He places one arm under my knees and the other across my back, cradling me to his chest.
I find myself snuggling close to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, all under the guise of holding on as he climbs the hill.
“Well, here we are,” he says a couple of minutes later.
I turn my head and then let out a gasp.
His so-called cabin is really a massive house built into a rock formation that overlooks a frozen lake, the lake glittering as the clouds part and let in a snowy shaft of sunlight. A triple car garage at the bottom, and then the sprawling, modern house built over three levels, a structure of glass with a—
Jeez.
“Is that a helipad on the roof, Wayne?”
“Hmm, so that’s what that is?” he says sarcastically.
“Why did you pick me up if we were so close?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” he growls.
A shiver moves through me as his words settle in my consciousness. I can’t dare to think he’s saying what I think he’s saying.
As if he would want me.
The simple fact is I’ve lived my whole life mostly in my mind or in books, and when I do come out, men aren’t generally attracted to me.
We walk up to the entrance of the cabin and Wayne runs his thumb across a keypad, causing the large sleek wooden door to beep and then swing open.
Immediately, Rusty ducks his head and bounds inside.
“How about you get comfortable on the couch and I’ll get the fire going? And some cocoa?”
“Wow, Wayne, you’re such a gentleman.”
He pauses at the door, a wolf’s grin on his face, his eyes glimmering knowingly.
“I wouldn’t count on that, Winter. After you.”
Even if it’s slightly insane, I step inside Wayne Wakefield’s house.
Chapter Four
Wayne
I stare down at Winter and Rusty, huddled close on the corner couch, both of them asleep. Winter has her hand draped over him and Rusty has a smile on his face, as though he’s known Winter his whole life.
No sooner had I given her the cocoa and gone to get changed than she’d curled up and fallen asleep, probably exhausted from the car ride up here. I feel my body urging me to smooth my hands over her as I gaze at the blanket hugging tightly onto her body.
I imagine peeling away the blanket – and in my fantasy Rusty is in another room – and then stroking my hands up her pants, between her legs. Even through the thick khaki material, I can feel the juicy wetness of her sex.
I palm it, rubbing harder each moment as she twitches and writhes for me, unable to help myself as I pull down her pants and find her clit.
Then – fuck, fuck – then I’d fucking slide my fingers inside of her, opening her wet pink hole, pushing deep until I had two fingers buried right up inside of her.
I’d stroke her.
Her sex.
Her womb.
Her everything.
I’d dominate her with my fingers, getting her ready for my manhood, which right now is a pulsating length of iron trying to explode out of my pants.
I turn away with difficulty, letting out a shaky breath through my teeth.
I walk across the plush faux-fur rugs and into the hallway, down the corridor decorated sparsely and modernly, and into the office that shouldn’t even exist in this holiday home. But the pull of work is often too strong for me, and my company needs me, always needs me.
I close the door behind me and sit at my giant desk, trying to lose myself in reports and minutia and the general boring onslaught of work that the movies never deign to show CEO’s doing.
But it’s hard to hone my attention onto my computer screen when Winter keeps shimmering across it, forming like swirls of snow and then disappearing.
I have to clamp my hand on the edge of my desk until my knuckles turn white when I imagine her bent over for me, her round perfect ass completely bare, just waiting for me to paint her with my seed.
But no, I wouldn’t waste it there.
I’d drive it down between her ass cheeks, deep into her body, into her womb, and I’d fire every last drop into her so that I knew without a shadow of a goddamn doubt that I’d taken root inside of her.
She’s mine.
Forever.
I sit back, stunned with the force of the feelings slashing through me.
Realization after realization slams into me.
All my forty-three years, I’ve been waiting, waiting, for what seems like an eternity.
And now I’ve finally found her.
A knock comes at the door.
“Yes?” I say.
“It’s me,” Winter murmurs. “Sorry. I woke up and heard you in here.”
“Yes,” I say, taking a deep breath to get myself under control. “Come in.”
“Rusty’s in his little den,” she smiles, pushing the door open. “He just trotted right in there when I woke up.”
So we’re alone.
I have to grip the desk again when I see that she’s changed into the hoodie and sweatpants I offered her earlier, the fabric doing nothing to hide the heaven beneath. The hoodie is baggy, showing me a sliver of her chest, a sliver that makes me want to slide my hand down there and find her nipple, tease and twist and tickle until she’s putty in my hands.
“I remembered where I recognize you from, by the way,” she says, a playful glint in her eyes. “Wayne Wakefield, CEO of Comet Retail. You were in Time, weren’t you? It was a piece about you being one of the only ethically-minded CEO’s in the retail industry. How you fight for your worker’s rights and don’t forget the little guy. Why didn’t you tell me? Most men would brag about something like that.”
I’m not most men, but I don’t need to tell her that.
She’s not most women, either.
We were made for each other and I think that’s finally dawning on her.
“Isn’t this the part where you bow at my feet because you’re so impressed?” I smirk, standing up and walking over to her.
“Oh, and there I was thinking you were all humble.”
I stop close enough that I can scent her, the melted snow in her hair, the undertone of her womb and her sex. Behind me, the floor-to-ceiling window is a snapshot of the blizzard, moving across the frozen lake like something living.
“It really is beautiful,” she whispers, walking over to it.
I turn to watch her, gazing at her ass as she leans close, the soft fabric of her pants hugging the perfect globes.
“Yes,” I growl, manhood twitching, hungrly. “It really is.”
“Don’t you feel alone out here?” she asks, turning to me, the snow swirling behind her like a custom-made backdrop.
She looks devastatingly beautiful, the way her eyebrows are perked in curiosity, the twist to her lips, her folded arms across her chest causing her breasts to bulge and squeeze around her forearms.
I swallow and take a step forward, everything in me trembling, as though there’s an explosion inside of me and any moment I’m going to just let it out, this beast inside of me, this fucking animal I’ve been hiding my entire life.
“Yes,” I say. “But that’s the point, Winter. I want to feel alone. Well, I want to be away from people. I’ve got Rusty for company. And now you.”