But she didn’t. She slept with me and I felt her body brush against mine, groaned in misery every time she turned away from me and for much of the night, I clenched my fists to keep them at a safe distance from her.
Then she decided to provoke me in the morning and I couldn’t control myself anymore. And my shaft is already reliving the memories and every single thought swimming in my head have to do with Meadow on all fours with her ass up in the air.
Getting up from crouching on the floor, Meadow throws me a glance under her lashes, murmuring, “It’s nice weather outside, the sun seems to be shining.”
At that I curtly nod and she adds, looking uncomfortable about something, “I need to do some laundry.”
Raising my brows, I’m about to tell her that she doesn’t need to bother with overly clean clothes around me when she abruptly exits the cabin and my chest strains. For a socialite who’s more into cocktails than physical activity, she’s pretty fast.
“Wait!” I growl, hurrying after her but I slow down when she throws me a quick look before grabbing a tin bucket that’s lying around on the porch. “Don’t run like that again,” I warn in a calmer tone but she nonchalantly shrugs.
“Scared of me getting away?”
Scared of losing her, yeah. Lose her to the city where we both act like we’re too different to be part of something unifying. Out here, we’re not and that’s the beauty of this place.
“Don’t want to see you get ripped in pieces by wild animals, that’s all,” I reply instead and she shudders but rolls her eyes. Walking over to the nearby lake, she washes the bucket then fills it with the lake before walking over to the cabin again and disperses some liquid soap.
Making patterns with her fingers in the water, she watches me hesitantly as I sit down on the porch with the damn dog that doesn’t seem to want to leave my side.
“What are you waiting for?” I rasp and she goes red in the face but I straighten when her hands go underneath the shirt she’s wearing and she shimmies her panties down her toned legs. My mind blanks. She’s not wearing anything underneath and I’d kill for her to bend over right now and give me a pretty, private view.
I feel my whole body strain at the possibility, all civilized thoughts leaving my mind, blood rushing to one place and one place alone...
But I’m not that lucky and instead she just drenches her underwear into the bucket and starts washing furiously. Stretching my legs and neck, I get up, walk into the kitchen and grab myself a bottle of beer that still hasn’t passed the expiration date and some spit tobacco.
Moving to sit down on the porch again, Meadow shakes her head at me. “It’s not even noon yet,” she says, referring to the alcohol but either I drink to dilute my addiction to her or let her take care of it instead. And I don’t think she’s ready for that.
Spitting the tobacco out of the side of my mouth, I reply, “We’re not that concerned about time around here.”
“Obviously,” Meadow says, shaking her head. “Or clean clothes for that matter.”
“You think you’ve cleaned those panties well enough by now?” I ask because she keeps scrubbing and scrubbing. “What are you so eager to wash off?”
Gasping, her gaze flares to mine and her response gets choked in her throat. “N...nothing. They’re fine, they’re not s...soiled with anything.”
With anything? Fuck. Inwardly I groan, knowing full well she’s trying to hide her own arousal from me. At the thought of her flooding that flimsy material with her neediness, I let out a sharp curse, standing up.
“What´s the matter?” Meadow gasps, watching me hesitantly.
I need to fuck. You.
“Nothing,” I snarl and my whole body feels tight as a fist, or a bomb that soon will detonate. Glancing at me like she needs to keep an eye on me, Meadow walks over to a tree, hanging up her panties on one of the branches to dry in the sun. I stare at them as if transfixed, feeling tempted to bite into them and tear them into shreds so that she’ll be forced to constantly walk around bare.
We spend the rest of the time, hanging out outside with me drinking on the porch while Meadow tries to teach her old dog new tricks and failing.
I’m too occupied with thoughts on claiming Meadow, that I barely pick up on the frown on her face until she whispers,
“What’s that?”
Frowning myself, I ask, “What is what?”
She takes a couple of reluctant steps toward the forest. “That sound. Do you hear it?”
Listening carefully, I tense when I hear a howling move with wind and I make my way to Meadow. “Wolf. We should get you inside.”
I know she’s not their biggest fan but to my surprise and anger she shakes her head. “He’s whining. He could be hurt.”
“So?” I spit the last of my tobacco on the ground, pleased that Meadow doesn’t flinch at this habit that she no doubt finds disgusting. “It’s not your job to take care of him.”