CHAPTER 7
Maddie
Two hours earlier.
I’ll change out of this bikini then go help the man like I said I would, but I won’t come back with him. No, I’ll leave before he does, then that will be that. Good plan!
However…
While flirting with Mr. Hotpants may be out of the question, flirting with the idea of him is a gray area, right?
What is it about a man’s tight ass? With every step as I trudged through the snow back to the lodge, I couldn’t seem to get those thick thighs, and, let’s face it, the rest of the man out of my head. Just the thought of him sends heat to all the right places.
Alone in my room I’m struck with all kinds of naughty thoughts. Perhaps a quick shower is in order. It’s not that I want to impress the guy or anything, but I don’t want to repulse him either. All that walking in my furry boots worked up a bit of perspiration, so I’d say a shower is justified.
But first things first, I need to pick out an outfit. Dumping the contents of my tattered 1970s teal-blue secondhand suitcase onto the bed, there aren’t a lot of choices. But I do have a few things that could work, one in particular if I could muster the courage.
From the pile I pull out a pair of black, sheer, scrunch-butt yoga pants. Stretching the fabric between my fingers, I raise a brow. It’s borderline transparent.
The pants, along with a tiny thong, were a gift from Rhonda.
She ordered them for herself hoping they would stretch more, but they were way too small for all the junk in her trunk.
I only brought them because, well, I thought looking sexy for a change could be fun, especially if I was never going to see any of these people again.
I hold them up and turn them around.
Could I?
I find the thong panties and place them inside to see how much you can see through the sheer fabric.
Not as much as I thought, but you can clearly see it’s a micro thong.
How does Rhonda do it? I mean, she looks hot, but doesn’t she feel naked?
Apparently not, or if she does, she relishes the attention.
I turn the pants around again to examine the scrunch line that runs up the center of the butt and try to picture what they’d look like on me.
I’ll never see Riggs again. Should I? Something about it, the idea of turning a painfully gorgeous stranger on is doing something to me and I can feel the wetness between my legs.
I toss the pants and thong onto the bed. I think I’ll take that shower now.
With water that’s almost too hot running over my hair, across my shoulders and down my back, I wonder what Riggs looks like shirtless. There were three buttons at his neckline, all undone revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the sharp line that ran down the center of his well-defined chest.
I close my eyes and lean against the shower wall.
And those thighs. They’re like tree trunks. I run a finger up my slit and let out a soft moan.
What if I didn’t wear underwear with the yoga pants?
Two fingers slide down, then up again, and it feels so fucking good.
What if I made him hard?
I make small circular motions around my aroused clit and hunch over, stifling a groan.
What if I made up an excuse to bend over giving him the tiniest glimpse of my pussy through my tightly stretched yoga pants just to make his cock throb?
I apply pressure, rubbing my clit harder, faster, and a wave of pure ecstasy shivers down my spine.
Bent over in front of him with my ass right there, my pussy so close it drives him crazy and he can’t take it anymore. I imagine his rugged hands taking hold of my waist and he pulls my ass into his bulge and begins to rub against me.
With a rhythmic flow, my fingers slide up and down my slit, pausing with each stroke to give my clit the extra attention it deserves, sending warm tingling sensations over my skin.
He rips my pants open exposing all of me, my bare pussy wet and ripe for the taking.
He undoes his belt and pulls his zipper down with such haste I know he’s eager for me.
“I’m going to wreck this pussy so no man will ever be good enough for you again,” he growls as he pulls his throbbing cock out.
It’s so big I don’t know if it will fit, but I want to find out.
I arch my back, aching for him to slide it in.
My fingers stop at my clit. With vibrating motions, I massage it faster, harder. I’m close and double over.
He slams his cock into my pussy sending a rush of heat through me so intense, I release a sound from my chest that could break glass. Fuuuuuuuck!
I shudder with an explosion of euphoric pleasure that causes my whole body to quake and I clench my pussy down on his imaginary cock. Every part of me relishes the soothing feeling of hot water washing over my still quivering body as I try to catch my breath.
After a moment, I relax and open my eyes. Yeah, definitely a gray area. And it’s not like he’ll ever know he just fucked me.
As pull away from the shower wall and stand up straight, I realize I’m left wanting.
This was supposed to take the edge off, but if anything, it’s only made things worse.
Yoga pants without panties sound like a good idea all of a sudden.
And why not? There’s nothing wrong with being a little sexy with a total stranger.
It’s not like I’ll have to deal with him after today.
I step out of the flow of water long enough to pour some shampoo in my palm and apply it to my hair.
After lathering up and scrubbing my scalp, I lean back to wash the suds out.
As the soapy water runs down my back and into the drain, it takes my courage with it.
Rhonda would disapprove, but I’m just not like her, so my regular panties it is.
The yoga pants alone are a big deal for me. Baby steps, right?
I wrap a towel around my wet hair and slip on the terrycloth bath robe before heading back to my bedroom to get dressed. It’s like my skin is glowing, I feel so good. A good orgasm will do that.
Back home I’m either too tired or too stressed for this sort of thing so it almost never happens.
Even when I was with Jake, at least for the past couple of years, I’ve had to fake it.
How long has it been? Long enough I can’t remember the last time.
That’s just sad, or maybe pathetic is the right adjective.
Whatever word you use, I deserve better, don’t I?
Suddenly I’m aware of how long I’m taking.
Riggs is probably wondering where I am. There’s a top I like, a white, long-sleeve light sweater that hugs my figure and will match my boots.
I get dressed swapping the thong for regular panties then wrestle the yoga pants on.
They’re tighter than they looked. Then I spend way too much time on my hair and makeup.
When I’m done, I take a hard look in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall.
Turning side to side, the pants are a tease for sure, but not as bad as I imagined.
I think I look cute, but will he even notice?
From the way he ignored me when I walked away, I wonder.
But does it really matter? After today I don’t want to ever see him again.
I turn my back to the mirror and look over my shoulder.
The scrunch running up my ass has to get his attention.
I may not want to see him after this, but while I’m out there, I want him to notice me. Duh.
Satisfied that I can’t do any better, I head out.
I was kind of hoping to get a read on him as I walked up, maybe catch his eyes roaming over my skin-tight pants or something, but he doesn’t see me. He’s doing something with the biggest, manliest knife I think I’ve ever seen.
“Wow, it’s so big,” I say playfully from over his shoulder.
Shit! What did I just do? There’s blood everywhere!
* * *
While working on his cut, I can smell every inch of him.
It’s oak and ash and musk, all man-scent rugged and raw.
With every breath I pull in through my nose I want to go back and take another shower, only this time, despite my vow to swear off all men, I want him to come with me.
I want him to do all kinds of things to me.
But I shouldn’t… right?
As I apply superglue to his wound and pinch the deep cut shut one millimeter at a time, our close proximity isn’t lost on me.
But for a moment, I’m distracted by the large scars on his forearm.
At first, I think they were from a car accident, but the more I examine them, it’s apparent that some kind of animal was the cause. Everything about him is so interesting.
As he tells me about his encounter with a bear, like it wasn’t this extraordinary thing that any other guy would be bragging about, I’m drawn to him in a way I didn’t expect.
It’s like he’s not full of himself, but just a regular guy despite being famous enough that Glen, Randy, and Damon lost it when they met him.
It seems like there’s a depth to him that’s hidden beneath that rugged exterior, and I can’t help wanting to know more about who this man is.
Back on task tending to his wound, I can feel his warm breath in my hair, and it’s really doing something for me. A lot of girls wouldn’t be opposed to a vacation fling. Even if it were for only one night, with this guy, it would be so worth it. I mean, just look at the man.
I’m almost done and bite my lip, reminding myself that’s my vagina talking.
Fortunately, my brain knows better. I’m not like other girls.
If I slept with him, I’d want more. I’d want him to have feelings for me, because by the time morning came, I know I’d have feelings for him.
It’s just the way I’m built. I couldn’t do a one-night stand and not want the guy to call me the next day asking when he could see me again.
The bleeding has stopped, and I remove my bloody gloves turning them inside out as I take them off. Now for the bandaging. There’s a roll of gauze and some medical tape in the first-aid kit. I retrieve both and go to work.
As I wrap his hand, I wonder what Rhonda is up to, or more accurately, I wonder if she’s still dressed.
How does she do it? We’re so different when it comes to men.
She has no qualms with the occasional hookup, as long as she knows that’s what it is.
But even she wants something permanent. I did too when I was with Jake.
When we were together, all I could think about was getting married and having babies.
But looking back, I can see that was never going to happen.
Just thinking about it makes me mad. I wasted a good part of my life on him, years I’ll never get back.
It was so stupid, so why on earth would I ever let something like that happen again?
The man in front of me may be a real panty-soaker, but even a guy this hot isn’t worth taking a chance on.
Having my heart ripped out of my chest once was enough, thank you.
Done applying a final piece of tape to hold the wrap in place, I’m still holding his hand as my gaze floats up.
Our eyes meet and we just sit here, our bodies, our lips so close it could be mistaken for a moment, the kind I should be avoiding at all costs.
And that’s what I do, avoid it by springing to my feet.
Shaking it off, whatever it was, out of the corner of my eye I notice something.
I was so distracted by his cut I totally didn’t see how much he got done while I was gone.
There’s a gigantic dome covered in snow with an opening in the front.
He made a snow house? Even from here I can tell it’s not really a snow cave like an igloo.
This structure has a wood frame and it’s huge.
I sidestep around my log chair turning my back to him and secretly hope he notices how the scrunchy fabric of my yoga pants rides up my ass as I walk over to see what’s inside.
Standing at the doorway I’m surprised at how tall and deep it is.
“I can’t believe you made this already. I wasn’t gone that long. ”
Riggs comes to his feet, and he looks so damn good. “You were gone a while.”
A while? A vivid recollection of what I was doing in the shower starts playing in my head.
Traitorous brain! Heat fills my cheeks at the memory, and I quickly turn away hoping he doesn’t notice.
If he had the smallest inkling of what kept me from returning sooner, I’d want to die right where I stand.