by Loki Renard
It wasn’t that she wasn’t safe with him. It was that she wasn’t safe inside herself. What was happening? This wasn’t her. She didn’t jump guys she’d just met. She didn’t fuck around. She didn’t do this. She couldn’t do this.
“Let me up, Sam. Now.” This time there was a real strident borderline panic in her voice, and this time he listened.
He moved his hand and stood back.
“Don’t freak out,” he said in soothing tones. “It’s okay.”
“I’m not freaking out, I just want to get my pants on,” she said, tugging them up so she could feel a little more equal, a little more in control of herself. Once she was covered, she ran a hand through her sex-tussled hair and addressed him directly to his chest.
“I’m not… I’m not a slut, Sam.”
“I know you’re not.”
“No, you don’t,” she said. “Because I got off the bus and ended up on your dick.” She turned around and looked away from him entirely. What the fuck was she doing? Who was she now? Is this what she did? Fuck.
Tears began to form in her eyes. She was so confused. She hadn’t just fucked him. She’d… god. What was the word… she had submitted to him. She’d begged him to take her. She’d acted like she didn’t have any morals or sense or anything. They hadn’t even used a condom, and she hadn’t cared about that either. His hot, bare cock had been thrusting inside her. He could have come inside her if he’d wanted. She wouldn’t have stopped him. The thought made her tender pussy clench and her stomach do flips.
God! Get a grip! she lectured herself silently.
“You’ve been through a lot, Marnie,” he said softly from behind her. “Maybe you just needed this. That’s okay.”
Earthquakes could be blamed for a lot of things, but she’d never heard of anyone turning into a total slut because of them.
Her shoulders shook as she started to cry from confusion and fear. Fear that she didn’t know who she was and didn’t know what she’d do next. Earthquakes had made the outside world unpredictable, and now she didn’t even know herself.
Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, a large male chest against her back. He held her without speaking, seeming to know words would make it worse. She sniffled until the hot breeze took the tears away, until the calm of the countryside started to seep into her.
“Let me take care of you, Marnie,” Sam murmured in her ear.
“I can’t.”
He turned her around gently and looked down at her with a quizzical expression. “What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I mean…” She shook her head. “I just can’t, Sam, I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “That’s okay.”
She’d disappointed him. She’d disappointed herself.
“Really,” he said, taking her by the chin and looking down into her eyes. “It’s okay, Marnie. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Except he hadn’t had to force her. She’d thrown herself at him. “Let’s just leave it, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, letting go of her.
Marnie missed his touch immediately, wanted to dive back into his arms. She was starting to figure out part of what attracted her to him so much. Sam was the first person she’d met in ages who wasn’t carrying massive stress. He was relaxed, and even when he was growling, he was in control of his domain. Control. She needed that so badly. Right now everything was out of control, including herself.
“You’re tired,” he said. “We can do the farm tour another time. Right now, I think you could do with a nap. Let’s go back to the house.”
It wasn’t really a suggestion. It was an order, one she didn’t feel inclined to refuse. He got back on the bike he’d just ravaged her over and told her to get on. She didn’t argue. The ride back was an embarrassing reminder of everything that had just happened. Her tender pussy rubbed against her wet jean shorts, more chafing than tantalizing and every bump and rumble reminded her of what a slut she’d just been. Even having her arms wrapped around his hard, lean waist was an exquisite torture.
When they got back, she dumped the helmet, kicked her boots off on the doorstep, and practically ran into the house, up to the room he’d shown her to. She didn’t get into bed, she just wrapped the blanket around herself and over her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep, but maybe she could escape the total mess she’d made of her life by staying in the soft blanket.
* * *
Several hours later, she woke up. Hungry.
The growling in her stomach led her downstairs, and her nose took her to the kitchen, where she found Sam standing next to the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled amazing.
“Hey there,” he smiled as she came in. “Feel better?”
He’d showered. It was the first thing she noticed. And he’d shaved. The hard lines of his jaw were even clearer now, and the cable knit Merino sweater he was wearing brought out the colour of his eyes. God. He was fucking handsome. Now she felt like a mess compared to him, still in her dusty, sticky shorts.
“Uhmmm… I should get cleaned up,” she said, not answering his question.
“Sure, the door opposite your room leads to a bathroom,” he said. “Sorry, I should have shown you there first. There’s clean towels in there too.”
She noticed that he wasn’t calling her little girl anymore. For the first time since they met he wasn’t growling because she’d just tramped dirt through the house, or threatening her with a spanking for something or other. He was being polite and respectful and, well, normal. It was just what she’d been asking for, and it was terrible.
“What are you cooking?” It seemed such a trivial question after what they’d shared together, but she didn’t know what else to say. And she had to say something, or she was going to scream.
Despite feeling gross, she didn’t really want a shower. She wanted Sam. She wanted him to bend her over the kitchen bench and ravish her again, just as he’d done over the bike. She wanted to hear the words little girl rumble off his lips as his huge hands grabbed her ass and pulled her closer to his hard body. She didn’t want him to just stand there, all clean and respectable, cooking, while she felt so confused and uncomfortable and dirty.
“Rice pudding.”
“For dinner?”
A slow smile spread across Sam’s face as he took in her surprised expression. “Why not? Add canned peaches… the best food in the world!”
Sam definitely didn’t seem like a rice pudding and peaches kind of man. He seemed like a ‘throw the chops on the barbie’ kind of man, with mashed spuds and peas. Or the kind of man who could devour a steak bigger than her hand with ease. Rice pudding didn’t seem macho enough for him.
“Besides, it’s all I know how to cook. Aunty Magda usually cooks, fortunately, but she’s not here. So it’s either this, which tastes bloody good, or baked beans on toast, which is pretty average.”
“Okay. I like rice pudding.” Her approval of Sam’s choice of cuisine seemed to please him—his smile widened as he stirred the contents of the pot rather enthusiastically.
“Your bag is upstairs. Should be beside your bedroom door, I took it up for you earlier. Get yourself cleaned up and changed; food’s ready when you are.”
She frowned at his bossiness. He seemed to thrive on giving orders, and even though he said it all with a smile, he spoke like what he said wasn’t up for negotiation. Like he just expected she would obey.
“And if I don’t want to?”
Sam shrugged. “Then don’t.”
Marnie’s heart sank. Shouldn’t he at least be frowning and flexing his hands menacingly? Where had the stern disciplinarian gone? Where was the man who had turned her over his knee and spanked her? This man, the man who didn’t seem to care what she did… she didn’t like him very much at all.
Turning on her heel, Marnie stomped back up the stairs, looking for the bathroom. If Sam wasn’t going to react th
e way she’d hoped he would, she may as well do something about the dirt coating her legs, the shorts sticking to her thighs, and the dust coating her top. Ugh. She’d never been this dirty in her life! She flicked at a patch of muck sticking to her forearm. How did people survive out here with all this filth?
The bathroom was easy to find. It was dead opposite her bedroom, just as Sam said it was, and the door was wide open. The small room clearly hadn’t been updated, probably ever. Reaching inside, she pulled the cord of the old-fashioned light switch and blinked rapidly, letting her eyes adjust to the light, as the single bare bulb illuminated the room. There wasn’t much space to move in there; small bathrooms must have been all the rage when this place had been built. A huge claw-foot tub with a blue shower curtain hanging from a rail above it took up most of the space and beside it, a small wooden vanity unit stood. The lino, although clean, was stained and splotched and almost worn through in places. Not exactly fancy. She moved further into the room. A frosted glass window was wedged permanently open, presumably to let out the steam. And to let in the cold, her inner mind snarked. Hadn’t they heard of extraction fans out here? Was it really preferable to freeze rather than modernize?
Pushing the door shut with her shoulder, Marnie turned the key in the lock. Immediately, her breath hitched in her throat and her airways seemed to swell with panic. With the door shut, the tiny room was claustrophobic and she felt trapped. After the earthquakes, trapped was something she definitely did not want to be. Terror built up inside her.
“Just breathe,” she whispered. “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” Maybe if she repeated the mantra often enough she’d start to believe it. Closing her eyes tight against the sensations pushing against her, she repeated it again. Several deep breaths later, her racing heart started to slow. She opened her eyes.
How the hell was she going to do this? How was she going to survive out here? She hated the dust, wasn’t too excited about the job she didn’t even know she had, and she was terrified of the bathroom.
But the boss is pretty cute, she reminded herself. And the ground stays still out here. That’s a definite bonus.
Standing next to it, the bath was even bigger than she’d first thought: the top of it came up to her mid-thigh and it was much longer than she was tall. Sam would probably be able to stretch right out inside it. Don’t think about Sam, she chided herself. He fucked you and discarded you. He’s gone all polite on you—won’t even threaten you with a spanking. Don’t even go there.
A blue rubber mat with sucky feet sat in the base of the bath directly under the showerhead, just in front of the plug. Rust circled the drain but the tub itself was clean, even free from the infernal dust that seemed to coat everything out here. Inside the vanity unit, behind the cupboard door that didn’t quite shut, were clean towels, rolled up, sitting in neat rows. The bright, organized towels looked as out of place in the dingy room as she felt. Pulling the top one from the pile, she clutched it to her chest, finding comfort in the familiar smell of Persil that still lingered in the fluffy threads. Had Sam used this towel before? It was big; she could imagine him wrapping it around his body, soaking up the water droplets that clung to his muscular chest. She’d felt enough of his body while on the bike to know that he was ripped, she didn’t need to actually see him shirtless to picture what he would look like wearing nothing but this towel… her pussy tightened at the image and her clit throbbed. Discarding the towel, she tore off her clothes.
Marnie felt herself relaxing under the fine mist of the warm shower. The tension slowly left her body as she turned her back into the spray, letting the warm water trickle over her shoulders and down her back. She wished it was Sam’s fingers gently massaging away her stress.
It felt good to get clean again. She dragged the soap over her thighs, between her legs, washing away the final remnants of Sam. Sparks shot through her as she remembered the way Sam’s cock had felt buried inside her, the way he’d filled her so completely and fucked her so hard, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more; a primal, carnal need welled up within her, making her feel like a wanton little hussy. Short, quick breaths signalled her arousal at the memory.
Her own fingers brushed over taut nipples. Had Sam touched there, too? She couldn’t remember; sparks had been everywhere. If he hadn’t, she wanted him to.
She trailed the soap down her torso, wishing it was Sam’s fingers, not the soap, washing her body.
By her calculations, the kitchen was directly below her. Sam was directly below her. If he could look up from the pot he was stirring, through the floorboards, and see what she was doing, see how horny the memories of his ministrations were making her, what would he think?
With great effort, she dragged her mind away from Sam. She was being ridiculous. He was just a man. A very sexy, very bossy, very stern man, but just a man. Just a man who presses all the right buttons, you mean, her inner voice tormented her. And when have you ever had a man like Sam?
The light went out.
Marnie’s terrified scream echoed around the small room, bouncing off the walls and adding to her confusion. It took her a couple of seconds to realize what the noise was. She shut her mouth. She’d heard enough screams lately to last her for a lifetime. But although she was silent, her heart pounded, her hands were clenched into tight fists of fear, and every muscle in her body was taut, ready to run.
It wasn’t dark; enough light from the twilight outside came in the window that she could see, but the sudden outage of the light compounded with the claustrophobia of the tiny room. She could barely breathe.
Heavy, rushing footsteps sounded on the stairs outside. Sam. Had she screamed that loud? Shame flooded her as she realized that indeed, she had. What would he think of her now? She didn’t even have to try very hard to imagine the derision she knew would be written all over his face. And she was naked, so that already put her at a disadvantage. Huddling pathetically under the warm water, she wished the drain was big enough to swallow her down, make her disappear.
“Marnie?” Sam pounded on the door.
Thank god she’d locked it. The last thing she needed was for Sam to come barging in.
At that moment, as suddenly as it had gone off, the bulb flicked back on, flooding the room with light once again. Marnie breathed a sigh of relief.
“Are you okay?” Sam called.
She took a breath, willing her racing heart to slow and her rapid breathing to steady enough for her to speak. She was panicked, her body in flight mode.
“I’m okay,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
“Open the door.”
“No, I’m fine!”
“You were screaming. Open it. Now.” She could hear the tension in his voice. He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.
“I’ll be out in a bit!”
“Now, little girl.”
She couldn’t help the grin that spread over her face as she heard him say that, even just as a gruff disembodied voice through the door. She still hadn’t moved though. The shower was running, water dribbling over her back and shoulders.
“Do I have to get a screwdriver and open this?” Sam’s voice came again.
“Hold on! I’m coming!”
She turned the water off, rubbed the towel over her hair and then wrapped it around her body before going to the door and opening it. She found herself looking up into his worried face.
“The light went out,” she explained before he had a chance to ask. “I got a fright.”
He looked at her sceptically. “You screamed like you were dying.”
“Yeah, well, turns out I wasn’t,” she said, giving him a sarcastic thumbs-up.
Sam looked at her in a way she didn’t like, as if he didn’t quite believe her.
“The light went out. I got a fright. I made a little bit of a noise,” she said. “I’m fine.”
* * *
Marnie had just gotten out of the shower, so she was pink around the ears and nose,
but she still looked pale to Sam. And that scream, it hadn’t been one of shock. It had been one of pure fear. He’d felt it bolting down his spine, ringing in his ears even all the way downstairs.
She said she had been frightened by the light going off. He believed that. It could be a bit dodgy at times, but most people didn’t scream their lungs out over it. Was she that afraid of the dark?
He wanted to push it further, but she’d been clear back in the paddock. She wanted her space, and he was going to give it to her. He was a lot of things, but he didn’t force himself on women who didn’t want what he had to offer.
“Alright,” he said. “Well, dinner’s ready when you are.”
He turned around and heard her huff.
“Drag me out of the shower just for that,” she complained.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Hmm?”
“I mean, come on, Sam. Do you come running every time you hear a little squeak? You force me out of the shower just to answer to you? I told you I was fine.”
What was she doing? Was she baiting him? His palms were tingling with desire to yank that towel right off her and spank her bare bottom, but he was still respecting her earlier request for him to leave her be and not try to take care of her.
He walked toward the stairs, knowing full well there wasn’t an answer she wanted to hear.
“Dick.”
The word was uttered behind him in rebellious tones.
“Okay, that’s enough.” He turned around and faced her as she stood pouting in the towel. “I was worried about you. I came up to check. No need to be rude.”
“Fine. Check. But I told you I was okay through the door.”
They were glowering at each other now. She was mad, and he didn’t think it was because he’d asked her to open the door. This was obviously about the sex. That had been a really big mistake. Not that he regretted it, but it seemed like she did.