Chapter Eight
The snow was relentless. Lydia soon grew to understand the term cabin fever. By day three, she was pacing the floor, feeling as though she might burst. No one had told her about the early storms in northern Nevada. She’d imagined the cold, but she’d never imagined the feeling of being trapped.
Her good feelings toward Dean continued to grow. He was a good conversationalist and he made her laugh, which brought her great comfort, but she was attracted to him in a way that felt dangerous. Her entire body was tense with unfulfilled desire. She longed for him to touch her, to kiss her, to sleep with her in the bed, but she wouldn’t dare initiate. He didn’t either, perhaps thinking he had no right since they were unmarried. She also guessed that he went out of his way to appear as nonthreatening as possible after causing her such fear during the robbery. And there was no way for him to know that she felt highly aroused every time she thought back to those moments he had appeared so strong and terrifying, ordering her to comply. She wanted to see that side of him again, now knowing he would care for her as much as dominate her, but she couldn’t work up the courage to express that.
“You’re going to dig a hole in the floor with all that pacing,” he said. His voice was unusually stern, and he stood watching her with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall.
“I just might,” she said. “I feel as though I might burst if I stay cooped up in here much longer!”
“The snow will stop eventually. Patience, my dear.”
“I’ve been patient enough,” she grumbled, continuing to pace back and forth.
“I beg to differ. Is my company that hard to bear in long durations?”
“Yes,” was her response, though she didn’t mean it. He had proven himself much better company than she could have hoped. She paced to the other side of the room, then turned and found herself crashing into his hard chest. She shrieked with surprise as he caught her. “What are you doing?” she exclaimed.
“Saving my floor,” he said, chuckling.
“You’ve only interrupted me. Please stand aside.”
“I will, if you insist, but I’d rather hold you, comfort you.” He reached his arms around and brought her to him.
Feeling his body flush against hers flamed the desire she had for him. He stroked her back soothingly, but it did nothing to make her feel calmer. It only aroused her agitation further.
“It feels good, holding you like this,” he said. “Tell me, what can I do to make you feel better?”
“Make the snow stop,” she said grumpily.
“Wish I could. You seem the type of woman who values her freedom, and it must seem like prison to be locked in here for so long.”
“I’m glad you understand,” she said, pulling away slightly so that she could look up at him.
There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. He desired her as much as she did him.
“I know of a way we could pass the time,” he said.
She swallowed, afraid to hope he would take her to bed. “How?”
He leaned down and kissed her, pressing his lips gently against hers and lingering for only a moment before he released her and gazed questioningly into her eyes.
Lydia’s lips tingled in the wake of the kiss, and her body responded with longing and a quickening of breath. He must have read the look in her eyes. The next kiss was urgent, insistent. It demanded as much as it gave, and she demanded and gave in return. Her mouth opened of its own accord, accepting his exploration of her tongue, dancing in a rhythm they created.
His chest pressed against hers, causing her aching breasts to flatten. His body was hard, and she felt as soft as dough, molding herself to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him to her. His lips traveled south, along her neck to her shoulder, bringing every bit of her flesh to life.
Dean loosened the bodice of her dress, freeing her breasts. He groaned when he saw them. “Perfect, beautiful, just like I imagined,” he said. He took hold of one and squeezed it as he kissed the other.
Lydia panted, her breasts rising and falling as she did. “You imagined what my breasts look like?” she whispered.
“I’ve imagined every inch of you,” he said, landing kisses on each nipple. “I’ve wondered how it would feel to touch you, but I never could have guessed how much you would excite me.”
He rolled and pinched her peaked nipples between his thumb and forefinger. The pinches were almost painful, and she let out a squeak as gooseflesh appeared over her arms, but desire only continued to grow inside of her.
Dean pulled her dress down so that it pooled at her feet and adeptly untied her drawers’ strings, exposing her to him entirely. She stood in front of him, fully naked except for her stockings. His gaze over her body felt like embers, leaving heat in their wake.
Dean reached for her again, bringing her naked body against his clothed one and causing her to feel heightened vulnerability. He kissed her and stroked her, then clutched her bottom with his large hands. He hitched her up, so that her legs wrapped around his waist. She held tight, continuing to kiss him as he walked her to the bed, where he laid her down.
Lydia shivered as she watched him making quick work of removing his shirt.
He noticed her shivering and said, “I’ll warm you up soon enough, darlin’.”
“Such an attentive lover you are,” she murmured.
Dean unbuttoned his trousers and removed them, exposing his rock-hard cock, fully engorged with angry veins lining the surface.
“That wasn’t being an attentive lover,” he said. “That was only noticing you’re cold.” He grasped her hands in his and pulled them up over her head, leaving her helpless to accept his kisses along her neck down between her breasts to her belly.
She drew a sharp breath as he made his way back up and took a nipple into his mouth. Pleasure cascaded over her as he relentlessly tongued her nipple.
He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. “Noticing how you respond to me capturing your hands and kissing you, that is being an attentive lover.”
“I stand corrected,” she sighed.
“Ah, she finally admits it’s possible for her to be wrong.”
She had no time to respond. His lips crushed against hers. He released her hands and she trailed her fingers along the ridge of his spine as she kissed him, delighting in the moans of pleasure she extracted from him.
He nudged her legs apart with his knee. When he pressed his cock against the entrance of her sex, she opened her legs wider, willing him to fill her. He inserted himself slowly, her tight flesh stretching to accommodate him. Her head fell back as he pushed in, and her pussy clenched and unclenched against his cock. He stilled himself once he was fully inside, allowing her to become familiar with the sensation.
When he moved inside her, she gasped. The friction against her pussy walls sparked a desperation in her. She grabbed hold of his shoulders as he rocked against her, increasing his speed with every thrust. Soon he was fucking her hard, pounding into her as she let out a small scream with every renewed connection of her pelvis to his, a reminder that her pussy was meant for his pleasure.
Her back arched, eager to receive every stroke. She grasped him tighter and pulled him to her, meeting his thrusts with the movement of her hips.
Her arousal crested, and she writhed beneath him, tilting her head back and curling her toes as she cried out. A groan from deep and low in his throat emerged as he pushed inside her for the final time.
He collapsed beside her in the bed and drew her to him, holding her against his sated body.
“You’re mine now, Lydia,” he said.
She didn’t disagree.