by K. C. Crowne
“Thanks.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, gesturing to the speaker. “Are you listening to Michael Bolton?”
She laughed, a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Kind of a guilty pleasure of mine. I can change it if you want.”
“Nah,” I said, setting down the six-pack and ducking outside for a moment to set the wood on the porch. “I don’t mind it.”
“You’re kidding. You have to be screwing with me.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Man’s got some pipes.”
The chorus of “How Can We Be Lovers” swept through the cabin, Mandy and I staring into each other’s eyes. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I brought a little something.” I tapped the top of one of the beers.
“I see that.” She took one of the cans and cracked it open. “Most people would bring wine to dinner, but I prefer the good stuff.”
Damn, same guilty pleasure in music and taste in cheap beer? As if her being sexy as hell wasn’t enough already.
“And I noticed you have a fireplace but no wood for it. So I brought over some that I’d chopped.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “I told you not to bring anything, and I meant it.”
“Can we have a fire?” Parker asked, jumping into the conversation.
“If it’s alright with your mom. Feels like it might get a little chilly outside, so I’d recommend it.”
“Please,” Parker asked, clasping his hands together. “It’d be so cool.”
“Sure, sure,” she said, smiling at her son. “But watch, and do everything Mr. Anderson says, alright?”
“Alright, alright.” The kid was so eager and excited that I couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit.
“Come on, big guy,” I said. “First step is to bring the wood in.”
“I’ll finish dinner while you guys get that started.”
I gave her a nod before getting into it, leading Parker outside to have him help me bring in the wood. I grabbed a few logs, with Parker using all his might to carry one. Together, we sat down in front of the fireplace and I walked him through it. I showed him how to stack the wood, how to get the kindling started, and how to light it. He paid close attention, not saying a single word as I talked. Before too long, the kindling was charred, the fire slowly igniting the bigger pieces of wood.
“Wooow,” he said, watching the fire spread.
“Now,” I said. “Most important part is this.” I shut the grate and latched it. “Don’t mess with it once it’s going. It looks cool, but you have to respect it. All it takes is one spark, and before you can even look up, all your stuff’s in flames.”
“Got it,” he said, accenting his point with a crisp nod.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mandy called. “Go wash up, Parker.”
“Okay!” He bounded off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
“That was something else,” she said as she brought the chicken over to the table.
“Never seen a fire lit before?” I asked, confused.
“No – the way he paid attention.”
“What do you mean?” I sipped my beer and sat down at the table, the roasted chicken looking all kinds of delicious. My mouth began to water, and I had to admit to myself that Mandy might’ve had a point about the whole home cooked meal thing.
She shook her head, tracing the top of the beer can with her fingertip. “Ever since we…lost his father, he’s had a difficult time. He has some trouble making friends and can get into these moods where he just doesn’t listen to anything I say. I’d hoped that moving here might help, but it seems like it’s only made things worse.”
The answer to the problem appeared in my head clear as day – the boy needed a man around. But that wasn’t my business. I grunted in agreement, sipping my beer.
“I don’t know,” she said, breaking the silence. “Maybe he’ll grow out of it.”
“Maybe.” I closed up, my eyes drifting to the chicken.
“I’m hungry!” Parker announced, coming out of the bathroom.
“Alright then,” Mandy said with a little laugh. “Let’s eat. There’s chicken and roasted potatoes and green beans, and some ice cream after.”
I cleared my throat, what I was going to say next was not easy. “Thanks.” The word came out small.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Thanks,” I said, clearer this time. I wasn’t sure if she hadn’t heard me, or if she just wanted to hear it again. Either way, she smiled.
“You’re welcome. Glad to have you here.”
The food was delicious, and Parker spent most of the time going on about his superheroes and video games and all that, so I didn’t have to worry about keeping the conversation going. But every now and then as he talked, I found myself glancing at Mandy, the two of us locking eyes and a small smile tugging at the corners of her full lips.
There was something happening between us. And it made me feel ill at ease, like it was more than I was ready for, like it was dredging up feelings I thought I’d buried deep down long ago.
When the main course was done, Parker cleared away the dishes while Mandy scooped us some bowls of rocky road ice cream – Parker’s favorite. After we finished that, the excitement of the evening caught up with the boy. He started dozing off, and Mandy tucked him on the couch.
“I’ll put him in his real bed when you’re gone,” she murmured quietly. “Want to have one more drink before we call it a night?”
“Sure,” I agreed, though my brain was telling me to get the hell out of there. Without the kid as a buffer, I wasn’t sure I could control myself.
She peeled off the last two beers from the six pack and tossed one to me. I neatly caught it and cracked it open, and we wandered onto the porch to sit on the wooden bench. A light rain was still falling, the drops pattering in the trees and the fire inside crackling through the open window.
“I’m glad you came over,” she said, breaking the silence. “And I’m not going to let you tell me you’re not glad you did.” She flashed me a smile.
“It was a good meal. Thanks.”
She chuckled to herself, as if she found it funny that was all I had to say. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, reaching over with her beer.
I tapped the rim of my can to hers, and we sipped. For a few moments we said nothing as we watched the rain fall.
“This is nice,” she said. “Up here, away from it all.”
“It’s why I moved here,” I said. “To be alone.”
She gave me a side-eyed smile. “Sorry for cramping your style.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Every now and then.”
I glanced down and noticed that, to my surprise, we were sitting closer than I expected. Our legs nearly touched, and her hand and mine were only a few inches apart.
There was a force between us, one that was hard to wrap my head around. It was a pull, a draw. Like something was beckoning me to put my hand on hers.
“You know,” she said, turning to me. “I’m not going to ask why you’re up here, living the life you are. But you don’t have to be a total recluse.”
“That’s what I’m after,” I explained. “This lifestyle suits me just fine.”
“Well, you’re a big boy,” she said with a slight grin. “And I’m not your mom. But…I just wanted to say that if you ever need some company, you’re always welcome here.”
I turned to her, Mandy’s eyes big and expectant. Her lips were parted slightly, and she wetted them with her tongue. Part of me wanted to put my hand on the nape of her neck and pull her in close for a kiss. Just the thought was enough to make my cock twitch in my jeans. But I didn’t. Instead, I turned my head, breaking the trance between us. I finished my beer with one long pull, then got up.
“Thanks again for dinner,” I said. “See you around.”
She chuckled, as if what I was doing was surprising, but not unexpected. “See you around, Hunter Anderson.”
I gave her one glance back ove
r my shoulder, then left. Moments later I was alone on the road to my house, the rain and the slight wind in the trees my only companions.
Mandy
MANDY
I was horny as hell. And he was all I could think about.
Even before I opened my eyes the next morning, the wet, hot sensation between my legs was enough to pull me out of my deep dreams, to make images of him float into my thoughts.
It was wrong, and I knew it. But that only made me focus on him more, to think of just what I wanted him to do with those big hands of his, to imagine his body on top of mine.
I was hot. Not only turned on, but temperature wise. I threw the sheets off my body, opening my eyes and catching sight of the beams of light streaming in through the open blinds. But that didn’t do the job.
And with each second that passed, I realized the only thing that would. I pressed my thighs together, squeezing them hard, as if that would be enough to distract me from thoughts of the man I couldn’t get out of my mind.
It wasn’t, of course.
I glanced down at my bare legs. I wore nothing but a pair of dark red panties and the oversized San Diego Padres shirt I’d slept in. There was no sense in resisting. I moved my right hand down, over my breasts, then to the hem of my shirt. I pulled it up a bit, enough to expose a bare strip of stomach and my panties.
This is such a bad idea, I thought as I hooked my thumbs under the waistband. So fucking bad.
I rolled them down, over my thighs, past my knees, down to my feet. Once they were there, I kicked them off.
Why I can’t I stop myself? What the hell is wrong with me?
I closed my eyes again, spreading my legs open and placing my hand over my pussy. The moment I touched myself, he was back in my thoughts, and it was such a freaking clear image, like he was actually in my bedroom.
I imagined him opening the door, all six-and-a-half feet of him looming at the entrance. He’d be wearing his rugged jeans and beat-up boots, his flannel shirt opened enough that I could make out his gloriously toned upper body.
I’d seen him shirtless before, and he was built like a god. And he wasn’t one of those smooth-chested types. His chest was broad and just hairy enough to be totally sexy.
A smile formed on my lips at the mental image of him in my room, maybe a teasing smirk on his mouth. But damn, it was hard to picture him smiling. Hunter was all business, serious as hell. The only time I’d ever seen him crack anything close to a smile was when he was playing with Parker.
There was something about him and my boy, something that made him open up like I just knew he didn’t do with anyone else. That only begged the question of why he was so closed off to begin with. What had happened to him to make him the way he was?
I put all that out of my head as best I could. The situation was complicated enough, and I didn’t need to bring that into my personal sexy times. Closing my eyes, I returned to the image of Hunter in my bedroom.
“Now,” he said, his voice gruff and deep as always, but with a bit of a playful warmth that wasn’t there in real life. “What I want to know is why a woman as fine as you is sleeping in a big bed like this all by herself.”
I grinned in my fantasy, shifting my hips. “Why? Would you rather open the door and see me here with another man?”
He growled low in his throat in response.
I spread my lips open enough to tease my clit, a sharp gasp of air shooting into my lungs the moment I touched myself on my most sensitive spot. The idea of being with him was so intense, so arousing, that the moment I began I knew it would only take a short bit before I came.
“You know there’s no other man but me,” he said, confident, self-assured.
“Why don’t you come over here and show me?”
He was up to the challenge. Hunter stepped over to the edge of the bed, his big boots thumping on the wooden floor, so big it seemed like the entire cabin groaned with each step.
“Now,” I said once he was at the edge of my bed. “You want to get in here with me, there’s a price to be paid.”
Hunter cocked his head to the side, those sharp, blue eyes locked on me. “That right? This oughta be good.”
“The price of admission is that, and that, and those.” My finger extended to his shirt, then pants, then boots. “Not a chance I’m letting you in this nice, clean bed with all those clothes on.”
He chuckled, his thick chest moving up and down. “There isn’t a price I wouldn’t pay to get into that bed with you, gorgeous.”
Still grinning, his lips curled through his dark beard, Hunter slipped out of his shirt, tossing it aside. And even in the fantasy that strange scar on his stomach was still there. What was it? There could’ve been any number of explanations for a wound like that. But deep in my gut I just felt there wasn’t an innocent explanation behind it.
I pulled my eyes away from the scar, putting them back on his bared chest. Next, he kicked off his boots. Once the boots were gone, he worked on the jeans. After undoing the brown, leather belt, he slipped the jeans down. Underneath he wore a pair of black boxer-briefs, the fabric clinging to his massive legs, his quads as thick as the trunks of the trees in the forest outside.
And his cock…damn. Sure, it was my fantasy, but there was still no doubt in my mind he was packing. The long outline of his cock pressed against his crotch extended down his thigh, almost lengthy enough to peek out the bottom of his underwear.
I touched myself with more and more intensity, clenching my eyes shut as I made slow circles around my clit. I writhed in bed, biting my lower lip to make sure my moans weren’t too loud.
I snapped back to the fantasy.
The moment he was next to me, whatever resistance I had melted like ice cream on the hottest day of summer. Hunter slipped his hand into my hair and pulled me close, pressing his lips to mine, the sensation of his kiss causing my whole body to light up.
What would it be like to kiss a man like Hunter Anderson? What kind of lover would he be? Aggressive? Demanding? I was sure he’d be both, the kind of man who took charge in the bedroom, who wasn’t afraid to give commands. The more I considered the question as I touched myself, the more certain I was that there’d be…something else. A sensuality, a tenderness that he didn’t show to just anyone.
But in that moment, I was ready for him to be the kind of forceful lover I imagined him to be.
We kissed, our mouths opening at the same time, his tongue passing my lips and mine traveling past his, both wrapping around one another’s for one moment that bled into several.
He reached under my shirt, rubbing my full, heavy breasts, his fingers kneading my nipples in a way that drove me wild. I returned the favor, reaching into his underwear and wrapping my fingers around his thick cock, his member long and warm.
I could only imagine the sexy little growls and groans he’d let out as I stimulated him, doing my best to bring him to orgasm with only my hand as he slipped his finger down the waistband of my panties, spreading my lips and moving inside me.
The fantasy jumped forward, my orgasm in the real world drawing closer and closer. He was on top of me, his cock buried deep in my pussy, Hunter’s massive length vanishing between my legs over and over again.
My fingertips moved over the sculpted outlines of his pecs, Hunter’s thick hair sticking up in all directions, those piercing blue eyes wild, the whole look of him on top of me reminding me more of a caveman than anything civilized, like a beast who desperately needed to rut, and only I would do.
He whipped his head up, letting out a hard grunt as he came deep inside me, every single one of his powerful muscles tensed as he did.
And alone in my bed, I came too, imagining what it would feel like to have a cock like his pulsing inside me as he shot his load deep. I bit down so hard on my lower lip I worried I might draw blood. I thrashed in bed as I pressed my fingertips hard against my clit, writhing and twisting.
When the orgasm faded, my limps dropped. Every muscle in my
body relaxed, my arms falling to my side as I sucked in breath after breath.
I enjoyed the afterglow for only a few moments before a different feeling took hold of me.
Guilt.
I sat up in bed, thoughts of Michael flooding my mind.
This is wrong, I thought, putting my feet on the floor and standing up. My husband’s gone, and I’m thinking about another man. What the hell is wrong with me?
I glanced at my reflection in the bedroom mirror, my eyes dropping to the Padres shirt I wore. Michael’s shirt. Without thinking, I pulled it off my body and tossed it aside. I’d been pleasuring myself to thoughts of another man wearing a shirt that had belonged to my late husband.
It had been nearly two years, but I still felt so disloyal. I’d been with no one since him. Hunter was the first man to stir even a speck of arousal in me since Michael’s death. And it felt wrong. The need to get the hell out of my bedroom overcame me. I grabbed some lounge pants from my dresser drawer, along with a T-shirt that didn’t belong to my dead husband, and rushed out of my bedroom, hurrying to the kitchen to make some coffee.
It was still early, the sun having only just come up. I opened the door to Parker’s bedroom to see him sleeping soundly, the Incredible Hulk figure he’d shown to Hunter positioned on his nightstand as if watching over him while he slept.
When the coffee was done, I poured myself a cup and went out onto the porch. I heard a sound and turned towards it. Something moved in the forest, shifting the branches and running through the beams of sunlight. I watched the green and saw that it was a deer. It caught my eyes for a moment before running off.
I sat down and wrapped my hands around my mug of coffee, the memories of my fantasy with Hunter playing again and again.
And despite the guilt, I knew it was a dream I desperately wanted to come true.
Hunter
“What’s the problem?” Hugh was beside himself with confusion. “You scared of a little barbeque?”