4. Marie
MARIE
He finishes wrapping the bandage around my wrist, and I pull my sleeve back down again as he packs away the first aid kit.
“Thanks,” I murmur, and he zips up the bag, returning it to the spot it came from in the kitchen. I track him with my gaze, my heart thudding in my chest, trying to work out what is going on in his head.
After everything that happened with Ryan, I have become adept at trying to figure out what is going on inside someone’s head, more for my own safety than anything else.
Fearful I might set him off, I had to track every shift, every tension, every look, in the hopes that I would be able to hold him back from another blow-up.
But Gavin? He seems unbothered, almost. Like none of this is getting to him. And, as he looks back at me, he cocks his head.
“What is it?”
I shake my head.
“Nothing,” I murmur. “Just, thank you for letting me get that off my chest.”
“Anytime,” he replies, and he nods to the glass in my hand. “You want another drink?”
I nod, holding it out to him, and watch as he tops it up for me. I just can’t wrap my head around it.
When I was growing up, Ryan was exactly the kind of man that I had been pushed towards by everyone I knew.
Well-bred, intelligent, wealthy, and a man like Gavin, he was anything but.
An ex-con, living out in the woods alone, nobody around him, nothing.
And yet, the way he is acting right now, I get the feeling that he is the kind of guy I should have been looking for from the start.
I slip from the seat on to the rug in front of the fire, and he joins me, handing me a glass of whiskey.
It might be the liquor, or it might be his presence, but something is fizzing deep down inside of me, something lighting up and responding to him in ways I did not even know I could.
I shift slightly, letting my arm brush up against his through the sweater.
“Can I ask you something else?” I wonder aloud, staring into the crackling fire before us. He makes a noise of agreement, and I inhale deeply before I go on.
“Is it… is it just you out here?”
He glances over at me, seemingly surprised.
“Well, have you seen anyone else?” he remarks, gesturing around. I smile slightly.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” I confess. “I was just wondering if you might get any visitors here?”
“What kind?”
“The female kind,” I admit. No point beating around the bush, and the whiskey has got me feeling all kinds of confident that I know I probably shouldn’t.
But being cared for like this, looked after, the graze of his strong hands as he tended to the bruise on my wrist, I can’t just ignore the way that makes me feel, can I?
He shakes his head, not breaking my gaze.
“Why?”
His question is as blunt as mine, but it catches me off-guard.
“Oh,” I blurt out. “I just didn’t want to get in the way of anything, that’s all.”
He grins slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
“You worried you were going to make someone jealous?”
“Well, I don’t know if I’d be pleased if my boyfriend was drinking whiskey late into the night with a woman he’d only just met,” I tease in return, feeling my cheeks start to flush.
I could tell myself it’s just the fireplace, but I know it’s not.
He puts his glass down beside me, and reaches over, brushing my hair back from my face.
“Oh, yeah?” he replies, fingers tracing a line down my skin that leaves a burning trail in their path.
“Mhm,” I breathe. I can hardly speak, the words catching in my throat as I try to force them out.
God, I want him. I want him more than I have wanted anyone in a long, long time. I tilt my head into his hand, and his thumb caresses just beside my lip. My mouth opens, almost of its own accord, and I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, willing him to do it, to make the move, to?—
And then, at last, he does. He moves towards me, pulling me into his arms, his mouth finding mine like it is all he has been searching for since the second I arrived in this place.
I reach for him, grasping his arms, the rough fabric of his sweater beneath my fingertips, and part my lips, hungering for him and the taste of his whiskey-slick tongue.
He pushes me back onto the rug beneath us, the glasses forgotten as they tip and spill on either side of us, and moves on top of me.
His breath is rough against my mouth, hands moving beneath my sweater; his fingers are callused but careful, sliding over my breasts with a gentleness that catches me off-guard.
But it’s not enough. Our legs tangle, and I lift my hips to meet him, drawing back from him just long enough that I can look into his eyes.
“Fuck me,” I breathe, the words sounding almost foreign coming from my mouth.
And then, it hits me. It’s not the words.
It’s the passion. The sureness. The willingness to ask for what I want without fear.
And, as he kisses me again, sliding his hands down to my jeans and unbuttoning them, I let it sweep through me.
He undresses me there in front of the fire, the flames intense enough that I feel none of the wind chill outside on my skin.
And, when he takes my hips and pulls them up towards him, his gaze sweeping over my body, it’s as if I'm being seen for the first time.
Not by someone looking to score points or prove them or something else, by someone who has shown me care and affection and kindness without expecting a damn thing in return.
He slides one hand between my thighs, cupping his palm between my legs, letting his fingers part my slick folds and watching the way my lashes flutter in response with another smile on his face.
He pushes his fingers inside of me, stroking me from the inside out as he strips off his sweater and kicks down his jeans enough that his cock springs free.
He is already glistening with pre-cum, clearly as hungry for this as I'm, and it strikes me that he has been waiting for a long, long time for this, before he even met me, all alone up here, no women, no nothing.
And he seems as keen to get to the main event as I'm, drawing his fingers from within me and positioning himself between my legs, he wraps my legs around himself, our bodies so close they are all but interlocked, and then guides himself to my slit as he plants his hands either side of me.
I reach up to clutch his face, kissing him again, and this time, as his tongue enters me, so does his cock, and I whimper against his lips as I finally feel that fullness flood through me completely.
He wraps his arms around me, face pressed into the crook of my neck, and holds himself still within me, like he is savoring the sensation.
For a moment, the only sound is that of the fireplace crackling beside us, the distant wind through the trees, and his heartbeat thudding through his chest. I press my ankles into his back, needing him deeper, needing all of him, needing as much as I can get.
And he does not make me wait any longer to taste it.
He begins to move inside of me, driving himself deep into me over and over again like he is determined to fill every inch of me with his cock, to push out every bad memory, every painful thing that has brought me here, and leave me with nothing but the pleasure.
I slip my hands into his hair and draw his head to mine as I kiss him again, tongues meeting as he fucks me, and I can feel the vibration of his groans as he bucks himself deep into me, right there in front of the fireplace.
It feels almost animalistic, out of control, to connect with someone on this level, but I can already tell I'm going to be addicted to it.
My hips rise to meet his with every thrust, and soon, I find myself getting closer and closer to my release.
It’s more than just an orgasm, though, this feels like something greater than that, like proof that I'm not tied to Ryan and all he did to me, that I can chase my own pleasure, that I can find connection that has nothing to do with him.
His teeth catch on my lip but the pain feels like pleasure as he presses his hips close to mine, hands in my hair, bodies flush like he cannot get enough.
And then, I feel it. He comes first, the warmth of his seed marking me like he is claiming something as his territory.
He grunts against me, a low, hungry sound that blends with that of the fire, and it’s that which takes me over the edge.
How he lets me hear how much he wants me, doesn’t hold back, doesn’t deny it.
Doesn’t seem able to, even if he wanted to.
I cry out as my body spasms against his, my pussy clenching around his cock as I shudder beneath him.
My thighs squeeze on either side of him, holding him close, close, closer, needing to stay in this moment a while longer.
It has been so long since I have felt such complete pleasure, unfettered by the weight of what came before or might after, and I want to sink into this moment for as long as I can, just let myself give in to it completely.
And, as he holds me there in front of the fire, making no move to pull back from me, I know that I stumbled into this cabin for a good goddamn reason.