Two Cabins, One Lake: An Alaskan Romance

by Shaye Marlow

  I lay there and I let him use me, felt the spot where he pushed into me become slicker, even more welcoming. I let him force my mouth open, let him kiss my breath away.

  He groaned, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his hips pressing mine into the mattress. Our breathing quickened, and I was lost in that place where there was only sensation.

  That’s why I was very confused when he suddenly shifted. He moved back slightly and dragged me up onto my knees. He pushed his way inside my legs, and I almost cried out when he leaned over me. He was in me so deep, it was bordering on uncomfortable. He pushed my upper body down. I resisted at first, but he used firm and steady pressure until I let my elbows fold.

  I gripped my pillow, pressing my forehead into it. My ass was in the air, and he was between my legs, his hands firm on my hips. My body tightened, anticipating him plunging into me like a stallion covering a mare.

  It felt a lot like submission. Surrender.

  But before I could get bent out of shape, I became aware of his hands moving. They stroked over my hips, my lower back, down my thighs. Gentling me. I felt his cock throbbing, but he held almost entirely still.

  I resisted at first. I didn’t like the loss of control. He could do whatever he wanted to me in this position. He could hurt me.

  But I knew he wouldn’t. I knew he’d only bring me pleasure. What he was doing already felt amazing, and he wasn’t hardly doing anything. I could put up a fight—or I could let him pleasure me.

  With a sigh, I let the tension drain out of my body, and I put myself in his hands. I surrendered.

  “Good girl,” he whispered.

  I grumbled, but the sound cut off on a gasp as he moved. He plunged into me, smooth, long, slick strokes, each one balls-deep. My thighs trembled around his with the effort of staying wide and open for him, and with the impact of his strokes.

  I clenched the pillow tighter and started to make noises into it. I don’t even know how to describe the sounds I made. Whining, mewling kitten sounds some of them. Gasps, whimpers.

  This was him telling me he was in charge, and yet…I loved it.

  He leaned over me, changing the angle, hitting some deep, pleasurable spot as he pressed into me. His hand slid down my belly, and found my clit. He stroked me lightly, just barely flicking his fingertips across my sensitive bud. Each stroke, inside and out, was a chord that seemed to echo through to my very soul. Each thrust was the drum beat, the tickle across my clit the thrumming bass. I throbbed for him, my whole body in harmony.

  His pace quickened. Deepened. My face rocked into the pillow with each one of his punishing thrusts. My breaths came almost in sobs. My body was rioting, and my emotions were climaxing right along with it.

  He started to do that thing I loved, where he pressed in as hard and deep as he could go, his hips rotating against me. I gasped. And that’s all it took.

  I came, my body clamping down around his. I jerked, but he held me still.

  He picked the pace back up, plunging into my quivering body, still stroking my clit. He moved harder and harder, until it felt like he was spanking me with each thrust. My butt burned, the depth was intense, and my orgasm refused to end.

  I got loud—probably even sounded like a dying baby animal. But he didn’t quit stroking me. I moved a hand back to stop him and he grabbed my wrist, holding it, using it to control me.

  My clit felt like it was on fire. The feeling ran through my whole pussy, escalating with each violent squeeze of my muscles around him. It went on, and on. I was shuddering, my body turning to jelly. If he hadn’t been holding me, I would have slid down into a puddle on the sheets.

  And I knew, this was me surrendering even more than before. He gave me pleasure when and how he wanted to, as much as he wanted to, and my only choice was to accept it. That’s what he was telling me, covering me from behind, his weight pressing down on me, with his hand firm on my wrist and his cock making a place inside me. And there was absolutely no hiding that I loved it; he was soaked in the evidence of my enjoyment.

  I concentrated on breathing, knowing I couldn’t take much more. He was pushing me to the edge of sanity. I’d been cumming for what seemed like a millennia now, and I felt like I was going to explode, or perish, or in some other dramatic way spin out of control. Maybe that’s what he wanted.

  Because he didn’t stop. He continued, thrusting, stroking. The area between us was a wet mess, and the sounds we made were graphic.

  And I came again. And again. Until my womb cramped and I felt completely broken, yet free. Until I was barely clinging to consciousness, and I was drooling on my pillow. Until I was ready to acknowledge him as my master.

  Then, and only then, did he allow himself his own climax. It came with a roar that filled the darkened interior of my cabin. His hands clenched, and he yanked me firmly back as he poured himself into me.

  I felt a vague sense of relief, but much, much bigger than that was a burgeoning joy. The feeling was warm and fuzzy, and it evoked hearts and puppies. That imagery worried me slightly, but it was a worry I couldn’t sustain. It was almost three in the morning, and the man behind me had worn me the hell out. I couldn’t seem to keep my eyelids open, let alone hold onto a thought.

  Gary pulled my knees out from under me, and pressed me belly-first onto the bed. Our sweat-slicked skin formed a heated weld, and his heart thumped against my back, racing just as hard as mine.

  He kissed my cheek, and then rolled us onto our sides. I was completely boneless. All I wanted to do—all I could do—was lie there in his arms. We seemed to be on the same page, because he tucked me against him and pulled the blanket over both of us.

  Chapter T

  wenty-One

  I was initially awoken by a scream. I started to get alarmed. But then I remembered what we’d done to my brothers, which they were probably just then discovering.

  I smiled, and drifted back to sleep.

  This is what woke me up the second time:

  “They’re fucking!”

  My eyes flipped open to find Rory standing over my bed. Staring at me.

  Staring at us, I realized. There was still an arm over my waist, a warm body curved against my back. Shit. He hadn’t left.

  “What?” The groggy voice came from downstairs.

  “Helly and Gary are fucking!” Rory repeated. His bloodshot eyes had lost some of their wide-open shock, and were now starting to twinkle.

  I waved at him, trying to get him to go away. I’d have hit him with a big fucking hammer if I had one, and if he was close enough. I didn’t, and he wasn’t. And if I lunged up out of the covers at him, he’d see boob.

  “What, right now?” asked a disbelieving Zack.

  Downstairs, somebody farted. Loudly.

  I fell back against Gary with a groan, wishing I could disappear. He pressed his smiling mouth against my neck, unperturbed by my crazy family, and not caring that Rory still stood over us like a creeper.

  “Good morning,” Gary said, kissing the sensitive spot under my ear.

  Fuck it. I leaned back and kissed him with lots of tongue, hoping to disgust my brother. He didn’t seem disgust-able. He just watched.

  “Dammit, Ror,” I finally said. “What did I say about my personal space?”

  He didn’t look like he was gonna move, so I leaned out of bed, grabbed a shoe, and threw it at him. He dodged, and it sailed over the railing.

  I winced as it landed on something in my kitchen with a crash.

  Laughing, Rory finally slid down my ladder and out of sight.

  I was still cussing when Gary turned my chin back around and kissed me again. By the time we broke apart, I’d hiked a thigh up over his hip, my fingers were dug into his hair, and I was panting.

  I looked into his eyes, so close to my own. They were a beautiful green, shadowed by thick black lashes. “You stayed the night.”

  “Oops,” he said. He didn’t seem the least bit abashed about waking up in the same bed as me. His hand had
come to rest on my knee, his thumb stroking little circles on my skin.

  I lifted my head, peering out my window. The sun was up, the morning well-advanced. “So is this the key to getting you to let me sleep in?” I asked.

  His mouth had moved up to nuzzle my hairline, and I heard him breathe in the scent of my mussed hair. “This?” he asked.

  “Tiring you out. Wrapping myself around you, and not letting you escape.” I remember I’d once thought about swaddling him in duct tape to get him to be silent. Hardly anything worked better than duct tape, but it appeared that I just might.

  He laughed softly, making me very aware of the way my nipples pressed into his warm, broad chest. “Maybe.”

  “Gary! Come on down here, buddy. We wanna talk to ya.” That sounded like Zack.

  Gary raised his brows.

  I shrugged. “They like to chase my boyfriends off.”

  His eyes were dancing. “Am I your boyfriend?”

  “If I’m not just the flavor of the week, that might be okay,” I quipped. I climbed out of bed, not wanting him to see how badly I didn’t want to be just some fling for him.

  “The flavor of week?” he asked.

  “You know, the screamer the second night you were here, the Barbie doll in your shirt. ‘Ga-ry’,” I said, mimicking her shudder-inducing tones as I stuck my legs into a pair of pants.

  He laughed. I liked that sound way, way too much.

  “Just out of curiosity, was the first a blonde, too?”

  He finally flung the sheet aside and rolled out of bed. “No.”

  I would have liked to have some witty reply, but the sight of the long, muscular length of him, and that bare ass, arrested my brain as well as my tongue. The rear view was downright spectacular.

  We finally made it down the ladder, but it was dicey for a few minutes after he found me standing there topless, staring at him.

  My brothers were gathered around the kitchen table. I looked back and forth between them, and then over toward the living area. The bottle of lube was missing.

  Ah, I see. They were going to pretend nothing had happened. Hopefully that niggling doubt Gary spoke of had been well-planted, because I’d forgotten to take pictures.

  Zack tossed my panties onto the table. “Have a seat,” he said to Gary.

  Gary looked at my brothers, and then at me, and I saw him do a mental oh-what-the-hell. He sat.

  Zack loomed on the other side of the table like a hungover thug, with his arms crossed and his ‘game face’ on. Rory was making a pitiful attempt to match his brother’s stern expression. And J.D.? Entertained, as usual.

  “What are your intentions toward our sister?” Zack asked.

  Gary looked at me, hesitating, and suddenly I didn’t want to hear his answer. I was only all-too-aware he hadn’t answered the flavor-of-the-week question.

  “I’m gonna go start the generator,” I muttered.

  Either they’d come to an understanding, or they’d beat each other up. And I was beginning to think Gary could hold his own with my brothers, so I left him in there with them. After swiping my panties off the table, of course.

  The air was warm outside, and smelled green. The sunshine pouring across my yard had chased all the mosquitos away. A thin tendril of smoke curled up from last night’s fire pit, and the camp chairs sat around it just as we’d left them.

  Dozens of beer bottles lay strewn about. I put my hands on my hips as I took in the wreckage, and added littering to my payback tally.

  Then I found out the generator wouldn’t start. I’d pre-warmed it, I did everything I was supposed to do, but got no turnover, not even a click. I tried all my usual tricks—tapping this, wiggling that, checking that it had fuel—but nothing worked.

  Throwing my hands into the air, I stomped back to the cabin. “The generator won’t start,” I announced, noticing no one was bleeding.

  They all looked at me like, ‘And how is this our problem?’

  “The generator charges the batteries, and the batteries are where we get electricity,” I explained, slowly. “If I can’t get that generator running, there’ll be no showers, no video games. No internet,” I said, using the only threat I knew would work.

  J.D. practically ran out the door, quickly followed by Rory. To my surprise, Zack and Gary followed. I peeked my head out after them to make sure it wasn’t so Zack could break his nose without getting blood on my rug, but all four of them were quickly engrossed in the generator. Huh.

  I knew I wasn’t going to be any help, and I figured if they were going to fix my generator, the least I could do was make breakfast. So I scrambled some eggs, burnt some toast, and headed back out to check on them.

  As I was walking up, the generator coughed, backfired, and then roared to life. Gary was kneeling next to it, and as I approached, he looked up with a grin of triumph.

  His expression morphed slightly as he saw me, his amusement coming through loud and clear. “Uh-oh,” he said. “I’m in trouble now, aren’t I?”

  I was at a loss for a moment, and then I remembered my comment to Ed about using him for his mechanical skills.

  The generator backfired again, and we all frowned at it. Then we realized it wasn’t the generator.

  It was gunshots.

  Chapter T

  wenty-Two

  There were gunshots coming from next door.

  “What the heck?” I said. As you’ve probably gathered, gunshots were a pretty darn common sound in the bush, but these ones were coming from Gary’s cabin, and Gary was standing right in front of me. It sounded like they were shooting something metal.

  Gary was at the corner of my cabin and peering around so fast I didn’t see him move. I looked over his shoulder, and saw several men with guns crawling over his property. One stood to the side with a shotgun, methodically blowing holes in Gary’s helicopter.

  What. The ever-loving. Hell? Were these the men that had been breaking into cabins?

  Gary turned around and started herding me back toward my door. “Into the cabin,” he ordered. “All of you. Now. And get your guns.”

  “My guns?” I hesitated for a moment, feeling a bit in shock. I talked big, and I waved my shotgun around, but I’d never thought I’d have to use them. Against people?

  My brothers beat me to my gun cabinet. Zack put the Glock in my hands, and I stared at it like I’d never seen it before.

  “I’ll take the Remington 700,” Gary said. It was the rifle with the scope, the one my brothers had been making neat little groupings with at a hundred yards away.

  “But—” Rory started.

  “I was a sniper in the marines,” Gary said. Yeah, this was a surprise to me too.

  Wordlessly, Rory handed him the gun.

  Quickly and efficiently, Gary checked that it was loaded, safety off. He accepted a mostly-empty box of extra rounds from Rory. Then he lifted the rifle up to his shoulder, and looked through the scope and my window at the men on his property. I scooped up my binoculars and looked with him.

  The door to Gary’s cabin was open, and I could see them spilling back out into the yard, shaking their heads. They consulted with a man standing stationary in the chaos, a guy whose fashion sense seemed much in line with those thugs from the other day. He gestured toward my cabin. A pair of them started down the lawn toward us, guns in hand.

  “Fuck,” Gary said. He lowered the scope and turned to look at us. “These men are after me. They want me dead. I’m going to have to take them out, but I’m going to aim to disable. Use your guns as self-defense only, try not to shoot anybody unless you absolutely have to. I don’t want you tangled up in this mess.”

  My brothers looked amped-up and eager to shoot something, but they nodded. I felt rooted to the floor, watching the men with guns jog along the beach, getting ever closer to my residence, my quiet, peaceful cabin, my favorite place in the whole wide world.

  Looking at Gary didn’t help—I didn’t know this Gary, the one who looked calm and
predatory when men with guns were coming for him. Who was he? And why did these men want him?

  “We’re sitting ducks in the cabin,” he said. “Team up, go into the woods. I’m gonna start picking them off.” Gary met my gaze, and the look he gave me seemed apologetic.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” I asked. I didn’t want him hurt, that I knew. “They’ll never find us in these woods, we can get to the river, take my boat—”

  Gary shook his head. “I’m done running. I want to end this.”

  J.D. grasped my elbow. “C’mon Hel, you’re with me.”

  I followed him out of my cabin, still feeling dazed.

  Then the shooting began. They were loud shots, one and then two. I turned in time to see the second guy topple to the ground before he reached the stairs up from my beach. I heard yelling, and through the trees I got glimpses of men pouring down from Gary’s lawn. They were headed to my place en masse. A couple more gunshots rang out.

  Then J.D. was dragging me into the woods. I winced and finally got my head in the game when a burning lash of devil’s club whipped across my leg.

  At about fifty feet in, I heard the rat-a-tat of a fully automatic weapon. I winced when I heard glass break. There was another loud rifle shot, and the other gun went silent.

  After another several long strides, we hunkered behind an old stump, the currants and wild roses and clumps of grasses growing out of the top offering ample cover. I leaned to the side to peer toward my place.

  Gary came out the door, hitting the ground in a single stride. He crouched down at the corner of my cabin, and started firing again. I watched him in awe. He’d shot for shit with the rifles earlier, but it was becoming obvious he’d been fudging it on purpose. Each of his shots was followed by a pained cry.

  Branches snapped as a few of the men ducked into the trees at a spot level with my burnt blueberry patch. I heard a shot and then grunts, so I was guessing Zack and Rory had engaged.