Marin
It’s still pitch-dark when the noises finally stop but, still, I wait.
And wait.
How long, I can’t be sure. I have no civilized way to measure time here.
But, from my place among the blankets I crane my neck to peek out the glass window above the makeshift kitchen sink.
It’s not even close to dawn. Silver moonlight is muted behind gray clouds with no sign of an impending sunrise as I swallow around the lump in my throat.
Scandalous.
A smile crests my lips as I thumb through the pages. I’ve never seen porn of any kind. Stacey has tried to force her phone in my face on occasion trying to broaden my horizons, but the fear inside me kept whispering that, somehow, my grandfather would know.
And there would be hell to pay.
But up here, in this mountain shack, I give myself permission to be normal.
Curious.
The women on the faded pages have wild hair and bold make up.
Their bodies are soft and beautiful. As I turn the page, I bite back a giggle at the image of a middle aged man with a thick mustache and what looks like a bearskin rug on his chest kneeling on a circular tiger skin bed with two naked women.
His hands cup each of their breasts as his mouth hangs open looking down at their spread legs, showing off rather generous rugs of their own.
I dare to bring the page closer so I can inspect the part of him standing up from between his legs.
I’ve never seen one before. Never. I take a moment and inspect the detail as best I can in the dim light. It’s a strange looking thing with a plump helmet at the top and smooth but veiny skin on the length and more of that bushy black hair around the base.
I’ve just seen my first penis. Take that Grandpa.
Then, I do a quick calculation and wonder if this man is still alive. He would be maybe my Grandpa’s age? Oh my God, am I looking at a dead man’s penis?
It’s the most salacious thing I’ve done in my life.
There’s a pitter patter between my legs as my skin prickles and I lick my lips.
I’m about as virgin as virgins come. I’ve never even touched myself in that way.
I know girls at school talk about toys and shaving down there but God no. Sin upon sin. I would never.
I’m as natural as the women on the page.
I shake my head. There’ll be plenty of time for carnal entertainment here alone for the next month, or two…but right now, I need to survive so I put aside the salacious entertainment and come out from my cocoon of blankets.
The red stilettos are a sharp juxtaposition to the rough wood floor as I stand, walk around in a small circle stretch, and ponder my fate. It’s a blank canvas here. Like I could be. I don’t have to be the daughter of a jezebel anymore. The spawn of sin. The granddaughter of a madman.
A rich madman, but a madman, nonetheless.
I can be Mountain Marin. Survivor. Girl-boss. A phoenix rising from the ashes. When my Grandfather comes back in the spring, I’ll be wild haired with torn clothes and animal skins hanging from the walls.
I cup my hands over my nose and mouth as the warmth of my breath renews me.
Courage is found in unlikely places, right?
If I survive this, I can do anything. I don’t need money or my last name here. I know how to make a bow and an arrow from a stick. Make a rabbit snare from a rope. Maybe there’s a rifle hidden under the bed…
With my flashlight in hand, my courage renewed, I force myself to creep outside not bothering to exchange my heels for the rubber boots which wasn’t well thought out. There are wolf tracks everywhere, everywhere, like there was a dozen, two dozen, maybe more.
Suddenly, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and freeze. I scan the forest pointing my flashlight at the tree line looking for ears, for fur, for incisors big enough to shred me like jerky.
I slide my eyes past the tree trunks, past the autumn leaves. And then I see it.
Not a wolf. But a man.
A big, big man. In denim and flannel, with a gun. And the look in his eyes. Oh my… he is pissed.
Uh oh.
I swallow the lump in my throat. The beam from the flashlight shakes as my hand trembles. I can’t take my eyes away from him. His gaze is filled with danger. He looks more predatory and dangerous than any wolf could ever be.
He narrows his eyes at me then shoulders his rifle. Burly muscles tighten the plaid fabric around his biceps and stretch the white t-shirt underneath across his chest. With a few long strides, he’s right in front of my frozen body. Towering above me. Muscles and power and strength.
As big as the biggest grizzly bear ever recorded but with a much sexier scent.
“What the fuck are you doing up here?”
His voice is like thunder. Shaking me to my core.
“I…” I stammer. It’s not just that the situation is hard to explain.
It’s that looking up at him, I’d have trouble explaining anything.
He’d have to duck to fit through any doorway with shoulders so wide, they could carry a felled oak.
His dark hair is unkempt, falling over his forehead with late night mist glistening in the strands like tiny diamonds.
His eyes are the wildest hazel I’ve ever seen, reminding me of this forest and the moon.
He’s maybe mid-twenties, but the hardness in his eyes makes him look much older.
“You gonna answer me?”
I swallow hard. “I’m…”
I’ve lost my chance to explain—his eyes say so. “Nah, fuck that. I’ve got a better question,” he continues.
His chest presses against me. His hips. His…
Dang, that thing is huge… Bigger than the one hairy-chested Buck Wild was sporting in that Penthouse spread.
He pulls me closer. No space between us. No distance. He yanks my jacket off my shoulder as I let out a little yelp. Underneath, I’m still wearing the skimpy little dress from yesterday.
I now regret the decision to not change my clothes. I guess, Mountain Marin likes tackling the rugged outdoors in a red satin slip dress and six-inch heels.
His rough fingers slide down over my bare arm, my back, under my breasts. Like he’s searching me as though anything I have could be a danger to a man like him.
The air between us buzzes and zaps. Pulsing with energy, with wanting. As he touches me, everything in my body says please while my brain says run.
“The better question, little girl in red, is are you here alone?” His hazel eyes dart toward the cabin, then back to me, cocking his head to the side while I stand mute. He raises a brow on a sniff, biting into his bottom lip. “You have a speech impediment?”
I shake my head, mouth falling open as the words bank in my throat. His face is as rugged as the mountain itself with a dark short beard covering the square angles of his jaw and cheeks. His harsh jutting forehead makes him look like he’s from another time, lost here in the mountains like me.
“No, you don’t have a speech problem, or no, no one is here with you?”
I shake my head again, unable to form words because all my tongue wants to do is lick down the valleys of his chest and around those indents of his abs. I stutter something unintelligible but the growl that follows my stammering does nothing to help.
“No boyfriend? Father… Husband?” He chokes on that last word like he’s just swallowed something vile.
“N-n-no.” I manage. His body heat and manly scent are making my head spin. The mist has stopped but a frozen gust of wind tangles in my hair and blows up the slit of my dress. “Who are you?” I whisper, steam from my breath kissing the frosty air between us.
“Never you fuckin’ mind, little girl.” He growls. “What the fuck are you doing up here, on my mountain? Alone? Dressed like this? You got a date with a bear?”
The steam rises on each of his exhalations. And mine too. And our breath mingles between us for one second, two. Heat and want. I lean into him, inhaling his scent again, needing more. It’s fresh pine and sweat and a hint of coffee on his breath. It’s a concoction that shouldn’t work but on him?
I’m swimming in all the wrongness of what’s happening down low in the heavenly haven between my legs but I’m powerless to stop it.
As dizziness wobbles my knees, I dig my fingers into the fabric covering the back of his arms and as I do, something changes.
His hand stalls on my waist. His rough fingers start a fire that burns me from the inside out. The look in his eyes changes from angry to…hungry?
The man from the magazine had that same look. Like he’s coming off a seven-day purity fast and I’m the closest fast-food drive through.
The way his body stiffens makes me shudder. The way his pupils dilate and a growl tumbles from his chest is terrifying.
But, it’s the way he tugs me closer and I feel something dangerous pressing into my hip that makes me wonder if the wolves and the bears are really the worst this wild mountain can muster.
“I—if this is your place,” Mountain Marin barks at the behemoth standing in front of me, my survival instincts clearly taking a nap. “Show me some proof this land belongs to you.”
His chuckle draws terror from the most primal fight or flight recesses in my DNA.
“Looks like I’m going to have to teach that mouth some manners.
” He grunts on a sniff and reaches down to take a handful of whatever manliness he has between his legs, adjusting himself with a cock of his hip without shame.
“Those lips must be good at something other than backtalk. I can’t wait to find out… ”
The red sparks in his shimmering eyes ignite something feral inside me.
Fight or flight. Time slows. The usual noisy voices in my head go silent. The world seems to pause, breath held, waiting for what’s next.
And then, as if someone’s fired a starting pistol, I... run.