by Shaye Marlow
The weeds were thick, and the muck beneath them sucked at my feet, but I wasn’t gonna let that stop me. I carried that slimy, slippery, flailing fucker to shore, and then clambered up somehow, while holding it, and high-stepped it several feet into the brush. Then I dumped the huge bastard onto the ground and threw myself over it, so it had absolutely no hope of flopping away.
It was only as I was lying atop its surprisingly strong body that I resurfaced from my trophy-inspired fugue. I glanced up, and Gary was sitting in the canoe, staring at me with the kind of shock a genteel person might reserve for a train wreck—if the rail cars had been full of dildos.
And I guess I knew what I looked like. I was soaked from the neck down, had body-slammed a fish, and could probably only have surprised my new neighbor more if I’d caught it with my teeth.
The fish flailed again, slapping me in the face with its tail. Ow.
“Could you throw me my Leatherman?” I asked. My voice was surprisingly level.
He complied.
When I finally had the monster slain, I hefted it up off the ground.
Gary’s beautiful green eyes grew wide. He cleared his throat. “Does that count as your catch, or mine?” he asked.
It was a good question. All means short of poison and dynamite were legal when it came to pike. So was it Gary’s lure or my arms that caught the fish? In my opinion, it was more a philosophical question than a practical one.
“It’s yours.” Never let it be said that I’m a selfish person.
He had pulled the canoe in to shore, and I watched him clamber out of the boat. I stood there, trying to figure out what he thought he was doing.
He moved to me through the thigh-high bushes. His eyes were on the fish. “Here, let me—”
“Mmph!” I said, because he lunged in, grabbed hold of my face, and kissed me. I was tight and stiff with shock, and I couldn’t do a damn thing because I had a knife in one hand—sooooo tempting—and a prize-winning fish in the other.
I was breathing hard through my nose, my eyes still open as his lips seduced mine. And his tongue—he licked at me, probed, seeking entrance. I went even tighter, and stiffer, and my mouth finally opened on a gasp, as he put his hand between my legs.
He thrust his tongue into my mouth, and I heard his groan of triumph, one of utter masculine delight, and my stupid pussy actually gushed in response. My body was pulsing, and my nipples shot hard from the slow, delicious slide of his tongue against mine.
I wanted to hit him with his fish for wresting such a response from me. Stubbornly, I fought it.
I nipped his tongue, and squeaked, going up on my toes when he applied pressure on my clit. Oh, God, he didn’t fight fair. My eyes rolled back as he rubbed me through my wet shorts.
His mouth left mine and traced a heated trail along my jaw. The man was probably gonna get beaver fever from licking the water droplets off my skin, but I tilted my head to the side, inviting him.
With his hands and mouth, he made ripples of pleasure echo through my body. I just stood there, dripping, and let it happen. Because it felt wonderful. Because he made me feel beautiful. Wanted. Fish slime and all.
With a final pinch of my nipple through my soaked shirt and bra, he slid his hands away, and stepped back. I caught myself as I swayed toward him. I looked up into his eyes, momentarily lost.
“Are all Alaskan women like you?” he asked.
“No one’s like me.”
“That, I can believe,” he said. “I’m gonna have it stuffed.”
I blinked.
“The fish.”
I finally caught up with the conversation and sighed happily. Moneybags was gonna do something useful for a change.
Gary and I were pretty much done for the evening, and the terrible trio were out of beer, so we headed back. The shadows were deepening as the sun sank toward the horizon, the day just starting to cool off. On the first portage, it started to rain. It was a light sprinkle that got heavier as we made our way back.
I was already wet, so I just got a bit wetter. And everybody else, Gary and my three brothers, gradually got soaked right along with me. By the time we clambered back down over the beaver dam, we were all shivering.
The temperature was now in the 50s, a normal and tolerable Alaskan night, but the 50s got a whole helluva lot colder when you were soaked. My fingers were so cold, my grip on my paddle kept slipping, and I was having fantasies about my wood stove. I had a diesel stove that I usually used for heating, but there was just something about a fire. And hot chocolate. I shuddered, mentally zeroing in on the box of Swiss Miss on my shelf.
When we slid up to my dock, I pulled The Big One out of the bottom of the boat. At the moment, I didn’t give a damn about anything else. I carried it up and flopped it, whole, into the chest freezer at the side of my cabin.
My brothers and I banged through my door, the mood subdued by borderline hypothermia.
I was about to shut the door behind us when I glanced out, and realized Gary was still standing out there on the beach, in the dark. Alone.
I watched as he shook his head and took a step toward his place.
I thought about asking him to come in, I really did. Rory was already starting a fire, Zack was raiding my linen closet for blankets, and J.D. was firing up his Xbox. After I made hot chocolate, I guessed we’d swaddle up in blankets, plant ourselves in front of the TV, and play video games until we warmed up and/or passed out.
But I didn’t open my mouth, and instead of inviting Gary, I watched my canoe-buddy blend into the shadows on the other side of the lake.
Chapte
r Ten
A big, strong hand over my mouth woke me up.
My eyes snapped open with a gasp I had to suck through my nose. Something was on top of me, trapping me under my blankets. That something was pinning my arms to my sides and my hips flat to the mattress. That something was big, and heavy, and…
The dark shape hovering over me sharpened into a face, and the dull moonlight coming through the window glinted in through a bottle-green iris. Gary.
The devil raised his brows as if to ask, ‘You figured out who it is yet?’
I nodded slightly, still undecided as to whether or not I was going to scream if he took his hand away. My brothers were downstairs. If I screamed, they’d find him. Then they’d kill him. Yeah, it was tempting.
He must have seen it in my expression. He left his hand in place.
He leaned back a bit, and reached down and grabbed something with his free hand. He pulled it up into my field of vision and it produced a faint rattling sound as he shook it. It was a shiny box, maybe the size of your standard tea box. I squinted in the darkness, and finally made out the roman helmet symbol on the side. My eyes flared wide.
With that same hand, he reached over, pulled open my nightstand drawer—the same one with my pink bunny-eared vibrator—and tucked the box inside.
What the…?
He sank his knuckles into the mattress next to my shoulder as he leaned down over me. I smelled his shampoo as his stubble brushed my cheek, and felt the tickle of his nose against the shell of my ear.
I wiggled under him, sucking air through my nose. My neighbor breaks into my cabin—I cut my eyes to my window, confirming it was wide open, the curtain rippling slightly in a night breeze—by climbing in through my second-story window, pins me to the bed so I can’t move a fucking inch, covers my mouth so I couldn’t scream if I wanted to, and then shows me a box of condoms—effectively telling me my excuse from the other day would no longer hold water.
What did it say about me that I was quickly becoming more aroused than I’d ever been in my life? Heat and moisture blossomed between my thighs. My nipples were hard as beach pebbles on breasts squashed flat under the blankets. I strained upward, chafing against them, wanting more. I wanted those blankets gone, and his strong hands on me, rough, squeezing my breasts, shoving my legs apart.
If Gary’s hand hadn’t been there, my moa
n would have been loud. He laughed softly against my ear, and tilted his hips so the bulge of his erection pressed down against my belly. I only strained up harder, turning my face to look at him, thinking about biting his hand.
His head was practically on the pillow with mine. His eyes were crinkled slightly with amusement, and yet the look in them was intense as they flicked back and forth between my own. His breath, when he spoke, wafted across my cheek. “Yes or no?” he asked, his voice somehow managing to be both deep and soft.
He was asking me to tell him I wanted him. Which I didn’t want to do. Even though I totally did.
I was breathing faster now, straining to free my arms. Some deep part of me seriously objected to having him on top of me, holding me down. But this was easily the hottest thing I’d ever experienced, and I honestly wasn’t sure if it was despite it, or because of it.
I bent my knees and thrust my hips up, trying to unseat him. Or press up against him. Maybe both.
My efforts barely moved him, and then his tongue and breath were on my ear, making a wet-and-cool trail that sent shivers from my scalp clear down to my toes. He played with my ear until I was gasping, my hips shifting hungrily beneath him, and my toes felt like they might never uncurl. He pinched my lobe between his teeth, gave it a sharp, delicious tug, and then released it on a shaky exhale.
“Yes,” he grated, shifting his weight onto his elbow, free hand sliding along my side. “Or no?” He squeezed my hip through the blanket, his thumb rubbing downward.
I was practically panting. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Him, in my bedroom, in the dark, asking for my consent. With my brothers downstairs!
If I said the word, I could have him, tonight, right now.
What the hell was I waiting for?
The word tore out of me, buoyed up on a sea of need. “Yes. Yes,” I said into his hand. Though it was muffled, my words were unmistakable.
He rolled off me so fast, I didn’t know what to do with myself. But apparently he did. Cool air wafted as he threw the blanket back. Still stunned and gasping like a fish, I lay there in my night shirt and nothing else, and waited to see what he would do.
There was a flurry of motion in the dark. And then he was on me again, pushing my legs open, wedging himself between them as if he had every right. I discovered the bare skin of his hip sliding against my inner thigh. His shaft pressed directly against my wet folds.
I pushed up against him automatically, wanting him inside me now. I reached for him, but he grabbed my wrists. As he leaned forward, pinning them beside my head, his cock ground against me.
My mouth opened on a moan, and he claimed that, too. He simply wedged his way in and plundered. He didn’t ask; he took. And, as I’d noticed on my lawn, he wasn’t sweet or gentle. Our teeth clashed. He drank my sounds as he ground his hips against me.
But I only wanted it harder. I sucked his tongue with a hint of teeth, enjoying his groan, the way he grew even harder in that hot, tight space we’d created between us. I hooked my legs around him, digging my heels into his bare ass, pulling him as close as he could get.
His hands tightened on my wrists as his hips rolled, making fireworks go off in my head. Our breath hissed and the slippery, aching heat at my center intensified until I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t, because of my fucking brothers.
Gary pulled back suddenly, leaving me lying there cool and…unrestrained. No… Now that he was no longer holding me down, I lost the need to move my wrists—something which totally confused me, too—and so I kept them there, lying next to my head.
He pushed up and away, and I wondered if he’d changed his mind. Maybe he’d realized what he was doing, or he liked waxed girls, or he thought I made weird sounds…
I stared up at him, wanting him back with a desperation that surprised even me. If I’d been pretending he was someone else, I most definitely couldn’t now. The moonlight coming in from the side gilded his torso, all those lovely muscles, the gorgeous chest that expanded with each quick breath. That silvery light glinted in his eyes, and then his black hair fell over his face as he looked down.
Foil tore. His hands moved along his shaft, unrolling a condom over the cock I was seeing for the first time.
Oh my…
His eyes lifted until they met mine.
Fire. It was in his eyes, and it was what swept through my body.
This is gonna be so fun… I almost laughed out loud as he came back down to me.
Any sound I’d been tempted to make was quickly aborted when he pushed inside of me. I was ready for him—so damn ready, so friggin’ wet—but I was ready for him, pussy swollen with arousal, and I felt every inch of his thick cock as he pushed into me. Pushed, and pushed. And pushed, stretching me to my limit, leaving me trembling, and so very full.
He reclaimed my wrists. And then he latched onto my neck.
With one hard draw, I was cumming.
Remember how I said I didn’t do silence well? …Yeah. A thin sort of wail left my lips before he shifted that big, strong hand back over them.
He thrust, pushing through my squeezing muscles. I balled up my fist and hit his shoulder. I was trembling under him, every single muscle straining, my knees riding his sides as he pushed into me again, and again. I was already cumming, and as his pelvis ground against my clit, the feeling intensified beyond any sort of reason or measure. He was making it worse, so I hit him again, and this time my hand stayed on his shoulder, pushing, my nails digging into him.
My neck arched on a scream he was forcing to be quiet.
“Shh-shh-shhhh,” he said. I was honestly only partially aware of what he was saying as he continued to do what he was doing, and I rode out the longest orgasm of my life. I must have made some more sounds, probably a lot more sounds, because he was suddenly chuckling next to my ear, his chest pressed to mine through my shirt. “Are we going to have to get you a gag?” he whispered.
I was gasping through my nose, my vision going dark, and yet I’d never felt anything so divine as his thick cock spearing to the depths of me, his hard body pinning me to my sheets, his hand tight on my wrist and face.
My eyes must have rolled back in my head or I must have given some other clue I was about to pass out, because he removed his hand from my mouth. I gasped, my free hand worrying his shoulder, fingers digging into the thick muscle there. As I lay there gulping air, I realized he’d gone still. He was thick and hard inside me, still above me, but he wasn’t moving. Instead, he was looking patiently down at me. Waiting for me to rejoin the party.
Looking up into his eyes, I melted just a little. Maybe he isn’t such a bad guy…
Then an aftershock squeezed me around him, touching off a whole new round of shivers. His hips flexed, pushing harder into me, making my legs tighten to either side of him.
He groaned. “You good?” His voice was quiet, strained.
My lips formed the words ‘holy fuck’, but I had my shit mostly back together, so I nodded.
His mouth formed a wicked grin, and then he recaptured my wrist. He pressed them both back into the mattress and did that crazy hip-roll again, the move that stirred his length inside me and rubbed my clit in the most incredible way. He did it again, and again, and in that moment I absolutely knew he was no stranger to a woman’s body. He was doing things to mine that I’d never even imagined.
I couldn’t feel my lips.
But I wasn’t taking this next orgasm lying down. I channeled all my strength into the right side of my body, digging my foot into the mattress even as I hip-checked him and strained upward against his left hand. And I managed it. I don’t know if he let me or if I really, momentarily overpowered him, I wasn’t gonna analyze it.
He rolled, and I rode him over. I straightened up on my knees, and realized I still wore my nightshirt. Intolerable. I grabbed the hem and ripped it off over my head, freeing my breasts in the moonlight.
I tightened my legs to either side of his hips, and finally got my hands
on that chest. I intentionally squeezed him, enjoying the resulting catch in his breath. His dark chest hair was crisp as I sifted my fingers through it, and traced down to where we joined. Then I tripped my fingers back up his abs and stroked across the hard little nubs of his nipples.
I wanted to lean down to lick him, but I liked my height advantage too much. I liked having him under me. A lot.
The heat was rising again, and I started to move. I began with just a tilt and roll of my hips, doing what he’d done to me. But as I watched his expression deepen into a place of pure pleasure, my pace quickened. A hard, fast rhythm overtook me, driving me on him. I threw my head back, feeling my hair spill down my back and tickle the upper slope of my ass.
His hands found my breasts, squeezing just exactly the way I wanted him to. My rhythm faltered as this new source of pleasure blindsided me. His abs flexed as he sat up, and suddenly it was his mouth on me, not his hands. I gasped, hovering above him, shaking again. I pulled his hair, wanting to punish him for doing what he did to me. He just sucked harder, and his free hand yanked my hips into him, grinding us together.
Just like that, it was happening again, and there was nothing I could do to control it. My last act before I lost my shit again was to grab his hand, drag it off my breast and up over my mouth.
He laughed breathlessly, and then I was cumming, and his laugh choked off. I pulled his hair again, yanking his head back so he had to look up at me. His fingers dug hard into my ass, his hips grinding him up into me, his eyes flashing in the moonlight.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck me! That’s what I would have been saying if his hand wasn’t obligingly plastered over my mouth. Heat flushed up my body, raising a fine sweat in its wake. I rocked wildly on him, feeling like I might shake apart in his arms. It went on and on and on, squeezing me around him, dragging forth muffled cries as I writhed in his lap.
I saw the moment he came. His arm went hard around my waist, locking us together, and he kept his eyes locked to mine, letting me see. His abs tensed against my belly and his cock jerked where it was buried deep inside me. I could feel him cum even through my own whirlwind of sensation, and it left me feeling deeply, primitively satisfied.
