Not Looking For Love: Episode 5

by Bourne, Lena

  His lips are all over every inch of my face, covering my neck, my chest, the heat they're causing meeting the one flowing up from between my legs, connecting in my stomach, melting into my blood. And I'm kissing him right back, electric currents flaring through me each time our lips meet.

  I manage to shake my right leg free of my pants and wrap it around his hip, pulling him closer. I moan, smacking the back of my head on the wall as he buries his cock deep into me. The stars flashing before my eyes join the explosion between my legs, feed off it, until my entire body is crackling like I'm just another log in the fire.

  Scott's still thrusting into me, his breathing loud between the kisses, his hand stroking the back of my thigh. Inside me, heat is building again, reforming hotter than before. His cock thickens inside me and he jams it in to the hilt, buries it so deep I'd jump off it, but I'm cumming so hard I don't even know my name.

  "Who's Hank Henderson?" Scott asks me later, stroking my hair as we're lying on the sofa, the fire crackling beside us.

  I lift my head and kiss him softly, feeling his cock twitch inside me.

  "Hank's my dad's brother," I whisper, resting my head against his chest. "He's currently serving three life sentences for first degree murder. And that's never stopped my father pursuing a successful career in law. And I think you'll agree that stealing cars pales in comparison to premeditated murder, right?"

  Scott hoists me up so I'm laying on top of him, his rapidly hardening cock buried deep. I push myself up so I'm sitting, rock my hips back and forth to speed him up.

  His palms slither across my belly, wrap around my breasts.

  "Oh, OK. Because I thought you'd finally gone completely insane and were introducing yourself as Hank," he says and laughs so hard tears start flowing from his eyes. And I probably should be mad, at least a little bit, but I'm seeing myself covered in snow, red in the face and panting, answering Hank Henderson over and over, and I can't stop laughing either, until my belly is cramping up and tears are flowing into my mouth.

  "But even thinking I was insane you had no trouble letting me in," I say, once my laughs finally settle. He's staring so deep into my eyes, it's like he sees right through me.

  "But when has that ever stopped you, right?" I whisper, because I could never just keep my mouth shut.

  He kisses me instead of answering, his hands running up and down my back, my sides, my breasts, and I've got my fingers buried in his hair.

  "How the fuck did you even find me?" he asks later, his lips glistening from the kisses.

  His cock is so hard inside me, I'll probably never get it out. Not that I'm planning to.

  "I found your mom's diaries and the picture of their cabin," I say. "And then I called every Martinsson I could find in the greater Portland area. I finally tracked down your aunt and she told me this is where that cabin was."

  I feel him grow softer inside me, and I clench down hard, not ready to let him go.

  "You spoke to my aunt?"

  "Yes, and she sounded very sorry she never got in touch," I say, running my palm down the side of his face. "Maybe it's not too late now."

  "It is," he says, his voice colder than it was when he told me not to look for him. I want him to laugh again.

  "And you came out here in the middle of the night just based on that?" he asks softly, his hands cupping my cheeks. "What if I wasn't here?"

  "Then I'd find you somewhere else. I wouldn't give up," I say. "But luckily everyone at the bar knew a Martin Winters who spoke a lot about a certain Gail. What did you tell them?"

  He sighs, his hands coming to rest in the small of my back. "I told them we loved each other, but we couldn't make it work because you were in a committed relationship and I couldn't make you choose like that, or get in the way of the future you planned for yourself."

  "So, in other words, you lied. And made me sound like a total two-timing bitch," I say and smile to take the edge off my harsh words.

  "No, I didn't make you sound like a bitch. Love is hard, everyone knows that, and sometimes you have to let go," he says, his eyes a perfect sky blue.

  "And who's Martin Winters then?" I ask, pinching his nipple and gasping as his cock jerks inside me.

  "He's an artist from New York, escaping here to find inspiration after his heartbreak," he says, his hands kneading my breasts again. "Martin's my middle name, and Winters is actually the last name Mike uses for his alter persona. And he'd probably never guess I was using it, not with how I teased him about it."

  "Well, how hard did you tease him?" I ask, my breath catching in my throat. It's a stupid plan, of course Mike would guess. He should have gone with something like Smith.

  "I asked him if he was trying to channel my mom through it, since she's Swedish and everything, and he got really defensive about it, like maybe I guessed it," he explains. "And it seemed fitting to use it here."

  "It's just Mike you're hiding from all the way out here, isn't it? Not anyone else?" I ask. "That's why you didn't even tell your dad where you are.

  "You saw my dad?" he asks, his eyes wide again. "How is he?"

  "He seemed OK. But he really misses you." I could sugarcoat it, but why lie to Scott? He must know it already. "Ava was with him. Apparently Janine left too."

  He nods. "I know. But I'm sure she'll get in touch with her mom as soon as things calm down."

  "Until what calms down?"

  He sighs, his hands clutching my hips now. "Mike. He'd would never let me just walk away. He has all these big plans, and he wants me to help him. But I think he'll do it better on his own anyway, and I absolutely do not want to go back to prison."

  "So that's why you left me? It wasn't even about me screwing up my future?" I move to climb off him, but he's holding me too tight.

  "It was all because of you Gail. I would've stayed and helped him out for a while longer if I hadn't met you. But I couldn't force you to be with me while I was still stealing cars. And I couldn't stop unless I got away from Mike," he says, his eyes so deep I'm not even seeing the cabin anymore. "And if he so much as thought we were still together, he'd use it against me. So I made him think Janine and me were running away together. He never did understand how it's possible that we weren't doing it all these years, so it was a good lie."

  "But was it a lie?" I ask, fighting the image of Scott's arm wrapped around Janine on that first night when I totally lost it.

  He smiles, his hands running down my ass. "Yes. It's a lie."

  I look deep into his eyes, the snowy plain shimmering like a million diamonds, only this time that world is right outside the window too. "I believe you."

  "Good," he says, and bucks his hips into me, making me gasp as his cock hits that spot deep inside me, heat coiling all around it now. "Because I think maybe we should stop talking for awhile. I'm getting cold."

  I lift my hips a little and rock back down, repeat. He lets me do it my way, sliding up and down slowly. His eyes are so blue and so open, I could never look away and still miss nothing.

  His thumb is tracing a slow circle across my clit, making heat shoot out across the surface of my skin, matching, exceeding that roiling inside me. I grab his wrist, and press into his hand, sitting down all the way on his cock. I shudder as he cums, the hot jet spilling into me coaxing out my own orgasm, slower and softer than any before, but intense, as deep as his eyes.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The sunlight spilling across my eyelids wakes me the next morning. We're in bed. I remember coming here after the fire died, remember him climbing on top of me, his tongue in my mouth as he thrust into me, slow and powerful, my body reeling, my eyes fluttering shut. He's spooning me now, his palm hot against the skin of my belly, resting under the shirt I'm wearing, which I don't remember putting on, his even breaths stirring my hair.

  I burrow closer to him, and shut my eyes tight, lacing my fingers with his. His breathing turns irregular, his lips hot against my neck. He slides his hand down my pajamas, and I shudder as his fing
ers find my soft clit. I want him to keep going and I don't.

  "Not ready for more?" he mutters and bites the top of my shoulder softly, the electric current that shoots straight down into my clit almost strong enough to make me reconsider.

  "Not yet," I mutter. "Maybe tonight."

  His hand slides back to my belly, smearing the wetness across my skin. "I still have some pain killers somewhere, if you want?"

  I shake my head. "No, I kinda like being sore like this."

  He chuckles. "Yeah, you would."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Forget it," he mutters, pressing into me and holding me tight. "So, some breakfast then? I think I have some eggs and stuff."

  "You have actual food? But I thought you didn't know how to cook?" I say.

  "Turns out I can. So what kind of eggs do you like, I can make all kinds?" he offers.

  "Benedict?" I ask. I'm not even sure which those are, but it sounds complicated.

  "Never made those, but I can check online," he says, hugging me again and then letting go.

  "Don't bother, I was kidding. Scrambled is fine," I say and roll over, lacing my fingers with his as we both stare at the ceiling.

  "It'd be no problem, you really need to start eating. You're even skinnier than when I first met you," he says, watching me from the corner of his eye, his lips curled up at the edges, probably wanting to get a rise out of me. But I won't argue with him, not now when I only just got him back.

  "It hasn't been the easiest couple of weeks," I say instead, memories of the transparent ball I was stuck in flooding to the surface.

  "Yeah, I know," he mutters, no longer smiling.

  I roll over and look at him. "Why did you leave me?"

  I say it softly so he'll know I'm not arguing.

  "I told you last night, it was the only way I knew how not to involve you any further," he mutters, his eyes turning a dark shade of blue, like a cloud passing over the ocean.

  "I spent a week in the hospital afterwards, and I remember almost none of it," I say, not sure why I even want him to know.

  His breath hitches in his throat, comes out in a jagged exhale, his eyes a perfect blue sea again. "Really?"

  I nod and smile. "But I'm fine now. Though it's your fault I'm all skinny again, just thought you should know."

  The smile doesn't transfer to his face as he leans over and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, shaking his head. And if I ever needed an apology from him, more of it than I'll ever know what to do with is spilling from his eyes now. "I thought you were getting stronger. That you'd just end up hating me and that would be that."

  I press my thumb to his lips, tracing them. "I don't think I'll ever hate you, Scott."

  "You were pretty mean to me in the beginning," he says and those hounding memories shoot into my mind, but I won't let them surface. Ever again. "I thought you could just go back to that."

  "I didn't tell you this to make you feel bad," I say. "I actually have no idea why I did."

  "How am I supposed to not feel bad?" he mutters, his breath moist against my fingers.

  He jerks up and pulls me into an embrace, his arms so tight around me I can't move.

  "I missed you so much, Gail," he says and kisses my forehead. "I was seriously planning on coming back after New Year's and fuck everything else."

  "But you like it here," I say. "And you're safe. So how about that breakfast?"

  He lets me go and I throw the covers off the both of us. The cold air hits my skin like a slap, and my teeth are chattering by the time I finally dig out a pair of sweats from my suitcase and join him in the kitchen. It's warm in there, and the smell of eggs cooking makes my mouth water.

  I eat them sitting in his lap, because I'm still very cold and he doesn't mind at all.

  "We should go into town," I mutter running my fingers through his hair, staring at the flames licking the logs in the fireplace. "I never paid them for my food on the night I got here."

  It's been three days since then. Or maybe four. I've lost count. Time ceased moving when I entered this cozy cabin in the woods.

  He burrows his head deeper into my lap. "We can go tomorrow. They're easy like that here."

  "How much trouble would you be in if we went back home?" I ask, running my hand down his neck, his heart beat speeding up against my fingertips.

  "It's too soon," he mutters. "Mike needs some more time to adjust to me wanting out."

  "But how can he force you to do something you don't want to do?" I ask. "He's your brother."

  "That's exactly why he wants me to help him," Scott answers, his whole body tense now. "Not that there's ever been much brotherly love lost between us. He's despised me from birth."

  "Oh, I'm sure that's not true," I say and pull my hand away as he sits up, lacing his fingers in front of him, staring off into the flames.

  "There you go again with the platitudes," he says, and the temperature in the room drops. "You don't know what you're talking about, so maybe you shouldn't."

  I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back into the cushions. "I know I want you to come home."

  "Look, Gail, I really fucked up by getting arrested," he says rubbing a thin white scar on the side of his wrist with his thumb. "Like completely. And now Mike's stuck putting the pieces back together, and I probably should be helping him. But if they catch me again, I'm going away for a long time. As in longer than three weeks."

  His black eyes pierce me as he finishes, begging me to argue so he can really start lashing out.

  "Well, how did you get caught the first time? Just don't do that again and you'll be fine," I spit out, with no idea where the words are coming from. But it's like his anger is coursing through me too.

  "That was all just sheer stupidity and bad luck. And all my own fault," he says, his eyes losing the gleaming black edge, melting back to a softer brown.

  The anger leaves me too, as easily as it started, and maybe it's because I can hardly feel him in the room with me.

  "What happened?" I ask, grabbing hold of his hand but he doesn't seem to feel it.

  He shows me the scar on his wrist. "See this? I cut myself just before a job. It was like a week after David died, and I was really out of it. I never noticed how much I was bleeding. So I bled all over the place where I got the car from, and all over the car, which the cops somehow managed to get back in a raid before it was shipped off."

  He pauses to take a shuddering breath and I grip his hand tighter. "But all that would've been fine, had I not gotten into a huge fight with Louie, you know, the guy who was hitting on Janine on our first date?"

  I'm still catching my breath, but he's not waiting for me to answer. "Which in itself was really dumb, because I never get into fights. That was like the third time ever, but anyway, I put him in the hospital, and they didn't know who did it. Louie was unconscious and couldn't tell them. So they took DNA samples. And guess what that matched up with?"

  Both my hands are covering my mouth now, my eyes sore since they're popping out so hard. I can't even comfort him, because that's the worst sort of bad luck twist I ever heard. And I certainly can't tell him it wasn't all his fault.

  "And the real messed up part is that Louie never even pressed charges against me after he woke up."

  He chuckles, but it's a cold sound, like rocks rattling in an empty tin bucket.

  I finally let go of my mouth, my breathing returning to normal slowly. He's staring off into the flames again, rocking back and forth.

  I scoot over and run my hand across his broad back, down his left bicep, squeezing his muscle. It makes him stop rocking, but he's not looking at me yet.

  "Are you seriously telling me you've only been in three fights?" I ask, running my hand back up his arm. "How's that even possible?"

  He looks at me, and some of the seriousness melts from his eyes as he grins. But too much still remains. "I had three older brothers, and a really big best friend. It just almost never got that far, a
lright? I'm not like some pussy."

  I pull him back so he's leaning against me again, my legs hugging him from the sides. "We don't have to talk about this anymore. We can talk about something else. Or do something else."

  He leans into me, running his hands across my calves. "There's always the bathtub. It's like a Jacuzzi. We could go out in the snow naked and then come back and take a hot bath."

  I shiver at the mere thought. "Yeah, and get pneumonia while we're at it. Besides, I had enough snow trudging up to the house. Would it kill you to shovel your driveway?" I squeeze his biceps hard. "I mean, what are these for anyway? Just for show?"

  "Yeah, pretty much," he chuckles, adding. "I got them in jail so people would leave me alone. And I did shovel that whole driveway last weekend, but then it started snowing again like the minute I was done. So now I'm just gonna wait for it to thaw."

  The image of Scott shoveling snow, preferably without his shirt on is taking center stage in my mind, making heat surge through me, so maybe the bath can wait.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I try to broach the subject of Scott coming back with me a few more times, but not very hard, because each time I do his eyes get very dark, form too hard a contrast to the soft clouds I'm floating on in this timeless void I found here.

  It's like my whole life is locked inside this house, with Scott, and I never want to leave. But New Year's Eve is snaking closer and I have to go home on January 1st. Though the part of me that will stay here when I do might be too big to live without.

  My eyes spring open on the morning of the last day of the year, my heart already beating furiously in my chest. I dreamed our goodbye, but I forced myself to wake up before I could walk back across the snowy field and board my plane.

  "What's wrong?" Scott asks, running his fingers through my hair.