Virgin's Fantasy

by Kayla Oliver

  Somebody knew where she was. Which means somebody knows I am protecting her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Addie

  It feels like forever before Cliff finally tells me I’m safe to sit up. But I do more than sit up; I climb up into the front seat beside him and take his hand. Placing his palm on my thigh, I stare out the windows while enjoying the warmth of his touch.

  His fingers tighten on my thigh, and I sigh. This feels right. Out the window I see trees flying by. The drive is so peaceful. Here and there sunlight splashes down on the road and trails over the truck.

  The sunshine is warm and the shadows chilly, creating an interesting effect that confuses my body. I’m too warm in the sun, too cold in the shadow, and they change so fast I feel like I’m having hot and cold flashes.

  “You’re sure no one will find us out here?” I ask, worried.

  “I’m still not sure who turned us in,” he says, and I sense it’s eating him alive.

  “So someone could still find us,” I say, slumping back in my seat, feeling dismay wash over me. His hand tightens on my thigh just a bit, then relaxes. I look over at him and see his jaw is tight and his cheek working like he’s clenched so hard it hurts.

  “I’m going to keep you safe no matter what,” he grinds out, and I nod.

  “I know. I trust you,” I say softly, linking my fingers with his on my leg. “This wasn’t your fault,” I say, and he shakes his head.

  “I’m missing something,” he says, and I know he means that there’s no way he doesn’t know who did this, he’s just drawing a blank.

  “We’ll figure it out,” I say and lean over to press a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t want to think about it anymore. I want to spend our time just enjoying each other.”

  He glances at me out of the corners of his eyes, and I see his jaw tighten again.

  “There’s still something I want you to do,” I say, lowering my voice. He swallows, and I know I’ve got him cornered. “So not another word about anything else, okay?” I say, and he gives a nod after a moment of consideration.

  A house comes into view, and I gasp. It’s beautiful. A log home that’s easily two stories with so many windows that the inside must be mostly sunlight and beauty.

  On the other side of the house I see a lake, and the trees ring in close and give the place privacy. A dock stretches out into the lake, and I turn to Cliff.

  “This place is beautiful!” I say, and he flashes a rare grin my direction.

  “I’m glad you like it,” he says, getting out of the truck. I get out on my side, looking up at the place in awe. It’s easily the prettiest house I’ve ever seen. Around the place ivy climbs the walls, and moss leaves the ground a verdant green.

  It’s incredible.

  Cliff slips his hand in mine and leads me to the door. He’s quick to reach above the light on the porch and produces a key. He opens the door and pushes it open for me. I walk in, my eyes traveling up as I step into the place. I’m under a loft-looking area, with a kitchen to my left and what looks like rooms to my right.

  This space is open and airy, beautiful and sunlit. The wooden beams are honey colored and shining. The floor is concrete that’s been treated and stained a beautiful cream and coffee colored with a sheen to it that’s breathtaking.

  Cliff comes in behind me, and his hands find my hips as his lips touch my neck. Then he’s off toward another room, and I follow him. “Guest bedroom and main bath,” he says, showing me the area that I’d thought was a bedroom.

  I peek in, loving the view of the lake and the comfortable feel of the place. We leave and he shows me the kitchen.

  “Where the magic happens,” I joke, hearing my stomach grumble a bit. We’ve been on the road for hours, and before that we’d had breakfast and nookie.

  I’ve been without proper food for way too long.

  He nods, his eyes twinkling with humor as he leads me out to the great room, where the ceiling soars overhead and windows line the entire wall with wooden beams between them to hold them in place.

  The lake beyond is blue and sparkling, a beautiful contrast to the honey and creamy coffee colors inside, as are the green trees and plants outside.

  It’s picturesque. Beautiful. Perfection.

  Turning to Cliff, I breathe, “I love it!”

  On the wall facing the water, there’s a huge open fireplace that’s inviting even when there’s no fire. Around are couches, love seats, comfortable-looking chairs that tell me this is a family gathering space to talk, to laugh, to love and play.

  I bet there’s a family that eats here, that gathers and just enjoys life. How could you not love life in a house and its surroundings like this?

  He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs to the loft area. The great open area around us feels huge and open, but the loft with the pointed loft ceilings also feels large.

  “Master bedroom,” he says, leading me into a beautiful bedroom. The bed is an enormous four-poster thing with sheer curtains draped over it. I see a couple of doors, and Cliff is quick to show me closets and the master bath that’s obviously been updated and modernized through the years.

  The master bath has a beautiful garden tub complete with jets and a glass shower box with an overhead shower that’s big enough to cover almost the entire space. There are even nozzles on the wall that look like they’re there to spray straight out.

  “There’s also an outdoor shower that I love,” he says, his voice dark with a promise that I’ll love it too.

  “Did you grow up here?” I ask, wanting to learn everything there is to know about this place.

  “Off and on,” he says. “It’s a family vacation home, so we didn’t live here year round. This was where I spent every summer, though.”

  I imagine a serious young Cliff with navy eyes swimming off the dock and fishing, boating, and enjoying family time. His eyes tell me he enjoyed his time here, that it’s a soft place in his heart, and I can’t help but thank him for bringing me here.

  “Thank you for sharing this with me,” I say, taking his hands as we stand facing each other at the top of the loft stairs.

  “Thank you for coming here with me,” he says, his tone as serious as mine. And for just a moment, it feels less like we’re on the run from the insanity that has shadowed my life and more like we’re a couple here to get away from the world and just enjoy each other.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” I say, and his eyes narrow just a fraction. I continue before he can stress too much about what I mean. “I got attached. You told me not to. But there’s just something about you, Cliff.”

  His lips meet mine in a sweet kiss that feels like coming home.

  I expect him to push me away like he has every step of the way. But he doesn’t. He pulls me closer and holds me tight as the kiss deepens. We savor each other. The kiss is wonderful, as is the sensation that this is what he wants—me.

  In this beautiful place, I feel safe. With this man, I feel like I’ve found where I belong.

  I break the kiss and plant a tiny one on his lips, then another as he presses his forehead to mine, and his lips curve into the barest hint of a smile.

  “I’m starving,” I say, and his chest rumbles with a laugh.

  “Well, in that case I better feed you,” he says, and I nod.

  “That would be best,” I say as he walks toward the kitchen. I follow, still loving this place more than I’d like to admit.

  “So who built this house?” I ask, desperate for answers to the history of this place.

  “My great-great-grandpa,” he says, giving me another Cliff special short answer that really doesn’t satisfy my need to know more.

  “So it’s been in the family a long time?” I ask, touching the stainless steel fridge. The kitchen is modern and shows that this place is absolutely a family space. The fridge and freezer side-by-side combo is huge.

  The range is also stainless and has six burners. There’s an oven and what l
ooks like a baker’s convection oven, but I don’t see a microwave.

  “Who taught you to cook?” I ask, and he glances over at me from the mushrooms he’s slicing. “Who stocks this place?” I add, and he grins.

  “My mother and I called in a favor to have it stocked.”

  “You don’t really talk much, do you?” I say, teasing, and he arches an eyebrow at me.

  “I do if I have something to say,” he says casually, and I nod. That’s a fair thing to say. His quiet doesn’t bother me, not at all. I don’t mind that he doesn’t just chatter about nothing. In fact, I love that he’s so serious with words, and careful how he uses them. I can trust anything he says, and that’s a rare treat.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cliff

  I sauté the mushrooms and set them aside before heating the cast iron pan up to a level that’ll sear. Taking out the steaks, I add some salt to them, and some pepper before taking out some potatoes and scrubbing them in the sink.

  Cutting them nearly in half, I place them in tinfoil boats. I get a bit of butter and thrown it in a pan to melt before chopping up some garlic cloves and adding it to the butter. As everything cooks, I see her watching me.

  “I suck at cooking,” she says, “or I’d help.”

  “I could teach you,” I say, thinking back on the good memories I have of myself and my mother in the kitchen. She’d thought it was important that I know how to feed myself, since I’ve always been a big eater.

  It might be fun to teach Addie what I know.

  “I’d like that,” she says wistfully as I pull the melted butter and garlic off the stove and pour them over the potatoes before sealing up the tinfoil and throwing them in the oven.

  With everything heating and cooking, I walk over to where she’s sitting on the counter and place my hands on either side of her hips. She leans in and kisses me, and I feel parts of my self-control slipping way. I want her, and I want her now.

  There’s no denying that this woman has taken something from me, but she’s given me so much more.

  Gripping the counter so hard my knuckles ache, I maintain my control and manage to back off. Her hands capture my shoulders, and she stops me from moving too far away.

  “Make love to me tonight,” she says softly. The words are not a question but lack the force for me to call them a demand. It’s something in the middle, a softly spoken, gentle request that hits me harder than either a question or demand would have.

  I nod, pressing my forehead to hers.

  It’ll take every last ounce of self-control I have to make love to her rather than fuck her to relieve this agony deep in my body, but if that’s what she wants, I’ll do everything in my power to give it to her.

  We stay close like that, in silence, until the potatoes warn me it’s time to throw the steaks on. I leave her side and take the steaks and lay them carefully—seasoned side down—on the hot pan. They sizzle and I salt and pepper the other side of them as they cook.

  “How do you like your steak?” I ask.

  “Seared on the outside, bloody inside,” she says cheerfully, and I nod. A girl after my own heart; she likes it the same way I do. Leaving them to cook, I walk back over to be close to her.

  “Want me to set the table?” she asks, and I give her a quick kiss on the lips.

  “Sure,” I say, feeling unable to keep my hands to myself. Grabbing her hips, I pull her off the counter and she slides sexily down the front of my body before her toes touch the floor.

  The look on her face is pure shock and excitement. I see it in the slight part of her lips, the electric green of her eyes, the hunger in her tongue as it touches her top lip.

  But I step back.

  Walking over to flip the steaks, I watch her set the table. Her every step is graceful; her hands are delicate as she places napkins. She comes back into the kitchen as I open the silverware drawer to help her out.

  She takes what we need and a couple of wicked-looking steak knives. I pull out the potatoes and unwrap them. The scent of garlic butter fills the air as I put them on the plate, still steaming hot and delicious.

  The steaks are good to go, and I plate them up and walk them both over to the table. She works around me, getting ice water and taking her place at the table.

  I sit opposite her, and we smile at each other.

  “I’ve got wine and beer,” I say, but she shakes her head.

  “I don’t drink,” she says, and I nod.

  I can echo that. “I rarely drink,” I say, thinking about how I’d prefer to always be in full control of my mind and body. “Dig in,” I say, and we both pick up our silverware and begin to eat.

  While she eats, she makes yummy noises and looks around the place, her eyes still alight with the same excitement she’s had since coming here. I love seeing her so animated.

  We chat about everything and nothing as we eat. I fill her in on memories, she tells me about her parents. We joke and talk, laugh and eat, and simply enjoy each other.

  She’s so refreshing, so honest and kind. It baffles me how someone could ever try to hurt her.

  When we’re finally done, I walk her upstairs and she vanishes into the bathroom. I head to the downstairs and grab a spare toothbrush, knowing that garlic and mushroom isn’t the best kissing breath.

  When I’m minty fresh, I head back up and she pops out of the bathroom. She meets me, her arms around my shoulders as she kisses me. She’s sweet and minty as if she’d had the same thoughts.

  I pick her up, and her legs wind around me. There’s a new fire in her kiss, a new kind of desperation that mirrors all the stress we’ve been running from. It’s like she’s certain she’s going to die and needs to just have this moment here with me.

  I lower her onto the bed, my hand behind her head as our tongues battle and dance, finding no middle ground. She’s quick to find the hem of my shirt and pull it up over my head and off. She tosses it aside and kisses me again.

  I pick her up and turn her so she’s straddling my hips and we’re sitting on the edge of the bed. Pulling her shirt over her head, I bury my face in her breasts. She’s so soft, so sweet.

  With quick fingers, I unhook her bra and drop it to the side before kissing her nipples and just enjoying her softness and sweet scent. Her hands press to my temples as if she’s not willing to let me go.

  I grab her hips and push her back until she’s standing. Freeing her of her pants, I whisk them and her panties down. She smells hot and wet, sexy as fuck and too good to deny. Every bit of me is desperate to bury the hard length of me deep within her, but I hold back.

  Her hands lower to my pants, and she works my button free, then my zipper. I stand up with her, and she pulls my pants off, then my boxers, and I feel her freeze.

  I kiss her, knowing words won’t help. With hands on her hips, I sit down and pull her into my lap. She does as I urge her, and pretty soon, my cock is nestled between her body and mine. I give her time to get used to the thought of this, the feeling of me, and how much control I’ve got.

  I want her to know I’m not just going to hurt her.

  To my surprise, she rises up on her knees, lifting her body, and I enjoy being face level with her breasts again. She lets out a moan, and I adjust so when she lowers, she’ll be taking me.

  I give her control, as hard as it is to keep from grabbing her hips and just pulling her down hard on me.

  She begins to lower slowly as I take one of her nipples in my mouth and revel in the taste of her. She’s so fucking sexy.

  “Cliff,” she whispers, and I release her and look up into her eyes.

  “Good girl,” I growl, and she blinks. Placing my hands on her hips, I gently guide her down and she whimpers as her pussy stretches to fit me. She feels so amazing, her wet heat closing slowly and painfully around me. I grit my teeth.

  “You’re amazing,” I tell her, and she gasps. “It’s okay, shhh,” I say as I feel her begin to stress. With a thumb, I find her clit and begin to work
circles around it. And suddenly, she’s on fire as she slides down harder with a whimper of desperation.

  It’s all I can do not to push her down and hold her firm with me as far in her as I can go. I kiss her, then nip at her lips with my teeth, feeling the strain as she sits still, her body adjusting to me as I tease her clit.

  Then, she’s moving against me, and I move my hand as our bodies work together in a rhythm as old as life itself. Her tits crush to my chest as she clings to me, her hips rocking hard and fast.

  It’s an incredible sensation, her heat enveloping me, her wet, sweet pussy hugging my throbbing cock.

  “Oh, god, Cliff,” she says, her voice thrilled, as if this is more than she ever expected.

  “Fuck,” I grind out, “you’re fucking sexy.” Her hips move quicker, and I feel her belly tighten. I fucking love how fast she’s there on the edge of oblivion. It’s like her body was made for me, designed just for me to please.

  I slide a hand behind her back and press my palm flat to her skin. She’s amazing in every possible way. And she’s mine. Because now that I’ve had a taste of this, there’s no way she can just walk out of my life when all of this is over. I have to find a way to keep her.

  “Cliff,” she whispers, her eyes focusing on my lips. I kiss her before answering.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m going to come,” she says, triumph in her voice.

  “Good girl,” I say, and I feel her muscles tighten and spasm around my cock. The sensation is all it takes to drive me over the edge, and she gasps as I swell within her.

  “I’ll join you,” I say, and she cries out.

  I press my lips to hers to quiet her, and her tongue finds mine. The kiss is desperate as our souls bare all and our bodies explode together. I feel my balls gather in tight, and I fill her with everything I’ve got as her pussy continues to milk me hard.

  Her cries fade into those cute little gasps I love, and our lips part. I hold her as her body goes limp in my arms. Together, we lie back on the bed. With her on my chest, I feel her relax as she listens to the cadence of my heart and I wonder what I’m going to do if she ever decides to leave.