This is all her. I’ve already promised.
Another flick of the feather sent it spiraling over Amanda’s tight pink nipple. He circled, creating a swoosh and a whisper that repeated itself, over that delicate arched bud. She whimpered prettily and his eyes flew to her face. He watched her lips part and a beautiful flush steal over her face.
He decided to give her nipple a break and moved to the other. He paid equal homage to that one, circling, flicking it with the feather. It was amazing how responsive she was to the delicate whisper of sensation. Her back arched off the quilt, her hips bucking forward in a motion he was sure she couldn’t even control. Her body reacted involuntarily, awakening beautifully to the unfamiliar stimulation.
Jason drew the feather downwards, between her breasts, tickling her torso before he drew it down to her still flat stomach. He swirled the feather over her hip bones, as prominent as they ever were before he moved lower, down to the apex of her thighs.
He skimmed over the beautiful pussy, down to her thighs. She trembled under the feather’s touch, as reverent as his own would have been. She made a sound deep in her throat, a soft, feminine mewling plea.
Jason smiled even though the flames licking at his body turned into a blazing wildfire. Her hips arched upward and forward in silent supplication.
He could have given her what she needed, but it would have been too easy, too soon. Her thighs parted as he drew the feather down one, towards her knee. His eyes were drawn to her and he could see how ready she was. Beads of creamy wetness pooled on her perfect folds.
Jason swallowed hard, trying not to lose control completely. Soon. Soon his mouth would replace that feather. He would taste and tease and tantalize every single inch of her body until he was drunk on the beautiful, rich headiness of her skin.
He moved the feather, tickling the inside of her other creamy, perfect thigh. Her breath hitched while he drove the feather down her leg, exploring, tickling, tantalizing. When she finally exhaled it was a hard, raspy rush of air.
“Please,” she begged on a ragged whisper. “Please, Jason.”
“Please touch you?” He grinned wickedly. Despite the torture he was enduring at the moment, he was vastly enjoying watching Amanda respond so eagerly to the gentle stimulation. She was so ready, so ripe, wetness spreading to her thighs. He scented her womanly musk and it nearly drove him to distraction.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Please touch me.”
“With the feather?”
“No,” she whimpered. “Your mouth. Your hand. Anything.”
“I will touch you,” he finally agreed after a lengthy, loaded pause. “If you keep the blindfold on.”
“Of course,” Amanda agreed readily. “Now, please. Put your mouth on me.”
Chapter 6
Craving
A wild, hot need burned inside Amanda. She thought she knew what it was like to experience pure bliss. She’d given her body to Jason so many times, but never like this.
What he was doing started a crazy, uncontrolled burn, a spark that sprang into a terrifying fire that blazed through her, over her, swallowing her whole.
If she thought the feather was torture, his mouth, that blissful, amazing mouth, was another thing entirely.
A half strangled moan was ripped from her throat as Jason’s warm mouth closed over her already aching nipple. She couldn’t see him, but she could tell from the way the bed dipped, that he was kneeling beside her, leaning over her. She wanted to move her hands, to tangle her fingers in his thick, black hair, to tug his head up to her mouth or down, down much lower.
The rasp of his stubbled chin hit her over sensitive flesh, the sandpapery rasp sending a thousand jolting shocks of pain and pleasure ripping right to her core. Everything, every movement, every gentle rasp and hard suckle was echoed so much lower, as the soaking wet, swollen juncture between her thighs.
Jason chose that moment to nip her gently. He scraped his teeth gently over her nipple and she nearly shot off the bed. Another hard moan was torn from her throat, animalistic and wild in nature. Her hands itched to move, to discover, to instruct, but she forced them to remain at her sides. She dug her nails into the soft patchwork quilt and gripped hard. She kept her legs straight though her heels longed to dig into the bed as she spread her legs in a silent plea for him to touch her there.
Ignoring what she needed most, intent on torturing her to death, Jason raised his head. His tongue flicked out and licked her nipple and another explosion of sparks lit up inside of her stomach, her chest, her throbbing pussy.
He pulled back, his saliva still warm, cooling in the colder air of their bedroom. He blew gently, the softest of breaths and, if it was even possible, her nipple hardened further.
She was so wet that moisture trickled down her thigh. Her hips bucked upwards at the next touch, as Jason trailed hot kisses over her chest, over her collarbones, along her jawline, nipping, licking, until he found her other breast. He suckled her other nipple the same way he’d taken the first, gentle yet eager. His tongue played over her and the gentle pulls of his mouth nearly sent her rocketing into another dimension.
Amanda hadn’t known it was possible to be so damn turned on when she’d hardly even been touched in the spot she longed for most.
She was about to beg him again, beg for his mouth on her pussy, when Jason’s sweet, sensual mouth released her nipple. He shifted down, licking and suckling her belly. Her hips jacked upwards, pushing herself into his hot mouth. His lips and teeth and tongue scraped over her, circled her, igniting a burning fire in her already heated flesh.
She ground her teeth against the onslaught of passion. She felt Jason move over her. His large head caressed her leg just above her knee, his touch so warm and infinitely gentle. He slowly, sweetly, urged her thighs apart.
“I have to taste you. I can’t pretend that this isn’t torture for me as well.”
She shudder at his words, at his admitted weakness. It always gave her a rush, a sense of feminine power, of sweet, aching love to hear just how much he craved her. She loved that he was as senseless as she was when they came together, that their words shifted and collided and permanently changed.
She let her legs fall open, giving him that part of herself that she longed most to give. The blind fold really did heighten every single sense, every sensation. It felt a little like the first time they’d ever done this.
“Oh lord, you smell so delicious. All womanly and ready and ripe for me.”
A hot rush of wicked heat flew to her cheeks at his husky utterance. She was so far gone, in the throes of pleasure and desire that she didn’t even have a chance to feel awkward about the position or the fact that she couldn’t see him while he was so blatantly staring at her.
The first rasp of his bearded chin against her tender flesh nearly finished her. When his tongue touched her overheated flesh, it was almost unbearable. She didn’t want to find her climax right at the start. She wanted to enjoy him, to let him take her there slowly, until she could no longer bear it.
She ground her teeth and took a deep breath. He must have sensed how ready she was because it was a couple seconds before his tongue returned. His mouth was hot, gentle, suckling and tasting, caressing, exploring. He didn’t use his fingers and he stayed away from her clit. It was a good thing too. One flick and she would have shattered into a thousand pieces.
Jason explored her leisurely, sweetly and all the while she tensed further and further, the flames of her internal fire licking over her skin, twisting her insides into a hard knot.
She was unprepared for the hard sensation of Jason’s tongue, twirling over her, dancing harder, more purposeful, waiting for her to join him. She gasped, her hips rocking hard into his face in a motion she couldn’t control.
Every single one of her muscles clenched, waiting for the final movement that would shatter her.
Jason’s tongue glided over her folds and found her entrance. She tensed and he waited, prolonging the sweet mom
ent until she thought she would die from it not happening.
Finally, when her entire body was drawn so tight she felt she was going to snap from the tension, his tongue entered her. He lapped at her, flicking her entrance hard, swirling over her in heated strokes designed to bring her to the dizzying heights of pleasure.
His tongue moved faster, harder, twirling over her, all the while skipping her clit. He forced his tongue into her entrance over and over. It was the growl he released, a sound torn from his throat, completely animal in nature, a tortured, low, wicked sound that finally set off her release.
Her body shook and her tortured cries of ecstasy echoed off the cabin’s walls. She writhed under his touch.
And then, then, because he knew her better than anyone else on earth, his tongue flicked up to her clit.
Was it possible to climax while climaxing? She didn’t know but that place in the clouds she’d just flown to turned completely black. Spots of color exploded behind her closed eyes and she floated, higher and higher, the waves of pleasure crashing over her, wringing her out, hardly fading in intensity at all. The shards of pleasure ripped through her, tearing her apart and making her whole.
She felt the bed shake violently, heard the strangled moans of Jason’s own pleasure. The guttural rasps were torn from his throat and she wondered, in the dim, foggy recess of her mind, if he’d found his own climax along with her.
When she finally came down from the incredible high, she reached up and removed the blindfold. Her arm and hand felt like it had turned to water. She could barely remove the thin silk band from her face.
She stared down at Jason, who blinked back at her in wonderment.
“That has never happened before,” Jason admitted. A shaky, uncertain laugh shook his massive shoulders. “This was supposed to be all about your own pleasure. I just couldn’t hold back.” A look akin to wonderment passed over his eyes.
Tenderness flooded Amanda’s chest. She shifted, making more room for Jason on the bed. “Come here,” she whispered. “That was incredible. What I would love more than anything else is for you just to hold me.”
“Should I… uh- change first?” He actually looked uncertain.
“If you want to take off all your clothes, I think that would best.” She winked at him and let her legs fall open wider.
Jason let out a low growl in his throat. She couldn’t help but giggle as he shot off the bed faster than she’d ever seen him move.
Chapter 7
The Decision
Their little cabin was blanketed in the stillness of night. The only sound in the bedroom was the gentle whispered hum of Amanda’s inhale and exhale. She slept soundly and had for the past few hours.
Jason shifted again in bed. He turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, utterly frustrated with his racing thoughts. Sleep was elusive.
He watched the play of shadows, branches swaying in the breeze outside, dance over the bed and the floorboards.
He couldn’t stop thinking about their trip to the city. Amanda had been so hurt, frustrated and angry, all because he couldn’t, no, wouldn’t, tell her about his past. He wished he could just explain to her that he wanted to protect her. He wanted to keep her innocent of all the horrors he’d seen and endured. He felt haunted by them, years after getting away, retreating to the woods. He didn’t want his past to taint her.
She was sad before that though. During the ultrasound.
Amanda hadn’t exactly made it a secret that she wanted to get in touch with her mother. Jason knew it ate at her that she was four months pregnant and her mom didn’t even know. He knew how hard a past could be on someone and Amanda had her own set of worries.
Jason blew out yet another sigh of frustration. He wished he could do something that would make Amanda feel better. He saw how tortured she was. Unlike him, she wasn’t good at hiding her emotions. She wore them on her sleeve and he loved her for it.
An idea took shape in his mind. Amanda had a new cell. Even though they didn’t have very good reception in the woods, she wanted to have one for emergencies or for when she went to the city by herself. He totally agreed. When they were apart, they both turned on their cells.
Maybe there was something he could do.
If Amanda had put her mother’s contact information into her phone, and for some reason he very much doubted that she wouldn’t have, he could probably find it. Maybe even call.
It wasn’t that late. Amanda had fallen asleep after they’d made love for the second time, just after nine. He’d tossed and turned for two hours. It was only eleven. Maybe not late enough for a strange call to a woman who knew nothing about him. Was there ever a good time for such a call?
The rough-hewn floorboards creaked a little under Jason’s weight as he threw back the covers and slid out of bed. He stood silently. He fumbled his way over in the dark room, over to his dresser. He pulled on a fresh set of jeans and a black t-shirt. His plaid wool jacket was hung up on the peg by the front door.
He didn’t bother with socks, just slipped into his clothes and exited the room quietly. He shut the door gently behind him.
He knew Amanda’s cell was likely still in her purse, given that she’d used it a couple times while they were in the city earlier. He found her black leather bag on the kitchen table where she’d set it down. His growling stomach reminded him that they’d missed dinner and he turned to the stove.
The soup that Amanda had been making before their little fight sat cold and congealed on the top of the stove. He shuddered. He dumped it into the metal scrap bucket to add to the compost pile. He banked the fire after, to be sure the cabin was kept warm through the night.
That done, the kitchen warming back up as the fire’s hungry flames licked at the seasoned wood, Jason turned back to the table. He faced Amanda’s bag like it had a life of its own. It wasn’t a snake coiled to strike, but it felt a little like it. He knew he was being ridiculous and finally, on a long exhale, he strode across the kitchen, snatched up the bag and rifled through it.
He found the phone easily. It was still on, as Amanda had been too distracted when they’d arrived home to turn it off. He knew there was no password. He brought up her contacts list and sure enough, under a single word, mom, was a phone number. Nothing else.
Hand shaking, Jason slipped the phone into the pocket of his well-worn jeans. He padded silently on bare feet to the front door where he pulled on his wool coat and work boots. He didn’t bother lacing them up. He was just going to be on the porch, right outside the front door.
The cool night air hit Jason like a blast after the warmth of the kitchen. He let out a long breath and watched as the vapor spiraled upwards in a cool white mist above his head.
It escaped to the clear, starry sky overhead.
He sighed one more time and sat down on the porch step. The cold seeped through his jeans and into his legs below, but he felt none of it.
He reached into his pocket and his fingers curled around the sleek phone. He brought it out and stared at it for just a second before he flipped it on, found the contact list, selected mom and hit the little phone icon.
The phone rang and rang. Just when he was about to hang up, sure that his being out there was a betrayal to Amanda, sure that his idea had been one of the worst he’d ever had, a gentle voice whispered a sleep filled ‘hello’ into the other end.
Chapter 8
The Visitor
Amanda was the kind of artist who felt like her paintings were never quite finished. Even after she was done one, sometimes a year or two would pass and she would dig it out and make changes, always seeking the elusive perfect image that she had in her mind.
“I don’t know why you’re fussing with that one. It’s already perfect.”
Amanda gasped and spun around. The brush in her hand sent a few droplets of paint splattering onto the floor. She hadn’t even heard Jason come in. He’d been outside doing chores so she’d set up her easel and brought out a canvas to e
at up the morning hours alone.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that. My hand could have slipped and ruined the whole thing!” She could only pretend to be angry with Jason and his wide, self-assured grin told her that he knew it well.
“Sorry. I just wanted to see what you were touching up. You know your work is beyond excellent.”
Jason stepped closer and studied the painting of their small cabin, the trees surrounding it, the mountain peaks in the distance. She’d painted the cabin in summer and fall and she wanted to do one in winter now that the snow blanketing everything made it all look so different.
Droplets of water still clung to his short, dark beard where frost had gathered in the chill of the morning air. His plaid jacket was undone, hanging open to reveal the same hue of plaid beneath. His faded jeans were wet at the bottom, where they’d overhung his boots. As always, his blue eyes danced with life.
“I know, I just can’t get the trees right. I keep trying and it doesn’t look like they really do out there.”
“Yes they do.” Jason shook his head. “You are the best artist I’ve ever known.”
“Probably the only artist,” Amanda grumbled.
Jason’s grin grew wider. One strong arm circled her waist, his hand resting casually but protectively on her hip. “That might be true, but I’ve been to galleries. I’ve seen other people’s work and yours is every bit as good.”
Galleries. The word brought back the horrible promise Phil had used to bait her into going back home, just for a few days, when she thought she had nowhere else to go. She’d been so foolish and naïve to trust him, to believe that he would help her.
Luckily Phil was her past. She loved Jason more for the fact that he understood her. He listened to her. He took the time to care for her and love her, not just jealously guard her like a trophy, like she wasn’t a living, breathing person with hopes and dreams of her own.
“You know, I was thinking,” Jason continued. “We should get the internet here, like we talked about. I haven’t called yet, but I can do it this morning. I know there are good sites that you can go on to sell your work. Crafty and artsy sites and what not.”
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