Soft dove-gray walls. A four-poster bed with a white quilt embroidered with tiny green leaves. A window seat piled with throw pillows in every shade of forest green and cream. A smallfireplace—not lit, but stacked with logs and kindling. Then there’s the writing desk tucked under the window with a vintage typewriter that’s clearly just for show.
And Lightening, sitting patiently on the pillow, waiting for me.
I scoop him up and bury my face in his fur. “Hey, buddy. Sorry I left you here.”
I strip out of my wet clothes, pull on the softest pajama set I own, pale blue with little white foxes printed all over, and crawl under the covers. The sheets are crisp and smell like sunshine.
Rain taps against the window like gentle fingers.
Before I know it, I start to think about Kaleb.
The way his hand felt on my shoulder—big, warm, steady.
The way he didn’t try to charm me, didn’t flirt, didn’t push. Just offered help like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I think about how disappointed I was when he walked away.
Then my mind wanders to what might have happened had he joined me for dinner.
And maybe then if we’d hit it off.
And perhaps if he actually was a Daddy…
“Mmmph,” I moan, my hand roaming down inside my pajama bottoms and tracing over the pubic hair that leads towards my special place.
I let out a giggle and a gasp as I feel how hard I am, my body evidently more than ready to react to any thoughts of what Kaleb might look like minus his clothes. Or how his handswould feel on my body. How big and scary his cock would be if it was right in front of my face…
“OMG… I… so… quickly….” I squirm, my hips writhing and my cock feeling like it might just explode as my climax comes on harder and faster than I could possibly have imagined.
I reach over and grab Lightening and press him down against my face to muffle my moans of pleasure as I cum, and cum hard. The last thing I want to do is for my hosts to walk past my room and hear my orgasming on the first night!
But the truth of the matter is that Kaleb is all I can think about.
He might not have shown any interest in me this evening, but in my imagination, I can make him do whatever I like—and with that in mind, something tells me that I’ve got at least one more orgasm left in me before I go to sleep tonight…
Chapter 4
Kaleb
The rain’s still hammering down when I finally leave Woody Hollow.
Trask tried to talk me into one more round—something about “closing the place out”—but I’d had enough whisky and enough of his sideways glances every time he thought I wasn’t looking at the door like some lovesick teenager.
I told him I had an early start, clapped him on the shoulder, and headed out into the wet dark. That’s just the only way to do it sometimes. You’ve got to keep them wanting more.
Anyway…
Racer’s waiting on the porch when I pull the truck up to the cabin. He doesn’t bark—just stands there, tail sweeping slow arcs, ears perked like he’s been counting the minutes. I kill the engine, grab my keys, and step out into the downpour.
“Miss me, boy?” I mutter, scratching behind his ears as he leans into my leg hard enough to almost knock me sideways.
The cabin sits at the end of a long gravel track that cuts through Hardrock Park, maybe two miles from the main road. It’s notmuch from the outside… single-story cedar siding gone silver with age, wide front porch sagging just enough to feel lived-in, metal roof that sings when the rain hits it right. Two stone chimneys, one on each end. Windows with thick mullions that let in the forest light during the day and keep the world out at night.
It’s my place though, and that’s what counts.
I open the door and head inside. I kick off my boots in the mudroom, hang my soaked flannel on the peg, and step through into the main room. The air smells like pine resin and the faint ghost of last night’s woodsmoke.
Floorboards creak under my weight—wide-plank oak I laid myself fifteen years ago. Exposed beams overhead. A stone fireplace that takes up most of one wall, big enough to roast a deer if I ever felt like showing off.