by BJ Wane
She sucked in a deep breath as the shirt fell open and the warmth from the fireplace added to the instant heat of his nails scraping across her nipples. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to enjoy a man’s touch? Months, she figured, and hadn’t cared until now. One touch from Mitchell and she craved more.
“Very good, Lillian. I like your body, so soft,” he cupped her breasts, “and dainty.” Her small fleshy mounds filled the palm of his hands. “And here,” he brushed her nipples with his thumbs, “so hard and quick to respond. You will tell me if I do anything that triggers a bad memory or response.”
“Bossy,” she huffed on an exasperated laugh. “Have I mentioned I don’t like bossy men?”
“A time or two.” Releasing her breasts, he gathered the sides of the shirt and pulled them back, doing some twists and tucks until the wadded material rested in a knot against her lower back.
A shiver raced down Lillian’s spine as his fingers trailed across her exposed buttocks, drawing goosebumps and a new awareness of that part of her body. And then he slapped her cheek, nothing more than the bounce of his hand on her flesh, the minor sting quickly changing to a warm throb. She wanted to question him but didn’t trust her voice not to betray the odd quiver of embarrassing arousal that smack produced. Another light tap fell on her other buttock and she held her breath against the same response.
“Mitchell,” she gasped as he slid one hand down between her cheeks, grazing her private rear orifice while cupping his other hand between her legs from the front.
“You surprise me, in a good way, pet. I thought I would have to coax a response from you, and yet you’re already damp.” He pressed both hands against her sensitive flesh, the pressure drawing more of her cream.
Shaken in more ways than one, she grumbled, “I thought I wouldn’t have to hear you call me pet again.”
“I slipped. I’ll make it up to you.” Mitchell delivered another teasing swat to her vulnerable backside followed by a slow glide of one finger along her pussy seam, a tickle that distracted from the slight sting.
Lillian had never experienced such focused foreplay or such attention to her butt. She didn’t know if she liked it so much because she needed the distraction from the emotional upheaval of the past six weeks or because it had been so long since she’d enjoyed the pleasures of a man’s touch that she would take anything she could get. She wanted to come back with a sharp retort, but he took that moment to part her labia and work two fingers into her sheath, taking his time to graze along sensitive nerve endings begging for attention.
“Yes,” she groaned as he pulled back to circle her clit with one finger.
“No bad moments?” Mitchell asked, pulling out of her to tease her pussy lips with his damp fingers.
She shook her head, aching for more. “No, I’m fine.”
“You’ll set yourself up for additional heartache if someone asks if you’re okay and you toss out that standard comeback when it’s not true,” he warned in a silky whisper, his lips brushing her earlobe.
She blew out a frustrated breath as goosebumps popped up along her neck and arms. “But it is true now, and now is all that matters.” Pushing her hips back, she pled, “Please don’t make me wait.”
“Damn if you’re not hard to resist, and I wouldn’t admit that to just anyone.”
Any other time and place, that confession would stroke her ego, but the need to escape from the desolation that had consumed her for so long took precedence. Mitchell thrust back up inside her and Lillian exhaled on a relieved breath before he robbed her of it by finger-fucking her with deep, well-aimed strokes. He slid the hand nestled between her buttocks around her waist and up to her breasts to squeeze one round globe.
Pleasure engulfed her body as he plucked at a nipple and her clit, the little squeezes zapping the tender buds with arousing heat. She tightened her hands on the edge of the mantel, grateful now for his order to keep them there. Bracing her locked arms aided in keeping her anchored, both physically and mentally, while she fought against giving in to her wobbly legs and degrading memories.
“Let go if you’re ready, Lillian. I’m right here to catch you.”
The promise, given in that toe-curling guttural tone, accompanied the steady milking of her swollen bundle of nerves. She quaked as arousal spiked out of control, the first pop of pleasure replacing the pain of her last encounter, the shock to her battered system wrenching a cry from her throat. A surge of pure delight rushed through her body as she bucked against his marauding hand and pushed against his hold on her breast. For a few blissful moments, she was swept away on a tidal wave of pleasure that drenched her body and drowned her sorrow.
“Again,” he ordered while she was still relishing the ebbing smaller contractions of her orgasm. He went deep again, so deep, so fast and hard, the plunge brought her up on her toes.
“I don’t think I can,” she moaned, but that didn’t stop her from arching back and accepting another twist of his wrist as he withdrew and then returned to continue to stoke the damp heat in her quivering pussy.
“Yes, you can,” he insisted, and then set about proving it as he alternated thrusting with hard pressure against her clit and moved back and forth between her nipples, pinching, rolling and caressing the throbbing tips.
“Oh, God.” Drenched in heated pleasure, Lillian embraced the sweeping wave of another climax, shaken by how fast his hands produced another one, longing for the pleasure to continue as she descended from the exultant high. Once it stopped completely, reality would rear its ugly head and she wanted to stave off facing her loss again for as long as possible. “Mitchell, don’t stop,” she pleaded without looking back at him, too mortified by the depth of her uncharacteristic degeneracy.
Mitchell searched for his control as Lillian arched into his hands, her tortured plea cutting through his stoic resistance to sinking his cock between her silken folds. Her cum soaked his fingers, her slick walls still spasming around them as he soothed the pinches to her nipples with light caresses. The firelight bathed her pale, bowed body in a burnt orange glow, emphasizing the stark whiteness of her skin and the colored bruising around her ribs. He could see the side view of the soft fullness of her small breasts and feel the contrasting stiffness of the turgid tips against his fingertips.
She presented a temptation he found hard to resist, more so after she’d willingly kept her hands where he had positioned them. He doubted a hidden core of submissiveness compelled her to obey that order; she hadn’t portrayed a hint of compliancy since he found her until now, so there must be another reason she hadn’t slipped from the pose.
“I planned to spend the week alone, so I don’t have a condom.” With slow deliberation, he pulled out of her pussy, her low groan of disappointment mirroring what he felt.
“I’m on the pill but haven’t taken them in two days since they’re still packed in my car.” She swiveled her head, her cascade of auburn hair swinging over her upper arm as she slowly lowered her hands.
Mitchell loosened the knotted shirt, the forlornness in her eyes getting to him before she masked it with cool acceptance. He had never fucked bareback, not with anyone except Abbie. He enjoyed the wet clasp of a woman’s tight muscles massaging his bare flesh as much as any guy, but it was an intimacy he’d only shared with his wife. So why the prickle of regret for turning Lillian down now?
The shirt fell down to her sides and she turned around, standing before him with unabashed concern as he raked his eyes over her breasts and down her body. The neatly trimmed auburn curls between her legs offered just a peek at the still puffy folds he’d traced with his fingers, her frontal nakedness as enticing as her soft buttocks and long legs.
Hoping to lighten the sudden tense silence, he said, “Maybe we can take this further next time. You should try to get some more sleep.”
Without rising to the bait or saying anything else, Lillian walked around him, went into the bathroom for a few minutes and then got back into be
d. Mitchell caught a glimpse of the edge of her pink panties and figured she needed to don as much armor against him and what he’d given her as she could. Given how badly he wanted to take that short scene further, or devise another one, it was a good thing they would go their separate ways later today. He wasn’t interested in another relationship, and coming off an abused one, he doubted she was either. Besides, vanilla and BDSM don’t mix well, regardless of his success in pulling her mind off her troubles for a short time by giving her a taste of the control he liked to exert during sex.
The rescue crew couldn’t come soon enough, Mitchell thought as he settled in the recliner, shut his eyes and the first thing to pop up was Lillian’s flushed face, dark eyes and the tight clutch of her damp muscles around his fingers.
“Thanks, Grayson. We’ll head over.” Mitchell clicked off the satellite phone and nodded at Lillian. “They’ve about got you dug out so I’ll walk you back.”
For the first time since waking a few hours ago, Lillian’s tense muscles relaxed. She was more than ready to get going and put as much distance between her host and herself as she could. With her body still humming from his touch and her dreams of him smacking her butt even harder followed by driving his cock into her body over and over still way too vivid in her head, she needed alone time to get herself under control. “Great. I’ll get my coat.”
Mitchell arched a brow as he handed her her coat and reached for his. “I see you’re as happy about leaving as I am about getting my place back to myself.”
Lillian paused in pulling on her gloves. “It’s not that I’m not grateful. But last night, well,” she struggled for what to say and he didn’t offer to help. Jerking on her glove, her frustration came through as she grumbled, “It was just the tense circumstances, not like either one of us wants a repeat.”
“No, we definitely wouldn’t want that,” he murmured, the look on his face indiscernible. “Let’s go.”
He took her hand and didn’t let go as they left the warmth of the cabin and traversed through the knee-high snow toward the woods separating them from the road. Halfway through the trees, they spotted the blinking yellow lights on a large snowplow truck and the swirling blue strobe of the county sheriff’s cruiser.
Mitchell squeezed her hand and gazed down at her, frowning as those observant eyes roamed over her still bruised face. “You need to stop at a clinic and get checked again in a few days, just to ensure your ribs are healing. I hope you’re planning on staying as far away from whoever hurt you as possible.”
Lillian nodded, glad he hadn’t pestered her for details these past few days. “Don’t worry, we’re done for good.” With Liana gone, there was nothing left for Brad to blackmail her with.
“Good to know.” He tugged her forward, lifting a hand in a wave and Lillian saw a tall man wearing a Stetson, a toothpick nestled in the corner of his mouth return the greeting.
It wasn’t until they crossed the now packed-down, snow encrusted road and were within a few feet of the man that she noticed the law enforcement stenciling on his leather jacket. Beneath the lowered brim of his hat, the sheriff’s gray/green gaze turned flinty as he zeroed in on her bruised face. He pinned those anger swirling eyes on Mitchell so fast, Lillian shifted toward her host in an unconscious show of support.
“Explain,” the sheriff demanded, his tone short and clipped.
Mitchell shrugged. “She came that way. I’ve checked her over.”
Irritated with the show of machoism, she yanked her arm out of Mitchell’s hold and ground out, “She’s right here and can answer for herself.”
With a wry twist of his lips, Mitchell drawled, “Sheriff Grayson Monroe, this is Lillian…” He paused and lifted a brow.
For the first time in as long as she could remember, Lillian grew warm from embarrassment as Grayson’s stern look changed to one of amusement. It was mortifying to realize she’d just spent over two days with a man and an hour last night with his hands all over her naked body, his fingers deep inside her, and they knew very little about each other. She hadn’t even given him her last name. She’d never indulged in casual sex and still couldn’t fathom what had gotten into her last night. The temptation to accept the temporary diversion from her grief he’d offered in his deep, seductive voice had been impossible to resist.
“Gillespie,” she said, holding out her hand to the sheriff as the plow truck driver joined them.
Grayson took her hand, holding onto to her as he asked, “Ma’am. Is the person responsible for those bruises from around here?”
The other man scowled as he noticed her face. “No. I left him in Utah.” Turning to the truck driver, she asked, “Am I good to go?”
“’Fraid not, ma’am. I’ve got you dug out, but you’ve got a broken axle. I’ve called the shop in Willow Springs and Mort’s son, Andy is on his way with the tow truck. Don’t you worry none.” The burly man reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Mort’ll get you up and running in no time.”
Lillian’s shoulders slumped. She’d been hoping to get back on the road again. She wasn’t far enough away from her memories to suit her yet. “How long will it take, do you think?”
The sheriff nudged his hat back and blew out a white puff of breath. “I know he’s backed up with this weather causing several mishaps. You can get your things out of your car and I’ll take you to the motel, then you can give Mort a call.”
“Come on, I’ll help you,” Mitchell offered.
At least she wouldn’t be stuck at his cabin any longer, she mused as the three of them tromped to her car. With the men insisting they could get everything, including her artwork and supplies, she was left to stand aside and watch them transfer her belongings to the back of the SUV cruiser. It would be good to change clothes and lose herself in painting again, provided her oils were still usable after being frozen. At least being stranded this time around she would have something to pass the time besides trying to figure out how Dr. Mitchell Hoffstetter could arouse her to such a degree when she found him so bossy and irritating.
Taking a deep breath as the last of her things were loaded in the cruiser, she turned to Mitchell with her hand out, which seemed lame after the orgasms he’d given her just a few hours earlier. “Thank you for everything. I owe you.”
“Maybe I’ll collect if you’re in town long enough. If you’re still there when I return at the end of the week, come by the clinic next Monday. It wouldn’t hurt to get those ribs x-rayed.”
Lillian nodded with no intention of looking him up.
Salt Lake City
“I don’t fucking understand you.” Bryan McCabe took a long draw on his cigarette, glaring at his much younger brother as anger toward the woman who had gone ballistic on Brad warred with concern over his little brother’s blurred vision and dizzy spells. If Brad’s health was bad enough to keep him home from the hospital for a third day in a row, then it was time for him to get himself checked by another physician other than himself. “You need to let me drive you to the hospital and then go after that bitch. It’s not right to let her get away with ambushing and assaulting you.” He still couldn’t believe the polite, rather meek woman he’d met one time had turned on Brad in a fit of jealousy before taking off, but Brad’s injury was real, and potentially debilitating if he continued to be so stubborn about getting checked.
“I said no and put out that damn cigarette.” Brad leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. “She’s not a threat to me. The only reason she got in this one good whack,” he waved a hand at his bandaged forehead, “was because I wasn’t prepared for her to go at me like that. I should have let her down easier when I said I wanted her to move out. Her possessiveness was just one of the things that had grown tiresome about our relationship.”
That wasn’t surprising, Bryan thought, inhaling another deep, nicotine rush. Brad had a way about him that drew women. Between his elevated status as one of the top surgeons in the city and reputation as a much sought-after eligi
ble bachelor, it was no wonder Lillian Gillespie had fallen hard and fast for his brother. But that was no excuse for laying into him, catching him unaware as he had returned home after asking her to pack up and leave.
“I don’t give a shit about her hurt feelings. She committed a crime, Brad, and I want her charged.” Bryan gave in to Brad’s pointed glare and stubbed out the offending smoke in a dish his brother left on the end table just for him. Folding his arms, he leaned against the fireplace mantle in front of the sofa. His only sibling and family deserved this big, fancy house and all the adulation heaped upon him for the lives he saved. Of the two of them, he was the smartest and the most driven. There was a ten-year gap in their ages, and after their single mother had passed away when Brad was eleven, Bryan had willingly moved back into their mother’s house to finish raising him. From the first time school bullies had picked on Brad, he had looked out for him, stood up for him and made it a point to always be there when he needed him.
In Bryan’s opinion, little brother needed his interference in this matter, whether he wanted to admit it or not. As a cop, he was privy to resources that would provide him with the means to charge Lillian. All he had to do was track her down.
“Again, no, now let it go. I don’t want to see her hurt.” Brad opened his eyes and returned Bryan’s glare. “Come on, bro. I’ve got a mild concussion. Trust me, I would know if it was anything worse than that. She got in a lucky wallop and I didn’t dodge fast enough. Let it go. I already have,” he insisted.
Pushing away from the fireplace, he dropped his arms with a scowl. “I will, for now, but if you’re not up and about like normal soon, I’ll revisit the idea of arresting her sorry ass.” Pivoting, he stalked across the gleaming marbled floor and snatched his coat off a coat tree in the entry. Calling back, he said, “I’ll be back after my shift.”