Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
There are cream-colored couches facing each other in the center of the room, a real polar-bear rug on the floor between them—we killed that thing long before anyone cared how many were left in the wild—and trophies covering the walls.
I would not call Paul and I hunters, per se. I mean, I guess the term fits under the right circumstances. But we do have a lot of trophy heads on the fuckin’ walls in here. Mostly moose and big-horn sheep, but there are buffalo and elk too. And, maybe for the first time ever, it kinda disturbs me. Because it sends a message I’m not sure I want to broadcast and it reminds me of a time when things were not so good.
Syrsee and I step inside and I close the door, sealing us in with the warmth. All the cabins are heated, all winter long, even if no one is staying in them. In Montana, there is no such thing as turning off the heat without lots of plumbing consequences. So it’s not bad in here. Not get-naked warm—if you’re a human, that is—but plenty good enough to take your coat off. So that’s what I do to keep the nervous tension from coming back. I hang it on the coatrack made of antlers near the door, then wait for Syrsee to make up her mind about what’s she’s gonna do now.
I think she’s really stuck on those animal heads on the wall. It really does send the wrong message. But I’ve never brought a woman here before. And even if I did, I wouldn’t care what they thought about our trophies.
But I do now.
“I’m not really a hunter.”
Syrsee kinda shakes her head a little, still looking around, as she unzips her jacket and slips it down her arms. At least she’s staying. I help her with the jacket and hang it up next to mine.
Then she sucks in a breath and turns to look at me. “OK.”
“OK?”
She nods. “I’m OK.”
I smile. “We really don’t have to stay—”
“No. I’m just… processing, ya know?”
“I get it. We’ve spent the last couple days together like we’re an old married couple or something. And we’re not. We’re complete strangers.”
“Yeah.” She lets this word out with a sigh. Like she’s relieved that I was the one to say it first. “But I like you. I want that to go on record.”
“It is noted.”
She relaxes. “So. Now what? Do we fuck first and just get it over with?”
“Get it over with?”
“Yeah. You know. The preliminary fuck.”
There is no way to stop my laugh. “The ice-breaker fuck?”
She points at me. “That.”
I grab her hips and pull her towards me, grinning down at her like a fucking boy. “Would you like to start there?”
She looks up at me with mischievous eyes. “Why not?”
“I’m kinda looking for a ‘yes’ here.”
“OK. Then… yes.”
Before she’s even done talking, I’m cupping her face in my hands, my mouth already touching hers as the last of her yes flows past her lips. Our heads tilt in opposite directions, allowing our kiss to become something much more. I want to consume her. Bad choice of words, but not exactly untrue either way.
“You’re so hot.”
“Thanks.”
“No.” She laughs into my mouth. “I mean, yes.” Her eyes are sparkling with fun when she pulls back enough to look up at me. “You are very handsome. But, I mean, you’re hot too. Like you have a fever. Are you feeling OK?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine. I’m just… hot. What can I say?” I wink at her, trying to pull off the little joke. But she’s got a look of concern on her face. “What?”
“If you’re sick—”
“I’m not sick, Syrsee. I promise. I’m fine.” I’m still holding her face in my hands, my mind still very much on the sex that was inevitable just a second ago. I don’t wait for her to agree with me or make another objection. Instead I take my mouth to her neck.
Probably a bad idea because that familiar feeling of blood lust is suddenly all I can think about. Her neck is warm and soft. And when I open my mouth, I’m only half sure I won’t actually bite her.
I don’t bite her. But only because she gasps and I come to my senses. Instead, I kiss her, dragging my lips up to her earlobe. That I do bite, but she’s ticklish, so this makes her shrug up her shoulder and hiss out a little laugh.
We could banter here. Have some wordy fun. She’s good at it and her teasing makes me inexplicably happy. But all I really want to do is rip her clothes off and lick her all over. Taste her. Take her. And then do it all again.
While I was thinking this, I have removed her shirt and I’m now walking her backwards to one of the couches as I pop the button on her jeans.