Turning a New Paige

by Ginny B. Nescott

  While Groundhog Man had his back to her, she had made her move. And that move was to run to the bathroom.

  “That depends,” she had said through the bathroom door.

  “On what?”

  “Hotel availability elsewhere…and…” She peeked through the crack of the bathroom door. She closed the door again. “And what you look like under your robe.”

  She remembered giggling and locking the door before he could enter and standing in a hot, hot shower, with him knocking on the door demanding for her to save some water. She remembered opening the door in her underthings and shirt, staring at him. He was wrapped in a robe, shivering, moving to the shower, a hint of his smooth chest showing.

  She must have fallen asleep before he even came out of the shower. The long ride and missed night’s sleep had taken a toll on her.

  Paige turned to look at him now. In the dim light from the window, his skin wasn’t tanned but of slight olive tone. She took in the image of his long nose, large brow, broad cheeks, and that hair…so thick and dark. Her finger nearly touched his lips, but she stopped and a smile came to her.

  His eyes peeped open. “Hey, Flee. Don’t they teach you in the South not to stare?”

  “Name’s Paige. And what happened to hotel availability?”

  His arms reached out to her. “Notta one, except this room.”

  “Did you even check?” Paige shifted, but he moved closer, spooning her.

  He pushed back her hair and inhaled against her neck, sending a shiver through her. “Nuh uh. Do you want me to?” He kissed her neck, nuzzling her against his body.

  Without pulling away, she tipped her head slightly and kissed his smooth skin. “You should. Mmm. Remember I don’t do one-night stands.” She sweetened her words with her thickened Carolina tone.

  He turned her and half leaned over her, wearing nothing more than PJ bottoms. Groundhog Man kissed her and then again, deeply, lingeringly, moaning. “The way I see it, nobody is standing.”

  She chuckled, then the smile disappeared. “I don’t even know your real name.”

  “Bob.” He kissed her forehead and smirked.

  “That’s not your name, is it?”

  “No.” He kissed her eyelid. “Ted.” Then her other eyelid. “Tim.” His hand slid to hers, interlocking their fingers, and brought it to his lips, smiling. “Joe.”

  She tightened her face to the mock tough one and drawled, “Were you just going through a list of short names?”

  “No.” He smiled, let go of her hand, and stretched as he rested on his back. “Only the three letter ones. Working my way up to four,” he said with a mimicked drawl.

  At that, she turned over and stole the covers.

  “Okay, okay. Sorry, Paige. I’ll tell you,” he said in his natural, baritone. “I just liked being called Groundhog Man for some unknown reason. I never had a nickname like that.” He leaned over her and whispered, “It’s Michael.”

  She shook her head and leaned into her pillow, working on a pout.

  “Michael Lukas, with a K.”

  She lifted her head and gave him an appraising stare in the dim light.

  “Honest, Paige.” He rose, walked toward the desk, stuffed two bites of a donut in his mouth, and pulled something out of his wallet. “Here. My business card,” he mumbled before swallowing, his other hand not relinquishing the glazed donut. “Michael Y. Lukas. I’ll put it on your purse. Nobody pronounces my middle name right. It’s four syllables.”

  Paige rose to look at the card.

  He intercepted her, chiding, “Uh, uh, uh. You have to earn my middle name.”

  “Fine. And you have to earn my first name,” she said, her drawl extra thick. She bit a large chunk from the donut he held.

  He put the remainder out of reach on the nightstand and inched closer.

  “Sounds like a challenge, Flee. And I am up for a challenge.” He leaned into her, making her fall back onto the bed, and crawled up, holding himself over her. “I would love nothing more than to be the best rebound lover you have ever had. We both could use it.”

  Her response was muffled by his lips. His delicious lips pressed to hers, still tasting of sweet donuts. She hesitated, but her lips did not.

  “We’re consenting adults.” He bit her neck, and she sucked in a quick breath, the sound lost to a harsh gust of wind, which rattled the windows. “Not attesting to my maturity though.”

  He picked up the last of the donut, pretending to feed her, but then ate it himself. The childish gesture was quickly forgotten by his next kiss that fueled her hunger.

  Paige relented to her night-time desires. Her arms drew him in tighter. She drank in the taste of him, his tongue finding its way past her open lips. He was right. She needed this. Wanted this. Maybe it was the strong drink, the sleep deprivation, or the shock of her changing circumstances, but she wanted the diversion. She wanted more than that. She wanted him.

  She cooed into his kiss, her palms moving over his smooth skin. He was slim and muscled. She wanted to touch every part of him.

  His kisses trailed down to her chest. Michael’s large hand moved onto her breast as his lips followed. He mouthed her through sheer fabric of her bra. His hands were skilled, not petting but enflaming. This was no immature Davis. This was a man’s touch, and she knew it.

  She felt a surge of passion so strongly that her hands moved lower on him past his muscled chest. He looked at her. She blushed in the inky light, knowing her fingertips were on the front of his pajamas. He moved his hips so that his cotton-clad length rubbed her exploring hands, silently showing his ardent consent.

  Paige stroked the thickness of his cock and felt it grow firm to her touch. She felt her bra unhook and let go long enough for it to slip from her.

  “Beautiful,” he mumbled, nibbling her skin, massaging as he did so until he found her nipple. He tugged at one, almost with a bite and a growl. Her mouth opened with a moan, and her hand squeezed his hard shaft.

  “Careful. Don’t break it before we’re done with it.” He chuckled, the laugh turning to a groan almost instantly as his lips found her torso, his hands roving all over her body. Before she could voice an objection, he slid lower, mouthing her through the fabric of her panties. “Oh, I wanted to do this since the first time you stared me down.”

  He was skilled. Skilled in disarming her with his smooth determined movements. Skilled in disrobing her as he slid her panties off. Skilled in tantalizing her body to the point of begging as his hands kneaded every inch of her thighs and stomach. She was naked, wearing nothing more than the sheet now; he was still in his pajamas.

  He bit her thigh and slid one finger, then another, into her pussy. When her hand reached down to his, he intercepted it and placed her hand over her head. Unfettered, his fingers drove in and out of her core as she whimpered her need in a matching, building rhythm. She gasped tiny breaths, her body struggling to get closer to his as she headed toward the tipping point.

  “Not yet, Flee,” he growled into her ear.

  “But…”

  His kiss muffled her protest. Open-mouthed, his lips took hers. His tongue plunged deeply into her mouth. Voraciously, hers followed barely stifling their moans.

  “Oh, you need this, don’t you?” he whispered, this time, fingering her wanton wet center with an urgent jackhammer pace. “Hold off…”

  “No… P-p-please…I need to… C-c-can’t stop.”

  “You can.” He kissed her, nearly biting her lip as he tugged on it. Then his lips were gone. Finger still in her, he flicked her clit with his thumb.

  She was insane with lust, barely able to watch his movements when he reached over to the night table. He bit open the condom packet with his teeth, spitting out the wrapper. Her hands found her way to his and unrolled the condom over him. It was the first time her fingers touched his cock, no cloth in the way, skin on skin.

  He moaned, hand resting on hers, as if to make sure the task was done. Instead, he took her hand away,
sucking on her finger, fueling his own hunger as he pressed the fingers of his other hand deep into her pussy. Lying slightly to her side, he placed her hands loosely above her head. She could’ve pulled free at any moment.

  “What do you want, Flee?” he asked.

  “You,” was all she could moan.

  He kissed her again, tongue diving into her mouth at the same moment he jarred her senses with a finger deep in her tender pussy. She shuddered.

  “Are you sure?” He wriggled the finger, pumping into her before pulling it from her.

  “Yes!” she hissed out the word, nearly screaming.

  “Shh, shh, shh.” He rolled on top and drove his cock straight into her.

  “Ahh…” Paige muffled her cry against his shoulder.

  He pulled out a fraction, slid in and out, and then drove in all the way.

  Something deep inside of her broke free and shattered. She clung to him and cried out a silent scream. He paused long enough for her to gather her breath and moaned as he began to rock, sawing into her. His face was buried in her neck, his voice rolling moans. With one hand holding both of hers, his other lifted her bottom. He drew nearly all the way out, then sank his thick shaft into her again.

  “Ohh.” Paige matched his rhythm, a leg curling around him. She pulled back as he did and collided with him on the down stroke. Again, and again. Waves began to grow and threaten to ripple through her.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She moaned out some sound in response. Lights flashed on the street below as a rumbling sound became stronger. Instead of shaking and releasing inside her as she thought he would, he let go of her hands, leaned up, bracing himself, and pumped in and out of her in the same frenzy as his finger had before. His strong face focused on hers. His taut, muscled chest rippled with each thrust. In and out, in and out, so fast, then slow and deep, grinding at the end. And again.

  She was lost. She writhed against him, breathing in needful gasps. Her eyes popped open, and everything exploded as it never had before. Her nails dug into his arms as she let out a warbled cry. He cut her cry short with his mouth on hers, quieting it to a rolling mewl, but she knew the entire B&B and half the street would have heard her if not for the snowplow. The loud crashing scrape of the street plow echoed from below.

  Breathlessly, she whispered, “I want you.”

  He did not hold back any longer but locked deep, so deep inside her, and released, shaking, adding to her ebbing frenzy. His whole body jarred stiff as he came. Their bodies finally slowed. He kissed her again and again, then dropped down, half next to her, and pulled her to him. He gulped air, breathing deeply as she did. Her body felt like it was floating, euphoric.

  Her scattered thoughts reeled. Something it had done these past few days. What had just happened? Incredible. How can this be so much better than with big buff Atlanta boy? It was, wasn’t it?

  Breathe. She just needed to breathe.

  “Wow.” He grinned broadly, holding her.

  She finally caught her breath. Her face felt hot, her smile, wide. “Wow, as in, dang, that Southern girl sure is good?”

  “Wow as in you are loud. Too loud for a bed and breakfast, Flee.”

  That earned a pillow whack. And another. Not to mention a tickle in response. She started to giggle, then squeal. “I give, I give. Uncle.”

  He stopped for a moment. “Your first name. I know it’s not Uncle. Try again.” He wrestled her and tickled all that could be tickled.

  “Aunt?”

  “Nope.” Gentler tickling with a few tickles returned. Then he did it, he tickled her feet.

  “I give. I really give. My first name is Amelia. Named after some distant relative.”

  He stopped. She panted. Groundhog Man enfolded her in his arms, spooning her, kissing the top of her head. “Amelia. Sounds familiar. Knew I’d get it out of you. My middle name is Yotahala. There, now you know it. You can find me easily. Michael Yotahala Lukas, with a K.”

  She mumbled his name, stroking his arm.

  “Part Oneida if you are wondering.” He smiled a delicious, afterglow smile.

  She turned, gave him an appraising look, mirroring his smile. “Hmm…part Native American and a whole lot mmm,” she murmured.

  “As are you and then some,” he said, his voice a deep whisper. “Care to share your full name, Amelia Paige?”

  Paige softly stretched against him. “Hmm? Oh. Myers. As in, I met you while I was wallowing in the mire.”

  “Cute.” He gave her a peck to the cheek.

  “Just cute?”

  “Can’t see in this light…”

  In response, she raised the pillow she was clutching.

  “No.” He laughed. “We’ll burst the pillows if we start that up again.” There was a pause as his hand roamed over her body. “Paige, you’re beautiful. I’m actually amazed I have you in my arms.” He cuddled her tightly and then let go. “Only, I need to take care of business.” He stood up.

  “In the middle of the night? You are a hard worker, Yoda.”

  He walked naked to the bathroom, grabbing his PJ’s on the way. “Not that kind of business and it’s Yota. Yotahala.”

  “Well, if you need something, just Yoda-hollah.”

  He threw something at her. It was the robe, which she gratefully put on.

  She poked around the room and picked up the donut box. “Do you have anything less sweet to eat or drink in this mini-fridge?”

  “Water, I think. Tea and coffee downstairs…might be a bottle of something, but the kitchen is closed.”

  Silence.

  “Paige?” All he heard was footsteps scurrying down the stairs. “Flee really does fit you,” he said to no one.

  Chapter Four

  Suddenly famished, Paige headed to the kitchen. Maybe she was making up for the lack of food on the long trip. Maybe she just needed to process what had just happened. In any case, a snack was her answer and the kitchen her means.

  The kitchen was lost in time with copper pots hanging over a re-modeled large pot belly stove, something straight out of the early 1900’s. Donut box in hand, she turned to a cabinet, afterglow blocking any forethought, and opened it for sneak inspection.

  “Ahem. Excuse me,” came a deep startling voice.

  “Oh, I…” Paige turned, feeling heat creeping up her neck, one hand holding the robe to make sure it was closed, the other gripping tightly to the donuts. The cabinet door stayed open as a tell-all to her snooping.

  “The kitchen is closed.”

  “I’m sorry. Really.” She turned to leave.

  “Wait.” The man yawned and sighed. “I’m the proprietor. Did the snowplows wake you up, too? You’re not the only one who came down here.”

  She nodded, not wanting to out and out lie to the man who looked somewhere between exhausted early middle age and who-can-tell.

  “Donut?” she sheepishly asked, holding out the box in recompense.

  “Curry’s?” the man asked.

  She nodded again.

  “My favorite. I’ll trade you for that midnight snack you must have been hunting.”

  “Deal. Do you have anything to drink?” Paige asked, thinking tea.

  He pulled out some crackers, cheese, carrots, and a bottle of wine. He uncorked it with a pop. He poured two glasses and filled water glasses as well. They sat, small plates in front of them, hers savory, his sweet.

  “Ever since I rolled into Pennsylvania, I seem to be hungry. Why is that?”

  “I could say the cold but who knows? You might have heard that couple going pell-mell in one room, too. Ignites the snackies for me every time.” He gave a hearty laugh.

  Paige blushed hot as fire. She knew he knew but said nothing. “This is one of the most handsome bed and breakfasts by the way, and I only saw it at night.”

  He thanked her for the compliment and told the story of the original brewery family owners and his subsequent restoration efforts. A story he obviously knew by rote, but his telling was
warm and familiar, as if he were talking to family. A non-dysfunctional family. He asked about her accent without pressing for details. Snacks were shared, and wine was toasted to health and sleep. She might not have had any answers to what was happening in her life, but she was content and sated.

  “Well, goodnight. I’m sure I’ll see you sometime in the morning, Mr. Hagers,” she said with a lingering sleepiness to her words.

  “And most likely during the day. Didn’t you hear the forecast? This is only part one of the storm. Groundhog Day is sure to be a doozy. Bet they’ll give a travel advisory again.”

  “Travel advisory?”

  “Yes. I heard it on the news and radio. We need to stay off the roads unless it’s an emergency. Gives time to clear up those poor shlubs whose cars are now buried in snow, too. Glad to have the pleasure of your company an extra day.”

  That was news to Paige. She would definitely need to contact family tomorrow before they started to worry. She turned to leave. “Unfortunately, I’m one of those shlubs.”

  “Yikes. Oh, and don’t forget to set your clock radio alarm to our local station. There’s a surprise in the morning, Miss, uh, Miss…”

  “Amelia Paige.” Why had she done that? She never gave out her first name.

  “Really? We have a room by that name. Which one are you in?”

  “Not sure. All crimson and purples, just up there.”

  “Well, I’ll be. That’s the Amelia room.”

  “You have to be kidding.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. It’s really the Amelia room. It was named after some distant relative from about the turn of the century. No brewery connections to my knowledge. Too bad. I suppose it was a popular name back then. Still a pleasant coincidence, don’t you think? Guess it was meant to be.” He raised his glass.

  She shrugged and answered him with a smile before turning to leave again.

  “Oh, you forgot your donuts.” He pushed the box toward her.

  “They’re all yours. And thank you.”

  “Remember to put on the local music station.”

  She nodded and beamed at him one last time before hurrying up the thickly carpeted stairs with rich dark wood rails. She returned to the room, thinking “Meant to be? Nothing is ever meant to be, is it?”