Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
“I also had these.” He points to cookies as large as a saucer. “One of my hobbies. I always loved cookies, my mother was an expert baker. The year before they moved away, I made her teach me how to bake so my cookie addiction wouldn’t go unsatisfied. These are chocolate chunk, with pretzels and salted caramel. People in town seem to like them.” He grunts the words as if uncertain I will like what he has to say.
“Wow.” My eyes widen at the contrast, this beast of a man towering over me, with the baking skills of a grandma. “You’re full of surprises.”
He pinches his nose on a sniff as the wind picks up, making me shiver as it howls outside and blows through the house.
I bring the cup of rich, decadent liquid to my lips and take a sip, unable to stifle the sigh it evokes. As he watches and I make satisfied sounds, I think I see a little flicker of pride in his eyes.
“I’ll make a fire. Try the cookie. I quite enjoy seeing you put things I’ve made into your mouth.”
My pulse hums at the comment, and I wonder if he’s playing with me or if maybe the desire that’s swelling inside of me is also resonating with him.
It is a relief when he moves to start the fire, not looking my way, so I can ogle him like a misogynistic construction worker. He loads the hearth with logs, there’s the sound of crumbling paper, and within a couple minutes is the fireplace is blazing.
It is glorious to simply watch him work and move. I’ve never been so enraptured just watching someone. Every move is sexy, and the pulse beat between my legs simply doesn’t end.
With the fire throwing heat, he moves to close a few of the windows, calming the chilling breeze in the air.
With each bite of the cookie I let out another little moan.
“You made this? If orgasms had a flavor, this would be it, because my mouth is having multiples...”
He turns, the darkness in the centers of his eyes now flaming, and to my surprise, instead of smiling or making some light comment, his hands turn to fists.
“You should try to rest.” He grunts as he lumbers out of the room and down a hallway, leaving me biting my lip and wishing I had a better filter sometimes.
I finish my cookie in silence, wishing Mathias would come back. Listening to the fire crackle and the wind howl, I wonder how I let some stranger throw me over his shoulder, march me back to his cabin in the woods, and make me hot chocolate while I fantasize about the bulge that seems ever present under the fabric of his jeans.
I shouldn’t want him. I should be planning my getaway. My ankle is barely a twinge at this point. I could run. He’s disappeared down a hallway...I should make a break for the door.
But instead I sit here. Firmly planted on his pillows, eating this orgasmic cookie.
Because, where would I go?
He could do whatever he wanted with me. I’d have no chance at fighting him off. But somehow, deep down, I know if I stay here, he will keep me protected, shielded from the threats of the forest and possibly, even the things—the person really—I’m running from.
The longer he’s gone, the more tension inside me grows. Maybe my grip on reality is cracking. Being out in the woods alone...but I’ve never wanted anyone before.
I imagine what it would feel like to kiss him. To feel those enormous, rough hands on my flesh. His mouth on my sex. The cock that would probably split me in half pressing upward, making me his...
As I sit alone, my fantasy turns to dreams as I let my heavy lids close, my head on the soft pillows as the fire warms the room. All of it such a luxury from my days of camping.
I don’t know how long I’m out, but when my eyes flicker open, it’s completely dark outside. The fire casts small flicks of orange around the black coals of logs, and there’s a soft light from a lamp in the corner.
I orient myself, remembering how I got here, when I hear breathing behind me. His scent makes my head spin, and suddenly I feel drunk again.
Craning my neck, I see him standing there in the low light, looking like he’s ready to tear a tree from the ground by the roots, and with his size, I’m sure it would be possible.
I turn on the sofa, pushing off onto my feet as his eyes narrow. His gaze feels heavy, like he’s planning something. There’s a dark light behind his eyes that makes me shiver as his deep voice rumbles through me.
“You shouldn’t stand on your ankle.”
“It’s fine.”