Shelter from the Storm

by Molly Wens

  Carissa turned away from the stove to see Bryce crouched down in front of the fireplace, her mind still reeling from their steamy sexual encounter. Her breath caught in her throat at the glowing image of his sculpted frame in the scant light of the flames he was stoking to life. Fresh heat raced through her veins as she remembered what it was like to be held in his strong arms and loved by his muscular body.

  She returned to the task of loading more wood into the old pot-bellied stove, her hands working around the blanket that she had wrapped around her naked body to ward off the chill of the mountain winter. She straightened to pull the pot of leftover soup onto the hot burner plate, and added another can of broth to the contents of the vessel. A contented smile played at her lips as her new lover moved up behind her, encircling her with his arms and reaching inside the blanket to cup her breasts.

  Sighing softly, she melted back into him, resting her head on his shoulder. His hand came up to her face, gently turning her head to accept his kiss. She turned in his arms, raising her hands to his face as the blanket dropped to pool about their feet. The kiss penetrated her mind and heart, causing the very air around them to become warm.

  Releasing her lips, he buried his face into the unruly curls that danced over the curve of her neck, pressing her heated skin against his own. “The bed was cold and lonely without you,” he breathed against her throat.

  "I'm sorry,” she murmured in response. “I didn't mean to wake you."

  "It was the empty bed that woke me.” He lifted his head to look at her lovely face. “What are you doing?"

  She grinned openly. “I got hungry. You wore me out and worked up my appetite."

  He chuckled and lifted the long fingers of one big hand to smooth an errant curl from her eyes. “I'm hungry, too,” he whispered, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I think I'd like to have a bite of you.” He lowered his mouth again, capturing her tremulous lips in another rousing kiss before trailing downward to her throat, nibbling at the skin that covered her pulsing artery.

  She moaned softly as she pushed at his chest saying, “I have to eat, my stomach is growling. I'll die after another round with you if I don't."

  "Well, we can't have that,” he laughed as he reluctantly released her. As she turned back to the stove, his arms came around her again. “I can't get enough of you,” he whispered, his hot lips against the shell of her ear.

  "You want some soup?” she asked, with a quiver of pure pleasure.

  "Yes, I think we both need to keep our strength up. I plan to spend the rest of the winter in bed with you."

  She giggled enthusiastically, as she reached for the ladle to dip into the rich soup of beef and vegetables. After pouring two bowls, she handed them to Bryce who carried them to the table while she dug a couple of spoons out of the utensil drawer. He grabbed the blanket off the floor and wrapped it around himself, sitting in a chair and pulling her down upon his lap. Her hip settled over his groin as he engulfed her in his arms to warm her body with the folds of the soft blanket and another ardent kiss.

  "Eat,” she said on a panting breath as their lips parted.

  He took the spoon with a reluctant sigh. “Anyone ever tell you that you're bossy?"

  She giggled as she picked up her bowl and stirred the contents, steam rising to entice her with the rich fragrance. “All the time,” she laughed. “By the way, I cleaned up your mess on the floor over there.” She pointed to an area on the floor of the kitchen where she had swept up the hair clippings from earlier.

  "My mess? Just who was doing the shearing?” he asked, adoring the sound as she laughed at his indignant tone, running her knuckles down his shaven cheek.

  "If I'd known that all I had to do to get you in bed was shave, I would've done it the moment I found you in the snow,” he said amorously. He was rewarded with her sharp little elbow stabbing him in the ribs, causing him to grunt loudly and her to giggle wickedly.

  They ate in silence for a few moments, looking longingly into each other's eyes as Skoll begged silently from his spot on the floor. “If we were at my house, we would be eating some fresh-baked bread with this,” Carissa sighed wistfully.

  "There's a jar of yeast in the pantry if you want to make some bread,” he told her. “I don't know if it's any good. It's been in there for awhile. I tried to make some once but it didn't turn out so well. I dropped it and the floor broke. See?” He pointed to a cracked flat rock in the stone floor.

  She laughed at his little joke before snuggling against him. She set her bowl on the table and turned to nibble along the stretch of muscle that spread out from his collarbone. It was all the prompting he needed to reach over her and sweep his arm across the table; clearing the surface in a loud clatter of wooden bowls and metal spoons hitting the stone surface of the floor. Skoll's patience had paid off as he busily cleaned the floor with his huge tongue while Bryce lifted Carissa's giggling body up and onto the table.

  Bryce bent over Carissa, laying her on her back, trailing kisses and the tips of his fingers down the silken skin of her torso. She writhed and moaned in heated pleasure against the rough surface of the wooden table, her hands tangling in the thick, black locks of his hair. She let out a little cry as his mouth captured one of her nipples, suckling the knotted bud; while his other hand kneaded the rounded flesh of her other breast. Neither of them noticed as Skoll let out an indignant groan and quickly exited the room.

  His mouth abandoned her right breast as he moved to her left one, capturing the neglected left nipple gently between his teeth. Her back arched, pushing her flesh against his mouth as she whimpered at the sensations he created in her body. His right hand moved lower, skimming over the soft down of her sex before his fingers worked tenderly to open the flower of her lips and stroke the wet flesh within.

  With a moan, he released her nipple and worked his way lower over the soft silken flesh of her belly, and lower still, to brush his lips against bony protrusions of her pelvis at her hips and the satiny skin of her inner thighs as they dangled over the edge of the table. Her sweet moans enticed him, urging him to taste the wetness at her center, his tongue laving her swollen lips in slow, teasing circles. When the realization that he had stopped his tantalizingly slow torment of her body finally penetrated the haze of carnal pleasure that clouded her mind, she opened her eyes to find him standing over her, grinning wickedly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked suspiciously.

  "I'm thinking that I need vengeance for what you did to me earlier,” he intoned with mock maliciousness.

  "For what? What did I do?” She was suddenly wary, wondering what she had done wrong.

  "You shaved off a mountain man's beard, evil wench.” He laughed at her startled expression.

  "It needed shaving...” she began, only to see him move suddenly away, out of her limited range of vision.

  When Bryce returned to stand between her legs again, he held up the gleaming scissors, laying the closed straight razor on her belly with his other hand, grinning in lustful glee.

  "Exactly what are you planning?” she demanded as she rose up on her elbows.

  Bryce pushed her back down saying, “You better hold still. You don't want to get nicked."

  He bent to take a few locks of her feathery pubic hair in his hand and snip it off with the scissors. She let out a squeal of indignation, drawing a soft chuckle from his throat. He snipped another handful of hair as she tried to wriggle from under his grasping hands.

  "Don't make me spank you,” he said with mock sternness.

  She laughed aloud. “You're evil!” she exclaimed.

  "And you love it,” he returned.

  He set the scissors on the table to take hold of her feet and prop them on the table's edge, pushing her knees far apart and leaving her wide open. “Keep your legs like that,” he ordered.

  He returned to the pleasurable task of closely cropping her pubic curls and tossing the spent hair on the floor. When he
finished that task, he ran his hand over the stubbly surface, finding just how arousing the experience was for her in how wet her flesh had become. Carissa moaned and moved her hips up against his hand without realizing it.

  Bryce stepped out of her view again, returning with the old shaving cup and brush in one hand and a wet towel, heated with the water from the kettle in the other. He was rewarded with another squeal as he laid the hot towel over her sex while he worked the lather in the cup. Again, he grinned at her with a licentious spark in his eyes. Setting the foam-filled cup aside, he removed the cooling towel from her skin, taking just a moment to drag the cloth down the swollen cleft, drawing a loud moan from her mouth.

  He tossed the towel aside, taking up the cup and using the brush to slowly spread the lather over the entire area of her sex, teasing her with the feathery bristles. Looking decidedly evil, he held up the razor, opening it and dangling it before her eyes. She moaned out a nervous laugh, trying to bring her knees together before he could start the final step.

  "I'll punish you,” he warned as he arched a brow at her.

  She let her knees drop apart again, not at all perturbed, but very electrified by his expression. Her entire body had come alive under his play, strangely stimulated by the eroticism of his actions. Bryce brought the razor down, sliding the blade gently over the top of her mound and downward and wiping the blade clean on the discarded towel. He made a second swipe and then a third. With each strip of skin he bared, the sensation of cool air brought her a strange new stimulation, causing soft moans and a fresh flood of wet excitement to gush from her insides.

  He took his time, enjoying the power to explore and tease her body that she was allowing him. If she had shown any true objection to his plan, he would have quickly dispensed with it, not wanting to do anything that would upset her, but to be able to take such liberties with this delectable creature had his own body aroused to the point of rock-hardness. He was relishing every sensation that her prone body was evoking in him, every sound that her throat emitted as his hands worked.

  "Now, hold very still,” he warned. “This area here is a little tricky."

  She moaned again as he took one of her swollen lips between his fingers, stretching it while he dragged the blade over it. He repeated the action on the other side, his hard cock throbbing in anticipation as he removed the last of her intimate hair. Once she had been completely denuded, he stepped away to return with another warm towel and cleaned the remains of the soap from her skin. This simple action drew another low moan from her lips as she once again began to writhe under his touch.

  "Now I dine,” he said with a chuckle as he pulled up his chair and sat down.

  Carissa cried out as his mouth descended upon her flesh, now overly sensitized by the erotic shave he had just given her. His tongue came into contact with her clitoris, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. He reached up with his left hand to tease one nipple while simultaneously caressing her drenched pussy with his right. Slipping a finger into her, he timed his strokes with the flicks of his tongue across her clit until her entire body clenched, raising her hips off the table. Her inner muscles clamped around his thrusting finger as she screamed and shuddered in the throes of a sublime orgasm.

  He slowed his movements for a moment, giving her a chance to calm herself, before increasing the intensity of his assault on her flesh once again. It was not long before she was bucking against his mouth again, crying out and clutching at his hair. He pushed her to a third climax before the demands of his own rigid arousal could no longer be denied.

  He stood abruptly, kicking the chair aside and lifting her legs up nestling her thighs against her upper body. His cock seemed to know where to go without any direction from him as he plunged deeply into her, holding there, enjoying the hot velvet of her canal. He could not remain still for long, his need driving him beyond reason, his hips pulling back slowly and plunging forth again. Somewhere in the rapturous fog that had enveloped him, he heard her cry his name as he continued to lunge in and out of her body.

  He could feel her muscles tightening around him as her own pleasure was driving her again to the pinnacle of ecstasy when, pulling her legs down to wrap around his waist, he lifted her against his body. Holding her upright he pounded into her, feeling the intensity of her small body as she bucked wildly against him, throwing her head back and voicing her climax in small, sobbing cries. At the same moment, he launched his seed into her womb in a guttural cry of pure euphoria, stumbling back under the force of his climax and falling against the wall for support.

  Holding her shuddering body tightly, still hard inside her, he carried her from the kitchen into the main room and laid her on the bed. He shifted his panting body off her, pulling her up against him as they lay on their sides, gazing at one another.

  "I think I have a splinter in my butt,” she said.

  Bryce guffawed loudly and reached down to cup her offended body part. “I'll suck it out later. Right now I'm exhausted. You wore me out."

  She snuggled up against him, enjoying the feel of his hand massaging her derriere. “Has your need for vengeance been slaked?"

  "For the moment, love,” he laughed, reaching for the rumpled bedding to cover their shaken bodies. “No woman has ever affected me like you,” he added with a touch of sadness in his voice.

  Carissa wondered at that note of melancholy, making a mental note to ask him about it later. For the moment, however, she could not keep her eyes open, and gave in to the drowsy after-effects of their primal sexual encounters. She dropped off to sleep wrapped in the warmth and comfort of his body, and dreamed of waking to make love all over again.

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  Chapter 12

  The days tumbled by into weeks with the bliss that only two lovers could find when exploring one another's bodies and minds. They opened to each other, talking of their pasts, their dreams and their disappointments. They made love passionately in the dark of cold night and the light of new day, some days barely venturing from the huge bed that became the center of their world. Skoll would prance endlessly until Bryce would be forced to leave the warmth of Carissa's body to take his stalwart companion out for some exercise and to hunt for fresh meat, protein to keep up the strength of the ardent lovers.

  Bryce had killed a turkey one day in late November; his pride in this rare accomplishment evident when he carried the bird into the cabin, declaring that Thanksgiving must be near. He was crestfallen, however when he had seen the sadness that clouded her eyes for a moment before she had hidden it behind a sunny smile. He knew that she pined for her children, her loneliness for them sometimes evident in the way she would cry in her sleep, calling their names and moaning. Each time that she spoke of her family, he was reminded that one day she would be leaving him, to return to her children and take up her life where she had left off, and he would again be alone.

  Bryce had told Carissa of his time as an investment advisor back east, and his childhood in the mountainous climes of Wyoming. He talked of his father, who still lived in Casper, Wyoming and his mother who had died while he was away at college. He had done his graduate studies at Yale, his grandfather's alma mater. He talked of his beloved grandfather, who had built the cabin, and that man's great love for the woman who had died before Bryce was born. The man never remarried, spending the rest of his life mourning his great love.

  Bryce talked of all these things but still refused to tell her how he had acquired the scars that marred his face and covered much of his chest. Pressing him on the question would often lead to his sullen dark moods, but Carissa refused to give up. Something was eating away at his soul, no matter the small happiness they had found together, and she knew that unless he let go of that pain, he would never truly be free of the nightmares that haunted him.

  As they sat, naked and wrapped in the old quilt from the bed in Bryce's recliner, on one of the long nights that marked early December, Carissa felt his fingers tracing one of the fa
int, snake-like scars that curled over her lower back. The sensation was just as arousing as any other he had given her body over the past weeks, causing her to sigh contentedly as she snuggled against his warm, hard body. Her hand, which had been enjoying the rough texture of the two-day growth of beard on his jaw, gently tugged his face around to look away from the blazing fire and at her face.

  "My ex-husband did that to me,” she murmured. “It's what happens when you serve him with divorce papers. He tore the electrical cord out of my toaster, held me down and beat me with it."

  Bryce could not help the rage that burned in his eyes at her admission. “If I ever see the son-of-a-bitch, I'll kill him,” he growled earnestly.

  She shook her head against his chest. “No, Bryce. He was paid back. I stopped him myself, and when the ambulance came that day it was to take him to the hospital, not me. I'm not a woman to give in to such mistreatment.” She sighed as she looked at the flames on the grate.

  "He wasn't always like that, you know."

  "They never are,” he retorted.

  "No, you don't understand. He was a good man and a good husband, until the accident. He worked in the manufacturing business. He was one of the managers at a plant, and was well liked and respected. We were really happy together.” She stopped and sighed again. “Then, at one of the loading bays, an over-head door malfunctioned and dropped on his head. There was spinal damage. He had a severe concussion. He was in a coma for nearly four weeks. When he came around, he wasn't the same. The nerve damage in his neck caused chronic pain and there were other issues. I can't remember the big words the doctors used but the personality centers in his brain were affected.

  "After that he became withdrawn and hateful. He would lie around the house for days, and then suddenly go nuts, lashing out at everyone and everything. Before the accident he was so thrilled to find out I was pregnant. Afterwards he hated me for adding another burden to his life. He became so unpredictable that I was walking on eggshells all the time. He had never hit me, but I was scared just the same. When Jon-Jon was born, he swore that he would do better. He went to see a specialist and was diagnosed with bipolar disease, brought on by the brain damage from the accident. He was put on medication and for a while it looked like everything was going to be all right.