The Loner’s Lady

by Kane, Jessa

  Following me down the porch, John grunts.

  “You really hate New York, don’t you?”

  “People aren’t made to live in little concrete boxes.”

  I laugh, drawing his attention to my mouth. We circle around the back of the cabin and walk side by side down a wide dirt path, quickly being swallowed by the shade of surrounding trees. “I like living in an apartment, maybe because I grew up that way. It’s comforting having people around.”

  “Never had much use for people.” He clears his throat. “They’re always talking. You ever notice that?”

  Again, he makes me laugh and I find myself wanting to hold his hand. Wanting to feel his fingers slide between mine and hold tight. To have him lead me, protect me, covet me. “Do you mind when I talk?”

  “No,” he says without hesitation. “I sure as hell don’t mind that. You’ve got a voice like sunshine.”

  My heart triples its speed. “See, now there’s a compliment,” I manage. “Your voice sounds like a boat motor, so I guess I have to find something else to compliment.” John’s hearty laugh stops me in my tracks, it’s so wonderful and rich and male. I want to hear it over and over again, maybe against my belly. I don’t know. “Your laugh sounds like Christmas morning,” I say, dorkily, my face heating. “Can we do a fifteen-second rewind?”

  “Hell no we can’t.” John steps closer, his hands lifting and hesitating just above my hips. “Jesus, Lyssa. Couldn’t even make it two minutes without needing to break my vow not to touch you again until this thing with Mason gets resolved.”

  “Resolved? Meaning…you think he’ll forgive us?”

  “I don’t know.” Finally, his big hands grip my hips and we both groan at the forbidden contact. “But I can’t stay away from you.” He gathers my skirt in his hands, slipping his right hand beneath to knead my butt cheek. “Fuck. I’m so hungry for this.”

  I want him to tear my clothes off and maul me, right here on the pathway, but I know I have to overcome the desire. Come on, Lyssa. You can make it three hours without hurting someone who means so much to you.

  “We can’t,” I whisper, pushing John away, continuing on shaky legs down the path. John follows me, his breathing heavy. We should go back to the cabin and lock ourselves in separate rooms, but as crazy as it sounds, even in the midst of this physical torture, I can’t stop wanting to be around John. He puts my anxiety at rest and warms me from the inside out. It’s impossible to stay away, despite the danger of being alone.

  We walk for another ten minutes before there’s a break in the trees and the most glorious meadow reveals itself. This city girl is so overwhelmed by the beauty of the bounding green field full of dandelions and sunshine that I squeal and do a little dance. “What?” I walk out into the magnificent sunlight. “How come there aren’t a million people here taking advantage of this?”

  “They’re all down in New York freaking out over their coffee orders.”

  “Ouch. That was uncalled for. And rudely accurate.” I turn to find John right behind me—and I poke him in the chest. “You think you have city people like me all figured out?”

  His voice resonates when he responds, “My hatred of the city does not extend to you, Lyssa.”

  “I know,” I say softly, butterflies tickling my ribs. “Still, we can be resilient, too. I have to carry my groceries up nine flights of stairs when the elevator isn’t working. Which, thanks to our lazy super, is always.”

  John stiffens. “You shouldn’t be in the stairwell alone. Especially not after what happened to you.” He curses and moves past me. “Why doesn’t my son carry the groceries for you?”

  “We take turns.”

  His tense back tells me he’s not satisfied with my answer. “I don’t like you in that place.” His thick fingers flex and curl into fists. “There are too many ways for you to be harmed.”

  “I’m fine.” I reach out, wanting to smooth the angry, shifting lines of muscle in his back, but force myself to drop my hand. “I…we’ll be fine.”

  He shoots me a sharp glance over his shoulder, but I can’t interpret it. “Come on,” he says, turning away. “The pond is up ahead. We’ll take your pictures.”

  I’m forced to jog after John, his strides are so long. “We really don’t need to do that.” He ignores me. “It’s totally unnecessary.”

  My protests are ignored and when we reach the pond, John gestures for me to hand over my phone. I do it absently, my attention absorbed by the stunning body of water spread out in front of us. There are actual frogs at the pond’s edge, hopping around in the mud and rocks. It’s like, nature nature.

  A grunt from John reminds me of the task at hand and I turn around, posing for the raised phone with a broad smile, hip cocked. “How’s that?”

  “Beautiful,” he mutters at the screen. “I’m going to delete it.”

  “What? Why?”

  His focus dips to my breasts. “Your nipples are hard and you look like you wouldn’t mind having them sucked. It stays off the internet.”

  My core flexes, excited by his possessiveness, whether I should be or not. “You’re not my social media manager.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Lyssa. If I was, I’d delete every picture where you look sweet, young and fuckable, which, by the way, is every goddamn shot.”

  “Fine. Pose me how you want.”

  Too late, I realize what a bad idea that is. Both of us are breathing fast and I can see the outline of John’s plentiful erection. Coming out here alone might have been a temptation neither of us can stand, because I have that damp, achy feeling again. The one I had last night that only he could cure. So when he approaches and his lit firewood and earth scent crashes into me, my knees begin to lose stability.

  I remain perfectly still as John lifts a hand and tucks a windblown hair behind my ear. He’s visibly controlling himself, and the quickening flesh between my thighs wishes he wouldn’t. Wishes he’d take away my ability to think and leave only sensation. Only pleasure.

  “You’d drive men to obsession no matter how I pose you.” He raises the camera and takes a close up of my face, before handing me back my phone. Then he slowly removes his own device, tapping it against his palm. “Will I take a few for myself now, Lyssa?”

  I nod dumbly, loving the idea of John having private photographs of me way too much. “Okay.”

  Without taking his eyes off me, he moves his thumb around on the screen and opens his camera. “These are for my eyes only, sweetness. What are you going to show me?”

  If we lived in a world with no consequences, I think I would strip for him. I would show him my breasts and I’d let him look beneath my skirt. I’d soak up the way he stares at me, stalks me, like a man infatuated. I would thrive on it.

  However, here in this unfamiliar, sun-soaked glen, our own little world, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take a little fantasy to-go. After all, standing in our own little slice of heaven, it feels as though there is no one else on the earth. My fingers are curled in the hem of my skirt, dying to lift—and I do. My fingertips inch up the material slowly and watch John’s eyes darken.

  Rebellion beats in my blood. I never knew I could be like this. Naughty. Every inch of me tingles and heats to a fever pitch. I don’t stop lifting my skirt until I’m holding it up around my waist, leaving me in nothing but a thong from the waist down. John’s gaze is locked on the juncture of my thighs, and instead of being embarrassed by the wet spot I know is there, I want him to see it.

  John drops to his knees in front of me and raises the phone, taking pictures of my clinging panties, sweat forming on his forehead and upper lip, his breathing labored. “Had my fingers in that sweet, little thing last night, didn’t I?” John rasps. “Tell me I made you come. Use my name.”

  “John made me come,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

  “Goddamn right I did. Now turn around,” he orders. “Show me the ass.”

  I do what I’m told, staring with blind eyes out at the po
nd. The sound of his camera going off makes me moan, makes me throb desperately. I can’t help but lean forward slightly and show off my bottom for him, looking back over my shoulder to find John wetting his lips like a starving man in front of his final meal.

  His heated breaths drift over my backside. “I’d eat you whole. You’d take your poundings like a good, little girl and then I’d spend hours rewarding you afterward with my tongue. You’d spend your life sore, but satisfied.” His forehead presses into the small of my back, rolling to one side and the other. “Turn around again and give me a peek, Lyssa. If I can’t fuck you, I need a picture of that pretty, virgin pussy so I can beat off to it ten times a day.”

  John doesn’t wait for me to follow instructions, his hands on my hips spinning me around to face him again. His nostrils are flared, eyes black with hunger when he hooks a finger in my thong, dragging it down to my ankles. I’m bare in front of him, swaying where I stand. My nipples are so puckered, they hurt. I’m whimpering, my flesh clenching, and we’re not even touching.

  “Oh my goodness,” I breathe, twisting my skirt in my hands. “I can’t stand it.”

  He pushes his face between my thighs, growling. “Set me loose on this pussy. Do it. God help me, I can’t help myself. Need to get my tongue on it now.”

  “Yes,” I moan, letting go of my skirt in favor of twining my fingers in his long, unruly hair. John takes my bottom in his hands and pulls me flush with his mouth, snarling with bared teeth against my core, before spearing me with a lick that parts my flesh. As soon as the tip of his tongue meets my clit, my back bows and I lose the ability to stand. Thankfully, it ceases to matter, because John catches me, turning us both and wrestling me down into the grass. “John. I need you.”

  He presses his face into my belly and groans, his hands prying my legs open and holding them wide. “I need you, too, little girl. So goddamn bad.”

  His huge body moves lower, those muscular shoulders chafing the insides of my thighs. For long moments, he breathes in and out inches from my sex, as if bracing himself. And then he drops quickly, tasting me with gusto, lapping and sucking, grunting and nibbling. His fingers tighten on my knees, keeping them open for his mouth’s erotic treatment and I can’t lie still, my hips shifting all over the ground, trying to lean into the pleasure and run away from it at the same time. It’s so intense. I’m shaking, head to toe. Oh my God.

  “Fucking hell,” he says hoarsely. “Your cunt tastes like it looks, Lyssa. Pink and sweet. Like candy.” His thumb lands on my clit, jiggling the swollen button of flesh until I scream. “You’re my little sugar girl, aren’t you? No denying it when your pussy is this wet and ripe for fucking.”

  “Yes,” I wail, arching off the ground. “I’m yours, John. More.”

  His eyes flash up at me. “You said the words, Lyssa, now deal with the consequences.”

  No sooner does John issue what sounds like a promise that he prowls up my body, stopping when our mouths are even to unfasten his pants. His mouth moves over mine furiously, his tongue invading my mouth with mind-blowing strokes, until I can barely hear his zipper being lowered over the pounding of my heart. This man is mine. I’m his and he’s mine and we belong together. Everything inside me swells and expands and reaches for him as proof. Need. Need him now or I’ll die.

  My fingers tear at my tank top, yanking the garment to my neck so I can experience his chest hair on my nipples and it’s even better than I imagine. I whine into our frantic kiss and rub my breasts against him, begging, begging. My movements cease, however, when I feel John’s thick shaft prod the entrance between my thighs.

  Forcing my eyes open, I wait for the lust to clear and find John studying me with deep longing. “This is where I claim you, Lyssa. This is where we leave your virgin blood in the soil and you become mine. Say my name if you understand me.”

  “John,” I whisper. “John, John.”

  “I’m here. I’ll always be right here. Needing you. Loving you.” He notches his thickness inside me and bares his teeth, rifling his hips forward. Pain blossoms in my middle, a pressure too uncomfortable to withstand. Involuntarily, my hands shove at his shoulders, my hips wiggling around trying to locate relief from the hurt. “Lyssa, look at me,” John orders hoarsely. “Look at me.”

  I order myself to calm down and focus on the bottomless brown eyes blazing down at me.

  “Part of me is inside you now,” he rasps, leaning down to graze our mouths together. “It’s going to take your body a minute to adjust. Soon, though, Lyssa. Very soon we’ll both feel incomplete unless I’m planted between your thighs. I won’t be able to breathe unless I’m wrapped up in this tight fucking pussy.”

  His words do the impossible. They lessen the intense stretching sensation until it begins to feel good. Really, really good. Now that the pain has faded, I can feel his hard length and with budding curiosity, I test it with a writhe of my lower body.

  John hisses a breath. “That’s it, sweetness. Play all you want.” His head bends down, his white teeth grazing my nipple and causing a pleasurable jolt inside me. “God knows I plan to play with you. Constantly.”

  I don’t know what’s happening to me, but my skin is unbearably sensitive. I feel every blade of grass touching my bottom; his calloused hands deliver zings to my core every time they shift on my knees. Sex. I’m having sex. With John. This gargantuan loner with a tender heart and gruff personality. And while looking him in the eye and seeing my expression of rapture reflected back, suddenly my heart is positive I was always meant to end up with this man. He’s my soul mate.

  “Make love to me,” I say breathily, lifting my hips to tempt him.

  He pins them with his own, growling and delivering a mean thrust—but I can see he can’t help being forceful. Can see his control has deteriorated. Good. On the next rough invasion of my body, I dig my fingernails into his shoulders and hold on tight, sensing an oncoming storm. That’s exactly what I get.

  John falls on me with a desperate sound, releasing hot, rasping breaths into my neck with each slap of his hard sex entering my wet one. He grunts and sweats on top of me, pushing filthy words through his teeth. Words that thrill me because I know they’re borne of pure lust. For me and my body.

  “Come hiking with me in this short skirt? What did you think was going to happen? You barely made it off the porch, little girl. How dare you bring this bratty little pussy into my house? Might as well have had my goddamn name stamped on it. Almost bent you over the kitchen table and fucked you in front of my son. Jesus, this cunt is tight as sin. Go on, sweetness. Moan louder. No one’s going to hear you.”

  And on and on it went, his coarseness building along with this shimmery bubble inside me. My eyes fly open when John adjusts his angle slightly, allowing the veiny trunk of his erection to slide against my clit—and oh! Everything twists and trembles below my belly button and I find my ankles wrapped around the small of John’s back. I’m grinding up into his drives and the rhythm changes my life forever. We’re animals rutting in the dirt and I love it. I never want it to stop…

  Except maybe long enough for me to get relief. “I need…” I sob. “John, I need…make it stop!”

  “Don’t worry, sweetness. It’s coming. That pussy is pulsing like a dream. Just hold on to me—”

  My scream of ecstasy cuts him off. Cuts everything off, save the incredible clenching of my flesh, the flood of bliss and completion. I squeeze John’s hips between my thighs and spout nonsense that he seems to understand, because his mouth finds mine and kisses me through the upheaval.

  And then he throws back his head and roars like he’s king of the jungle.

  His beautiful face, surrounded by his mane of hair, blocks out the sun and if I had any breath left to catch, it would have caught at the sight of him. He’s the ultimate male and I’ve been claimed by him.

  His release fills me up and laps up onto my belly, splashes onto my inner thighs, and he keeps pumping, making desperate sounds deep in his
throat, going back and forth between desperate animal and sated warrior. Until finally he falls onto me, catching himself at the last second on an elbow. Leaning down to kiss me tenderly on the mouth. “Lyssa,” he whispers, sounding awed.

  I know the feeling.

  But as we lie there in the meadow, my butt tucked into John’s lap, his breathing evening out in my hair, I remember Mason back at the house. I’ve just betrayed the person who trusts me most in this world. No matter that we’re not actually together and never could be—he asked me for a favor and I couldn’t even manage it for one single day.

  How will I bear looking him in the eye? How will I tell him I’ve not only slept with his father, but fallen in love as well?

  Once I come clean, he won’t want to see me.

  He’ll be disgusted with me.

  So I decide to save Mason the trouble of driving back to New York with a traitor. As soon as I get back to the cabin, I’m getting out of Dodge. In time, maybe I have a chance of my best friend forgiving me, but if that’s going to happen, I can’t be in a relationship with John. It just won’t fly.

  Tears drop from my eyes into the grass at the realization that I’ll never be held in these strong, perfect arms again.

  How will I live without this man now that I know he exists?

  CHAPTER SIX

  John

  Lyssa was quiet on our walk back to the cabin and I didn’t like it.

  Something is up.

  She let me hold her hand and stop to make out at least a dozen times, but there was a certain light missing from her eyes. As soon as we walked through the front door, she dashed up the stairs, claiming she needed a shower—and I couldn’t really doubt her on that one. Anyone with eyes could see the sticky, pink-tinged trails tracking down the insides of her thighs. Hell, the sight alone made me hard again on the walk home.

  That’s right, Lyssa. I was your first—and I’m your last.

  Goddamn, there’s no describing what it felt like to ride her wet pussy. To feel her clinging to me, trusting me, encouraging me. Those broken cries of my name will echo in my mind for the rest of my life. All of my senses were attuned to hers, picking up on her changes in breathing or kicks of her pulse. We were one in the meadow and my heart never had a chance. A bond was forged between us I never could have expected but will spend my life strengthening. She will be protected, safe, happy, cared for and untouched by other men. So help me God.