, her eyes dancing with the light of the fire. “I don’t want to make love.”
“What do you want?” I ask, lifting my hands to her chest, palming her beautiful lace bra. I want to pull it off, reveal her fully, but I want to take it slow, too, since it’s her first time.
“I want to be fucked,” she says.
I grin, unable to suppress it. This girl is making me insane.
She has been sheltered, but she wants to be set free.
I can unleash the collar around her neck, show her how to be wild.
It’s what I’ve practiced my whole goddamned life.
I slide down the straps of her bra, using my fingers to unclasp the back. It falls to the floor, and her breasts tumble out.
“Fuck, your breasts are gorgeous.”
“Don’t call them that,” she says, shaking her head adamantly. “I want you to call them tits. I want you to use the words I’ve never been allowed to say.”
“Your tits are fucking gorgeous, Harper,” I tell her truthfully. Because they are. They are the most gorgeous tits I’ve seen in my life.
“I’m glad you like them,” she says earnestly. “Now … show me your cock.”
HARPER
I can’t believe this is happening. It’s the one thing I swore I would never, ever do before I was married.
The one thing I’ve imagined doing for so long.
And now I’ve taken off my bra … or, rather, Jax has taken off my bra.
I never even g
ot this far with my fiancé.
But Jax is nothing like him.
Thank you, God.
And now I lick my lips in anticipation. I have never seen a cock in my life. Not even a picture, not in a movie—because of course porn was beyond off-limits in my parents’ house.
But I have imagined them.
I heard them described by those girls I went to camp with when I was a teenager. But since I finished my homeschool education and graduated, I’ve never spent enough time away from the house to be exposed to anything forbidden.
I helped my mom with my younger siblings, all nine of them. I never moved out because I was waiting to be the wife, the helpmate to Luke.
Before he abandoned me.
And the thing is, I wanted the life I was supposed to have with him. Simple, domestic. I still want to have babies, be a mother, homeschool my kids, and make dinner for my husband. I just don’t know when I will ever trust the men in our congregation again.
What if the other men who want to court me are like Luke? What if they end up being liars?
I can’t think of that, because that is the future. And when I decided to take this one night as something for myself, I said I wouldn’t think of the past or the future.
Just the now.
Keep Calm and Carry On.
“You are gonna love it,” Jax says, unbuttoning his pants, not at all insecure. Not like me.
I’m so scared I’m going to do it all wrong, have bad sex and not give him what he needs. Because I know that’s what sex is about—giving a man the thing they desire. At least that’s all I’ve ever been taught in regards to my wedding night.
“I’ve never seen one before,” I admit in a whisper.
“Well, honey, this is gonna be a fucking treat.” He drops his pants, pulls at the band of his boxer briefs, and reveals his cock, in all of its naked glory.
I gasp, not able to contain myself.
“That is so pretty,” I tell him, my eyes growing wide as I take it in. His cock is a hard rod, easily ten inches. The thickness is more than I imagined. I thought I’d be able to put my hand around it easily, but this is much bigger than that … bigger than….
Oh my gosh, how could that fit inside me?
