Two Cabins, One Lake: An Alaskan Romance

by Shaye Marlow

  The end of the towel snapped against his upper thigh, leaving a red welt and making him jump. I grinned in triumph.

  He stared at me. “You did not just—”

  I did it again, this shot landing dangerously close to his balls.

  “You little—” He scrambled out of the tub, leaning down to pick up the other towel. My next blow glanced harmlessly off his back.

  He came up with vengeance in his eyes, and I had some thoughts about the better part of valor, and living to fight another day. But I squelched those wussy thoughts, and held my ground. I got another shot in as he wound up his own towel. It flapped harmlessly against his hip.

  Then he flicked his towel at me, making a crisp, loud crack! and missing me by less than an inch. I backed up, realizing I was in trouble. He had the advantage in reach, and he apparently knew what he was doing. My heart pumped faster as he matched my retreat.

  He tried for me again, and I dodged. He missed, but barely.

  Then my back hit the door.

  “Uh-oh,” he drawled. “You’re trapped. Whatcha gonna do?”

  I had to fix it. Immediately. I yanked the door open and turned, trying to scoot through the crack before it was even fully open.

  He caught me square on the ass cheek as I scrambled out of the bathroom. I yelped, jumped a foot, and ran for the kitchen table chased by his laugh. Panting, I skidded around the other side.

  This situation had somehow gotten out of control. I was naked and still wet from the shower, hiding from a madman behind my kitchen table.

  I’d been half-hoping he’d show some maturity, put aside his towel, and get dressed. But obviously I expected too much of him.

  He stalked out of the bathroom, naked as the day he was born. His eyes locked on me like heat-seeking missiles, and he readied his towel as he crossed the few feet to the table.

  I bounced on the balls of my feet, ready to move. My hair dripped cool water down my back, and the air in my cabin wasn’t as warm as it should have been for such activities. Thus, my nipples were almost painfully hard. And my ass was smarting.

  He started circling the table. I moved to keep it between us.

  Suddenly his wrist snapped out, and he got me over the table, right on my waist.

  Ouch. I hissed, covering the burning spot with my hand, and glared at him. “You bastard.” He’d hit me. He’d actually hit me.

  His eyebrows rose. And then his mouth curled.

  In the background, I heard the opening riffs of Thunderstruck by AC/DC.

  Fuck it. Tossing down my towel, I charged him. I hit him like a linebacker, and I was smaller, but I had surprise and a backlog of rage on my side. He laughed as we careened the few feet across the dining room and thumped up against the sliding glass door. We grappled, and he flipped us around so it was my bare back pressed to the cool glass.

  I objected. Loudly. We lost our balance, and slid sideways, squeaking across the window. He caught us against the doorframe. I was squirming like an SOB, trying to use my slick skin to slip free.

  “Thun-der!”

  He was having none of it. He growled, and heaved me up into his arms. I was laughing and kicking, terrified that he’d drop me, and that only made my squirming worse. I shrieked as gravity claimed me, and then I landed with an oof on my couch.

  Before I even knew which way was up, he was on me. He pinned me to the cushions, his mouth covering mine even as the firm bar of his erection got caught between us—when had that happened? I yanked at his hair, because I wasn’t done fighting, and he nipped my lip. I nipped him back, feeling exhilarated by the sting.

  “Thun-der!”

  Then his mouth was on my breasts and I didn’t have any real firm memory of how he got there. But I wasn’t pushing him away anymore. I was pulling his head closer and pushing up against him for more.

  The lead singer was stuck on a railroad track—

  He worked his way even further down. I cried out at the first long stroke of his tongue alongside my clit.

  —and he knew, “there was no turning back!”

  Shivers of sensation bounced through me, waves of pleasure that robbed me of speech. I writhed on the couch under him, shocked and ridiculously aroused at the same time. How had this happened? How had I gone from singing in the shower to this gorgeous man’s mouth buried between my thighs?

  Arousal twisted in my belly at the sight of him down there, nose-deep in my blonde curls while he peered up at me with his sparkling green eyes. As I’d observed the other night, this man was no stranger to a woman’s body, and he seemed absolutely ravenous for mine. He dove in, swirling and fluttering his tongue against my clit, driving me wild. My hips rocked under his mouth. I found myself short of breath, and felt a crazed flush rising.

  “Thunderstruck!”

  He slid two fingers into my sopping pussy, and I lost it. I arched up off the cushions with a wild yell. My whole body shuddered as lightning coursed through my veins. My vision was sparkling, my nerve endings sizzling, and it seemed like even my lungs had seized.

  He pulled his mouth away. He gripped my hips, and yanked me back down the couch. The blunt tip of his cock prodded at my slick, swollen folds as he crowded between my thighs.

  I gasped. “Condom!” I twisted in his grip, trying to push myself onto him even as my brain said he needed a— “Condom,” I panted.

  “Fuck,” he said. He held for a few breaths, his chest heaving as he struggled for control. But then he peeled himself off of me. He stood over me, and the first thing I focused on was the tip of his finger, pointed at my chest. “You stay right there,” he ordered. “Don’t move.” Then he rounded the corner and I heard him start up the ladder to my loft.

  Did I stay? Fuck no, I didn’t.

  I stumbled to my feet on wobbly legs, and started toward the dining area. I didn’t have a destination in mind, I just didn’t want to follow his orders. Pleasure-drunk was a good word for me right then. I tottered over and caught myself on the table, staring stupidly at my towel lying on the floor, tangled around a chair leg.

  “Guess what I found next to the condoms,” Gary said as he climbed back down.

  Next to the condoms… Oh no.

  He turned around and spotted me, standing, not at all where he’d left me. “I thought I told you not to move,” he said, starting toward me. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I did.”

  Most of his words were lost to me. My eyes were stuck to the pink vibrator held loosely in his big, strong hand, and a sort of wind-tunnel roaring had filled my ears. What—the holy hell—was he planning on doing with that?

  He set it on the table near my hip. And then he lifted me and dumped me onto the table next to it. I struggled a little bit, but he lodged himself between my legs, and licked and sucked at my breasts until I quieted down and quit fighting him.

  Oh, this was not good. He’d learned my weakness.

  He was still sucking and kneading, the master-work of his mouth consuming my attention completely, so I was only vaguely aware that he’d shifted his hips back. Something nudged against me, and as it started to push inside, I realized it was cooler than his cock would have been, and it was ribbed, and it—

  “Ohhhh God,” I moaned as he turned it on. He’d pushed it fully into me, and those little rabbit ears were vibrating madly against my clit, and with him sucking hard on my breasts, I was absolutely beside myself. I arched and cussed and moaned and dug my nails into his scalp, pulling on him so hard I was probably threatening to smother him in my cleavage.

  He didn’t seem to mind. He just rumbled his deep, masculine laugh, and then groaned. I felt his cock, hot and throbbing against my thigh, but my leg beyond that had gone tingly-numb. My vision was sparkling again, and my body was tightening.

  “That’s it,” he said, tilting his face so he could watch me. “Cum for me. I want to feel you gush on my hand.” And he turned the stupid thing up.

  I arched so high, I was probably in danger of snapping my spine. There was absolu
tely no turning back with that thing pressed against me, accompanied by the hot draw of his mouth on my sensitive nipple. And when I got to that highest point, and began to plunge down the other side, I’m pretty sure I rattled the windows with my screams.

  By the end of it, I was almost sobbing, and I would have told you I’d seen God. I couldn’t feel my face, I couldn’t do anything. My body was one big, throbbing mass of nerves. I felt like I’d been put through a forge and spat out onto my dining room table at over four hundred degrees. I got the distinct feeling I’d just fried brain cells.

  That’s when he finally pulled the vibrator free.

  I heard foil crinkle, and he dragged my hips to the very edge of the table. Then he pushed his cock into me instead. It was a pretty good-sized vibrator, but he was bigger. Even so, it was laughable how easily he slid into my soaked pussy.

  He groaned. “You’re so wet.”

  Ya think? After you made me cum three times inside an hour? I guess it was a good thing I was still incapable of speech.

  And it seemed like he was trying to keep me that way. I can’t even describe how good he felt, just the push and pull of him sliding into me, the slick drag of him against my engorged flesh. He wasn’t moving fast, just slow and steady as if he were savoring every second, every single inch.

  I finally blinked enough of the stars out of my eyes to actually focus on him. He was watching himself disappear into me, but he met my gaze when he caught me looking. I reached for him, and he obligingly bent down over me.

  I kissed him. I kissed him like he was a hot fudge sundae and I didn’t have a spoon. It was hot and wet and sloppy, but he was right there with me. I dug my nails into his shoulders and sucked his tongue as I felt him moving in me. He groaned into my mouth, his hips propelling his driving cock just a little harder. The muscles in his shoulders flexed under my fingers, and the angle was such that his pubic bone ground against my clit with each sweet thrust.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I whispered into his mouth, finding my voice. He kissed me again, and I drank his groan.

  He was breathing hard, his pupils wide, his face flushed. He looked like I felt; absolutely ransacked by pleasure, and addicted to the feeling.

  I’d had three orgasms already, but did I want to stop? Hell no. I wanted more. I wanted him, and every single shred of pleasure he could give me. And I wanted it now.

  I tightened around him, intentionally milking his cock. My legs had been riding his waist, and I wrapped them around him so my heels dug into his butt.

  Gary got the hint, grabbing my hips so he could drive into me. The table creaked, and our flesh slapped, and each hard thrust felt exponentially better than the last.

  He was driving out the feel of everything else. Cool tabletop? Didn’t care. The fact that my vibrator shimmied and fell onto the floor? Didn’t notice. The music in the background? Shit, that was still on?

  I came with a whimper instead of a bang. My lower belly seized up, and my pussy squeezed around him.

  I hadn’t noticed if I’d gushed for that vibrator, but as I came this fourth time, I made a mess around his cock. And he loved it, thrusting harder, using those tight squeezes for his own pleasure.

  “God yes, you feel so good,” he muttered. His fingers tightened on me almost to the point of pain, and he came with a roar that put my own mewling sounds to shame.

  I looked up at him, our eyes met, and I couldn’t look away. Right there, on my dining room table, we had a moment. A long one, as he emptied himself into me. I realized I was pressed up flush to my neighbor, this man who’d perturbed me so in the past couple weeks. He was inside me, as close as another person could get, and I frickin’ liked it.

  Then he collapsed on top of me. We lay there for a long time, our combined weight testing the table’s strength. I was completely drained, completely sated, and only half-conscious until he finally pulled free.

  I continued to lie there as he disappeared from view. It was my cabin. My table. I could lie naked on it if I wanted to. I could, and I did.

  I heard him moving around, water running. The next time he came into my field of vision, he was dressed. He smiled down at me as he passed.

  Then he proceeded to make me breakfast as if I wasn’t spread-eagled on the table.

  Finally, I began to feel a bit chilled and ridiculous, so I gingerly sat up. Oh yeah. I was gonna feel that in the morning. He laughed at me as I slid off the table and nearly went the rest of the way down onto the floor. My legs were like room-temp butter, and I was having difficulty straightening up.

  Feeling crippled, I went to clean up, and then hobbled to my ladder. Climbing up it was interesting, and I was sure I felt his gaze on my ass as I did so. I managed to get dressed, and just barely resisted the urge to collapse on my bed and not get back up.

  It was the smell of coffee that finally lured me back downstairs. I slid down the ladder, and Gary put a cup of it in my hands. Looking up into his face, I felt like blushing. I couldn’t quite believe that morning had just happened.

  How the hell did I go from hating my neighbor’s guts to banging him almost bloody against every surface in the house? How?

  “I didn’t know if you took cream or sugar.”

  “I’ll take it any way I can get it,” I replied, cradling the hot brew. I dropped into a chair with a wince.

  Then I watched as the bastard, my neighbor, the noisy guy who kept getting me wet, cooked me breakfast. He moved around the kitchen like he knew what he was doing; not like a rich, helpless bachelor. He cracked the eggs with an economy of motion, and dug around to find some fruit in my fridge.

  “Knife?” he asked.

  I indicated the drawer to the right of the sink, and then watched him quickly dismember a honeydew I’d been meaning to eat. I found myself enthralled with his strong, capable hands. Rich men shouldn’t have strong, capable hands. Nor should they handle a knife with such deadly precision. So…was he a rich guy?

  Did it matter?

  I tapped my nails on the table, staring at his butt as he cooked me some eggs.

  “We’re feuding,” I informed him, trying to remind myself as much as him.

  “Oh?” His lips quirked as he started to plate the food. “Is that what this is? A feud?”

  “That’s exactly what this freaking is,” I said. “I cannot coexist peacefully with you and your noise, and your disregard for my property. This lake is not big enough for the two of us.” Sadly, the statement lacked the kind of conviction it would have had a few days ago.

  “Uh-huh.” He set my breakfast down in front of me. “Ketchup?”

  “Tabasco, please. It’s on the shelf—yep. Thank you.” I salted and peppered my eggs, and then liberally laced them with Tabasco, wishing I hadn’t been quite so polite. I’d had some small amount of manners hammered into me, but I really didn’t want to be using up what little I had on my neighbor. Even if he was making a habit of feeding me.

  I also really didn’t want to like him, but he made a perfect over-easy egg. And his bacon was to die for. And he gave me awesome orgasms. Damn it.

  He sat down to watch me eat. He was staring at me, and I wasn’t sure if it was with fascination, or because I had something in my teeth. He’d probably finally realized how weird I was. He was the new neighbor of an oddball, shut-in hermit with a foul mouth and perpetually tangled hair.

  I picked at a splinter on the table, squinting at him. He was treating me like we were buddies now. Were we buddies now? He gave me great sex, but… I was still mad at him for his noise. Sorta.

  “Well,” he said, standing up several silent minutes later. “Guess I should probably get back to the hammering and the sawing.” He winked at me.

  “What are you building over there, anyway?” I asked.

  “I put a new bathroom in, and I had to plumb the kitchen. I’m adding a sunroom onto the south side of the living room, where the wall is missing.”

  “And why are you working on it? Why not hire someone to come in
and get it done?”

  “I enjoy the work,” Gary said.

  And that didn’t particularly sound like a rich guy. Rich guys in these parts typically bought a parcel of land and paid professionals to quickly build them a mansion on a hill that they could come out and visit once or twice a summer. They didn’t even grace the operation with their presence until there was hot, running water.

  Contrast that with Gary, who’d probably used the outhouse (and at least once, my property) for the first week of his stay, and was doing his own work. He didn’t seem like a rich guy, despite the helicopter. And ‘stocks’, my ass.

  Gary was an enigma, and the mystery was driving me a little bit nuts.

  Enigma or not, this delicious, infuriating man was disrupting my life. Ever since he’d moved in, it had been one thing after another. I’d almost been eaten by a bear—if that wasn’t a sign, I didn’t know what was. And now there were my brothers, stirring things up.

  I just wanted some time to myself, some quiet and routine to bring me back to sanity. At least, that’s what I was telling myself as I watched him walk away.

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  My brothers looked guilty as sin.

  I’d come to the cabin door as I heard the four-wheeler approach. When my brothers emerged from the trees, the first thing I noticed was their peculiar expressions, their subdued mood. Then, as they jumped off the machine, I saw that they were muddy and damp up to their thighs.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  None of them would meet my gaze; they looked everywhere but. And they were so very, ominously silent.

  Oh, this was a bad sign.

  “You tell her, Zack,” Rory muttered.

  “No, J.D. should do it; she likes him best.”

  “Tell me what?” I asked, trying not to fly off the handle. The four-wheeler looked fine, but…where was their fishing equipment? Rather, where was my fishing equipment?