Chapter 8
Dinner was excellent, and I cleaned my plate as fast as possible without looking like I had no manners, then had to wait for her to finish, digest, and whatnot—also because I wanted to present my good manners—but once an hour passed, I stoked the fireplace for the night and moved us upstairs.
The finest piece of furniture in this entire cabin is the king-sized bed with fluffy bedding like they’ve got in fancy hotels, and Isla sighs as she sprawls all over it and tucks a pillow under her head.
“Your bed is nice,” she says.
“Made nicer with you on it.” I’m a fucking poet.
Her gaze roams over my body, and as she examines the specimen of masculinity before her, my dick hardens, twitches. She snaps her head up and locks eyes with mine, then crawls over to the end of the bed and opens her mouth.
I place myself inside, and precum seeps from the top and onto her tongue. She moves said tongue over my length from the base to the top, where she closes her mouth and sucks, her cheeks hollowing.
I fist her hair and move her gently forward, reach the back of her throat, then push in a little more, until she gags. I do it a few times so that she’ll get used to my length and width, then press her closer to my body and don’t let her move away.
Mouth full of cock, her eyes fill with tears, and I pinch her nose, run a hand down her shoulder, and lift her breast. I weigh it, tweaking the nipple, until Isla taps my thigh.
I release her, and she inhales a breath, stares up at me. “Again,” she says.
I smile. “They, whoever they are, say that the quiet smart girls have dirty minds.”
I push a thumb inside her mouth and pry it open again, then insert myself inside and press her closer so the tip of her nose touches my abdomen, then closer yet to block her airways, then release her.
Swallowing a nine-inch-long cock is no small feat, and Isla is determined to swallow me whole. Goals. She has them.
We go back and forth until I’m panting and she’s wiggling her ass, impatient and wet to receive me.
I bend and kiss her mouth, then sneak a hand under her body and stroke her wet place while gazing at the bright green of her eyes.
“Turn around,” I tell her, and she does.
I grab the lubricated condom and put it on.
When she bends, I grab her hair and pull her back up.
She yelps and holds my hips while I position myself at the little back hole she wants fucked.
Once positioned, I stroke her clit and press her against me and enter the tight space.
Isla sighs and leans her head on my shoulder, and I move slowly so that I don’t slip out while she spreads her ass cheeks, seeking more.
I kiss her neck and shoulder, whisper at her ear, “You’re perfect, and I’m keeping you. ”
Her body freezes up for a bit, and she snaps her eyes open, but as I move inside her, she closes them again, enjoying herself, though not as much as I’m enjoying her.
Isla’s soft singing coming from downstairs wakes me in the morning, and I’m instantly disappointed to find myself alone in the bed.
I’d hoped to wake up and bury myself inside her warm hole—she can pick which—this morning and have a morning sex-a-thon until she can’t walk anymore.
Instead, I stroke myself a few times and squeeze my eager dick, then hit the bathroom and do my business.
On my way out, I pause at the mirror, leaning in over the counter. Well, I’ll be dammed, I lost the dark sleepless circles under my eyes, probably because I finally slept. She’s not only good to me, she’s healthy for me.
I get the phone, dial my sister, checking the time after I dialed. Oh well.
She picks up after I call three times. “Ludi, it’s ten, and I’m working, so this better be an emergency.”
“I love you, sis,” I tell her right off the bat. This way, the conversation will go smoother.
“Mm-hm. What do you want?”
“I need a favor, because I can’t be trusted with this shit.”
“What favor?”
“I need you to pick out three engagement rings and send me pictures so I can decide which one.”
Silence on the other end, then: “Whatever for?”
“I’m gonna propose.”
“What?” She shrieks. “Who are you going to propose to? Do I know her?”
“Just do what I asked.”
“Stefan, is this a joke? Is it April first?”
“Three rings, and I needed them yesterday.”
“It’s the cabin girl. Oh no, Stefan, it’s just cabin fever. You’ll forget about her when you get back. Please don’t do anything stupid.”
“Do I ever?”
Ivana’s quiet.
“Do I?”
“No, but you can’t propose.”
“I can, and I will. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I make kissing noises at the phone.
She does the same and hangs up.
Back in the bedroom, I’m slipping on boxers when there’s a knock on the door. “You expecting someone?” I ask loudly so Isla can hear me.
“Mr. Homer,” she says, and I hear the door open. “Dad?”
Boot steps barge into my house, and I know a man entered my cabin.
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
“You didn’t answer your phone, and your mother has been calling.”
“I forgot my charger and it ran out of battery. Dad, you can’t be here.”
“You called me, then didn’t answer your phone,” he fires back.
“Yes, but you said I should stay, so I stayed.”
I hear my chair groan as he sits on it. “Gonna text your mother first, then take you home.”
“Dad, I’m not going home yet.”
“The checkout is at eleven, so might as well.”
“Check out is tomorrow at eleven.”
He changes the subject. “I saw car parts on the road up here. Someone hit the tree. Anyone hurt?”
I reach under the bed and grab my gun, then roll my eyes. I’m not gonna fucking shoot her dad. Returning to the dresser, I get out a pair of jeans, keeping my ear on the convo downstairs.
“I don’t know anything about the car,” she says.
“Shhh,” her dad says. “I hear something upstairs.”
“It’s nothing,” she says.
I smile, ’cause that makes me feel younger than thirty-five, puts me somewhere in junior high when Nikola and I snuck out to see girls. Seeing as I intend to propose to her, I slam the drawer shut, then move to the closet, where I pick out my best white button-up.
My chair squeaks, and heavy booted feet climb the steps.
Shirt in one hand, I close the closet. Midway up, on the stairs, stands the town’s sheriff in a brown uniform.
The dude is at least six five, with an untamed beard covering almost all his face.
Piercing green eyes stare at me, move over my body, then back up to my head. He unsnaps his gun holster.
I note the movement, and he pulls out the gun.
“Oh my God, Dad, no,” Isla says behind him.
“Who is this?” he asks.
I slide on my shirt, button it up, and take a step toward him.
“Stop,” he says.
His hand doesn’t shake. He’s not afraid like some cops are afraid, but I fucked his baby girl, so there’s no telling what he’ll do. If I caught a guy with my baby girl, he wouldn’t even see it coming.
I extend a hand. “Stefan Ludvenich.”
“Dad, please. Put the gun down.”
Dad shows me his teeth. “Downstairs, boy. We need to talk.”
He puts away his weapon and stomps down the stairs. I follow him and push by Isla, whispering at her ear, “It’s okay.”
“I’m so sorry about this.”
“It’s okay. I took your phone, and now I will deal with this.”
The former deputy sheriff, now sheriff, stands in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, teeth bared, face red. “You’re leaving right now, young lady.”
“Dad, I’m not twelve.”
“But you live under my roof. I trusted you when you said you’re studying, and I trusted you when I sent you away.”
“Dad, please.”
“And you.” He points at me. “What kind of a man makes the girl pay for the weekend like this?”
In the kitchen, I fix myself a cup of coffee.
I don’t ask him if he wants one, because he’s being a dick and he’s under the impression I’m gonna take his shit.
Cup in hand, I walk out of the kitchen and lean against the bar, standing barely two feet from the cop.
He even smells like a cop. The scent repulses me.
I sip my coffee, then put it down. “She’s not paying for the cabin. This is my house.”
Sheriff Bentley turns to Isla, who stands at the bottom of the stairs. “You booked this house. I know you did because I have a receipt for the deposit. What did you use the money for? Drugs?”
“Christ, Dad. He’ll refund the initial night.”
“Why would he do that?”
Here we go.
“Because…” She wrings her hands. “There was a mix-up, and Stefan here said I could stay for free because of it.”
“And so you two stayed here together?”
I approach the sheriff, touching my chest to his. “Get out of my house.”
The sheriff’s eyes take on a dangerous cold gleam, and I can tell when a man decides on a target. “This isn’t the end of it, boy.”
My temper rises, but I clamp down on it and extend a hand toward Isla. Head down, she drags the suitcase out the door, her dad following behind her.