It doesn’t take me long to prepare. I’ve been ready for this—had my mind focused on it the whole time I dug my path out here. Or at least, what part of my mind I could force away from memories of Tony’s hands on my hips, his thick cock inside my pussy, making me ache and cry out for release.

Most cabins like these—cabins meant for ski holidays on the weekends, not equipped for living in full-time—come with these sorts of outer rooms. I’ve seen more than my fair share on outings with my family. Daddy always claims he’s going to build one in our backyard, though he never gets around to actually doing it. Classic for him.

Me, I’m just feeling more grateful than ever to whomever built this little cabin all the way up here, as I fill up one last bucket of snow, then shoulder my way back through the little shed.

In the back of it, through the locked door, I hit the jackpot. Not only is there a huge claw-footed porcelain bathtub, looking like it just walked into this wood-paneled shed’s hidden room out of an 18th century castle, but there’s also a huge stove in the corner, with iron piping underneath that cradles the tub, as though the stove is holding it in a tight lover’s embrace. I found the stove already stoked with wood, as if someone had been preparing a warm bath here when they were called away. All I needed to do was light it, coax those flames to life, like I’ve already done, and then fill up the bathtub with snow.

I add the last bucket I’m carrying and watch the snow dissolve into the already lukewarm water. It won’t take long now before it’s steaming. To judge by the walls of the room and the way the stove is vented, this whole hut was built as a sauna, and the bathtub was added later. Probably when whatever bachelor clearly built this cabin realized that he needed a spot to get clean if he ever wanted to bring a lady friend up here with him.

That’s the story in my mind, anyway, as I stir the last bucket of snow into the water, then dip a finger into the bath to test it. Just a few more minutes until it’ll be hot enough.

Eager to get started, I spin around, ready to shut the door into the shed.

That’s when I find Tony leaning on the frame of the doorway, watching me with hooded eyes, his expression unreadable.

“What?” I ask as I step past him to toss the snow bucket outside.

He doesn’t answer. I brush back into the shed, bumping my shoulder against his hard enough that he’ll feel it.

“At least get out of the doorway,” I say as I pick my way across the toolshed toward the little sauna bath. “You’re letting all this nice heat out.”

He steps into the shed and lets the door click shut behind him. For a moment, that’s the only indication I get that he’s even listening to me. Then he clears his throat, eyes on the stove. “Shouldn’t we be conserving that wood?”

“We have plenty,” I tell him without turning around. “This is just extra I found in here. But if you’re worried about it, you can bring in more from the pile outside. It’s buried under the kitchen window.”

He locks eyes with me for a long moment. Then he sighs and shakes his head. “Where should I put it? The kitchen’s already full.”

“Bring it in here. It’ll dry off in the shed.” I turn without waiting for another response. If I wait any longer, this bath I’ve worked for all morning is going to get cold.

There’s a soft click as he opens the door, then another slam as it shuts behind him. I wait a moment, watching the outer door of the shed. Then I step into the sauna, and ease the door closed. I don’t shut it all the way. Not quite. I leave a sliver of a crack, and hesitate, debating. But I want somewhere for the steam to vent—a consideration the sauna builder doesn’t seem to have thought about when he constructed this little add-on room.

That, and, I can’t deny that part of me wants to know what Tony will do. How he’ll react if he comes back in here and I’m already naked and sprawled in this bathtub.

So, I leave the door partway open, and begin to strip. It doesn’t take me long to peel off the layers I donned this morning. By the time I do, the water next to me has wisps of steam rising from its surface. I step into it, and can’t help it. I let out a sigh of pleasure as the warmth wraps around my foot, my calf, my thigh. I add my other leg, sink slowly into the bath, and moan aloud as it envelops my whole body.

I haven’t felt this warm since before my car started to skid yesterday afternoon.

Was it only yesterday?

Time flies when you’re trapped in a cabin on the edge of the world.

I hear the creak of the shed door. Then a clatter as Tony drops off the wood in the shed. Next, footsteps. My heart flutters, and my belly tightens at the memory of the way he acted yesterday. How fierce he was when he grabbed me, took what he wanted.

The door creaks open. “I’m not sure where you want—” Tony breaks off abruptly, eyes locked on my body, mouth still half open. He snaps it shut, and his gaze drifts up to mine. “The wood,” he finishes, eyes holding mine tight.

I can’t look away. So I don’t bother. I just lean back in the bathtub and rest my neck along the marble sill, allowing myself a small, teasing smile as I gaze up at him. “Right here is fine,” I say, my voice thick with meaning. We both know I’m not talking about that wood anymore.

Still, Tony hesitates on the threshold. Lets his gaze drip over me again, lingering, full of desire. I know how to read that longing expression in his eyes now. “Corina, what happened last night…”

I spread my legs, really slowly, so he knows I’m doing this on purpose. I love how easy this is. How quickly his gaze drops to my belly, then my pussy, as I open my knees as wide as I can in the big bathtub. “What about last night?” I ask, my voice low. When he doesn’t reply, I lick my lips. Try my luck. “Was it everything you fantasized about, Professor?”

“Far more,” he answers, seemingly without thinking. Then his jaw clamps tight. He’s clearly annoyed with himself for revealing anything, again. His shoulders tense, and he’s about to turn, to leave.

I snap my legs closed and relent, shuffling up so I’m sitting upright on the far end of the tub. “You can join, if you want. I won’t torment you anymore.” I grin a little at that.

To my surprise, he does too. “It’s a tight fit,” he says, eying the tub.

“We’ve made those work before,” I point out. “Besides, the warmth will do you good.”

There’s another pause. Another hesitation, as he works through whatever it is eating at him. Then, just before I give him up for a lost cause and lie back again, he grabs his shirt and tugs it up off his head.

I won’t lie. I enjoy the hell out of watching him undress. The sharp lines of his chest and abs. The way his biceps flex as he undoes his jeans, then locks eyes with me before he pushes them off. He steps out of them before he tugs his boxers off next. I can see why. The moment he pulls his boxers down, his cock springs out, already hard as a rock and flushed with desire.

I force myself to tear my eyes away, focus on his face instead, as he climbs into the bath across from me. Unlike the couch or the bed in the main cabin, we actually have plenty of space in here. Not enough that we aren’t touching—our legs tangle the moment he slips into the tub— but enough that we could stay on opposite ends of this tub until the heat dies down. If we wanted to.

“I’d apologize,” he says, with half a glance at his crotch. At his hard cock, still visible beneath the steamy surface of the water. “But this is clearly your fault.”

I smirk. “My fault, huh?”

“You did bring up some rather evocative memories. And then you spread those sexy legs of yours to show off that tight little pussy. Makes it hard for a man to keep his blood in the right head.”

“Or maybe that’s your right head,” I reply, sliding my foot along his inner thigh. Up, up, up, past his knee, closer and closer to his crotch. I stop just before my toes reach his cock. “You seem to think a lot more highly of me with this than you do in class.”

He sighs and reaches down. Cups my foot in one hand, his thumb massaging the sole of my foot for a moment, before he gently shifts it to one side, away from his leg. “Corina, I told you, I’m hard on you because I think you can do better than the work you’ve done so far. No, in fact, I know you can.”

“I see. So you’re prejudiced in my favor, that’s why I have such a bad grade, is that it?” I smirk.

“Well I certainly can’t give you extra credit for a move like this.” He strokes his hand up my foot, along my ankle, my calf. I shiver, and slide an inch closer to him across the tub.

“No?” I tilt my head, eyes alight with mischief. “Would that be very naughty of you, Professor? Handing out extra credit for how much you enjoyed putting your cock inside me?”

Now it’s his turn to turn red, though his eyes seem to spark at the same time, white-hot desire flaring in them. “Corina, I’m serious. We can’t do this.”

“Funny.” I push up off the tub into a kneeling position now, bending over him. His face is inches from my chest, my nipples already hardening in the cold air outside the bath. “It seems to me like we already are.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he warns. There’s a warning in his gaze. A fierce, hungry look.

Too bad, I fucking love that look. I run my hands through his hair. Tighten one fist in his hair and tug his head back, so we’re nose to nose now, me still kneeling over him. “What happens if I tempt you, Professor?” I whisper. Without waiting for a reply, I crush my lips to his.

He kisses me back, hard. His mouth parts, and I mirror him, feel his tongue slip between my lips and invade my mouth. He wrestles with mine, even as his hands reach down to grab my thighs, tug me onto his lap. Soon I’m kneeling across him, legs on either side, and I can feel his cock, hard and pulsing with need, positioned right between my thighs.

He tears himself out of our kiss, but I lean down and start to kiss and lick and suck along his neck, loving the sensation of his harsh stubble scratching my cheek. Loving the scent of him, mingled with the wood smoke in this sauna, and the hot, desperate way his hands roam over my back, my hips, down to my ass, which he grips tight.

“Corina.”

There’s a strain in his voice now. Pleading and hungry and desperate all at once. I can’t tell if it’s because he wants me to stop or wants me to keep going. Probably both.

I lean back just far enough to meet his eye. I expect something. More denials, perhaps. Or more assertions that this is wrong. That, or I expect the man from last night to return. The one who fucked me mercilessly over that couch.

Instead, he just presses his lips together in a tight line. “I don’t have a condom,” he says.

I almost laugh, breathless from the combination of desire and the heat in this tight room. “I’m on the pill,” I reassure him.

With that, I lower myself on to his lap.

That seems to do it. Shred any last remnants of his self-control. He grabs my hips with one hand, tugs me down onto him. With the other, he grabs a fistful of my hair and crushes my lips to his in another hard, breathless kiss. I’m helpless to pull away—not that I’d want to—as he tugs me against him. I moan into his mouth when he thrusts up, and the head of his cock digs into my pussy.

“Fuck, Corina, you are so fucking tight,” he hisses through that kiss. Just the tip enters me at first, but he positions his hips, pulls me down against him until he’s pressing in further, deeper, inch by inch. Only once he’s fully inside me does he release the kiss, turn to bite and suck at my neck now, his teeth leaving marks, he’s so rough. I don’t care.

“Yes, Tony, fuck me.” I dig my nails into his back and arch my neck, crying out as he pushes me up off him, then pulls me down again, thrusting deeper into me.

“You like that, Corina? You like my thick cock stretching out your tight little pussy?”

All I can do is moan in response.

We find our rhythm, him bucking up beneath me, me spreading my knees wide and bouncing in his lap. Soon he’s fucking me completely, desperately, wild abandon in both of our movements. He stops kissing my neck, grabs both my hips, and I grab the side of the bath to hold myself steady as he pistons into me again and again.

Then he drops one hand to press against my mound, his thumb hard against my clit. I scream through gritted teeth, pleasure spiking inside me. “That’s it,” he growls. “Come for me, Corina. Come for me, dirty girl.” My belly clenches tight, and when he begins to circle his thumb against my clit, I can’t take it anymore. I come with a wild cry, lights sparking behind my closed eyes.

He just keeps going, keeps fucking me and thumbing my clit at the same time. “Again. I want to hear you scream.” The dual sensation of his thick cock stretching my pussy and his thumb teasing my already sensitive clit is too much. Before long the pressure builds once more.

This time I scream his name as I finish, bucking wildly against him. My pussy clenches and releases around his cock, spasming with the force of my orgasm. That seems to do it. He groans.

“God, fuck, Corina…” He grips my hips so hard I know it will bruise. Tugs me against him, thrusts deep into me, and comes. I can feel the hot rush of his cum coating my walls, and I squeeze my pussy as hard as I can, milking every drop from him as he keeps fucking me, slower and slower as he reaches the finish.

Finally, when we’re both lying against the edge of the tub, chests heaving as we catch our breath, I shift back. Peel myself off him, and gasp at the rush of his hot cum trickling out of my pussy and into the warm water of the tub.

“That was…” I shake my head. Catch his eye.

He’s gazing at me with more in his eyes than just lust now. There’s real desire there. Want. He shakes his head too, and reaches out. Catches the back of my neck with one hand and tugs me gently forward into another kiss. A slower one this time. Soft and sweet. When we break apart, he leaves his forehead pressed to mine, and locks his eyes on me. “I know.”

We both smile, still breathless. Then I cast a sideways glance at our clothes, piled around the narrow room. “Crap,” I say, belatedly realizing.

His forehead contracts against mine in a frown. “What?”

I lock eyes with him, breathless with laughter. “Towels.”

He laughs, too, and the tension between us finally seems to break, if only for now. If only for a little while.

* * *

“How do you know all this?” he’s asking me, back in the safety of the main cabin. We stood around the sauna drip-drying as long as we could—until the heat in the stove warming the tub faded, and we began to shiver with the onset of chill. Then we dressed again, in mostly dry clothes, and hurried through the snow back into the cabin. Along the way, I stopped to fill a bucket with snow for the sink. Our small supply of bottled water is already running low.

“Know all what?” I ask as I dump the snow into the large bottle beside the sink, packing it in so that when it melts, it’ll stay in this container and not flood the counter.

“How to survive out here. How to melt snow for water, make fires, all that jazz.”

“I told you,” I say, “I grew up in a house full of boys.” Then I hesitate, and shrug. “My father taught me.”

“Are you and your father close?” he asks. There’s something tense in his voice, a question beyond that question. But when I turn to glance at him, he’s busy fussing with the meat we’ve laid aside for dinner tonight, not even looking at me.

Maybe I imagined it.

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug, as I finish refilling the water jug. “I mean, we used to go camping all the time. Me and him and my brothers.”

“Used to?”

I shake my head with a little sigh. “He got promoted at work. High-powered lawyer now, partner at his firm. He doesn’t really have time for goofing off anymore.” I clamp my mouth shut, then shrug. “Or much of anything, really.”

“So he’s not around much anymore?” This time, when I glance at Tony, he’s watching me with a sorrowful, almost sympathetic expression on his face.

“Not really,” I admit.

To my surprise, Tony’s expression shifts from sympathy into something almost… angry. “Sounds like a poor father to me.”

My eyebrows rise. I blink in surprise. “He’s not. I mean—I’m making him sound worse than he is.” Tony has a point, some small, traitor part of me admits. Daddy doesn’t sound like the best father on paper. Not anymore. “But he does all this work for us. For me and my brothers, to give us the best lives he can. He gave me a lot of privileges, a lot of legs up in life. I really can’t complain. Even if it means I don’t get to see him much.”

Tony’s jaw clenches. But if he has any other thoughts or opinions on the matter, he doesn’t share them. He just hmphs and turns back to the stovetop to continue cooking.

Something is up. I can tell by the line of his shoulders, the tense knot that wasn’t there a minute ago. But I know better by now than to press him on it. So, with a shrug, I leave him to it, and head into the living room to restock our main fire.