Chapter Fifteen
ETHAN
I lied down on top of the covers and opened my book. Flipping the pages, I tried to find the spot at which I stopped reading when I heard Lisbeth scream and ran to her bedroom. But I couldn’t concentrate on the book. My thoughts kept going back to her. So I switched the bedside lamp off and draped my arm over my eyes, hoping to fall asleep.
A while later—maybe ten minutes, or maybe thirty—I was still awake, thinking of how scared Lisbeth was. I’ve seen such expressions way too many times to count on the Afghani women and children’s faces. The fear, the uncertainty of tomorrow, the confusion... it was all in Lisbeth’s eyes, and there wasn’t much anyone could do to ease her anxiety now. Not until her pursuers were caught, or better yet—dead.
I turned the lamp back on and pulled my M9 from the bedside table drawer. I normally wouldn’t keep the gun loaded, but I decided to be prepared now. It was a beautiful piece. Jack had the same 9mm Beretta. We often went to the shooting range to keep them in good use. I could only hope I wouldn’t have to use it to shoot any other target than the paper ones at Karl’s Range.
The gun went back inside the drawer, which I promptly locked. The small lock didn’t provide a lot of safety, but it had to do this time around. It was better than nothing.
I switched the light off and went to the window. The moon made the scenery almost creepy, with its cold, silver light reflecting off the quiet water. A few small clouds surrounded the moon, as if threatening to choke it with their soft bodies. The peacefulness of the daytime continued through the night, as it always did here. So what was it that bothered me tonight? I crossed my arms against my chest and kept looking out there.
Half an hour later I decided to give sleep another try. I slid under the covers and closed my eyes. The cabin was quiet, and I could only hear the rustling of the trees outside. The wind got stronger, as it often did at night. I thought about Lisbeth, sleeping in the next room. Only a thin wall separated us. Her bed was pushed against it, as it was mine. We were practically just inches apart.
That thought was a mistake. My drowsiness gave way to desire, and I grunted when my groin went hot. My boxers pressed unnervingly against my awakened cock. I tore them off, hoping to relieve the discomfort. But now the softness of the sheets made me think of a woman’s delicate skin against mine. And not any woman’s... Lisbeth’s. The memory of her hand clasping mine came rushing through my mind. My cock was rigid, and I had to do something to release the furious tension or there was no hope for sleep tonight.
I closed my eyes and slipped my arm under the covers, until my hand wrapped around my raging hardness. My mouth opened and my breath came forcefully in and out. Lying on my back, I tried to imagine Anne Fisher kneeling between my legs, sucking me off. She had a perfect mouth for it. But I could only see Lisbeth’s lips wrapped tightly around my cock, her eyes dreamily raised to mine, her head bobbing up and down, her mouth sucking.
I tightened my hand over my length and started sliding it up and down, first slowly, and then quicker and quicker. My breathing became labored, and my teeth clenched in response to this sweet agony. I thrust my hips, imagining Lisbeth’s long, lean legs and arms enclosing around me, pulling me in and out of her hot, wet pussy. No, I wanted her handcuffed to the bed, pretend-play she was my captive, fighting against the restraints. The possibilities were endless. I would have her any way I wanted, giving her more pleasure than she’s ever known.
God, I wanted to fuck her so badly. This wasn’t the time to feel bad or remind myself that I had to keep her safe and protected; or that she had to stay completely off limits. This was the time to fantasize. A little fantasy won’t hurt anyone, but it would help me. I badly needed release.
I threw the covers off and pumped my cock with my hand, moaning quietly. I wanted to scream, feeling the raging orgasm approach. Faster... faster... faster... now! My eyes squeezed tight, and a loud groan escaped me when the seed shot out. The violent release shook my whole body. Oh, yes, that was what I needed. But I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to keep going. I wanted more, much more.
Sweat dripped from my temples. It also collected on my chest and stomach. My underarms and the areas under my knees were damp too. I wiped the sperm off my abs with my discarded boxers and stood up, heading for the shower. My cock was still hard and bobbed against my stomach. I tried to ignore the fact that I was still aroused, almost ready to go again.
Right before I opened my bedroom door, I remembered Lisbeth. Not that I forgot about her even for a moment. That was impossible. But she shouldn’t see me like this—still rock-hard and completely naked. Or should she? Damn, of course not!
I quietly closed the door and pulled the sheet off the bed. It had to do. I wished so badly there was another bathroom upstairs, even though I never brought female company here. But when my family visited, that single, shared bathroom was always a problem.
Trying not to make a noise, I locked myself in and dropped the sheet onto the floor. I turned the water on in the shower and realized that Lisbeth was recently here, bathing. That didn’t help with calming down my desire. Instead, it surged through me with renewed strength. I closed my eyes. She was so close... maybe she felt the same... maybe we could... no, that could never happen! I didn’t bring Lisbeth here to have my way with her, no matter how tempting it was. I had to make my hungry dick understand that.
The only way to keep my hands—and my mind—off her was to masturbate again, to get rid of the nagging need. I picked up the soap and immediately thought that she used it to wash herself. God, this was too much. I lathered up my hard cock and pumped it fast, leaning against the shower wall with my other hand. Water ran down my back, caressing my skin like a lover’s lips. Like Lisbeth’s lips...
I was getting close. It felt so damn good. Not as good as the real thing. It never did. The real thing... a woman... I needed a woman so badly... maybe in a few days... Anne Fisher or Rita... there were always willing ladies... no, I didn’t want any of them! I wanted Lisbeth. Only her!
A vision of her on her knees in front of me, with her wrists bound behind her back and a scarf tied over her eyes, her mouth tight around my length, her head bobbing up and down... oh, yes! Serving me, submitting to me... I threw my head back and groaned in a primal need.
“Lisbeth,” I whispered.
Water ran over my upturned face and throat, down to my chest, cascading down onto my groin and my fist clenched over my wild-with-need cock. The release should come now. I worked it hard, unable to stop, to wait much longer. I wanted an orgasm... I wanted it... nothing else mattered... faster... faster... God, faster, harder, yes—harder!
The sperm shot out, bringing me over the edge, and I moaned, unable to stop the sound of an incredible pleasure. I watched the white, creamy substance mix with water and run down the drain. It kept coming, and I kept panting and grinding my teeth. I hated it. I loved it. No, I hated it, because it wasn’t the real thing. I never had to masturbate. A simple text or a quick phone call would always be enough to get a willing mouth and pussy.
I stood in the shower for a long time, numb and spent; maybe even satisfied, at least on a very primal, physical level. What else did I want? Wasn’t it what I was always content with—an orgasm?
I returned to bed, listening for any sounds that would indicate Lisbeth was awake. But the cabin was completely quiet. She was asleep.
I had to get some rest. I was drowsy and spent. The pillow under my head felt soft against my cheek. And then, mercifully, sleep had come, and I dreamed of Lisbeth’s silky skin under my hands and my tongue licking deep inside her slick, hot opening.
Chapter Sixteen
LISBETH
The morning sun woke me up. It squeezed its bright rays between the half-closed blinds in the window. I cracked my eyes open and yawned, shielding my face from the light with the crook of my elbow.
A delicious smell of coffee teased my senses. I sat up and rubbed my knuckles over my eyes. Ethan mu
st have gotten up already. What time was it? I looked at my wristwatch—nine thirty! Oh, no. He let me sleep so late. For some strange reason, I felt guilty, as if I had somewhere to be or something to take care of. I didn’t want him to think I was lazy.
But why did I even care? In a couple of days I’d have to leave and find another place to hide. I may never even see Ethan again, because he had no obligation to keep helping me. What he was already doing was enough—much more than anyone had ever done for me. He was actually risking his own safety to give me a place to stay immediately after what had happened yesterday. I wouldn’t ask him for more.
With that resolve in mind, I brushed my teeth, wrestled with my hair, trying to put it up and failing terribly. Finally, I settled on braiding it into a simple plait. I changed into a clean t-shirt and shorts, and folded my makeshift pajamas into a neat square on top of the made bed. I’d been taught in every foster home I stayed in to make my bed in the morning and pick up after myself. That stuck with me. It was a good thing.
I looked around the room and saw the clothes I wore yesterday in a small pile. I didn’t have a laundry hamper in here, so I felt excused for that small mess. This was Chris’s outfit and, at some point, it needed to be returned to her, but first I would have to wash it. I knew there were a washer and dryer in the garage, because I noticed them when we arrived in the cabin yesterday. I made a mental note to ask Ethan if I could use them.
The heavenly fragrance of freshly brewed coffee got stronger when I opened my bedroom door. My bare feet were quiet on the wooden stairs and then on the hardwood floor downstairs.
I entered the kitchen and gulped. Turned with his back to me was shirtless Ethan, wearing only a pair of a low-riding, loose-fitting shorts. His body was sculpted, all angles and ridges, smooth, tanned skin, and hard muscles. He had strong, long legs and a small, taut butt—yes, my eyes went there right away, and it was apparent that I enjoyed the view. More than I should.
He was washing something over the sink, his back muscles shifting gently. He was wide in the shoulders and his back tapered down to a small waist.
I must have stood in the kitchen door for a while, gaping until he turned his head to look at me.
“Good morning,” he said without stopping his task. “Help yourself to some coffee. I just made a fresh pot.”
“Uhm... yeah... sure.” Oh, great. I grew speechless at the mere sight of a half-dressed male. That was quite awkward, but he seemed not to notice my reaction. Or maybe he simply decided to save me some embarrassment.
“The coffee mugs are in the cupboard over there.” Ethan pointed across the kitchen to his left.
When he finally turned, I saw the tattoo on his left pectoral and shoulder that I got a tiny glimpse of yesterday. It was a flying raven in black ink, with its wings pulled back, large beak curving down, and talons stretched out as if preparing to grab and lift something up in the air.
I walked closer, mesmerized by how this image was actually designed. The bird’s whole body was constructed from the other flying ravens. The effect was fascinating—from the distance, the image looked like that of a regular raven, but close up, what seemed to be feathers, were actually the other, smaller ravens.
“This is beautiful,” I said quietly, my eyes on the tattoo. “Does it have any specific meaning? Oh, wait... I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry.” I felt my face grow very hot.
“It’s not a secret.” He shrugged, looking at me. There was something masculine and confident in his gaze. “All guys in my family have a raven tattoo, although each of us picked a different design.”
I stared with my eyes wide open, waiting for him to explain the reason behind that unusual family tradition. He dried his hands on a towel and crossed the kitchen to retrieve one of the white coffee mugs from the cupboard. I realized it was for me.
“Oh, thanks,” I mumbled.
“Grandma Ruth, who’s my father and my uncle’s mom, was saved by two ravens when she was a small child. She was five at that time. Her family lived in a small village, and their house was the closest to the woods.” Ethan poured some coffee and handed me the mug. “One day, Grandma was playing outside, and a wolf attacked her. Two ravens came from nowhere and flew down onto the wolf, scaring it off. Since then, they would be seen sitting on the roof or on a nearby tree, as if watching out for Grandma. She says they were her guarding spirits, and if it weren’t for them, none of us, brats—as she calls us—would exist. So to humor her, we all got raven tattoos for her seventy-fifth birthday; except for the youngest guys, who had to wait a year or more back then until they were allowed to get inked.” He took a sip of coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief over the brim of the mug.
“And I thought it was going to be something symbolic,” I said with a smile.
“Ah, like a tribal or a mythology-influenced story?”
“Yes, something like that.” I nodded.
“Are you disappointed?” he was totally making fun of me.
“Should I be?” I fired back.
“Okay, there is a bit of a symbolism behind my tattoo. I chose this design because it reminded me of my crazy family.” Ethan pointed to the raven. “All these birds are like the members of the McCoy clan, and the big mama bird represents Grandma Ruth.”
“So she’s like the head of your... clan?”
He laughed. “She definitely acts like she is. But she’s really cool, and we all love her to death. And yeah, we say ‘the clan’ because we’re so close, it’s ridiculous sometimes. We always seem to hang out together.”
I looked out the window and took a small sip of the coffee. The Lake shimmered in the morning sun. It seemed to be a busy day. A few jet skis and motorboats were out on the water, making a lot of ruckus. When Ethan said we were going to hide in his small cabin, I imagined it was a completely secluded place in the middle of nowhere, with no houses and definitely no tourists around. How was this supposed to be a hideout? I guessed, it was probably the best idea ever, because who would have thought to look in such a popular place?
We sat for a while in silence, drinking our hot coffee. I turned my face to Ethan and caught him watching me from under half-closed lids. Immediately, my stomach twisted into a tight knot, and my heart did a weird summersault. What was happening? How was he able to make me melt inside with just one glance?
I held his gaze, although he was deep in thought, maybe not even realizing that his eyes were on me. He reclined in his chair, lazily draping one arm over the armrest. His other hand was lifted to his face, a long, slim finger slowly teasing the corner of his mouth.
Oh, dear Lord! He looked so amazingly gorgeous and sexy and hot and... I just wanted to... okay, my mind was playing stupid tricks on me. This was insane and immature of me. I should’ve only felt grateful for him, because he was putting his head on a chopping block for a girl he didn’t even know. But instead, I allowed myself to fantasize about those parted lips and that finger gently playing on them. What the hell?
I stood up. “Excuse me,” I choked out and left the kitchen in a hurry.
His head shot up as if he woke up from a daydream. I needed some air to clear my mind, so I went outside. The air was warm and pleasant. A gentle wind teased the water, ruffling the surface. The boats and jet skis were much farther now, their engines’ noise fading away.
I walked to the small deck in front of the cabin and all the way to its end. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stood and squeezed my eyes shut, letting the breeze caress my face. It was like a lover’s gentle touch—something I haven’t felt in months; something, I started to realize, I missed so much.
Long, cleansing breaths calmed me down. I looked ahead, to the other side of the Lake. There were quite a few cabins or houses or maybe both. I suspected that some of these buildings were year-round residences, since those looked quite spacious.
I glanced to my left and right, but Ethan’s cabin wasn’t near any other buildings on this side of the Lake. It was, in fact, isolated. I made a m
ental note to ask him how it was even possible that he didn’t have any immediate neighbors.
Heavy steps echoed behind me on the wood of the deck. Ethan came to my side and handed me my mug of coffee. It was refilled and steamy with some milk added to it.
“Here. I understand you might’ve wanted to abandon my boring company, but why to leave such a perfect cup of coffee behind?”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said quietly, in a velvety-soft, low voice.
I didn’t dare to look at him. There was something impossibly irresistible about this man. I couldn’t trust myself to remain detached, and that was a really bad thing. My situation called for me to stay alert and uncommitted to any human being. If I only had any other option, I wouldn’t have accepted Ethan’s offer to hide here. This, from the very beginning, was a dubious kind of an idea. He was too tantalizing, and I was too vulnerable.
There was more silence between us. We sat together, watching the beautiful scenery ahead. He didn’t look at me again the way he did inside the cabin. I probably just imagined the whole thing. Why was I coming back to that moment? Why did I overanalyze it and long for what was forbidden? Ethan was forbidden. That was the right way—the safe way for me.
His cell phone rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. He answered it curtly, “Yeah?”
I could hear a male’s voice on the other side but couldn’t understand the words.
“Not much. We’re just having coffee on the deck,” Ethan said to the phone. “Will do, bro. Thanks.” He hung up and put the phone back into his shorts pocket.
“My brother,” he explained and added, “Colton. Just checking on us.”
“That’s nice of him,” I commented.
“Yeah. I told him to keep his mouth shut, or we would have the whole family barging over here to help.” He shook his head. “We need to lay low and not attract any unnecessary attention.”
The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories Page 190