by Linnea May
"Look at me."
I was in the process of closing my eyes, but his words pull me back. My face must be scarlet.
A corner of his mouth lifts when our eyes meet. He's so incredibly handsome, and his face is only inches away from...
"If you think this is for you, you're mistaken," he growls, interrupting my shame-filled thoughts. "I've been looking forward to this."
Before I fully grasp the meaning of his words, he leans down, his hands moving up my legs while his lips and tongue seek my center. I gasp and my eyes divert on instinct.
"No, you keep looking at me," he says, licking his lips as he locks me down with a mischievous look. "Watch me eat you out."
I don't think I've ever been this ashamed in my entire life, but I nod. And I watch as he moves back down, his tongue trailing along my soft lips on one side, then the other. His eyes don't leave mine when he moves closer to the center, drawing wet, hot circles around my most sensitive spot. I'm tensing up, trembling with anticipation as he slowly moves closer. This is so intense, so intimate. And the most confusing thing is that he appears to be enjoying it even more than I do.
He closes his eyes when he finally moves on to my clit, and I moan in ecstasy. Somehow, it's easier now. I can feel myself relaxing more and more, as embarrassment slowly turns into something else: eagerness.
He groans as he continues working my core with his skilled tongue, and the sound of his efforts only adds to my arousal. I'm tempted to close my eyes and allow myself to let go completely, but I manage to follow his order to watch him. I watch every single he makes. I watch how his face relaxes as he pleasures me, I watch how his strong fingers dig into the soft flesh of my inner thighs, I watch how strands of his beautiful hair drapes across my mound when he shifts lower to go in even deeper.
I groan desperately when he sucks on my clit, sending electric currents jolting through my core. He's bringing me too close too soon, and I don't want to make the same mistake I did the day before. I don't want to come without permission. It would be a disappointment, to both of us.
But he's not making it easy. Every motion of his adept tongue brings me closer, even when he's kind enough to surpass my hardened nub.
"Don't," I breathe between pulsating waves of bliss. "Please, I'm gonna-"
"Okay," he breathes out huskily. I can feel his hot breath fanning my core when he speaks. "Come for me."
I look down at him in disbelief, and he underlines his words by boosting his efforts. I can feel the climax building and building, threatening to force me over the edge.
"Really?"
I'm scared. I don't want to ruin this. But the quick glance he casts me assures me that he’s serious. He wants me to come.
When the rapture hits me, it doesn't come with the same vicious strength that tore through me last night. Instead, it's more like a warm hug, a steady waltz compared to the erratic spasms from yesterday. Still, I breathe through it as if I was overrun by pain. My eyes roll back into my head as I let the ecstasy wash over me. Gentle and placid, but by no means less intense.
I'm drenched in sweat and dizzy by the time the crests finally ease, each one ebbing more than the one before. I’m still riding a euphoric wave when he retreats, licking his lips and still eyeing me hungrily.
Chapter 24
Lena
"I'm not done with you."
His words cut into my sweet vertigo, causing me to finally open my eyes after the climax has receded completely. I squint as my eyes are met with unusually bright light. The room’s only light is the daylight shining in through the windows, which are fogged with snow vortexes, but it feels as if I have spotlights directed toward my face.
I can feel his hands moving along the insides of my legs, sliding up to my knees, applying less pressure than before. I squint dizzily at him, casting him a lopsided smile while I struggle to find my bearings.
"That was...," I breathe, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Weird."
"Weird?" he repeats, chuckling. "Not the reaction I expected."
I want to say something more, but I'm distracted when he hooks my legs with his arms and pulls me off the sofa. He prevents me from plopping down on the floor by catching me at the last moment, my head idly resting on the cushions as my ass meets the floor, his arms still locked under my legs.
"Don't get too comfortable," he warns, leaning forward and reaching around my back.
He unties the knot from around my wrists, but then moves my arms to the front and reties the knot. I watch as he closes the robe’s belt around my wrists, securing it tightly before he lifts me by the shoulders. He reaches behind me, grabbing the robe and sprawling it out on the floor next to me.
I watch him curiously, my tied-up hands resting in my lap as he considers his next move.
"Are you on birth control?"
The question hits me by surprise, but I nod.
"Yes, I've been on the pill forever."
"Good," he says. He grabs me by the shoulders again and turns me around, pushing me to lie down. I can't support myself because of my tied-up arms, so he slowly lowers me down to the floor. Once I'm lying on my back, he is on top of me in an instant, his face hovering over mine, so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my lips.
"Then you won't mind if I fuck you bare."
I gasp. It's a statement, not a question. My heart is hammering with excitement when he grabs my hands and pulls them up and over my head. He pins them down with one hand and leans in for a kiss. He's gentle at first, exploring, as if he was tasting me for the very first time. I can taste a hint of myself on his lips, and it fuels me with a new wave of desire.
He lets go of my hands, but I know I'm not supposed to move them, so they remain resting above my head, as if he was still pinning them down to the floor.
I gasp when he straightens up and reaches down between my legs, toying with my wet center as he begins stroking his length with his other hand. Lust transforms his face as he finds his rhythm, pleasuring both of us at the same time. I squirm under his watchful eyes, spreading my legs and encouraging him by shifting my hips toward him.
He doesn't need to be told twice. The tip of his cock parts my lips, and he continues massaging my clit. I beam up at him, awaiting his assault.
It comes with sudden savagery. He pistons forward, stretching my core with one fierce thrust as he slides into me. I groan in appreciation when I take him in. It hurts, just as it hurt yesterday. He throws caution to the wind when ramming his massive girth inside of me - and I love it.
He fucks like a beast, shoving himself in and out of me almost viciously as my insides stretch to accommodate him. His hands sink into the flesh around my hips as he lifts me up, exerting even more power over me. I feel like a rag doll, helpless under his ferocious touch.
But there's one thing missing. One thing I'm almost too scared to ask for, because it's a perilous thing to wish for.
"Choke me!"
The plea escapes my lips before I can stop myself. "Please, Jason. Choke me."
He looks alarmed for a moment, and for a split second, I regret making that request. It's too weird, too dangerous. Am I even allowed to ask for something like this?
He's happy to oblige. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth when his hand closes around my throat. He doesn't apply any pressure at first, only resting his hand there, his fingers loosely wrapped around my neck while he continues to fuck me like a savage.
"Please..."
My voice sounds like that of a stranger. I don't recognize it, not at all. This could be anyone, a strange girl asking her predator to choke her until she passes out.
But I'm the one asking for it. I want it so badly.
Finally, he gives into my longing. His grip tightens around my throat. At first, it's barely enough to do more than hold me in place as he thrusts into me, but the pressure grows stronger with every shove. Every time his cock spreads my tight walls, he increases the pressure on my neck.
He varies
the degree of force on me, tightening and easing the grip on my throat in a steady rhythm, cutting off air and giving me room to breathe. My breathing turns erratic and the ceiling above me begins to turn as a new kind of vertigo sets in. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be high? This dizziness, the disorientation, the sizzling pleasure...
"Come with me."
His voice is muffled. I can barely see or hear him, even when I try to focus. It's as if my mind is surrounded by thick, heavy clouds, like the ones outside dumping the heavy snow. Nothing I ever experienced compares to this strange ecstasy.
His hands close around my throat, harder than before. And this time, he leaves it like that. I can't breathe. Not this second, and not the next.
"Come."
I never thought I'd be able to follow through on the command, but I do. Just as the words leave his lips, I can feel the warmth flooding over me. My lips part as I gasp for air I cannot inhale. My face contorts as if I was being tortured, but it is pleasure that overwhelms me.
Even in my spaced-out state, I can feel him pulsating inside me when he finds his release. My muscles are clenching around him as if I want to stop him from ever leaving me. He forces himself into me one, two more times, before he freezes.
We remain like this, frozen like a stature, two lovers in the midst of delight, peaking in unison.
I mirror his frantic panting when he lets go of my throat, gasping for the precious air that's been stolen from me for the past few seconds. Breathing has never felt better, and it's never been more overwhelming. The more oxygen I'm able to get into my lungs, the clearer my mind becomes, and the stronger the ache that's taken a hold of my body.
He's still inside me, still hard, when he leans down on top of me, resting on his elbows, his face close to mine.
"You...," he breathes. Just that one word.
You.
I'm bereft of words, unable to fathom what just happened, let alone comment on it.
Luckily, I don't have to say a word. He understands, because he's been there, and whatever just happened to me, happened to him, too.
Chapter 25
Jason
"Are you sure you know how to do this?" she asks. She’s standing a safe distance behind me, observing as I get ready to let the ax fly down on the first chunk of wood. I note a certain tone of arrogance in her voice that I don't care for.
I turn my head in her direction and roll my eyes at her. She's huddled up in heavy winter gear, a white cat-ear beanie completing the ensemble. It's so fucking cute that I can't stop myself from grinning every time I look at her. That little minx.
"I mean, I can show you how to do it," she adds. There’s a definite twinkle in her eye when she casts me a condescending smirk, her arms crossed in front of her chest.
"You just watch it, little girl."
I point my finger at her, once again grateful that she lent me these heavy gloves. Not once as I was packing my suitcase did I ever anticipate that I’d be spending a lot of time outside in the cold. My winter coat and cashmere scarf would suffice for short trips from door to cab and cab to door, but it certainly wasn’t sufficient for standing outside in her yard, chopping wood to keep the fire in the fireplace burning so we’re able to stay warm.
I don't like her watching me. Her assessment is spot-on: I've never done this before, so I lack her experience. But how hard can it be? After all, chopping wood is about strength as much as it is about precision, and I certainly outperform her in that regard. I turn back to the piece of wood in front of me and lift the ax over my head, bringing it down at what feels like the perfect angle. She doesn't even try to suppress her laughter when I miss the log on my first attempt, and the ax gets stuck in the wooden block beneath it.
I growl in anger as I struggle to wrench it back out.
"You know, chopping wood is actually dangerous work, so let me just-"
"I can do this!" I cut her off, sounding like a stubborn child.
"All right."
I can hear her trying to hide her laughter, but I'm not letting her win this easily.
Besides, I'm going to remember this later.
I finally extract the ax out of the wood and set in for another try. This time, as I swing the ax back down, it hits the log right in the middle, splitting a good half of it thanks to the force of my blow.
"Nice," she remarks.
"Told you."
I maneuver the ax out of the wood, and I can hear her gasping behind me, about to say something, but she stops herself.
It takes me two more swings to fully split the log, and by the time I'm done with it, she's standing next to me, a smirk on her face that does not bode well.
"You really think you're better at this?" I ask her, motioning to the log at our feet.
She nods. "Who do you think has been doing this for the past few years? My Oma?"
I snort and shake my head. "This is a man's job. You don't have the strength. Trust me, it'll be faster if I do it."
"You won't even let me try?"
She throws me a challenging look, and then she confidently reaches for the ax in my hand. I'm reluctant to let it go, but she grabs it, yanking on it until I'm willing to let it go.
"Fine," I say, taking a few steps back. "Don't hurt yourself."
She scoffs and bends down to retrieve another log from the pile and place it on the chopping block. We're standing on a sheltered veranda out of the elements, but even here, the snow has been drifting in and piling up the past few days. The stack of seasoned logs she has stored up against the wall of the house has mostly been spared from heaviest snow, but we had to clear the area around it before we could start chopping.
I don't trust her confidence, and feel the beginning flutter of worry in my gut as I take a few step backs to give her some leeway. The ax looks gigantic in her hands, and it's hard to believe that she could actually handle it considering her comparably small frame. As it turns out, she's another example of how looks can be deceiving. Awe suffuses my features when she swings the ax for the first time, finalizing the motion with a perfect landing that splits the log in front of her in a single blow.
"That was a smaller log!" I argue, when she throws me a cheeky grin over the shoulder.
"Sure it was!"
She purses her lips in concentration, returning her efforts to the chopping block. Lena places another log on top of it and splits it with the same precise elegance as she did the first time. And then she does it again. I stand and watch mesmerized, unable to hide the wonder and astonishment filling me as I watch this beautiful girl chop wood as if it was second nature.
Only her breathing tells me that I wasn't completely wrong. She may have more practice at this than I do, but it still takes a fair amount of effort since she lacks my body strength and endurance.
"Let me try again," I say, after she's successfully assaulted another piece of wood.
She's panting, and little drops of sweat are running down the sides of her face when she turns to me.
"All right, big man," she says, under heavy breaths. "Let me show you how it's done."
I can't even be mad at her sassy attitude right now, because the genuine smile on her face fills me with a soothing warmth that radiates through my chest. It’s something that I have never felt before.
I'm so utterly and completely fucked.
Chapter 26
Lena
It's beginning to get dark outside, which means it's time for Risu to scavenge for food. I hate having to lock her up in that cage now that her leg is making such progress. But every time I open the door to her cage, I can see Jason flinching and relaying dark, nervous looks. He's not comfortable with her at all, and as much as I enjoy teasing him, I can respect his aversion to "the little rodent," as he calls her.
I'm all the more surprised when he doesn't fight me on leaving her out to roam for a while when it's time for her to indulge in a few nuts.
"That little hog won't stray too far when there's food to gnaw on," he s
ays, watching her from a safe distance, as she sits on top of her cage working on her first hazelnut. "I think I'll be fine."
I pet Risu on the head, something she doesn't appreciate, especially while she's eating. She shies away from me, her bushy tail twitching.
I head back to check on the batch of mulled wine simmering on stove.
"There is less sugar in it this time," I say, when I bring him his mug. "Should be less risk for a headache tomorrow morning."
"Thank you," he says, smiling appreciatively. "You didn't have a headache this morning?"
I roll my eyes. "Please. I'm European, and we didn't drink that much."
"Don't be so smug, little girl. I can still drink you under the table. Mulled wine just isn't my usual drink of choice."
"Well, it's not meant to be chugged down in large quantities," I scold teasingly. "You don’t drink it through a beer bong."
"Do you honestly think that's what I usually do?"
He frowns, looking visibly offended, and I hurry to shake my head.
"Of course not. Not someone like you," I correct. "I take you more for a whisky guy."
He laughs and nearly chokes on the wine in his mouth. "I see why you'd think that, but no. I don't care much for whisky - much to the dismay of my father."
We're sitting on the couch again, the same couch he has fucked me on several times already. The robe I was wearing this morning is hanging over the back of the sofa, as is the belt he used to tie me up. After we came back inside from chopping wood, he stripped me right away for a quickie. I don't think I've ever had that much sex within such a short amount of time. And it all happened down here, in this very room. It strikes me funny for a moment that we’re both actually dressed right now. Jason hadn’t packed for a winter storm, and since there haven’t been any men living in this house for years, there wasn't really anything I could lend him. I found a hooded sweater that is way too big on me, and it makes for an odd combination with the jeans he's wearing.
