15. Stig
Fifteen
Stig
T here’s this feeling I get when I’m kayaking down white water rapids. This sensation that grows inside as I twist and turn, flecks of sweat and river water clinging to my cheeks, trying to ride the deadly current rather than fight against it.
Focus.
Not the hard-won kind of focus needed to finish dull work for a deadline—not the kind that comes with chain-drunk black coffees and tugged hair. But a calm, centered focus, where the rest of the world fades away and there’s nothing left except the water churning beneath me; the paddle gripped in my hands; the steady rush of air through my lungs.
That’s what I’m feeling now. As I move over Jana, as I hold her down and fuck her writhing body, as I kiss away her gasps and whimpers and mewls—nothing else exists. No other thoughts are in my head. No sneaky To Do lists or flashes of conversation from earlier today; no wondering about the next video for my channel.
There’s only Jana.
Jana, and the sweat I lick off her throat.
Jana, and the vise-grip of her pussy.
Jana, and the toss of her head; the squeeze of her thighs; those wrecked little sounds she makes.
Those goddamn sounds. I’ll never be the same again.
“Mine,” I grit out between clenched teeth, hooking one arm beneath her knee and bending her leg up to get a better angle. When I hit the right spot inside her, she cries out with pleasure, honey-brown eyes shocked wide. “ Mine. You’re mine, Jana.”
She nods, too dazed, too worked up to speak, her fingernails clawing at my back and urging me on.
That’s okay. She doesn’t need to speak right now. I’m feeling chatty enough for the both of us, running my mouth as my hips pound into hers. The rhythm is a drumbeat in my hind brain.
“Ah, shit. You feel that, baby? You know how good you feel right now?”
Jana gives a whimper of agreement.
I palm her tit, then pinch that hard little nipple between finger and thumb.
Above our heads, the window has fogged over, blocking out the shadows and any late-night prying eyes. And it’s so easy to forget that we’re on a borrowed office floor on a messy pile of Jana’s clothes; so easy to ignore the bruises throbbing on my knees and the cold air seeping underneath the closed door. Because sure, this may not be the most glamorous location; sure, there are a few dust bunnies under Flint’s desk. Sure, I’ve traveled over all seven continents and seen great wonders of the world.
But right now, with Jana Kumara raking her nails down my chest, her hips bucking up to meet mine—there’s no place I’d rather be on this whole damn planet. Not one.
This is the thrill I’ve been searching for.
“That’s it.” I grin, knowing exactly how she’ll take my next words. The effect they’ll have on my future wife. I say them anyway because, you know, I’ve always been a sucker for an adrenaline sport. “Lie there and take it like a good girl, Jana.”
Her eyes flare—first with shock, then with challenge—and that’s the only warning I get. Then Jana surges up beneath me, topples me over with surprising strength, and scrambles on to my body like a queen claiming new territory. If she could, she’d plant a little flag right in the center of my chest. I’d let her.
“No, you lie there, Stig Hansen.” Jana is flushed and out of breath, her short hair sticking up in crazy tufts, and I’ve never loved her more than this moment. She sinks down onto my shaft without a moment’s hesitation, taking her due, and begins to ride. “If you want a fight, I’ll give you a fight.”
Yes.
She’s seen into my soul. That’s all I want: a lifetime of grappling with Jana, in bed and out. Pitting our wits against each other, competing to make the other laugh the hardest, to admit defeat, to come first.
Who needs mountain summits and white water rapids when Jana Kumara is here, staring at me with that defiant spark in her eyes?
“Ngh.”
Her hips roll, that tight body dragging along my cock, and the sparks crackling along my nerve endings steal my ability to speak. All I can do is grunt and squeeze her magnificent thighs, thrusting up into heaven, gritting my teeth as pleasure coils in my gut.
“Not so chatty now, huh?”
My girl smirks down at me as she rocks back and forth, a fine layer of sweat sheening her brown skin. And she’s so fucking beautiful, such a goddess, so funny and smart and bright, that I’ll be working my whole life to deserve the gift of her love.
That’s okay. I’m up for the challenge, and it starts right now.
Starts here on Flint’s office floor, in a muddled pile of Jana’s clothes, fucking each other into oblivion beneath a fogged up window.
Starts with my ring on her finger for real, no bets or arrangements.
Starts with whispered promises and snorts of laughter and a loud curse as I bump my head on the desk table leg.
Tomorrow, we’ll clean up in here and hike back up to our cabin, back to the life waiting for us. But tonight, I’ve got a fiance to work into a sweaty, whimpering puddle.
Heart pounding with exhilaration, I flip us over once again.
I’m going to work Jana Kumara until she begs for release.
* * *
Five years later
Shrill little screams float down the mountain path, and my mouth twitches into a small smile. I’ve only been gone for a few hours, hiking down to town to upload new content to my channel and pick up dinner supplies, but still, this final approach to the cabin always feels like a grand homecoming. Habit, I guess.
For so many years, I let the cabin stand empty. I locked up and took off, striding into the mountains for another great adventure—only to wash up again weeks or months later, dirty and bedraggled with a few new scars, plus hours of footage for my channel.
And it worked.
For so long, it worked. Was a good life, even.
But these days, even a few hours away from home feels like an age.
Voices drift on the spring breeze, and I pick up my pace, thighs burning from the climb. A heavy backpack sways on my back, laden with groceries and other supplies—because I need to keep fit somehow, damn it, and there are no new mountain summits on the horizon for me. Not for a long time; not until the kids are grown and Jana and I can both go together.
We go on our adventures as a pair—at home or away. That’s our rule. Wouldn’t want to sleep apart from my woman anyway.
“Play nicely, please!”
Jana’s voice rings out, cool and calm and laced with secret humor, and my grin grows in answer. Nearly home. Christ, I’ve missed her, and it’s only been a few hours. The kids, too. Bet she’s ready for a break, and I’m all too happy to give it to her.
Dried pine needles crunch beneath my boots, and I tap the cracked bark of a tree trunk as I follow the path. It swoops left and right, weaving between tree roots and shallow ditches, before spilling out into a glade.
Our glade. And there, in the gap between all the trees, is our cabin, doors and windows thrown wide to the fresh spring air.
Birds flutter overhead. A squirrel races up the nearest tree, fluffy tail bobbing, and Jana waves when she spots me from the deck. Our twins girls are playing together, taking it in turns to make the two-step leap down to the ground, but they turn and run for me when they see me too.
“Dad!”
“Daddy!”
Oof. Two small bodies hit my legs at the same time, clinging to my thighs, and I ruffle their hair but can’t stop grinning at their mom across the glade.
Jana leans against the deck railing, arms folded, a playful smile tugging on her lips. Promising all kinds of good trouble once she gets me alone.
And shit, bedtime for these munchkins can’t come fast enough. For the millionth time, I silently thank myself for expanding the cabin and building us all separate rooms.
Our girls are our greatest adventure yet.
But my wife and I have some wrestling to do.
* * *
Thanks for reading Out on a Limb! I hope you loved it. :)