by Candice Owen
She was seized by it. Stupid shoulder. Who knew that so many muscles and movements were connected to a seemingly single body part? She took a deep breath. A bead of sweat formed on her upper lip. She believed her shoulder hurt worse than the gunshot graze did at times. Recovered, she marched into the bathroom and searched drawers and cabinets for her clothing.
He seemed unmoved. He didn't even react to her flash of pain. She went into the kitchen and did the same. The kitchen had all essential appliances, both kitchen and laundry. She lifted the doors for the washer and the dryer. Then she stopped and thought to check out the kitchen window where she spied a laundry-line on which hung her clothing. He had washed them. She sauntered into the living room/bedroom, grabbed the cotton spread, made a makeshift toga out of it, and went outside the door.
By this time, Jason caught on that she found her clothing and was after her. Blanche was quicker and sprinted around the shack cottage away from him. Oh. she knew he would catch her soon, but she was going for it anyway.
"Come back here," he said. "Come back here."
Blanche grabbed her clothes from the vinyl line that strung across the trees and, with them in her grip, he swooped her up at the waist. "No," he said.
"Oh my God," she said; the activity way too much for her, especially after having been relaxed. She collapsed against his broad shoulders.
"Nice try,” he said. “I am not buying it."
But Blanche submitted, staying motionless against his shoulder as he carried her. He walked her into the cabin and set her down in one of the overstuffed chairs this time. He lifted her feet and draped them over the arms.
The position did wonders to alleviate the discomfort of her body. He sat on a wooden foot locked at the foot of the bed and lifted her chin so that they could regard one another directly. He took the clothing from her clutches and she offered no resistance.
"Want to try something else?" Without waiting for a response, he added, "Have you ever injured your rotator cuff before?"
She had, actually. Her aunt had beaten her once so badly she thought she was going to die. Instead, she came to with aches and pains for about two weeks, but she didn't want to tell him that. It would seem like she was trying to get his pity and she would be damned before that happened. She turned her head defiantly.
"I see," he said calmly. "Do you need a gentle reminder of who is in charge?"
She was unnerved. His behavior bordered on kinky and she didn't know if he was just playing with her or not. He had her all turned around. "No."
"Well, when you feel like answering my questions when I ask them...," he said and raised his eyebrows.
"No," she said shortly, lying. "This is the first time I've been injured like this. So I keep thinking it's going to go away. You happy?"
"Not yet," he said. "Sleep."
She wanted to resist but as soon as he said that, the room swirled. She had jet lag once in her life and this felt just like that. She let the weight of her head drop back against the decadent plump of the down pillows and slept. She stirred once in the middle of the night and felt his arms around her. He was bare-chested and though she was naked and beneath the cotton throw and he atop of it beneath his own cover, they slept together.
CHAPTER THREE
The sound of chopping awoke her. She had slept wickedly soundly. She saw her clothes folded in neat little squares at the foot of the bed. Blanche craned to look out of the window to see if she could spot him. He was out in a cut out of cleared space, chopping wood. She didn't understand what in the house required wood burning, because, from what she gathered, the stove and the fireplace operated on gas heat. She grabbed her clothes and went into the bathroom for a quick shower.
Blanche hit the faucet and pulled the lever. After a minute of standing under ice-cold water that seemed to get colder, not warmer the longer she waited, she abandoned the effort. She stepped out onto an alpaca rug and toweled. There was a tin of floral-scented body powder to which she helped herself. Hmm, she thought. Another woman has been here. Though the last few hours turned things in her heart for him, she was jealous.
The inviting aroma of coffee alerted her. She grabbed a cup and padded out on to the modest front porch.
When he saw her, he stopped and gave her a punishing gaze, "So how was your shower?" he asked rhetorically.
"Cold, much like the owner of this house," she answered. She smiled, which was the closest thing to a laugh that she experienced since she couldn't remember when. Jason stood the ax against the stump that he had been chopping wood on and leaned on it. "It was kind of funny, you have to admit."
"Were you not clear about the clothes?" he answered with a deadpan expression.
"I got it, okay?" she answered. "I am better off here than anywhere else. But I am not going to waltz around naked." She sipped her coffee. Her stomach was empty and the coffee was hard on it. "Is there anything to eat?" she asked urgently.
"Yes. Right away, princess," he glared as he gathered up an armful of wood.
She stepped off the porch onto the forest floor barefooted to do the same. He said, "No" clearly meaning she was not to help with the wood.
She scurried in after him waiting for him to be available so she could let him have it. "For the last time, Jason Fowler. I get that you hate me for what I was hired to do. And if you want me to be here while things settle down, done. Agreed. But leave. I would rather be left alone here without you and your amazing orgasms than have you mean-mug me all day long. I am not taking it. I grew up with a-" She cut herself off. She was not going to share something personal with him.
"What," he said. "Finish what you were about to say and I'll back off. For one day."
Blanche shook her head, "So this is a game," she said incredulously. "So how do you know if what I am saying is true or not? You just want an answer."
"Take it or leave it. The offer evaporates in about two seconds. So start talking," he said coldly.
"What do you want me to say, Jason? I've been through some shit before? There I said it. After my mother died and my grandmother died, the lady I thought was my aunt turned on me. Did a major head trip."
"Where was your dad?" he asked. He took her cup and sipped from it. He made a face like he didn't like the way it tasted and got up to the kitchen to remedy that.
"I don't know. Okay?" The subject built up a pressure within her that made her feel like she was going to burst. She heard chopping again, only it was his chopping against a cutting board. He brought a bowl of fruits that had been chilled and cut into chunks. In one hand, he held two cups of coffee. He put the cups on the chest and took one. Blanche had no appetite. "Eat," he ordered. While his tone was stiff she detected as slight bit of softness.
"I was hungry, but now I am not," she said. She drew her legs up to her hips and wrapped her arms around herself. "Can I please have some privacy? Just for five minutes."
He got up and lumbered over to her, "Too much?" he asked, though he wasn't expecting an answer. He spun her around so that her back was to him.
He climbed up on to the bed next to her. He plucked a chunk of fruit the bowl, icy honey dew and held it to her lips. She refused. "Open for me please," he said. His voice was low and soothing though she wasn't sure he intended that. Why did he have to say that? He knew that all he had to do was get next to her and she was weak-willed.
She parted her lips and he put a piece inside. Jason turned and put a leg to either side of her so he ensconced her.
"Stop," she ordered faintly, but the warmth of his fingers as he began kneading the muscles of her shoulders might as well have been fingers that were inside of her massaging and teasing her as if to coax a climax.
"Do you really want me to?" Jason's voice was low and seductive and raw like just before he got inside her. His mouth was next to her ears and her body buzzed at his warm breath washing over her skin.
"I am so mad at you," she countered. To which he just clicked his tongue and encouraged her back against him
so he could have access to the hem of her shirt.
He massaged her breasts with lascivious slowness. "I think that goes both ways," he said patronizing her, "but I promised a truce if you answered me. And you did. You don't want a truce?" His voice was still yet seductive. "Hmm?" He didn't wait for her to answer.
He unfastened the waist of her jeans. He now had her half naked with her shirt up and over her breasts which had been covered only by the sheer cotton of a black T-shirt with a motorcycle emblem, and her belly bared with her pants down around her hips.
Though she didn't respond, she didn't protest and he kept talking to her in the way, though she never said so out loud, that was like an erotic drug for her. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked in a super sweet compliant voice.
Blanche was drugged with arousal. The chemistry that she had with this man may have caused heartache, but it cured a lot of ills, as well. The radiating sexuality that corded through her relaxed all tension immediately. It opened up her body and made her crave to be filled with him.
Blanche was launched. The only focus in her mind, body, and spirit was to have sex with him.
She played pictures of his beautiful body, naked and shadowy, with his magnificent cock erect and eager for her. Blanche leaned down toward the feather bolster so she could offer herself to him.
Blanche wavered in and out of an erotic trip that was like it was psychedelically induced. She started playing a ‘best of’ slide show of memories of him above her about to be inside of her. Her body recalled the nearness of him, the feeling of his large powerful hands gliding up her back, over her breasts, over her thighs and ultimately between them. She relaxed against his broad and powerful body.
Jason kissed her ever so gingerly on the sensitive curve of her neck, an act that made Blanch fiercely wet and ache with a delicious emptiness. Despite the drama that stewed between them, they seemed to always connect through passion. As soon as that erotic chemistry revved up, that current that was always underlying, they seemed to be able to set aside their differences and fuse together in a blistering fire of pure sensuality. To Blanche, he was the ultimate man, even with his infuriating, self-righteousness and his controlling nature. In her heart, she told herself that he was understandably pissed off at her and for her past, but that he felt the same for her that she did for him.
As she relaxed to the bed and submitted to him, it was just the two of them and their heat. He was above her, his hair falling about him in such a romantic image; her beautiful man. She could feel his soft-skinned erection graze her thigh with intent. Her hips jutted up with age-old instinct to receive him. It was all she could think about to have him inside her. She reached between them to grip him but he propped upon one elbow and caught her hand.
"What is it you want?" he teased. An irresistible smile bent his lips.
"I need you," she rasped. She could hardly formulate a clear thought let alone a sentence.
"Oh," he responded with a soft scold, "you can do better than that." He guided her hand over his amazing cock. They were lightly working him together. He was so commanding. "Is this what you want?" He encouraged her hand to grip him firmly.
She shivered and catapulted into sensual insanity. She was pretty sure she moaned. “It is,” she said.
He rolled her to her side and spooned with her. He guided her leg over his until they were entwined. It was the perfect position for her to receive him. It was all she could think of, his being inside of her, the feeling, the wonder as he slid into her. Together they reached between, she to give herself pleasure and he to stop her.
“No,” he said firmly. “Not yet. I want you to savor this.”
She was super wet for him and he pumped her gently in short, slow but powerful motions. It was just about the most erotic experience ever. The newness of it floored her. So wanton. So carnal.
He lifted the thigh that rested upon him and manipulated it to adjust the tension of her body so as to vary the sensations that he gave her. He levered it up and down, causing her to pump against him. The result was that she had an intensely building climax. If he kept that up, she was going to come.
“Tell me when you're going to come,” he whispered into her hair. “Don't come without letting me know you are about to.”
Blanche wanted to say something but he took her ability to think away from her for the moment. All she could is make animalistic noises in response.
Jason laughed softly, watching as he rocked her. “Is that a yes, hmm?” he stroked her. She nodded.
He proceeded to his best to bring on that climax. Once again, as was her habit, she reached between her legs to touch herself. Again, he pushed her hand away, gently pinning it to the mattress by threading his hands through hers.
“We will let it happen this way,” he murmured. He continued talking to her, coaxing her, creating just needed extra exhilaration to push her over the edge.
Her pleasure clicked and transitioned so quickly she had only enough time to proclaim it rather than announce it. Jason had her crying out, her voice filling every nook and cranny of the rustic cabin that she was having orgasm.
The waves racking her flesh against his did not make him lose his cool or, if they did, he was a powerhouse against them. While she was suffering incredibly sweet agony, he was so cool, pumping into her, torturing her plight to intense finish.
When she finally succumbed and crumpled against the plushness of the feather bed his body tensed as a telltale of his own climb to that ultimate summit. Jason was so, so erotic when he came. He was so powerful. His muscles flexed into lines of perfection as he braced himself to ride her through.
Now he was in his wonderful agony. Blanche nudged him back and she was astride him. He wailed as she let her body sink atop him, taking him as deeply as she possibly could go. The combination of pressure and electricity was at the same time salty, sweet, and delicious. It awoke her orgasm and she was coming with him, chasing that erotic high together. Together, as one, they came and tumbled on top of the comfort of the feather mattress. They pressed and rested against the warmth of each other’s bodies.
CHAPTER FOUR
The mountain forest created a natural air conditioning. The temperatures up the slope upon which the cabin was situated were considerably cooler than they were at the base. He cracked the windows set in the walls directly across from each other to create the perfect flow of cross-ventilation. A sumptuous breeze cooled their perspiration of an exhausting work out. It was a good kind of exhausting. Blanche lazed and sank into an intense nap.
It wasn’t a long nap, but she had been out cold and when she awoke, Jason was gone. She sat up and just like him, he left a note in plain view where she could easily find it. She sprawled on her stomach towards the end of the bed near the note propped up on a chair, so she could read it better. He was going down to the base of the mountain to get mail and some supplies and please keep activity to a minimum. He said they would go for a walk when he got back.
She noticed that the shades were drawn and the doors were barred. She hopped off the bed to use the bathroom and she discovered a fact that was really upsetting to her. It infuriated her in a way she had not been in quite some time. It was one of the characteristics about her that made her such a great candidate as an assassin for the Norte Mexicalis--her white hot rage.
Jason Fowler had tethered her ankle to the bedframe. He put her on a leash. He gave her enough room to use the bathroom, shower, and get something to eat. She could probably step outside the front door but she noted that he took her clothes. Way to leave me vulnerable, she thought.
What puzzled her was how he got out of the cabin with the doors completely latched, unless there was another way in or out. There must be an easy, probably hidden access to the cabin, one that would allow him to lock the front and the back doors with heavy, solid wooden latches and escape. A window was the first obvious thought, but those were also locked from the inside. It didn’t matter. The quickest way out the cabin was to cut the
leash off. Oh, she shuddered. That was going way too far.
She rinsed off in the shower. She took what her aunt used to call a “whore’s bath.” That was just about all she was allowed to take after her grandmother died. Blanche’s sleek black silk of hair skated around her naked back. She knotted it up to avoid as much contact with the water as she could and just rinsed the sex from her body.
She toweled off. What to do for clothes? She thought for a second. He couldn't have thrown them away. Hopefully they were not outside. She could not believe the lengths that he went to.
She could accept a lot of things about him, but this was just plain weird. She made a toga with the towel, went into the kitchen to find something to hack off the tether that was a band of flexible steel wires coated with vinyl. She thought she could saw through one strand at a time and at the same time, work out the clothing issue.
