But it was my fault, he just didn’t know it.
“How about we relax for a while,” he suggested. “I understand you must feel under pressure. Why don’t I order another bottle of champagne to the room? We could get undressed...take a bath together...”
His suggestion of a bath together made my stomach tighten again. If I got undressed, he would see the scars. He would see how they crisscrossed over the small of my back. Nathan would want to know how I had gotten them. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, he was my husband now and had a right to know. But that would mean me telling him the truth. I couldn’t tell him – not now – not on our wedding night. He would surely leave me – and what would I say to my parents, to my friends, to the other guests?
“I’ve had enough champagne,” I told him, wiping the tears from my eyes. “It’s not alcohol I need.”
“What then?” Nathan asked, and I detected a sense of frustration in his voice for the first time.
Knowing that we had booked a secluded cabin in the Cumbrian Mountains for the next week, I looked at him and said, “We leave for the cabin tomorrow...”
“But it’s our wedding night,” he said, trying to mask his frustration.
I knew that if I could get him alone, miles from anywhere, he would be unable to escape when I told him the truth. He wouldn’t be able to run out on me like I feared he would. I didn’t want to lose Nathan, but I couldn’t keep the truth from him any longer. It wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t tell him here.
“Can’t we wait until tomorrow? It’s just one more night,” I pleaded, taking his hands in mine.
“But why?” he said, sounding confused more than angry.
“I just can’t relax in this hotel,” I said, my mind scrambling for yet another excuse – trying to buy myself more time. “Our parents are in rooms just down the corridor. Our friends and relatives are all here. I just can’t relax. It’s like they will know what we are doing.”
Nathan looked at me.
“Please just try and understand,” I whispered, looking into his grey eyes. But would he ever understand when he found out the truth? What would he say when I explained I’d been lying to him all along? What would he say when I revealed the scars? They told the story of the man I’d been in love with, the man who had excited me, who I had longed to touch, who I couldn’t wait to make love to, who had made me cum and made me feel like I needed another orgasm more than I needed air. What would Nathan say when he discovered I wore the scars of that love on my back like a tattoo? A tattoo which told the story of what I had done.
“Okay, then,” Nathan said, pulling me from my thoughts of guilt and shame. “Let’s wait until we’re on our honeymoon. You’re right, once we reach that remote little cabin tomorrow evening we’ll be miles away from civilization. We’ll be on our own at last. The pressure will be off the both of us.”
Taking one of his hands and pressing it gently against my cheek, I whispered, “Thank you, Nathan. I don’t know why you put up with me.”
“Because I love you,” he whispered back.
Five
Nathan lay beside me. I could hear him breathing softly. I hadn’t been able to sleep, kept awake by guilt and thoughts not of my husband, but the other. I wondered if Quinn ever had difficulty sleeping? If he didn’t, was I in his dreams? He was in my thoughts whether I was asleep or awake. I saw his face every time I caught a glance of those scars in the mirror, toweling myself dry after stepping from the shower. I rolled over onto my side, my back to my husband. He stirred a little, then fell still again. This was the first time we had shared a bed together – this was our wedding night – and it wasn’t meant to have been like this. Shouldn’t we be making love now? Shouldn’t we be exploring each other’s bodies, getting to know what each other liked? Wasn’t I meant to be guiding his furtive hands over my body, showing him where I liked to be touched – the areas of my body that, if caressed just right, he would make me come? But I couldn’t show him – not like how I’d shown Quinn. I closed my eyes, remembering how I had guided Quinn’s finger over my clit. I could remember how that had made me feel – the sense of nervous excitement it had stirred deep inside of me, stretching out through my fingers and toes – making them tingle.
I tried to push those memories away, feeling myself growing warm and wet. But that spike of pleasure was back, burrowing its way from inside of me, through my body. That aching feeling for him was back, if it had ever truly gone away. I rolled onto my back and glanced at Nathan as he slept. A pang of guilt knifed its way through me as I became aroused at the thought of another. Not him.
Slowly, I slipped from beneath the covers and crept on tiptoe to the bathroom. As if creeping away in the night to meet a secret lover, I carefully opened the bathroom door, snuck inside, and locked it behind me. The bathroom was large, with a round sunken bath set into the floor in its centre. The floor was covered in pristine white tiles. They looked hard and cold. I dimmed the lights, so it looked something close to faint candlelight. I couldn’t risk running a bath for fear of waking Nathan, and I didn’t want to be disturbed. I wanted to be alone with my memories.
Stepping out of my pajama bottoms and panties, I kicked them away, then lay back on the floor. I shuddered slightly as the cold tiles chilled my butt. I drew my knees up and parted my legs slightly. Unbuttoning my pajama top, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. I ran my fingertips over my breasts, making circular movements over my nipples. They became hard at once as I pictured Quinn’s hands touching me. I could feel him gently playing with my nipples. Rolling them between his thumb and forefingers – he teased them. I murmured, arching my back as he took one of them into his mouth. I could feel the stubbly rub of his five o’clock shadow as he brushed his mouth over my breasts. I screwed my eyes tighter, as I lost my hands in his thick dark curly hair. His tongue flicked over my nipples and I pushed my breasts out, needing him to take them fully into his mouth. He nipped my right nipple with his front teeth, and the slight stab of pain seemed to send a current of pleasure down through my body to my pussy. Freeing one of my hands from his hair, I ran my fingers delicately down over my stomach, slipping them between my legs. Gently, I pushed back the folds, and let my finger slide over my wet clit. It felt like a hard nub of flesh. I drew my finger over it, sending a wave of tingles through me. I groaned softly, grinding my hips down against the cold bathroom floor.
“I need you,” I whispered out loud. “I need you.”
I closed my eyes as tight as I could, concentrating on the fantasy. I felt my hand being gently removed from between my legs as Quinn’s stronger, thicker fingers brushed over me. I parted my legs further, wanting him to take all of me. He rolled the ball of his firm thumb over my clit. He drew it up and down, slowly at first, then rotated his thumb from side to side, around and around. I arched my back off the tiles and ran my hand over my erect nipples, shuddering at the raw sensation that passed through my body.
As Quinn worked his thumb faster over my clit, I felt him slide two of his fingers inside of me. He curled those fingers upwards, pressing them against my G-spot. I gasped out loud, and could feel my pussy growing hotter and hotter. Having full control of me with his fingers and thumb, he rubbed my clit at the same time as massaging my G-spot. My head span; my skin felt prickly and hot as I tried to catch my breath. I was so fucking turned on – out of control. I was at the mercy of Quinn.
“Quinn,” I murmured.
Silence. Just the sound of my own quickening breath and racing heart.
His fingers slipped faster inside and outside of me, bringing me ever closer to coming. I threw my head back and lifted my butt off the bathroom floor. His firm fingers pushed deeper into me. He hooked them upwards so the tips of his fingers and knuckles were rubbing that area deep inside of me.
That swelling-ache of needing to come, bringing me to the point of overflowing, was overwhelming.
“Faster,” I breathed. “Faster!”
His thumb and fingers slid an
d pushed inside of my pussy until I could bear it no more. My whole body locked up intensely as he fucked me with his fingers. A flood of wetness gushed out between my legs. The orgasm rushed through me – over me – like a hot wave, as his fingers, my fingers, showed no sign of slowing or easing. I felt my come splash over my hands that were buried deep between my legs.
I reached for him, wanting to pull him close to me as I came. I wanted Quinn to make me come again. I ached for him to roll me over, draw me up onto all fours, grip my arse, spread me open, and drive himself into me. As my orgasm began to weaken and fade as it passed throughout me, I knew Quinn wasn’t ever going to make me come again. The closest I was ever going to get to that happening was in my memories, dreams, and own personal fantasies. With my fingers feeling slick and wet, I slid them from between my legs.
There was a sudden knock on the bathroom door.
“Mia?” Nathan called from the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”
Quickly gathering my pajamas together, I scrambled to my feet.
“I’ll be out in a moment,” I said, hopping on one foot as I hurriedly pulled on my clothes.
“You sounded like you were crying or something,” Nathan said, rattling the door handle from the other side.
“I’m okay, honest,” I called out, frantically re-buttoning my shirt.
“Are you sure?” he asked, the door handle moving up and down again.
Brushing my sweat-dampened hair from my brow, I opened the bathroom door. Nathan stood on the other side wearing just a white cotton pair of boxer shorts.
“What’s going on?” he quizzed, glancing over my shoulder and into the bathroom. “You look all sweaty and out of breath, like you’ve been running or something?”
“I had a nightmare that was all,” I said, taking him by the hand and leading him back to bed. “I just splashed some water on my face.”
“As long as you are okay?” he said, sounding concerned.
“I’m fine, honest,” I said, climbing back into bed. “It was just a bad nightmare.”
Sliding into bed next to me, Nathan said, “Would you like a cuddle to help keep the boogeyman away?”
“That would be nice,” I smiled, resting my head against his chest.
Nathan coiled one of his strong arms around me, pulling me close. I lay and listened to his beating heart and closed my eyes. Sleep came quickly.
Six
We left the hotel after breakfast. Our parents and friends waved us off as we drove away. My mother and father looked happy. Although I had never told them my secret, they knew me well enough to know I hadn’t been happy for a few years now. Neither of my parents were the kind of people who showed their feelings, let alone discussed them. The closest my mother had ever come to trying to find out what my problem might have been, was when she asked casually one morning, “Are you feeling well, Mia? You seem a little withdrawn, dear.”
“I’m okay,” I lied.
“Okay,” she smiled, plucking up her car keys and heading for one of her ladies coffee mornings.
The problem was, I don’t think either of my parents knew how to talk to me. At the age of five, I had been ushered off to the convent where I had been schooled, only coming home to my parents at the end of each term, summer, and Christmas holidays. As I hadn’t been at home much as a child, I knew they found it difficult to have me living back at home with them. I knew I got under their feet. They didn’t say as much – they never said anything – but when Nathan and I had announced our engagement, both their eyes had lit up. I could see through their smiles and I knew what they were both thinking – Nathan would take me away from them. I would become a wife, have children, and perhaps even learn how to be happy again – blah, blah, blah!
I suspected that Nathan’s parents felt the same about him. Like me, Nathan still lived at home. He had left the bookstore where he once worked and took up the position of assistant manager at the local railway station. Even with our combined wages, neither of us could afford to pay for a deposit on our own home. So as a wedding present, both our parents had clubbed together and given us enough money to, at last, get our own house and finally leave theirs’.
“So what’s this place like?” Nathan asked as he headed towards the motorway which would lead us to Cumbria.
“What, the cabin you mean?” I asked, leaving thoughts of my mother and father behind me.
“I didn’t really get to read the brochure,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. It was cold for mid-March, and there were some patches of ice on the road. The sun was shining brightly, though, but it gave off little warmth.
Pulling open the glove compartment, I fished out the brochure and opened it across my lap. “It’s described as an authentic log cabin, in a forty-two acre mountain paradise. It has a stone wood-burning fireplace – whatever one of them is,” I frowned. “Comfortable furnishings and a veranda with mountain views. We can go hiking, fishing and whitewater rafting – if you like that sort of thing.” What I left out was the fact it had, what was described as, a romantic Jacuzzi tub for two and a romantic master suite.
“Sounds wonderful,” Nathan said, glancing sideways at me.
“Sure does,” I said thoughtfully, folding the brochure in half and tucking it into my coat pocket. A silence fell between us. It was like something needed to be said, but neither of us knew how to start. I wanted to apologise about what had happened last night, but was there any point? It wouldn’t change anything now. I got the feeling that Nathan wanted to talk about us. I think we both felt a certain amount of pressure about what would happen when we reached the cabin. For once we were there, we were alone – miles from anywhere – just the two of us. There could be no more excuses, no more lies. The cabin would be my confessional.
With the silence becoming painful, I switched on the car radio. The song, The Truth About Love by Pink whispered through the speakers. Despite being on my honeymoon, I didn’t want to listen to anything slow – anything romantic. So quickly turning the dial, I tuned into another radio station, hunting down another song for us to listen to. Hall of Fame by The Script started to play. That was better. I settled back in my seat and watched the world race past on the other side of the window.
We reached the village of Lufton just after lunch. The roads up Cross Fell Mountain, where the cabin waited for us, were far too narrow to drive. We had arranged to leave our car in the car park behind a small pub, which was a mile or two from the foot of the mountain. Lufton was really pretty. An avenue of lime trees led down the centre of the village towards the village green. The houses were old and dated back to the 17th Century. It was surrounded by rich moorland and green valleys, where the River Eden snaked through them.
Nathan went to the boot of the car and pulled our rucksacks out. He handed mine to me. Each of us had packed enough clothes for the few days we were going to spend in the cabin on the side of the mountain. We had dressed in jeans, warm jumpers, coats, and sturdy boots for the climb ahead.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Nathan groaned, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder.
“Do you want to get something to eat before we set off?” I asked, holding his hand.
“Why not?” he smiled. “We’re not in any rush. Let’s just take it nice and easy.”
I looked at him, and he looked relaxed all of a sudden. Perhaps he had done his own thinking while driving out here? Maybe he thought the best way of getting me to relax was to relax himself and take any unwanted pressure out of the situation.
Leaving the car behind, we set off together around the side of the pub. There was a chalkboard fixed to the grey stone wall next to the door. Written in white chalk across the board was the menu and the day’s specials.
“What do you fancy?” I asked, studying the menu.
“You,” he smiled and gently squeezed my hand.
“I meant to eat,” I smiled back.
“The sea bass sounds good,” he said, looking at the m
enu.
“Two sea bass it is then,” I said, leading him through the whitewashed door and into the pub.
I sat at a table next to a window, while Nathan went to the bar to order our food and drinks. In the distance, I could see the mountain we had to climb. It looked like a series of grey humps stretched across the pale blue skyline. The summit was flecked with snow, which didn’t surprise me. I’d read in the brochure that the mountain was covered in snow for at least one hundred and forty days each year. I could see small lakes, which glistened back at me like black mirrors.
Although part of me feared what might happen on the side of that mountain, I knew I would be coming back a different person. I would either come down hand in hand with my new husband, or alone.
Nathan placed a small silver tray on the table. From it he took two bottles of beer and a set of keys. I looked at them.
“Keys to the cabin,” he said, passing them to me. “The owner left them here for us to collect as agreed. You keep hold of them.”
I took them from him, placing them into my coat pocket along with the cabin brochure.
He joined me at the table, and looked out of the window. “It’s truly beautiful, isn’t it?” he breathed in awe at the view.
“It truly is,” I said, staring at his face and noting the look of wonder spread over it. He had that boyish look again, the one I had seen the day he’d stepped out of the rain and into the café. My heart ached as I thought of what I was going to have to tell him. What would he say when he saw my scars? Would he be angry with me or with them? Perhaps he would be disgusted with all of us? All I could do was tell Nathan the truth. I should have told him sooner than the first day of our honeymoon, I should have told him that winter’s afternoon as he knelt and asked me so sweetly to marry him. If I had confessed then, his choice would have been simple. He could have easily walked away. But I’d been so scared of losing him and I was just as scared now.
“Are you okay?” he asked, turning away from the window. “You’ve seemed so… distracted since last night.”
The Cabin (The Cabin Novellas (Book One)) Page 3