Misadventures of a City Girl Page 3

  Not as gently, he pins my body to the door with his, and then his mouth lands on mine. I open immediately, because something about being in his presence is making me feel and do things that have nothing to do with careful reasoning. And deep down, I want him so fucking badly I can’t make sense of it.

  For all his brawn, the man’s kiss is shockingly soft. I feel his strength in other places, like the hard grip that holds our bodies together and the firm press of his hips against mine. But his slow exploration of my mouth is gentle and passionate at once. His erection is pressing against me, flooding my mind with visions of what it could do, how good he’d feel.

  I tunnel my fingers into his hair, loosening it from its tie as we continue kissing each other like passion-starved lovers. It’s damp at the roots, rough against my fingertips, just like his unshaven jaw and the soft hairs that cover his broad chest. I find that I enjoy the sensation. The texture is like his scent—powerfully masculine, real, and raw. I want to lick him. Instead, I swirl my tongue feverishly against his. I trail my touch down his rock-hard body but slow my exploration at his hips.

  I gasp for air, breaking the passionate lock of our mouths. As reason tries to break through, he takes my hand and guides it to his cock. I grasp it, noting its heat and my inability to fully circle it. His fingers curl around mine and guide me in a stroking motion that mimics his earlier.

  “I want you too, beautiful,” he mutters, his breath soft against my swollen lips. “I wanted you last night when you were spread out on that rock. I wanted you all fucking morning, so badly that all I could do was close my eyes, stroke my cock, and pretend it was you doing it. But here you are.”

  All the air leaves my lungs. It’s useless. I’m a goner.

  He shifts his thigh to rest between my legs, and I part for him. I moan when he adds delicious pressure to my pussy. I’d gotten myself off last night, but I’m wound so tight right now I could scream. I’d scream this man’s name if I knew it.

  “What’s your name?” My voice is breathy, as foreign as this place and this beautiful stranger.

  “Luke Dawson.”

  “I’m Madison.”

  His lips curl up a fraction. “It’s a pleasure. Now that we’re introduced, tell me exactly what you want, Madison.”

  He asks the question with renewed pressure on my clit. I curse inwardly, because fuck… Fuck is all I want.

  “I want you inside me, Luke.”

  His smile retreats, and I swear the rings of blue around his irises darken. It could be the bad light in here. It could be the feral way he’s looking at me before he goes for the button on my jeans, never breaking eye contact. He tears the zipper open with both hands and shoves the denim to the middle of my thighs along with my underwear.

  Oh God, he’s going to fuck me.

  I’m terrified and more aroused than I’ve ever been in my life. I close my eyes and let my head fall back in surrender.

  My eyes fly open and a cry tears up my throat as he plunges two thick fingers inside me. He withdraws, dragging across my clit on his way out. Then he brings them to his mouth, dipping them in slowly, like he’s savoring the flavor of me. Everything inside me clenches. Luke Dawson is an animal, and so am I, because I’ve never experienced anything more erotic than his unabashed desire to taste me.

  I’m trembling as he draws his fingertips, wet from my arousal and his tongue, across my lips before taking me in another savage kiss, sealing us together again.

  With his other hand, he curls around my hand on his cock, reminding me how much I want his pleasure too. When I stroke him, up and down, he pushes his fingers deep into my drenched pussy again, and then retreats. In and out. In and out.

  We move that way, creating a rhythm: stroking, fucking, breathing, pulsing, needing. Everything moves in sync and the world outside the cabin disappears. His touch is heaven and I’m immediately wild for more of it. The rhythm breaks up as we race to finish. My heart is speeding. He skips a beat to add another finger to his penetration. I’m struggling to give the full length of his cock the attention it deserves, from the thick root to the plush tip. He jerks and his abs tighten every time my thumb grazes over it. If I wasn’t enjoying his finger fuck so much, I’d drop to my knees and take him in my mouth.

  When his body tightens like a bow, I flick my gaze to his. The air presses out of my lungs when I take in the intensity of his stare.

  “I’m going to come. You don’t have to—”

  I silence his next words with another deep consuming kiss and pump harder. I don’t give a shit if he comes on me. I want to see it and feel it and touch it. The primal thought emerges from deep inside my lust-addled brain in a voice I barely recognize.

  When he comes a few seconds later, his expression tightens into hard planes. His nails scratch against the rough wood at my back and his body turns into an impenetrable block of muscle. Watching him let go has officially taken first place as the most erotic moment of my life. Luke is…beautiful. I’m so entranced, I almost forget he’s still three knuckles deep inside of me. He takes in a few steadying breaths before pulling back. I whimper when the movement leaves me empty.

  He grabs his shirt off the light pine floor and turns back to me.

  “Sorry about that,” he mutters quietly as he cleans the warm sticky release from my hand.

  All the while I’m standing here with my pants hanging down my thighs. He can’t leave me this way. He’s got to finish me.

  He drops the shirt back to the floor and pins me with a wicked look. Something mischievous in his eyes makes my heart stutter. He must be able to read the desperation on my face because he smiles and presses a soft kiss to my lips.

  “I’m going to take care of you, beautiful. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  Then he’s on his knees, dragging my jeans down to my ankles and flinging them across the room. Before I can make sense of what he’s doing, he’s got my thigh hitched over his shoulder and he’s buried his face between my legs.

  The sensation of his tongue on my clit makes my head spin. I lift my arms and search for something to hang on to. They fall again and my fingers find purchase on his shoulders, and then into his mess of golden locks. My hips move with the undulation of his head as he works his tongue and fingers in perfect harmony.

  His wide-mouthed assault draws long desperate moans from my lungs until my standing leg is trembling badly. Deftly, he slings my leg so my thigh rests on his other shoulder. He takes the full burden of my weight on his body like it’s nothing, barely skipping a beat as he sucks and fucks me into oblivion.

  “Madison. God, I knew your pussy was sweet. So fucking sweet.”

  “Oh God…Luke!” I’m so close I can barely breathe. And I want it so much. The ache is inside every cell of my body, clawing at me for release. I’ve never wanted anything so badly.

  Then he curls his fingers inside me and I scream. The orgasm rocks me, strips everything down to a single point, leaving the rest of the world empty and flat and silent. My muscles go lax. Seconds go by as the world returns with color and oxygen and the warm buzz of release.

  I flutter my eyelids closed with a sigh.

  LUKE

  I can barely register what just happened. I don’t have time to work it out, because Madison is about to collapse. I maneuver her into my arms, tuck her against my chest, and bring her to the full-size bed in the back corner of the cabin. Her body flinches every few seconds while little breathy sighs keep falling from her lips. I fight back a smile, but can’t ignore the pride beaming through me.

  I lay her down on my unmade bed and cover her with a light quilt. For the first time since living here, I’m struck with a sense of insecurity about my living conditions. I glance around quickly, seeing it all through her eyes, even though they’re presently closed. She’ll rouse soon enough and see…well, not much. I exist with the bare necessities.

  I wince. Not that I really care what she thinks. I mean, I’m glad that I made her scream my name, and comi
ng with her hands on me was pretty much the best thing to happen to me in recent memory. But she walked into my cabin, uninvited and unannounced. So I’m not going to make excuses about my life when she opens her eyes and starts asking questions.

  I shake my head, which is still buzzing both from my orgasm and the heady experience of burying my face between her thighs until she went boneless in my arms. I retrieve my jeans from their crumpled pile on the floor and pull them on. Madison is curled into my pillow, her lower half covered with the quilt. I briefly regret not stripping her completely so I might get another glance at her chest, which is now concealed by the simple pink T-shirt she’s wearing. Heaven help me. If her tits had been bare, I might have come twice as fast and even harder.

  My skin prickles with arousal. Goddamn. I draw my hand down my face, which only brings her scent into my lungs and makes my cock harden. Quickly and quietly, I move to my poor excuse for a kitchen and boil a pot of hot water for coffee. I’m not much of a drinker, but I am definitely drunk on this woman and I need to sober the fuck up.

  I make the coffee and drink it, all the while staring at her slumbering peacefully on my bed. I’d never shared this space with another human soul. I feel like a part of me should be annoyed to be sharing it now, even for a little while, but I’m not. I like seeing her there. I love the idea of being able to walk over and push into her sweet cunt whenever I want to. Based on the earth-shattering orgasm I’d given her earlier, I don’t figure it would be a hard sell. She’d open for me the same way she opened for me earlier. Mouth, legs, everything… She’d let me in before I’d even asked. She said she wanted me…

  Warmth blooms across my chest and relaxes some tension I’m holding in my gut. My arousal is on a slow simmer that I can’t quite turn off. And even though the possibility of fucking her in short order is at the forefront of my mind, she’s sleeping and probably needs a little while to recover.

  I stand, grab an old white T-shirt, and leave the cabin as quietly as I can. The sun warms the west side of the mountain. The air is dry and crisp. The only sounds are of nature. Just the way I like it.

  I smile when I think about Madison’s screams cutting through the constant soundtrack of birds and wind and the motion of the trees. Probably scared the fuck out of some of the nearby fauna.

  I kill the next hour or so finishing the task that I’d been too wound up to complete earlier. I chop a good amount of wood, though I have plenty more to do over the coming weeks to compile all the reserves I want. My muscles are faintly sore, a sensation I relish. I like to use and push my body. I like to sweat and stand back and look at my achievements, knowing the fruit of my labor will meet the needs of another day.

  As much as I enjoy all that, I also can’t wait to get back to the goddess in my bed. I tug my shirt off and wipe my body down of dirt and sweat before I go back. Maybe I can coax her down to the springs. We could get naked and clean and I could bend her over one of the rocks…

  My hard-on quickly returns with that prospect, and I enter the cabin less quietly, hoping to rouse her if she isn’t already awake. But the bed is empty. I dart my gaze around the small space. I scan twice more, pacing to the corners, as if somehow she’d miraculously turn up in the few hundred square feet of wall-less space. But no. She’s gone.

  Chapter Four

  MADISON

  The sound of his axe wakes me. Panic climbs up my back, seizing me. I blink slowly, trying to figure out if I’d dreamt the sound. Seeing the bare wood ceiling above me and smelling the unfamiliar male on the pillow tells me I hadn’t.

  It really happened. I walked in on him. I told him I wanted him. Oh God. Clearly there’s something wrong with me. But instead of rejecting me, he took what he wanted without remorse, and I gave it to him willingly. I feel as though shame surrounds me like an unwanted blanket. I turn my head into his pillow and bury my face in it to groan softly. I’d never been so forward, so reckless with a perfect stranger—at least not while stone cold sober.

  I lie there and stare at his nightstand for a full two minutes listening to the steady lash of his axe. Over and over again, the motion of his swings drifts through the window and creates a passing shadow in the bedroom. I pull myself up and sneak a peek through the window above the bed.

  The beautiful wild man I now know as Luke Dawson looks more like a Greek god than a savage beast. His chest glimmers. Points of light shoot off his wet, hard skin as his muscles ripple with each swing. A white T-shirt hangs from his back pocket, swaying and slapping him on the ass as he bends forward for another log. My mouth waters at the sight and wetness instantly pools between my legs. An hour ago, his fingers were inside of me and his warm, wet mouth suckled my clit like his very life depended on it. I should be sated. But I’m not. I want him again. I want to touch him once more.

  I do the only thing that feels right. I scramble to my feet and search for my clothes. I grab my pants off the floor and then pull on my Chucks before taking a few seconds to scan the cabin. Luke lives simply without much in the way of material possessions. No television. No computer visible. No pictures on the walls. The cabin is like something out of a movie, and I can’t imagine this being my life. In LA, I have all the comforts that money can afford me. Most I don’t even need. The thought of having nothing but what sits in this cabin makes me question what type of man Luke really is.

  I run out of there without so much as a goodbye, even after he gave me an orgasm that rivaled all orgasms I’d ever experienced. My brain is fuzzy from sleep and from Luke. I can’t think of what else to do except make a quick escape. Hiding behind a large tuft of bushy pine trees, I yank on my pants without grace, barely doing it without falling over. I’d put my shoes on before my pants because I wasn’t thinking clearly. Who could in my circumstances? Regret gnaws at my insides as I watch him searching the cabin in a fury.

  Luke exits the cabin and begins to pace, running his hands through his long damp hair. His mouth is moving but I can’t make out what he’s saying. When he stops moving and turns in my direction, I gasp and take off. Not risking a look back, I push through the stray branches that reach out to stop my forward momentum.

  I’m not even paying attention to where I’m going. I’m running out of sheer humiliation. I basically threw myself at him and begged him to fuck me.

  Then the front of my shoe catches on a rock, and I go tumbling forward. Reaching out to try to break my fall, I collide with the ground. Tiny shards of stone break the skin, and my ankle twists in an unnatural way. My cries of pain echo through the thick forest and birds in nearby trees flee immediately. I cringe, drawing my bruised knees and battered hands inward. I feel my cheeks heat and tears sting my eyes as I lie in the rocky dirt.

  There’s a chill in the air I hadn’t noticed before. I slowly exhale and roll onto my back. I close my eyes and try to even out my ragged breathing. I count to ten and wait for the dull ache in my knees and ankles to subside. When I finally crawl to my feet, a searing pain shoots through my right ankle, and I collapse under my own body weight.

  “Fuck.” I hiss, reaching down to soothe what I assume is a sprained ankle. “Fucking great.” My voice is laced with aggravation at my stupidity, clumsiness, and most of all humiliation. I regret my decision to leave my cell phone behind in an attempt to stay unplugged during my stay at the Avalon.

  I can’t let him find me this way. Rescuing me in this condition after I ran like a coward wouldn’t go over too well. At least I think it wouldn’t. Luke doesn’t seem the type of man to have patience in spades. Even if I have to crawl, I have to find a way back without his help. I’ll give myself ten minutes to recover, and then I’ll limp down the mountain back to Avalon.

  But sitting idle gives me too much time to think about the ways my life has imploded recently. Jeremy did a smashing job at making me look like a complete fool. While I worked on the faces of Hollywood’s elite, he decided to pick one of them to sleep with, effectively ending our marriage.

  Tears sting my eyes
and blur my vision. Using the back of my hand, I sweep them from my face. He lied to me time and time again, all the way to the end. I had to find out about the affair through a gossip television show. From that day forward, no one could look me in the eyes again. People felt sorry for me, ashamed on my behalf. I was never that girl. The one who needed pity from others. I’d come a long way in my life, relying on only my determination to succeed and ability to learn. But Jeremy wiped out my dreams in the blink of an eye—or in his case, with a pretty, young actress on the end of his dick.

  When I signed the papers and freed myself from our relationship, Avalon was supposed to be a place of refuge. A spot for me to clear my head and get away from everything, including men. It would be just my luck that I happened upon a sexy lumberjack living by himself in the woods. But did I have to throw myself at him?

  The branches overhead start to stir, and the wind whips up and cascades across my body. Shivering, I wrap my arms around my chest for warmth and comfort. With the quick dip in temperature, I’m liable to freeze if I don’t make it to shelter tonight.

  I stare up at the sky. The sunshine streams through the trees like the most intricate light fixture, and I release an exhausted sigh. I can’t stay any longer. Like it or not I have to move. I wrap my arms around my knees and rock forward before I notice the blood soaking through my jeans. I hate to think of what could have happened if I hadn’t been wearing denim.

  “You can do this,” I tell myself in a convincing tone that I almost believe. “You have to. Just get up and walk. Pain is a state of mind and can be overcome.”

  I laugh at my own cliché. Over the last few months I’ve read one too many self-help books. I know it’s a bunch of bullshit. Not one thing in them has helped me get back on my feet—I’m doing it all by myself.