by Amy Brent
Then, as if something called him, he turned and walked away. I stood there staring at his back. My mouth was hanging open. What the hell?
“Good night,” he said, in a voice filled with laughter.
“What?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer. I didn’t expect him too.
I turned the words over in my mind several times. His dare hadn’t made any sense. My brain refused to accept the words. I had been prepared for something perfectly naughty. I had been sorely disappointed for more reasons than one. With the way he had responded to my kiss, I was convinced I was going to get laid. His dare was stupid, I pouted. That wasn’t a dare at all.
The dog sighed, drawing my attention.
“What are you looking at?” I grumbled.
He was smiling. I knew the damn dog was smiling at me. Laughing because I had gotten all worked up, then left high and dry. Well, not so dry. I was wet and swollen and in desperate need of release.
“I could walk in there,” I hissed at the dog. “He wouldn’t deny me if I stripped and crawled into bed with him.”
I considered the idea. Was I brave enough? My need burning inside me said that I was. Maybe that was exactly what I should do. I could get what I wanted and then crash on the couch. I would leave in the morning and never look back.
Or, another idea sprang to mind. A far more vengeful option. One that would leave me in the driver’s seat. I could waltz in there, naked and wanting, get him worked up and walk away. It would serve him right. I wanted him to be aching with need. A smile crossed my face. He hadn’t been completely unaffected by the kiss. I had felt his hardness. I hoped he had blue balls.
I stood up, and knowing it was over, waved the white flag. I blew out the last few candles before flopping back down on the couch. I was beyond frustrated. Pulling the blanket up to my chin, I closed my eyes. I still felt tingly, but my raging hormones had slowed a bit. I was no longer feeling quite so primed. His denial had left me a little hurt, stealing away some of my earlier desire. Not all, but enough.
Go to sleep, Calla.
It had been a stupid game. I couldn’t believe I had thought a game would get him to fuck me. I should have stuck with a more direct approach. Tomorrow, I would be gone and never have to see Jake again. This night would be nothing more than a distant memory. Unlike the first memorable night I had experienced with Jake, this night would not be pulled out of my memory vault and savored. This night would never be talked about or thought about again, I silently vowed.
There was one minor detail that needed to be addressed. My absolutely need to get off. There was an option. Not exactly the best option, but it would have to do. I was too old to drift into a bar and pick up a one-night-stand.
I turned to glare at the dog. “Well, it’s my best shot.”
The dog didn’t bother to lift his head or even thump his tail.
“Whatever,” I mumbled, then rolled over, my face towards the back of the coach.
I would find Blake, get him liquored up and take advantage of him. I knew it wouldn’t get me the satisfaction I was looking for, but it would take the edge off.
Damn Jake for getting me so worked up.
Chapter Nine
Jake
My internal alarm clock was demanding I get up. I didn’t sleep in. Ever. If I did, I would freeze. I had to get up and get some wood on the fire or risk having to start it all over again. It took a while to get the house heated up. I kept the stove going around the clock during the winter. Even though I barely slept a wink the night before, my internal clock didn’t give a shit. It was time to wake up.
I groaned aloud, the erection I had been sporting since the night before was still there. It hurt. I felt engorged. My skin was stretched tight and my balls were hard and full. I reached down and gently stroked my aching cock, willing it to relax. I needed a break.
“Fuck!” I said into the dark room. It was no use.
I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my thighs and my face in my hands. What the hell had come over me last night? Kissing her had been like taking a hit of the most addicting drug. I wanted more. Every fiber of my being demanded I finish what had been started. Then the words. What the fuck, Jake? Why had I uttered such stupid words?
In my mind, I thought it would be funny. The moment the words crossed my lips I realized there was nothing funny at all about what I dared her not to do. I was an idiot. A complete tool. It was okay though. She would be leaving shortly, and I wouldn’t have to look at her curves again.
I yanked on my sweats, pulled on a t-shirt and headed out to the living room. The wood floor was cold against my feet. I’d get socks on in a second. There was a faint glow from the embers in the woodstove. The light was enough for me to see Calla curled up on the couch, her back to me and Casper at her feet. The dog was taking up half the couch, which was probably why Calla was curled into the fetal position. I carefully pulled the blanket that had slipped off back up and over her body before moving to the woodstove to add more wood.
“Hey,” I said softly when Casper nudged the back of my arm. “You need to go outside?” I whispered.
Obviously the dog didn’t reply, but the increased speed of his wagging tail was the answer.
“Just a sec, let me grab some socks,” I said, rubbing behind his ears. I knew the power was still out, which meant I would be using a tree right alongside the dog.
I headed back into my room and pulled on a pair of warm wool socks and my hooded sweatshirt. I padded towards the door, being careful not to wake up my sleeping guest. It was safer if she slept right up until the rescue team showed up.
When I pulled open the front door, I sucked in a breath as the cold air slammed into me.
“Brr,” I mumbled to the dog.
I pulled my hood up and tightened the strings to cinch the hood around my face before heading off the porch. It was still snowing and the amount of snow on the ground was intimidating.
“Can’t do it, buddy,” I told the dog.
Casper looked back at me and headed into the deep snow. I estimated it to be about two-feet deep. I only had my boots on. I was not dressed for that kind of a walk through the snow.
“I’m peeing off the porch,” I told him, laughing as the dog raised one paw high into the air and then the next.
I walked to the corner and took care of my business. I didn’t always pee off the porch, but this was a bit of an emergency situation. I grabbed a few more logs and carried them inside. It wasn’t long before I heard Casper’s scratches at the door.
“There you are. I thought I was going to have to dig you out,” I said, stepping away from him. I knew he was going to shake and it was going to soak everything.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and nearly yelped.
“Shit,” I murmured when I realized it was just Calla.
She was sitting up on the couch, her arms stretched into the air.
“Good morning,” she said, in a husky voice.
“Good morning.”
Casper trotted over and went directly for her. I watched as she petted the dog’s head and then ran her hands under his belly. Damn dog was a traitor.
I did my best to ignore her. I didn’t want to look directly at her out of fear I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. Instead, I lit a few of the candles scattered about the kitchen. I grabbed the coffee pot, rinsed it out with a jug of water I kept stored under the kitchen sink and refilled it with coffee grounds.
“Coffee will be done in about ten minutes,” I told her.
“Can I use the bathroom?” she asked sheepishly.
“Yes, there’s water in there for a manual flush.”
I watched as she moved down the hall. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to pounce on her right there on the floor of the hallway.
I didn’t care if she noticed my erection. That was her fault. She had started that little game. I opened one cupboard and the next, trying to find something to feed her. The best
I could find was cup-o-noodles and some bread.
I slammed the cupboard door, my sexual frustration making me crankier than usual, to find her standing there watching me.
I glared at her. “What?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing. What time is it?”
“Probably around six.”
She nodded. “Still snowing?”
“Yep. There’s quite a bit of snow on the ground already.”
The woman had the audacity to raise her arms in the air again and bend to the left and then to the right. Her breasts pushed against the sweater, straining, begging to be touched.
“Fuck,” I said, pushing past her and walking to the woodstove.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
I didn’t know if she was playing innocent or if her little calisthenics had been on purpose. The woman was screwing with my head. The only reason she was able to get to me so easily was because I was in the middle of a dry spell of my own choosing. I loved sex, but sometimes, I preferred to stay away from town. I didn’t like to go through the whole ritual of picking up a woman, going back to her place and fucking. When I wanted sex, that’s what I did, and it was never all that hard to find a willing woman.
As soon as Calla was gone, I was going to track down one of my regular bedmates and give her the ride of her life. I had a lot of pent up sexual energy that I needed to unleash.
“Jake?”
The way she said my name made my dick jump to attention.
“What?” I spun around to look at her, not hiding the tent in my pants.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes staring at my crotch.
“What?” I asked again. “Have any more stupid games you want to play?” I growled.
“Uh, no, I, sorry,” she mumbled and walked to the stove, taking a wide berth around me. She squatted down and felt her jacket, before pulling out the bra and panties she had tucked underneath.
My mouth went dry as I watched her feel those panties, testing to see if they were dry. The bra was given the same attention. She was bare. Her breasts were free under that heavy sweater. One hand up that shirt and I would be able to feel her tits in my hand.
The crackling of the radio stopped me from taking action.
I nearly jumped for the radio, turning it up and waiting for the transmission.
“Jake?” Tom’s voice came through.
“Here.”
“Got a problem.”
“Fuck,” I hissed, already knowing what the problem was. “Go ahead,” I said into the radio.
“We’re snowed in here. We need to make a trail out of here. We can’t pick up the woman today.”
I stood there, holding the radio in my hand, disbelieving what I heard. “Ten-four,” I replied.
“Sorry, Jake,” the man’s voice echoed in the room.
I put the radio back on the counter. Sorry was not what I wanted to hear. I was stuck with the hot little redhead for another day.
I ran a hand through my hair and turned to look at her. “I suppose you heard that?”
“Yes,” she said, not looking all that pleased with the news.
“Sorry. This kind of thing happens this time of year.”
She nodded, “It’s fine. It’s not like it’s your fault.”
“No, it isn’t,” I shot back.
This was dangerous. How could I possibly resist the woman for another day? She was my first. No one ever forgot their first. She had taken my V-card. That was a big deal. Now, she was locked up in my tiny cabin, throwing herself at me. What kind of man would turn her down?
I had to keep busy. I didn’t want to give in. It was a matter of pride. I had gotten it into my head I was in full control and if I fucked her, she won. Won what, Jake?
Growling in frustration, I headed back into the kitchen. I was hungry, and I needed to find something to feed her. That would keep my mind off sex. No, it wouldn’t. Nothing could keep my mind off fucking her. She was too close. Too gorgeous and too, too sexual!
“I don’t have much for breakfast,” I told her, not facing her.
“That’s fine. I can make some toast,” she volunteered.
“Without a toaster?” I shot back.
“Oh. No power still?”
“No. No power. I doubt it will be back on for a couple days with the amount of snow that’s falling.”
“Oh.”
I found a carton of oatmeal, pulled it out, shone a light in it and didn’t see anything moving. “Oatmeal?”
“Works for me.”
I turned to face her, my erection only about half-hard, but still obvious in my loose sweats. She looked tousled and sexy as hell.
I groaned. It was going to be a very long, hard day. Hard in more ways than one, I mused.
“Oatmeal it is,” I said, reaching into a lower cupboard to find a pot.
I poured in the water and oatmeal and set it on the stove. With nothing else to do but watch water boil, I stood there, captivated by the flames and thoughts of sex, already planning the many different ways I was going to fuck the first willing woman I found.
Her arm brushed against me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, horrified to have her standing so close.
“I’m cold,” she replied.
I looked at her, debated heating her up in a different way, but thought better of it. Instead, I walked away from the heat of the stove and began folding the blankets on the couch. I had to keep my hands busy to keep them off her.
“I can do that,” she said, following me across the room.
“I got it!” I said, a little louder than necessary.
The woman was playing with fire. If she didn’t put some distance between us, I was going to give her more than she asked for. I had a feeling she thought all of this was a game, a way to pass the time. Some stupid, stupid part of my brain would not relinquish my control.
Why, Jake? She’s a willing woman. You want to get laid. What’s the problem?
I looked at her, folding the other blanket. The problem was I knew that with her, it wouldn’t just be a quick fuck. Sex with her would be mind-blowing. It would leave me wanting more. I knew that. After the first time, she had been under my skin for too long. Every woman I took to bed had been compared against her. I was always left feeling only half-satisfied. I didn’t want to go through that again.
“Jake?”
“What, Calla?”
“I’m sorry. About last night. I shouldn’t have done that. I can see it’s made you uncomfortable,” she said, not looking at me as she spoke.
“It’s fine,” I grumbled.
“Yeah, I can see that,” she quipped.
I tossed the folded blanket on the end of the couch and walked out of the room. I was not going to get into it with her. I had plenty of other things to do to keep me busy. I slammed the door of my bedroom and started to get dressed for a long day outside. The cold would calm the fire in my loins.
Chapter Ten
Calla
Good job, Calla. You poked an angry bear and then got yourself locked in his den for a day. Not the smartest thing I had ever done. I looked around the empty room. The smell of the coffee tickled my senses. I didn’t mind staying here another day, but I did need to check in with Holly.
I looked around the room, looking for a telephone. The man had to have a way to communicate with the outside world. My cell was still in my jacket pocket, but without the charger it wasn’t going to do much good. Plus, I seriously doubted there would be any service out here.
The aroma of the coffee was too much. I walked back to the woodstove and leaned over the pot, inhaling deeply. I really needed a hit of caffeine.
Jake stomped back into the room, heading for the kitchen, opening a cupboard and putting two mugs on the counter.
“Excuse me,” he growled, grabbing the coffee pot from the stove and heading back to the kitchen. I trailed behind him, like a kid following the ice cream man.
I greedily watched him po
ur two cups, but managed to mind my manners long enough not to reach out and grab a cup.
He handed one to me. I wrapped both hands around the hot mug and held it close to my face, inhaling deeply.
“Ohh,” I moaned low in my throat. It smelled heavenly. I took the first sip and moaned again.
His gaze was on me, staring intently, watching me as my lips rimmed the ceramic mug.
“What?” I asked, a little self-conscious.
“Good?”
I smiled over my cup. “Very.”
He looked at me a few more seconds and then walked away. The man was making me nervous. He was constantly on the move. Who did that first thing in the morning? It was as if he couldn’t stand to be near me. If I got too close, he moved away. I must have really freaked him out.
I watched while he filled a bowl with dry kibble, the dog had been curled up in a corner, but came running the moment he heard the sound. Then, he was grabbing the pot of oatmeal off the stove and scooping it into bowls.
“Here,” he said handing me on of the bowls.
I looked at the bowl of plain oatmeal. I didn’t want to be a nuisance, but come on. Plain oatmeal?
“Sugar?” I asked.
He reached into a cupboard, handed me a small bag and walked to the table. I carried the bag under my arm, holding my cup of coffee and hot oatmeal bowl in my hands. He was definitely not going to win any hospitality awards.
“Thanks,” I said, dumping a healthy amount of sugar straight from the bag and into my oatmeal.
“No problem.”
We ate in silence. I wasn’t a real fan of oatmeal, but I was hungry, and oatmeal was filling.
“I’ve got stuff to do,” he grumbled, putting his bowl in the sink and sliding his feet into his boots.
Without another word, he was dressed and out the door, his dog trailing along behind him.
I added a little water to both bowls and the pot, doing my best to use a limited amount of water from the jug. Caked on oatmeal was no joke. It would make it easier to cleanup once the power was back. I hoped the man had more water stashed somewhere. With nothing else to do, I crawled back onto the couch, unfolded the blankets and closed my eyes. I wasn’t used to getting up so early, especially after such a restless night.