The Runaway

by Jennifer Bernard

  “Oh, come on, I’m not that stern. I smile all the time. I wouldn’t have any customers if I didn’t.”

  “Okay, then maybe you didn’t want to smile at me. I believe I’d been working at Ocean Shores three weeks before you finally flashed that dimple.”

  “I don’t have a dimple. Do I have a dimple?” He touched his cheek, cold from the rush of early spring air. The roar of the four-wheeler made him wonder if he’d misheard her. Had she meant “pimple”?

  “I guess you’ll have to smile at yourself in a mirror and find out.”

  “Who the hell smiles at themselves in the mirror?”

  “People who aren’t practicing their stern and manly expressions,” she said sassily.

  He couldn’t wait to get her alone in that cabin and show her what happened when cute girls sassed him.

  They rode up on a high ridge that offered unbelievable views of a wooded valley. He watched with a sense of awe as one majestic peak after another was revealed. “Pretty nice place you got here, Gracie.”

  “Thanks. I guess our kidnapper picked a good spot to pee.”

  He laughed, which let crisp air into his lungs. It tasted like young champagne, like wild strawberries and snow at dawn. Not a hint of salt in it, like the ocean air he was used to.

  They turned down a much narrower trail and crashed past low-sweeping branches loaded with snow. He shielded the two of them as best he could, but even so, they both got faces full of snow. By the time they reached the cozy cabin nestled in a clearing, he was wiping snow out of his eyes and wondering if he’d ever recover the feeling in his cheeks.

  Gracie rolled the four-wheeler to a stop and jumped off. “I’ll go light a fire. It takes a few minutes for the cabin to warm up.”

  “I can warm you up,” he offered.

  “And I will definitely take you up on that…after I get a fire going.”

  He followed after her, somewhat mesmerized by how at home she was in the snow and the mountains. “You’re different here. More relaxed.”

  “That’s because I don’t have a boss who’s impossible to please and who keeps threatening to fire me.” She pushed open the door of the cabin. Didn’t people use keys out here?

  Everything inside the cabin was tidy and spotless. Wood stacked next to a squat cast-iron stove, folded blankets piled on a queen-size bed. Teakettle, canned goods, matches—everything one might need if stranded in a snowstorm.

  “Oh good, it’s not as cold as I thought it would be. It’ll be perfect in no time.”

  Before she flew off to start the fire, he tugged her by the hand. She spun around to face him, questions in her eyes.

  “Want to know why I was tempted to fire you?”

  “Because I wasn’t very good at the job at first?”

  “Nope. Because you were a goddamn distraction. I thought I had my life on track, right where I wanted it. I had the business, I had the girl. Then you showed up.” He smiled wryly to take the sting from his words.

  She made a rueful face. “And ruined everything?”

  “No. And rescued me. Sophie and I never would have worked. Not really. You saved us a lot of time.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “No. You just…were. Are. Just standing there, looking at me like that, you make me forget everything else.”

  A slow wave of color washed across her cheeks. She tilted her body toward his, chin lifted, her kittenish face even more adorable than usual. “I really wish I’d known you weren’t serious about the firing. You caused me a lot of stress with that.”

  “Then we’re even. You caused me a lot of stress with those bikinis.”

  “You know what’s even more stressful than bikinis?”

  “What?”

  She shrugged off her jacket, which fell to the floor, then put her hand to the zipper of her cream-and-silver hoodie. “Want to guess what I’m wearing under this?”

  “Nothing?” he said hopefully.

  “Um, this is the Cascades in springtime. You don’t go around wearing nothing.”

  “Then I’m stumped. Maybe some show and tell?”

  With a quick flick of her wrist, she unzipped her hoodie. “Only if we both play. Although I did get a head start back on the Buttercup when I spied on you.” She winked at him.

  He’d never seen Gracie like this—playful and seductive at the same time, and she had him a little rattled.

  She tossed the hoodie aside. Underneath, she wore only a spaghetti-strap camisole, no bra. The sweet curves of her breasts rose above the neckline, and her nipples swelled against the thin fabric. He swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry as dust.

  “Your turn,” she whispered.

  He shrugged out of his jacket, then reached over his head to tug off his sweater. His t-shirt rode up at the same time, and he decided to ditch that as well. Why not? If you thought about it, the two of them had been inching toward this moment for some time. After working together so much, he knew Gracie better than most women he’d dated.

  He’d definitely known her longer, if their first encounter at the age of six counted.

  He stood before her, bare-chested, hard as stone, his cock throbbing against the front of his jeans.

  “Are we really doing this?” Her tone held a hint of wonder. “I’ve been thinking about it for so long.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t allow my fantasies to get this far. It didn’t seem right.” She toed off her purple pom-pom boots, then undid the button on her jean leggings. Next came the zipper, sliding down, revealing more intimate parts and the tiniest set of panties he’d ever seen. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the shadowed notch between her thighs.

  She pushed her leggings all the way down. But once she got to her feet, one pant leg snagged on her heel. Laughing, she hopped around on one foot, teetering wildly, about to fall.

  He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

  “I’m not letting you get injured before I see you naked,” he told her firmly. He tossed her onto the pile of blankets.

  She laughed up at him, waving her feet in the air. “Jake always warns me about wearing my jeans too tight. Should have listened.”

  He grabbed the hem of one leg and tugged it off, then moved to the other. “Screw that, I love these. Loving them even more now that they’re off your body.” He tossed them aside. They landed on the woodpile, which reminded him that neither of them had yet made a fire.

  “Stay right there, beautiful. Just like that. Time to heat things up in here.”

  She giggled and crossed one leg provocatively over the other. “Well, I am working on that.”

  “I mean it literally. I’ll get the fire going while you—”

  “Get your fire going?”

  “Actually, the opposite. I need a little cold water on my fire. And you’re not helping with that.”

  She arched her back so her nipples pushed farther against the fabric. The chilly air did have some benefits, he decided.

  “How did I not realize what a tease you are? Get under those covers.”

  He strode to the woodstove and put together enough cardboard, kindling, and cut logs to make a roaring fire.

  “Lighter’s behind the stove,” called Gracie as she crawled under the blankets. “Nice fire, were you in the Boy Scouts?”

  “Nah, just got really into survival skills for a while. You can probably imagine why.”

  He touched the lighter to the cardboard and watched blue flame lick across the surface, then leap to the next bit of kindling. As soon as he heard the crackle that meant the wood had caught fire, he closed the smoky glass door of the stove. Rising to his feet, he caught her watching him—and the look in her eyes gave him a shock.

  It was something he’d never seen in a woman’s eyes before. He couldn’t say absolutely, but he thought it might be…love.

  Just as quickly, it disappeared, replaced by something more carnal. “You are unfairly sexy when you’re making a fi
re,” she murmured.

  “All’s fair in love and war.”

  There was that “love” word again.

  He came toward her, unzipping his pants as he did so. Honestly, he didn’t know what word applied to him and Gracie. It didn’t matter. What counted in this moment wasn’t words—it was everything else. The sight of her, snuggled under the blankets. The sizzle of pine sap in the wood stove. The scent of wood smoke mingling with the heady feminine aroma that was all Gracie.

  Naked except for the boxers that were barely containing his erection, he slid into bed with her. He braced himself over her, making a tent out of the covers. She gazed up at him, her eyes big enough to swim in.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Hi.” He dipped his head to claim her lips in a kiss—the same kind of kiss that had haunted him ever since the Buttercup. Deep, intense, rich, and layered as German chocolate cake. Maybe he’d thought of Gracie as more like meringue—but she wasn’t, not really. The meringue was just a top layer, and the deeper he went, the more addictive she became.

  He put his weight onto one hand so he could skim the other across the very tips of her breasts. She let out a whimper of desire and lifted her chest to bring herself closer. Her exquisite sensitivity made saliva spring to his mouth. If just a touch inspired that reaction, how would she respond when he brought her nipples into his mouth the way he was dying to?

  He moved onto his side so he could play with her breasts through the flimsy fabric of the camisole. Even though it was silky, it had enough weight to create friction against her nipples. She writhed as he worked the material against her chest. Her breasts were so soft under there, so tender and perfectly formed. And her nipples…

  Too anxious to wait longer, he drew down the edge of the fabric with his teeth so he could expose her gloriousness. Pink nipples, now turning a deeper shade of coral thanks to their arousal. Perfect pink nipples, so sensitive that even a breath of air across them made her jump.

  “My God, Gracie,” he breathed hoarsely. “You’re a dream.”

  “Take that back. I’m one hundred percent reality.” Her hands fluttered to his chest, running along the tense ridge of muscle. “Unless this is one of my fantasies come to life.”

  “Tell me what they are, and I’ll see what I can do.” He swirled his tongue freely around one nipple, loving how it rose to attention.

  “Oh, nothing in particular.” She gasped as he intensified the pressure. “Just the usual.”

  “I don’t believe you. Nothing about you is the usual. I’m going to make you tell me. Just so you know.” He plumped up her breast for greater ease of licking. She tilted her head back, biting her lip.

  “You can’t make me do anything,” she managed.

  “Sounds like a challenge to me.” Spreading his hand wide, he ran it down her side to the soft flare of her waist. He took hold of her hip, his fingers sliding under her light-as-air panties, his thumb pressing just above her clit, where each tug of skin would tease, but not satisfy.

  “That’s not fair,” she gasped. With a thrust of her hips, she tried to gain more pressure, but he backed his hand away to elude her frantic movement. “Hey!”

  “Hey yourself. God, you’re perfect, Gracie. Just look at you.”

  “Don’t tease me, Mark. Touch me.” Her hips twitched again, and he decided that teasing had its limits. He wanted to give her pleasure, as much pleasure as possible. He moved the thin panel of fabric aside and found her slick folds with his fingers.

  “Oh my gosh,” she gasped.

  He smiled to himself. Before this was over, he was going to get more than a “gosh” out of his Gracie.

  His Gracie? Where did that come from?

  He shoved the thought aside and focused on the slide of his hand against her sweet, slippery pussy. Her clit swelled against his fingers, hard and eager and delicious.

  On impulse, he pushed her legs apart and lowered his head between them. For a moment, he just breathed her in. She smelled like the ocean, his favorite thing in the world. Or maybe from now on the ocean would smell like her—his favorite thing in the world.

  Savoring the moment, eyes half closed, he explored her with his mouth. Each delicate fold, the hard nub of her clit, the feathery curls, the trembling inner thighs. Gracie was built on a smaller scale than most people, and when it came to her most private parts, everything was all delicate precision. As if each square millimeter of her skin had its own specific sensitivity. He could explore her reactions for hours, for days, testing what made her squirm, what made her jump, what made her moan for more.

  But his cock was so hard, he knew he didn’t have much time. He wanted to see her come, and come hard. Nothing else mattered until that happened.

  He pushed her legs back, exposing her even further to his feasting. His erection swelled almost painfully at the erotic sight. Her camisole was all askew, pulled down under her breasts, and those dusky-rose nipples screamed out for his attention.

  He reached up with both hands to fill his palms with her flesh and those pebbled peaks. She gave a harsh cry of pleasure, followed by an urgent moan as he gathered her pussy into his mouth again. He lapped at her sweet juices until his tongue tingled, playing with her nipples the entire time. He felt her hands dig into his hair, a frantic grip that communicated with crystal clarity exactly what was working for her. A little harder. A little faster. She didn’t need to say the words, because her body said it, and he was learning that language as fast as he could.

  When she began bucking against him, the urgent tension in her body ramping up, he knew she was close. Stay with her. Don’t let her shake you off.

  The first wave broke—he tasted it on his tongue, felt her tremors. She clamped his head against her, and he got the message. Don’t leave me now. Help me ride this out.

  Hell yes. He lost himself in the surround sound of her orgasm—the long, low howl of pleasure, the rising gasps, the eager cries. Gracie didn’t hold anything back. She threw herself into her pleasure with all her heart and soul—and he savored every second.

  He pulled one hand away from her breasts and touched his cock. Hot and about to burst—and damn. He needed a fucking condom.

  Gracie collapsed into the shape of a starfish, arms and legs askew. “Oh my, oh my, oh my,” she gasped. “Jeez, Mark. Way to outdo every single fantasy I ever had.”

  “Oh yeah?” Smiling at that compliment, he sat up. His cock followed suit, jutting upward between his thighs at a nearly impossible angle.

  She lifted herself on her elbows and gazed at his erection, mouth agape. “My goodness.”

  “Yup.” He wasn’t sure what more to say—obviously, he wanted her. But he didn’t have any condoms, and he certainly wasn’t going to take any risks with Gracie. “That’s all your doing.”

  “But I didn’t even touch you.”

  “Didn’t have to. I touched you. I looked at you. I smelled you. That’s enough. I don’t suppose you—”

  She threw up a hand. “Say no more.” Jumping off the bed, she hopped her way across the room as if the floor was hot lava. Or cold ice, more likely. She darted to the tiny pantry and pulled out a first-aid kit.

  “Very important for anyone stranded in a snowstorm.” She opened it up and retrieved a condom, which she waved at him. “There’s only one, though, and I’ll have to replace it.”

  “I’ll buy an entire case, don’t you worry.”

  She danced back over to him and dove onto the bed, then curled against his side. He drew the blankets over her to stop her shivering. “I guess my fire has a ways to go.”

  “No, I just want to be close to you,” she confessed. “I’ll use any excuse. Body heat’s a good one, right?”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t need an excuse.” The tender note in his voice took him by surprise. “I’m always happy to serve as a body warmer,” he added more lightly.

  He took the condom from her and rolled it onto his erection. It barely fit—he generally used a large size, a
nd these were regular. And he was even more aroused than normal, so the fit was even tighter. He hissed as the extra-tight latex gripped him.

  “Uncomfortable?” she asked.

  “I just want to be inside you,” he said tightly. “So bad I can hardly see straight.”

  “Come on, then,” she said softly, swinging one leg over him. She adjusted herself into a straddling position, then pulled the blankets over her back. “What’s taking you so long?”

  He gripped her hips and lifted her up, positioning her right over his cock. It looked huge, rearing between his legs, soaring toward her soft, shadowed cleft.

  He was so over-the-top swollen that he let her set the pace. He didn’t want to hurt her with his extreme erection. She took it slowly, inch by inch, adjusting herself, arching when she needed to make space. She was still very wet from her orgasm, so slippery that even with his thick girth, she was able to slide down fairly easily.

  She finally seated herself fully with a gasp. He felt her soft skin against his inner thighs and his balls, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure right to the primal center of his brain.

  He let out a harsh groan that sounded like some kind of animal. “God, Gracie, that’s good. So fucking good.”

  She lifted up, then lowered down again, even more easily this time. Slick and juicy and hot and satiny—so good, his eyes rolled up in his head. She kept going, sliding up and down his shaft, as the pleasure made him lose all track of time. He felt electricity gather at the base of his spine, little shocks clearing the way for the big one.

  And then it came— a massive detonation of pleasure, like a rogue wave on the ocean, lifting him up and spinning him around, crashing him down. The orgasm pumped through him, possessed him. Owned him.

  Or maybe it was something else that owned him—or someone else.

  Gracie.

  She bent over him…her delicate breasts trembling…skin flushed. Had she come again?

  Embarrassed, he realized that he hadn’t even checked. He’d just lost himself in the sensation of that spectacular climax.

  “Did you—”

  Gracie shook her head. “No, but it’s hard for me to come that way. It feels great, don’t get me wrong. I love feeling you fill me up. But I’m a clit girl.”