In the Firelight (15 page)

Rhys frowned down at her. “Shea—”

“No, Rhys,” she turned slightly to face him. “Tonight was beautiful, but I’m a realist. I know this isn’t happily ever after. I don’t believe in fairy tales. Tomorrow, we just go back to… whatever. In a few days, you leave. It’s done. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Shea, sweetheart, there’s something more going on here.”

“But there’s not. There can’t be. You know that. You’re not staying here. You’re here to do your report, and then you’ll be gone.”

Rhys ducked his gaze. “But that’s—“

Shea’s fingers pressed against his lips, hushing his argument. “Rhys, all I want is right now. I want to sit here with you in the firelight. I want you to kiss me and to hold me.” She lowered her voice and whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”

Rhys stared at her with a hot, conflicted look, warring a battle within himself. He shook his head, “Shea—” he uttered with a pained voice.

Abruptly, Shea turned in his arms, rose up before him tossing her blanket to the floor. Her hands tangled in his hair as she stood, completely unashamed, as though the flickering light infused in her an awesome confidence.

“Fuck me, Rhys,” she whispered, and kissed him hard. Her arms wound around his neck and she melted into him.

Rhys groaned as his hands gripped her hips. Shea could feel him giving in, giving up. His lips began to press more firmly against hers as his tongue sought entrance into her mouth. Her fingernails scraped against the rough, short almost-beard of his jaw, and the shudder she felt run though him brought a deep aching desire to blossom in her depths.

Raising her head, she looked back down at him, still sitting on the hearth ledge before her. Shea slid her hand around into his hair and tugged his face closer to her bare breasts, feeling a thrill course through her as his warm breath began to tease the sensitive skin.

“Please, Rhys,” she whispered down to him. “I ache. I burn. Don’t talk. Please… just taste me.”

Rhys leaned forward a fraction of an inch to catch her nipple in his hot mouth. Shea’s head fell back, and the cry that leapt from her throat echoed throughout the expanse of the peaked roof above. The tugging of his lips, the nip of his teeth. Within seconds, she was writhing with the ferocious need to please him.

She took a step back, lowering to her knees on the floor before him. Her hands reached for the blanket that hid his throbbing hardness from her, and she gasped as she uncovered her prize. She licked her lips as she glanced up at him with a sensual smile. His stare rocked her soul, the need so clearly reflected in his eyes that pierced through the dark. Looking back down at his length, she lowered her head.

The first taste was strange, earthy, rich. Her own scent mingled with his, her own flavor still on him. Pressing her tongue flat against the base, she slowly licked up to the tip before pulling him inside her mouth. A taste of salty precum flooded her taste buds, and she moaned as she lowered her lips back down to the root.

“Oh fuck, Shea…” Rhys groaned. “Your mouth… Your hot little tongue. Oh fucking hell. That’s… Oh…”

Running her tongue along the underside of his cock, her lips nipped at the ridge of his head. She laved and caressed him, relishing in the smoothness of his skin and the hardness of his thick length. She pulled him deep, opening her mouth even wider to allow him to push farther in, and the touch of him in the back of her throat made her hot core compress tightly, aching to be stroked. Unable to wait for him and crazed with need, her own hand slipped down her stomach, slipping into her wet folds, gently rubbing firm circles around her swollen clit.

“Oh, yeah, sweetheart… play with your pussy,” Rhys whispered.

“Do you like that?” Shea whispered against the smooth skin of his hard cock. “Do you like when I touch myself there?”

“Jesus… fuck… fucking hot.”

Shea’s eyes fluttered open and she met his gaze, looking up at him as she continued to work her lips up and down his hard shaft, her fingers working her own sex into a rapidly building ferocity. His features grew harsh as he watched her bring herself towards a heady climax. As the pressure built inside her, she began to lick and blow against him, losing control. The tightness coiled within, and suddenly she erupted into shaking, shuddering convulsions.

Rhys instantly pushed her to the blanket that lay on the floor. Grasping her knees, he pulled them roughly, scooting her closer. A slight burn from the blanket as it rubbed against her skin, and then he was plunging inside her, stretching her, deeply penetrating her wet center. The orgasm that was ebbing away began to rebuild. Shea felt her muscles grasp his thick cock, luxuriating in the feel of him rubbing against her vaginal walls, pushing far into her swollen folds and bringing her explosive orgasm back to full force.

“Oh, you feel so good, sweetheart. So hot and wet. So tight.” Rhys reached for one of her ankles, pulling it up to his shoulder, and the new sensation caused her to squeeze down upon him. “Fuuuuuuuck, yeah… clamp down on me,” he breathed out with short labored gasps. “Shea… I can’t hold it…”

The tremors that wracked her body reached a violent level, and she felt a thick, hot wash of his cum shoot into her depths, sending her once again over the edge into an abyss of sensation. Sobbing and shaking and gasping. Her heart rate raced and eyes shut tightly as he collapsed on top of her, his own heart pounding and his breath rushing against her ear.

As the world came back into focus, Shea slowly became aware of the hard floor at her back and the weight of him above her. Attempting to draw a breath, her chest felt constricted. The struggle to take in air roused Rhys enough that he lifted up above her a little, putting his weight on his elbow.

Able to breathe deeply, Shea did just that, sucking the oxygen into her lungs as her head lolled on the floor. Every muscle in her body was spent. She felt completely boneless, soft and unable to move. Rhys shifted to his knees, lifting both her and the blanket into his arms, and stood to carry her back over to the couch. He tucked her along the back, then she watched as he turned, beautifully nude, to place another piece of wood on the fire, a thick log that would burn slowly throughout the remainder of the night.

Shea watched the shadows of the firelight as they danced across his corded muscles. His bronze skin glowing with a fine sheen of sweat. Stoking the fire slightly to ensure the new log would burn, he then placed the screen on the hearth, returning to lie beside her on the large couch. As he pulled her tightly into his arms, he breathed a heavy sigh. He kissed her forehead and nuzzled his face into her hair.

“Shea, we really should talk about this…” he said softly.

“No. It will just ruin it. Sleep… we really need to sleep,” she yawned heavily and closed her eyes as she curled into his embrace.

Chapter 11 ~ The Morning

Rhys awoke to a quiet room, with an occasional thwacking sound coming from outside. Lifting his head, his eyes focused on the fireplace hearth where he’d sat…

…last night…

…where Shea wrapped her lips around his cock and sucked him off.

Fuck. As hot as it was last night, he knew this was bad.

He could still feel her nails cutting into the skin of his back. He could taste her soft, sweet skin. He could hear her breathy cries.

And, just like that, he was hard as a fucking rock. Again.

And he was a guilty prick. A guilty prick with a job to do. As much as he hated to do it.

Rhys exhaled forcefully, throwing his head back on the couch pillows. His hand brushed up against his stiff arousal, and his eyes drifted closed, wanting to go back to last night with her softness cradling him so deep inside. His fingers grasped his length firmly. He ached to bury himself in her again. She was addictive.

This shit shouldn’t bother him. He’d played this role a thousand times, it seemed. He’d never felt the angst until now. She just seemed so…
real.
So genuine. She gave and she didn’t want anything back from him.

Or did she?
The unwanted thought rattled through his consciousness. She knew he was here to do a study, and the study had the power to exploit her little town. To ruin everything she loved about it. And, for someone who didn’t want anything to last, she sure did go all out the night before. She hadn’t been very hesitant at all. She’d been fearless and wild.

Fuck me, Rhys…

Taste me…

Maybe she was playing him, too.

Rhys sat up, tucking the blanket around his waist, then reached for his pants where they lay by the couch. As he pulled his clothes back on, he glanced around the small cabin. In the space between the living area and kitchen was a computer desk. Papers were strewn across it, and her laptop sat open.

He could hear the repetitive thwacking sound continuing outside, occasionally a muffled crack, the sound of someone chopping wood, his sleep-clouded brain began to realize. Just to be sure she wasn’t in the house, he called out.

“Shea?”

Nothing, and he said it a little louder.

“Shea?”

Still nothing. Rhys crossed over to the desk, feeling as though he was slinking. He brushed aside the guilt, forcing frustration in its place. Her own refusal to discuss any meaning to this, what had happened last night, fueled his grating resolve as he sifted through the papers on the desk. A few bills, nothing really significant.

His hand touched the mouse, and the computer screen lit up displaying her email. Rhys felt a thrill run through him at the sight of a few emails with the subject line of ‘land dispute.’ He clicked one open, scrolling through the long chain. Emails back and forth between Shea and a man by the name of Dennis Frankforter… Attorney at Law in the nearby town of Polson. Emails about a dispute on the title of her land. Rhys read on as the whole scenario played out.

It seemed that there was fella who, through a glitch in paperwork, was maybe the actual owner of the land her grandfather had built the cabin on so long ago. This man hadn’t really left much of a will when he passed on, more of just some sort of informal document that essentially left everything to his adult son, Buddy. But Buddy had recently discovered that he had a legitimate claim if he chose to pursue it.

Buddy wasn’t really in favor of the resort. However, he could come away with a pretty penny on it if he were able to prove his claim. At the very least, if the courts went his way, she would likely end up having to pay rent. The lawyer was reassuring Shea that Buddy was a good guy, though, and had given a verbal agreement to not sell out to McHugh. And he would ensure that any lease Shea might have to pay would be fair. Rhys could see in the emails that Shea was obviously stressed about the possibility of the added expense, but she seemed to think it was doable with some sacrifice.

But the verbal agreement not to sell?

It was a simple agreement. No signed papers. Nothing to
really
bind this tentative handshake. With a little pressure and the right incentive, this could be their opening.

The
motherfucking jackpot
that McHugh needed.

Rhys paused for a moment, a nagging sense of dread in the back of his mind, in the depths of his gut. He shouldn’t do this. And then, a snippet of last night filtered back into his memory. Sitting by the fire…

Shea, sweetheart, there’s something more going on here…

Hearing the determination in her response.

There’s not…

There can’t be…

With a grimace and a sick feeling in his gut, Rhys quickly forwarded the email to himself.

Then, feeling like a complete and utter asshole, he slipped on his boots, shrugged on his coat, and walked out into the crisp mountain morning. He could see Shea in the woodshed, splitting firewood, a large pile of split timber growing larger. For a short moment, he just watched her.

She was so small, but so very strong as she raised the ax, bringing it down with an increasing speed onto the logs below her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and sweaty tendrils cascaded down her neck, highlighting the delicate curve. For a good four or five swings of the ax, he was mesmerized. Awed by the power in her swing, the pull of the firm muscles beneath her thermal shirt. His fingertips tingled as though they could feel the tight little body beneath him even now.

She had such soft curves around her hips, and her breasts were…
fucking delicious
. And her waist and arms were well-toned, likely due to this form of daily exercise.

If this is what lumberjack women were like, Rhys was pissed at himself for not getting with one sooner.

Finally, Shea sunk the ax into the chopping block and reached an arm up to wipe the perspiration from her brow. At that moment, she saw him standing at the bottom of the porch steps. Her flushed cheeks, both from the exertion and the chill in the air, glowed bright, and the hazel color of her eyes was highlighted by the thicket of pines behind her. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, pink and soft. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she worked to catch her breath.