Shelter from the Storm

by Molly Wens

  Bryce traced his fingers over the top of her mound, around the closely cropped hair that was slowly growing back, and down the junction of her legs. He loved the way her hips gyrated and squirmed in an effort to direct his fingers to the place of her desire. His amusement increased with each pleading whimper and deranged moan that tumbled from her mouth as he mercilessly teased her senses.

  A small squeal of fevered delight erupted from her mouth the minute his fingers at last came into contact with her most intimate flesh. He gently pried open the swollen, aching lips of her sex to see what secrets they concealed. Therein he found enough to have his pulse racing and his cock pulsating with an almost electrical shock. The rosy color of the inner flesh and the amount of liquid heat glistening within the folds fascinated him. The hard kernel of her clitoris peeked out at him from under its hood, begging to be coddled by his tongue.

  He had to have a taste of her, had to feel her dripping warmth in his mouth and her body shuddering under him. Without further prelude, his mouth claimed that prize wrenching a sob from the throat of his victim as his long, tapered finger slowly slithered into her body. He hooked the tip of his finger upward, finding that mysterious section of succulent flesh that, when stimulated, would send her into mindless spasms of pleasure.

  He flicked his tongue over the rigid gem of her clit in time to the movements of his finger, rewarded within moments by her shuddering screams while the muscles inside her body clamped around his digit, and she bucked wildly against his face. They seemed to go on forever, those waves of ecstasy that had seized her body, his mouth driving her harder and higher. Finally, her convulsing body crashed against the mattress, quivering, panting, moaning in sobs.

  Bryce was shaking when his mouth released her; the pulsating hardness of his cock would no longer be denied. Rising up on his knees, he grasped her hips and pulled her bottom over his thighs, impaling her almost brutally on his shaft. He pummeled her small body in a frenzied siege of carnal force, pushing her to another shattering climax before he exploded in a river of seminal fluid.

  Absolutely slaked, his exhausted body fell forward on his hands, his arms straddling her shoulders as he locked eyes with her. “I love you,” he breathed out. “You're my whole world."

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  Chapter 13

  Carissa awoke with a gnawing in her belly and a tight soreness between her legs. Still there was a contented smile on her lips when she rolled over to touch Bryce, but the smile faded when she discovered him gone. The late afternoon sun streaming through the windows, which she had opened earlier to the light, was casting long shadows across the stone floor.

  Her brows drew together, her full lower lip protruding in a slight pout, as disappointment offered the only cloud in this otherwise beautiful day. Her smile soon returned however, as she allowed herself a long and luxurious stretch under the blankets. It felt wonderful to be alive.

  Sitting up, she found the cabin to be warm with a roaring fire on the hearth and the delicious aroma of something wonderful bubbling on the stove. She wasted little time in hauling herself out of bed, laughing about how strange it felt to be on her feet—she so seldom was anymore. Bryce's discarded shirt still held his scent as she slipped her arms into the sleeves and held the soft flannel collar to her nose. It was a wonderful fragrance that brought that soft, moist heat flooding between her thighs again.

  The huge shirt flowed loosely about her slender body as she padded across the cold stones of the floor with bare feet. Upon entering the kitchen, she was disappointed again that Bryce was nowhere to be found, but the old bathtub sat on the floor, hot vapor rising to mingle with the steam of the stew that simmered on the stovetop. A soft smile curved her generous lips upward at the thoughtfulness of the man who now owned her heart. For a giant growling bear, he definitely had a sweet side that endeared him to her, something that only made her want to love him more.

  She paid a quick visit to the chilly privy through the pantry, an ingenious little room that Bryce had said his grandfather had built because his grandmother had refused to use an outhouse. It was reminiscent of the old-fashioned “water closet” of by-gone days. After using the commode, one had only to pull a chain to release the water stored in a tank high up on the wall to flush the waste away, the water carrying it through nearly fifty yards of pipes to an ancient septic system down hill below the cabin. It amazed Carissa how the water tank refilled from a large reservoir mounted on a sturdy log shelf, a float valve terminating the flow of water once it hit the right level. Bryce had to fill the holding tank with buckets when it became too low, using a set of steps that had been built for that purpose.

  Returning to the kitchen and its inviting warmth, Carissa let the shirt slither to the floor as she stepped into the tub, her body slipping down into the water to immerse as deeply as the little reservoir would allow. It was difficult to imagine ever being anywhere as heavenly as this cabin in the middle of nowhere with this man who made her shiver and moan.

  The only thing that could possibly make it better would be to have her children with them. The contented smile faded at that thought, her mind turning to the tiny faces of those most dear in her life. It had been so long since she had seen them, so long since she had been able to wrap her arms around their small, wriggling bodies and hold them the way only a mother knows how to do. She wondered if they were eating right, if they were well, how much they had grown. Tears threatened to spill at the worry that their father might be in control of them at this very moment, might be frightening them. She would not allow herself to think that he might be physically hurting them; it was too painful for her mind to grasp.

  Unbidden reminiscences of holidays shared came from the reaches of her memory with bright shining eyes and childish giggles as laden stockings were ransacked and gift-wrapping was torn asunder. Impish squeals of delight echoed within her homesick mind, bringing the tears that she tried to hold in check. That chamber of the heart that her children occupied ached fervently as her desire to be home nearly overwhelmed the happiness of being with the man she loved.

  Carissa heard the cabin door open, felt the cool draft wend its way into the kitchen and across her wet skin. She quickly stanched to flow of tears, scrubbing her face quickly with the woodsy-scented soap. If Bryce were to see that she had been crying, there would be concern in his eyes and she only wanted to see his joy, to feel his happiness.

  Bryce entered the room, a gorgeous smile on his dark face and in his hands, a wreath of pine boughs interwoven with blue Juniper and bright orange Bittersweet berries. Skoll accompanied him, trotting into the room and pausing his dancing gait to lick at Carissa's face. The broad, boyish grin, so wonderful to see on Bryce's face, turned to a worried frown when he looked at her wet face. She knew she could not hide the redness of her eyes and nose, or the tears that still glistened in her eyes.

  "What is it?” he asked as he shooed the dog away.

  "You made me a wreath? It's beautiful. Thank you,” she said as she smiled up at him.

  "You've been crying,” his deep voice stated abruptly. “What's wrong?” He tossed the wreath onto the table and knelt beside the tub.

  Another tear slipped down her cheek as still more danced in her eyes. “Don't mind me. I'm just feeling emotional. What do you expect after what you did to my body this morning?” She made a little laugh but it sounded more like a sob.

  He was not buying the explanation for a minute, could see the sadness in her eyes. He knew what was going through her mind and it only served to remind him that he would have to give her up one day, a thought that tore at his own heart. A strange impotent anger filled his chest; he was helpless in the face of his future loss and the unhappiness on Carissa's face, even if she was trying to hide it.

  "Are you sure that's all?” His gruff question came out more harshly than he had intended.

  She merely nodded, her smile tremulous as she laid her head against the back of the tub and closed her eyes. She had to ge
t hold of herself, was determined to keep him happy within the seclusion of this wilderness. A sigh escaped her lips as his fingers smoothed back a curl that clung to her damp cheek. His touch, his smile, his smoldering gray eyes were the only joy she knew at present, and her soul needed him.

  His lips brushed her forehead in an achingly tender kiss that threatened to have her weeping again. To distract her mind, she sat up and handed him the bar of soap still clutched in her fingers, a soft smile on her lips.

  "Wash my back?” she asked sweetly as she gathered her dark, burnished curls and pulled them over her alabaster shoulder.

  Bryce was motionless for long moments studying the contours of her face and the emotion in her eyes before taking hold of the soap. He ignored the proffered washcloth, preferring to massage the suds over her silky skin with his bare hands. She was intoxicating to him, a drug to which he had become irreversibly addicted. How was he going to live without her sweet smile, her warm body next to his, or the way his heart raced every time he looked at her beautiful face?

  Cupping his hands, he dipped into the water to pour over her back, rinsing away the lather before smoothing his palms over the wet skin. He told her to lift her chin so that he could pour fresh warm water over her head and wash her hair. It was a task that he had come to enjoy; an act of tender care that stimulated his desire for Carissa. Not just sexually, but for her entire being; mind, body, heart and soul.

  His hands shook as he rinsed the last of the soap bubbles from her hair, his mood growing considerably darker. He held a towel for her as she stepped from the tub onto the cold floor. Her body shivered slightly as it left the warm water of the tub, her nipples drawing taut, begging to be touched and teased. He turned from her, walking to the main room of the cabin struggling to keep his own emotions in check.

  Carissa, confused by his sudden abrupt departure, bent to retrieve her discarded shirt, pulling it over her still-damp skin. Using the towel to dry her tangled locks of hair and hanging his sweet gift of the wreath on her arm, she left the kitchen in his wake, wondering if he were feeling all right. She found him standing in front of a window, his hands on his hips, his back rigid as he stared out into the waning afternoon sunlight.

  "Bryce?” she called out softly when she saw him.

  He did not turn, only stared silently, seeing nothing. He was angry, almost as angry as he had been the day she had told him the story of how she came to be lost in the wilderness. He had wanted to kill the bastards who had dared to lay a hand on her, and he had wanted to do it with his bare hands. He knew their names well: Kyle Pritchert and Bert Adams. There was no one that he could direct this new anger at, however. All he could do was turn it inward, try to contain it and keep it from her as he struggled to get past it.

  Carissa's shoulders rose in a sigh as she watched him, wondering what he was thinking, but not daring to ask. There was a sudden gaping distance between them, something that she did not like, but she did not know what to do about it. Her head shook in dismay at his lightning quick moods, wishing she could bridge the gap between them.

  She spied something on the rumpled bed, a fairly large package wrapped in cloth and tied with twine. There was a small bouquet of Juniper and Bittersweet sprigs, tied within the bow that held the edges of the cloth closed. “What's this?” she asked, her voice betraying the delight she felt in her heart.

  Bryce turned to see her, the shirt that covered her was open down the front, exposing the tantalizing line of her breastbone that led to her navel, and then to her sex. Her slim legs peered out from the folds of the over-sized garment, begging to be caressed, stroked with the flat of his hand. What captured his heart most, though, was the infinite green light in her eyes that drew him like a moth to a flame.

  "I know it's still early for Christmas but,” he said with a slight dejected note to his voice, “I thought you could use it now."

  He thought she looked sweet and innocent like a girl when she dropped the wreath and took hold of his gift. She had a delighted smile that he found infectious as she carefully pulled the string from the package and removed the cloth. Her face was frozen in wondrous surprise for just a moment at what she found inside, her eyes rising to meet his, a squeal emitting from those succulent lips. She tossed the wrapping aside as she bounded to him, his gift still clutched in her delicate fingers, her arms wrapping around his neck in joy.

  "Did you make these?” she asked, her voice astonished.

  "Yes,” he answered with much less enthusiasm. “When I was a kid I learned by helping a couple of Indian friends of my grandfather's. They made and sold them at a little stand they had."

  "They're wonderful!” she twittered as she ran to the bed, hopping onto its massive mattress. “I can't believe you made me moccasins! You're so wonderful. I can't wait to try them on.” Within moments, her feet and calves were laced into the warm, soft confines of velvety rabbit fur, her breath exiting her body on a soft sigh. “I feel so bad,” she said, distending her lower lip in a mock pout. “I didn't get you anything."

  Bryce watched as she sat on the bed, leaning forward over her knees, admiring his handiwork that now warmed her little feet. Her fingers caressed the luxurious fur in enticing strokes that had his mouth watering. A smile broke across his lips as he slowly joined her, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You like?"

  "Oh, yes. Thank you so much. You're the sweetest man for doing this. I don't think I've ever known anyone as thoughtful as you. You take such good care of me.” She reached out a hand to touch the side of his face.

  "I just thought you might like to get outside for awhile,” he said as he captured her little hand in his own large paw. “You've been cooped up in here for too long."

  "I don't know about that,” she said, a bawdy gleam in her eyes. “You've kept me too busy to think about it.” She was rewarded with his rich chuckle as he leaned back on his elbow in front of her.

  He ran his free hand over her knee and down the front of her fur-encased leg. The sound of a soft sniffle brought his sharp attention back to her face. “What is it?” he asked as she tried to smile over the tears that were welling once again in her olive eyes.

  "Oh, nothing. Just being emotional again. You're so good to me,” her voice wavered and cracked before the first sob broke.

  Bryce gathered her fiercely into his arms, holding her diminutive frame as it shook miserably. Each choking sob tore at his heart until her sadness became his own, clawing at his insides. He held her until the wracking sobs had subsided to hiccupping gasps and his clothing was soaked with her tears.

  Finally exhausted, Carissa pushed back from Bryce, gazing into his face, seeing the sorrow in his eyes. “I'm sorry,” she hiccupped. “I don't know what's come over me."

  "You're homesick,” he said simply.

  "Bryce,” she said timidly, her eyes pleading. “I want you to come home with me."

  He felt his heart race and break at the same time. To think that she would want him with her and with her family was so much more than anything for which he could have hoped, a blessing straight from her heart. However, that would mean leaving the sanctity of his mountain world, something he had vowed he would never again do. Life within the society that had shunned him, had castigated him for what he had done, was not for him. He would never be accepted again, a truth with which he was well acquainted. No, he would never leave; it just was not possible. Her plea tore at his heart bringing a pain in the center of his chest around which he was hard-pressed to breathe.

  He grazed her cherished face with the tips of his fingers, wishing things could be different. “No, baby,” he replied on a ragged breath. “I belong here. I'll never leave this place."

  Fresh tears stabbed the backs of her eyes as she tried to swallow around the new lump forming in her throat. Her voice was small, broken, when she tried again. “Please, Bryce. I don't want to be without you. Please won't you come with me? I need you and I know you need me."

  He drew her to him again, holding her
as if it would be the last time. “I'm not welcome down there. I belong here.” Through the nearly intolerable anguish, a thought struck him. It was a chance, small and hardly possible but he had to try. “Why don't you get your kids and bring them here? We can be together always, up here. What do you say?"

  She pulled back wondering if she had heard him correctly. Had he really asked her to live with him? Did he intend to spend the rest of his life with her, being a father to her children, in this remote wilderness? The thrill that tickled her spine at his words soon diminished as thoughts of her children living on this mountain brought reality slamming down upon her. “Bryce, we can't. What about school and medical care? What about my mother? We're all she has now. I can't take the kids and abandon her like that. This is no place to raise two small children."

  He knew she was right, knew the truth of it before he had spoken the words. He could see the heartache in her eyes, knew that she was feeling what he was, just before he saw the flash of anger. Her fine-boned hands pushed against his chest, shoving him away as she swung her legs off the bed and stalked away. As she neared the door she stopped and turned to face him, her face flushed, unspent tears still shimmering in her eyes. She gave no heed to the shirt that remained unbuttoned or the alluring picture she made, framed in the last rays of the dying day.

  "You are so full of shit!” she yelled. “Why won't you go down there? What are you so afraid of?"

  "I'm not afraid of anything,” he declared calmly. “I just have no business down there. This is my home. This is where I belong."

  "That is such fucking bullshit and you know it. Just exactly what is there up here for you? An empty cabin and a lot of trees, and you ain't exactly the tree-hugger type. I should have known you were lying to me."

  Bryce struggled to keep his temper under control, knowing that she was lashing out because she was hurt. “What are you talking about? I never lied to you."