Protecting Rayne

by Emily Bishop

  “Would you like one of the best views of the fireplace?” I ask.

  Her gaze is curious, but I also see trust in there. Finally. She trusts me. She nods, and I lift her up and guide her onto her hands and knees. I move us back a bit so we’re not too close to the fire.

  Her ass is hanging in the air, exposed and ready for me to plant myself right in between her legs. I let her rest in this position as I gaze at her wet slit, dripping and begging for more. My cock is demanding to dig in, but I want to warm her up a little first. I press my thumb into her entrance, and she jumps at the contact, then presses her ass a little farther into the air.

  Oh, dear lord, is she sexy.

  I lose my thumb in her a little bit, and I can tell she is more than ready for me. I position myself on my knees and bring my dick to her opening. Before I press in, I use my fingertips to spread her nice and wide for me. I slide in a little at a time, not wanting to hurt her. I’ve been told that my girth can be painful, and the last thing I want is to cause Rayne any discomfort.

  “Did anyone ever tell you your dick is huge?” Rayne asks.

  From this angle, it’s impossible to read her expression, and I stop, only about halfway in.

  “Does it hurt you?”

  “No,” she says quickly. “I want more. Please.”

  What a beautiful little word to hear right at the entrance of her pussy. I do as she asks, of course, and press in farther, still keeping it slow. At first. Her pussy is tight and slick around me as I glide in and out. She thrusts backward to meet me, and once again, her hand shoots down to her pussy. This time, she rubs her clit.

  “Yeah, rub that clit for me. I want you to come at least two more times.”

  “That’s ambitious of you,” she breathes.

  “I’m an ambitions man,” I say. To emphasize my point, I pick up my pace as I slide deep into her. My balls slap against her ass with each thrust, and I grip both of her ass cheeks and drive home nice and fast.

  “More. Harder!” she breathes.

  Her little hand stays hard at work on her clit, and I go from sex to fucking in no time flat. I slap her ass, and she gasps, then moans with each thrust.

  “Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me hard!”

  I spread her ass cheeks a little farther apart to open her up, and I thrust with everything I’ve got. I’m in complete control of her pleasure, and I’m going to make sure that she gets to where she needs to go.

  Which I better do fast, because I’m about to come, too.

  “Slap your clit for me. Nice and hard. Don’t stop,” I pant as I fuck her perfect little pussy. Her legs shake as she does what I say, her moans and pants turning into full blown screams of passion.

  It’s probably a good thing we’re the only two people up here, because I imagine those screams can be heard all the way down the mountain.

  “Ah! Fuck! Fuck!”

  Her body pulses around me. With three orgasms under her belt, I’m content to finish. With four more pumps, my dick releases. I grunt as I hold my weight up even while collapsing over her.

  I don’t forget my goal, though.

  I slide out of her and shift her onto her back again, then spread her legs. Our combined juices slather her vaginal lips, and I’m feeling a little thirsty. I know what will get the last orgasm out, though, and it’s not penetration.

  “Last one for tonight,” I say. Before she has a chance to answer, I clamp my mouth down on her clitoris and suck and lick with all my might.

  Once more, her hips arch right into my face and she moans. “I… can’t… ah!”

  Her body pulses beneath me in one last orgasm, and I’m complete. I slide against her and hold her body to mine, spooning her against my chest before the fire. I reach up and grab a blanket from the couch and slide it over us as we settle in.

  I don’t have words. My body is spent. I realize I’m exhausted, and I know she must be, too.

  “Well, that was…”

  I don’t finish my sentence. Rayne’s breathing slows, and when I glance over, she’s fallen fast asleep, her expression no longer fearful but content.

  A small glow of pride warms me—I made that alteration happen. With no need to speak, I close my own eyes and fall asleep for the second time with this woman in my arms.

  Will we trust one another in the morning?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rayne

  I wake up to the scent of eggs cooking.

  When I open my eyes, the flickering fire of Lorn’s woodstove hovers over me, and memories of the night come flashing back.

  The nightmare. Lorn, hero of the night, crashing in to rescue me. Then the sex.

  I stretch out and realize that I’m sore. Everywhere. I’ve never done sex from behind before. Now I’m mad about that. I had no idea what I was missing. The angle, the penetration, the ability to reach my own clit in the process… just the thought of doing it again has me turned on.

  Lorn isn’t beside me, and sexy thoughts dissolve as I try and puzzle out where he went. I do smell eggs cooking, but that can’t have anything to do with Lorn. Lorn can barely boil water.

  I sit up and my boobs fall right out of the blanket. I glance up and see Lorn at the stove, his broad, naked back to me. He’s put on his pants, but that’s all, and it’s a nice view. I locate my own nightie, wrinkled in a pile on the couch, and slide it over my head. Before I head to the kitchen, I duck into Lorn’s room, so I can use the bathroom and tidy up a bit.

  When I step back out, Lorn has filled two plates with what appear to be some decent-looking omelets.

  “What is this wizardry?” I ask with fake wonderment. Lorn glances back at me and smirks. A small dimple appears on his cheek, and I want to kiss it. I want to kiss all of his face and wrap him in my arms and…

  And what the hell, Rayne? That sounds dangerously like romance, and I’m not dealing with that now. The sex is amazing. Maybe Lorn can be my burly mountain-man fantasy, lived out over a month. Then I can go back to my former life and be myself again.

  Maybe find a clean-cut boyfriend who loves to take me from behind.

  Lorn shovels some beans onto each plate as the side dish—apparently, we’re blending American and European cuisine this morning—and holds out a plate to me.

  “What can I say? You’re clearly having some kind of impact on me. I have to believe you’re hungry after last night, and I don’t remember seeing you eat since breakfast yesterday.”

  This brings back the painful memory of our fight and general falling out. I want to erase that memory. I like Lorn so much better when he smiles at me.

  “I ate, but after our adventures in the wee hours of the morning, I could go for some protein, for sure.”

  “Like I said. Thought you might.” He leans down and plants a kiss on my neck. My skin tingles as he pulls away, and I am aware that I’m not wearing anything beneath my flimsy gown.

  We can’t have sex all the damn time, I remind myself with a stern inner voice. Yeah, you tell me, stern voice. I’m going to focus on food and not Lorn’s perfectly framed chest with that funny little clock and the weird phrase “Die Standing” on it. I never liked tattoos on men either, but my god do they suit Lorn. It’s funny to think of the pristine, shaved, suited up billionaire from New York and equate him to the man who stands before me now.

  They are not the same person, surely.

  I slide into a kitchen chair, and a strange feeling fills me as I cut into my cheese omelet. I don’t know what I expected from this trip, but the whole thing has felt surreal. First off, I did not expect to jump into bed with a former Wall-Street-kid-turned-mountain-hermit. It’s like my two worlds found a way to collide, but in the weirdest way.

  “Are you ever going to leave here?” I ask after I swallow my first bite.

  Not bad, for a terrible cook. At any rate, it’s edible.

  Lorn takes a bite then looks up at me and considers my question as he chews. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Lorn. You can’t hid
e up here forever. There is a whole world beyond these mountains, a world that you were a part of. Don’t you miss any of it?”

  “No,” he says.

  When he doesn’t elaborate, I press a little more. I want to know. How can a man be so burned by one crazy press story as to give up the entire civilized world forever? It makes no sense.

  “I bet if you came back, no one would even bring up that story. You could shower in a nice hotel, dine on gourmet food, and travel to exotic locales.”

  “I have all I need out here. I know what it’s like to have nothing, and here I have plenty.”

  I laugh. When he looks at me, there is a hardness in his eyes that tells me he’s not joking.

  “You can’t be serious. You have wanted for nothing since the day of your birth. How can you know what it’s like to have nothing?”

  He hesitates, and I can tell there’s another big secret pending. I glance down at his strange tattoo and connect a dot. At least, maybe it’s a dot. “You said that you fell in with the wrong crowd, then had to get your act together after your dad died. Was this from that wrong-crowd period of your life? Did you try out life on the streets or something?”

  “Or something,” he says and takes a swig of water. I stare pointedly at him and cross my arms. When he looks back at me, I see that he knows I’m not letting up until he stops being so damn cryptic.

  Because you’re never cryptic, says a little voice.

  Shut your mouth, Voice. I’m about to get some answers here.

  Lorn sighs and sets down his fork.

  “I used to arrange robberies. Get a nice payout for some friends of mine.”

  I choke on my water, my eyes wide as I stare at him. “You what?”

  Lorn shrugs, like theft is no big deal. “I only hacked into places my father owned. Because I hated him so much, I could justify it to myself. I could until the day I got caught, anyway. My dad was so pissed that when I called to get bailed out of jail, he refused to pay my way out. My family left me in jail for a year.”

  I swallow.

  “You… were in jail?”

  “Yeah. I got the tattoos after. A lot of the other scars, both physical and mental happened inside. When I got out, I knew I had to change something in my life. It was a valuable lesson.”

  All I can think about is Larry Corker, sitting in jail, perhaps striking up a nice friendship with Lorn the conman. My stomach lurches.

  “Was the valuable lesson that being an ex-con has its advantages when dealing with stranded women?” I can’t keep the accusation and bitterness out of my voice, and Lorn’s expression clouds over as he narrows his eyes at me.

  “I told you a personal part of my history. Are you seriously going to pass judgment over me for that, even when you know I’ve changed?”

  “How do I know that? How do I know anything about you? You spend all this time worrying about my life—it didn’t once occur to you to tell me that you’re a criminal?” I ask.

  “Not everyone who goes to jail is a criminal. The point of the prison system is to correct behavior.”

  “Please. You think I believe that? I know what prison does to men. My father was a lawyer. I saw what they’re like firsthand. People don’t change. Prison simply keeps others safe from them until they’re set free.”

  “Wow. So, that’s your opinion of me now, huh? After everything I’ve done for you? After everything I’ve trusted you with? I tell you one small facet of my life and off you go, making judgments. I should never have trusted you in the first place. I can’t believe I keep letting you dupe me into helping you.”

  “Dupe you? Going to prison is not a small facet of one’s life, Lorn. How can I feel safe with someone like you?”

  With someone exactly like Larry. How many times did Lorn think about getting out, so he could harm the lawyer who locked him up? What if he acted on it in some way?

  I’m not safe here. I have to escape.

  “Get out,” Lorn breathes.

  His eyes are downcast. A part of my brain is yelling at me that I’m being stupid, but fear wins out, as it always does.

  Fear is what has kept me alive this long, with my father having so many enemies. It’s the only way I can protect myself.

  “Gladly,” I huff.

  I slide my chair back, but when I stand, I’m wearing nothing but a slim nightgown, and the world outside is frigid. Lorn makes no move to help my situation, so I grab a pair of his enormous boots and slide my tiny feet into them. I’ll look like a clown making the walk of shame back home, but there’s nothing for it.

  “You’ll find your boots on my front porch. Don’t worry, I won’t steal them.”

  He makes no response, and I storm out of his cabin. When I step outside, a gust of wind shoots straight up my dress, and I shiver as I flop back to my cabin in Lorn’s freakishly large boots.

  How could I ever have liked a man that big, anyway?

  I slip out of them as I reach my busted front door and run inside. The fire it basically dead – I’ll have to start it up again. The first thing I want to do is change out of this nightgown and throw it in the fire. It has remnants of Lorn on it, and that’s the last thing I want.

  I storm into my bedroom and throw open a few drawers. There’s a plaid shirt I want to wear to warm up this morning, but as I sift through the drawers, I can’t find it.

  I search some more, and I realize other items of my clothing have gone missing. I’m not crazy. I remember putting them away, and I have a great memory. Just ask my nightmares.

  That’s it. I can’t take this place anymore. This was a huge mistake. Tears blur my vision as I tug my suitcase out from beneath the bed and throw everything I brought back inside.

  I weep over the fact that I’ll never be free from the fear as I tug on a pair of thick wool socks and my trendy little hiking boots. I sweep the cabin one last time to check if I may have dropped some items somewhere else, but I know I didn’t.

  Someone has stolen my things. I have a few guesses as to who it may be, but either way, staying here is no longer an option.

  My chest grows tight, and my breath is labored as I drag my suitcase to the front door and step over it. I glance around—the snow is bare of prints, scraped over with something large and flat. The trails are empty, and I set off to get to the main cabin. I can use the phone to call a car, and then I’ll be gone.

  I’ll have to hire round-the-clock security and live in a bubble forever. That’s all.

  Oh, and forget all about Lorn Hart.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lorn

  Women are my bane.

  Every time I try and let one in, they find ways to prove to me how unworthy of me they are.

  I sit at my kitchen table and steam as I fight to control my breathing. I confided in her something so personal, so shameful, and she reacted exactly how she shouldn’t have.

  With judgment.

  Does she think I’ve experienced no shaming in my life? Yeah, I’m rich. Big deal. I’ve been a target for ridicule my whole damn life. My father was my biggest bully. She knows nothing about me, and yet she cast the stone.

  Because, obviously, Rayne Carr must be a total saint, right? Given her behavior, that’s not true. I know there’s a darkness behind her little façade. I hate that I want to know what it is. I hate that I want to know her and still be a part of her life, even after our fights.

  There’s something deeper there. Her eyes are wide with fear more often than not, and when I press that button, she goes into a fit to try and push me away.

  I don’t feel like going away quite yet. She may have bitched out massively now, but my instincts tell me there’s something behind her smokescreen. If she’s brought someone bad to my borders, that’s one thing, but if she gets hurt or worse because I was sitting in my cabin pouting over a fight, I’ll never forgive myself.

  I still need answers. I can’t let my emotions get in the way of that simple fact. I release another breath and rise, our plates load
ed with unfinished omelets on the table. Cleaning will have to wait. I’ve got some tracking to do.

  I change into a pair of sturdy jeans and my green jacket. She stormed off in my boots, and I can’t help but laugh. She looked ridiculous, stomping out in my massive shoes and her nightie. Must have been a cold walk back. I reach for my second pair of boots and have a thought, then turn them over.

  I memorized the pattern of that print in the snow, especially once Rayne went all haywire about it. It doesn’t match the treads of this boot.

  Curious.

  I slide my socked feet into them and tie them up before I step out into the frosty forest air. A single trail of boot prints heads off toward the trail straight ahead, and I follow them as I collect my thoughts. She clearly wants nothing to do with me. That’s fine by me, but until my property is protected, and my tenant is also safe, I have a responsibility here.

  She can get rid of me when she leaves this land. And good riddance.

  The trail leads where it should, to her cabin across the way. I stop in the woods and hang back. I don’t want to storm right up to the front door. That wouldn’t exactly be tactful. This is something to play carefully. I glance around me. Is there someone else peering at that door from another part of the woods?

  I take stock of the ground around me, but I only see one pair of footprints—the ones from my own boots, dragged through the snow by a tiny woman in a silk nightgown.

  If I wasn’t still so pissed at her, it would be really, really funny.

  Rayne stomps over her busted front door. I remember how great it felt when it crumbled beneath my force.

  Oops. Naw, just kidding. If I had to do it again, I would, though, exactly the same. No regrets here.

  She’s dressed in suitable clothes, and I notice that she’s dragging her little suitcase behind her. I don’t see my boots she promised to leave on the front porch for me.

  Typical.

  Her eyes are glassy and red even from this distance. She storms down the porch steps and walks with long strides toward a path I’ve never shown her before.

  My god, this woman has no sense of direction. How is it that she can grab a set of tools and rewire a generator, but she still can’t take the right path? I imagine she’s trying to head back in the direction of the main cabin to call for a ride home. She’s going to be disappointed when she doesn’t get there.