Chapter Five
About twenty minutes later we came up on a big sign reading Meadow Ridge Campgrounds. The sign had a log cabin appearance and the letters were big, bright, and red. Jasper turned into the campgrounds.
The woods were dark and seemed to be endless, as though we’d wandered into the black reaches of some giant creature’s belly.
Somewhere out there, my stalker was doing exactly the same thing, laying in wait, anticipating the moment when he could strike.
We pulled up to cabin number six. Jasper drew his gun and stepped outside. I waited in the cab until he made his way round the truck and let me out. Jasper hovered over me like a sentry, his eyes darting from one spot to another, never lingering on any one spot for more than a few seconds at a time.
I led Jasper up to the front door, and he stopped me, placing his hand on my hip, and unlocked the door. Popping the knob open, he leaned in to survey the cabin, then turned on the lights. After he gave me the go-ahead, we stepped inside and shut the door behind us.
Jasper locked the door. “Close the drapes,” he said. “Make sure the windows are locked. Keep an eye out for any bugs.”
“I thought you said this place was safe.” I felt protected with Jasper, but it wasn’t me I was worried about.
He would throw himself in the path of a bullet for me. I was certain of this. That was what I was worried about.
I didn’t want him to bleed for me.
“It should be,” Jasper replied, heading to the window next to the door and pulling the curtains shut abruptly. “Then again, nowhere is entirely safe. If this place is compromised, I want to know about it.”
I made my way around the edge of the cabin, pulling the drapes shut and making sure the doors were locked. Jasper unplugged the phone. In the corner of the room was a wood stove. While I took in the rest of the cabin, Jasper set about making a fire.
It was a pretty straightforward place. I could tell it had been used, that it was one of those cabins that got rented a lot. The cabin was a straightforward single living room with two bedrooms along the back wall, a built-in kitchenette in one corner, and a bathroom in the other. The floors were wood, polished oak from the looks of it, and the furniture was arranged in a square in the center of the room. The furniture itself was wicker. The wicker, as well as the pillows, bore the stains of previous use—spilled wine, soda, and food gave each piece of furniture and accoutrement a distinct personality and appearance.
At first, the cabin seemed empty and cavernous, but as Jasper got the fire going in the stove and the cabin started to warm up, it developed a more homey feel. I settled into one of the couches as Jasper rounded the cabin, peering out through the curtains. As he moved to the center of the room, he produced his gun, taking the time to disassemble it and lay it out on the table.
“You seem restless,” I said after a moment.
“I am,” Jasper said. “I don’t like this waiting around.”
“We should have gone back to my room,” I said. “If you want our guy to make a move, that is.”
“No, it’s not that,” Jasper said. “This is necessary. Getting away from the situation, getting perspective. We’ll get a bird’s-eye view of everything going on, and in the end, that’s how we’re going to beat this. It’s necessary, I just don’t like it.”
The minutes ticked by. Jasper cleaned his gun until it was spotless, then reassembled and holstered it. A clock hanging in the kitchen counted the seconds. The fire in the stove crackled away, the temperature in the room rising in increments.
Jasper cleared his throat, looked at me, glanced away. He tapped his foot against the floor, drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.
Seeing him so agitated was strange. This was a man who could stand sentry for hours on end without so much as blinking an eye, and yet I could tell the lack of activity, the seclusion, was driving him a little bit crazy.
“I spy with my little eye something…green.” I batted my eyelashes at him when he turned to look at me, a hint of incredulity on his features. “What? I’m bored.”
“My T-shirt,” he replied drily, striding to the window and peering through the slit in the curtains. “Trust me, you’ll never beat me at that game. I see everything.”
“Arrogant much?” He didn’t reply; I sighed. “I have some cards in my purse. Want to play Go Fish?”
He huffed out a breath.
“Snap?”
No change.
“Strip poker?”
Finally, a flicker of interest, a change in the stiff lines of his posture.
“Aha.”
Looking back, away from the window, he pinned me with that intense stare of his.
“Aha, what?” But his gaze swept over me, top to bottom. My skin heated as he looked, and suddenly I wasn’t feeling so playful.
“I thought of something we can do to pass the time.” Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I twisted my fingers in the hem of my T-shirt. “Something that might interest you a bit more.”
He turned fully away from the window; the resulting rush of blood through my veins made me dizzy, leaving me suddenly shy.
“Go on.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back against the rough-hewn wooden wall, watching.
Waiting.
A shiver travelled down my spine under the intensity of that gaze. In one quick movement, I pulled my T-shirt up and over my head, fighting the urge to hold it in front of me.
We were way past that—he’d seen every intimate part of me. But something in the way he was watching me had my nerves on high alert.
“You suggested this game,” he reminded me, pushing off from the wall. I caught his scent as he moved closer, that wildness that was pure Jasper, and the need for him was suddenly unbearable. “You either play or forfeit.”
“What happens if I forfeit?” I tilted my head to see him as he came closer still—he was so tall, I had to. My question made those sinful lips curl into a grin.
“Then I win by default, and we play my way.”
I opened my mouth to remind him that we always played his way, but instead cried out when he hooked a finger in the front of my bra and tugged until I collided with his chest.
“Too long.” He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth. “I win.”
With one quick tug, he pulled his own T-shirt off, and when he was naked from the waist up and saliva pooled in my mouth, I was pretty sure that I was the winner. A small, needy sound escaped my lips as he slid his hands over my bare back, undoing the clasp of my bra. It fell to the floor as his fingers slid the button of my jeans loose, then yanked down the zipper of my fly.
“Sit down.” Large hands helped me settle on the edge of the bed, and then those same hands tugged off the snug denim of my jeans and the soft, baby-blue cotton of my panties. I lifted my feet, yanking them from the pants, gasping when he slid his calloused palms up the inside of my thighs.
“You push me.”
“What?” I propped myself up on my elbows. What I saw made my breath hitch in my throat.
Jasper, the massive man who’d crashed into my life not two days earlier, was on his knees between my legs. A sliver of gold slipped between the curtains, burnishing his skin, defining those insanely hard muscles, making him both hard and soft at the same time.
His own jeans had slipped down around his hips. His cock had pushed free, the dark curls a shadow around it, and when he wrapped his own fist around his length and pumped once, I shuddered.
“I’m very good at keeping things separate.” Confusion painted his features, and he leaned forward, placing his hands lightly on my shoulders. “I’ve never fucked a client before. Never would have dreamed of it.”
His hands cruised down, exploring and arousing. He stroked over my breasts in feathery motions, just enough to tease, before tickling my rib cage, framing my waist, tracing the curves of my hips. Goose bumps rose in a trail behind his touch.
“With you, I don’t think I had a choice.” More than a hint of temper flashed in his eyes, and I understood—this wasn’t a man who appreciated being told what to do, even if I hadn’t used words.
“I’m not sorry,” I said. His palms found my inner thighs again, urging me to part my legs wider. I complied without question, knowing that whatever he told me to do was only going to bring me more pleasure.
He smiled then, that gaze piercing my own. “I’m not, either.”
Without warning, he dipped his head and closed his mouth over my sex. I cried out, and I think he laughed against my flesh, the vibration forcing a shudder through me, leaving me hot and wet.
“Oh God,” I gasped when he slid his hands up, his thumbs parting my lower lips, opening me for his mouth. His tongue swiped through my heat. I braced myself, expecting him to delve inside, to tease, but instead he closed his lips around my clit.
My body bucked as he lightly nipped, then started to suck. My gaze was drawn to him, compelled by the visual of this unbreakable man between my legs. He held my stare, the look in his eyes steely, and I understood that slow and teasing wasn’t what he was going for right now.
He wanted me hot and wet and sobbing his name, and he wanted it right now.
“Jasper!” I couldn’t have said anything else as he sucked that sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth. Three long pulls from his lips, and the pleasure rushed from my hands, my feet, every part of my body. It settled in my core, and with one hot burst of flame, I melted, liquefying under his tongue.
I gasped when he pulled away, rising from the floor. Grasping my hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh, he tugged me against him. The incredible length of his erection settled heavy against my thigh, and I rocked forward, wanting it inside of me.
“You’re always ready for me, aren’t you?” His smile was one of satisfaction, my dampness coating his lips as he slid one finger inside of me. I clenched tightly around him, needing more. “You get so wet. I wonder what would get you wetter?”
“Nothing,” I panted, arching my hips to create friction from that sole finger inside of me. “Just you. That’s all I want.”
Dipping his head, he kissed me senseless before speaking again.
“I know you better than that.” He added a second finger, forcing a coarse groan from me. “You like being watched. You like being shared. I wonder what other dirty thing we could find to make you lose control?”
With his free hand, he worked between the curve of my ass and the mattress; I guessed his destination before he got there and stiffened.
“All you have to do is tell me no,” he whispered as he worked a finger into the cleft that divided my cheeks, “but all I want to do is make you feel good.”
He found the tight pucker, that place no one had ever touched before. I couldn’t help clenching, staring up at him with wide eyes, unsure about what he was asking with his touch.
“Look at me.” Yes, there was that face. The one I trusted with my life. He was calm, he was in control, and in the short time we’d known each other he’d proven, again and again, that I could trust him with my pleasure.
“I just…I haven’t done this before. Any of this.” My face flamed, and I craned my neck, pressing my hot cheek into the quilt. I heard his chuckle, low and wicked, and heaven help me, but I got wetter, just as he’d wanted.
“I promise. This will feel so good.” With sure movements, he rolled me over until I lay on my stomach, my elbows tucked beneath me.
I exhaled, my words tangled inside of me.
He traced a finger down my spine, a soft, sensuous touch. When he again reached the divide between my cheeks he slowed but still pressed on, finding my hidden pucker once more.
He pressed, and my stomach clenched. My body jerked, a refusal on the tip of my lips at the strange feeling of having someone press…there.
“Wait,” he murmured, and that unfamiliar pressure continued, and then ohmygod his finger was inside of me, circling slowly.
I sucked in breath through my nose, fingers digging into the quilt. It stung a little, but as he pressed a deeper, still rotating, I felt nerves sparking to life. Something dark and restless started to coil in the pit of my belly, something different from anything I’d ever experienced but just as needy.
“Oh.” My exhalation was full of wonder as he continued to work his finger in. I squirmed on the bed, both trying to get away and trying to move toward the touch. “Oh God.”
He chuckled again. When he slid his finger out I clenched, crying out at the loss, making him laugh again.
“Just a minute, dirty girl.” Pushing myself up, I watched with wide eyes as he padded to the bathroom then returned with a small bottle of lotion, one of the toiletries provided by whoever managed this place.
A tremor worked through me at the sight of it. He was really going to do this—if I let him, that was. And as I closed my eyes and listened to the slick sound of the lotion pouring into his hands, then felt the warm wetness on my skin, I couldn’t think of a single reason to tell him to stop.
“This might sting for a second.” When he worked through that tight ring of muscle again, his finger felt larger. A questioning whimper escaped me before I realized that he’d added a second finger, and that he was working them down to the hilt.
It felt so strange. It felt so good as he started slowly to pump in and out of that tight, forbidden passage. I found myself rocking with the movements, the slick sound of the lotion on his fingers driving me insane.
“Jasper…” I couldn’t hold still, writhing back and forth on the bed. This play was driving me up, up, but no relief was in sight. “I need more. I need you.”
“Just hold on, dirty girl.” Slowly he pulled his fingers free of the snugness of my body, and I whined. Then I heard the metallic rasp of his zipper being lowered, the foil crinkle of a condom, and another liquid pull of lotion. Every muscle in my body tightened as I realized what he was about to do. “I know it feels good, but I had to get you ready before you could take my cock.”
“That’s not going to fit!” I tried to bolt upright, but his hand on the flat of my back pushed me into place. “Jasper! Seriously! It barely fits in the place it’s supposed to go!”
Pressing his weight down on top of me, he nipped at the lobe of my ear. “Trust me?” His voice was a hot whisper.
There was no hesitation—I nodded. I did, absolutely.
“Then trust me to make you feel good.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as he drizzled lotion over my curves. His fingers worked it in and around, bringing nerves to life with their touch.
And then I felt the pressure from the head of his cock. He grunted as he pressed forward, and my eyes flew open at the incredible stretch.
“Ow! Shit!” Lifting my head, I hissed and reached behind me, digging my nails into the solid muscles of his thighs.
He stopped completely, only an inch inside of me. I wriggled, trying to dislodge myself from the strange pressure as he tangled his fingers with my own and brought them to my hips. “Do you want me to stop?”
I breathed hard as I tried to adjust to the weird, stinging pressure. On one of my inhalations he snaked a hand between my body and the bed, fingers finding my clit and stroking.
“Oh.” Liquid heat pulsed between my legs, and as my arousal soared, the pressure from behind began to feel less painful and more like it had when it had just been his fingers. A dark tendril of need that was new to me came from the sensation, twining with the arousal from the stroking of my clit and making me gasp.
“Cari?” I hadn’t answered his question, but the yes I’d been leaning toward melted deliciously into a no.
“More.” It was all I could say, my body so completely overtaken by sensation. It stung a bit again as he started to move, pushing deeper, but the pain mixed so thoroughly with need that they became one and the same.
“Fuck.” He groaned when he’d fully seated himself inside of me, my muscles clenching him in a bear hug. “God, Cari. You’re so tight. So fucking tight that I’m not going to last long.”
“Good.” Deliberately, I tightened around him, forcing a choked moan from deep in his chest. He growled with warning, and I did it again.
He started to move, pulling back, his passage eased by the slickness of the lotion, and I purred with satisfaction at the sounds coming from his mouth.
I wanted him as wrecked as I was. Wanted him drunk on what my body could do to him.
The fingers of one of his hands grasped my hip so tightly I suspected I would have bruises the next day; the other continued to strum over my clit. My hips rocked as he pushed inside of me again then pulled out, the slow drag over my virgin tissues sparking my arousal hotter and hotter.
“Not going to be long,” he panted as his movements increased. His hips pressed against my ass as he slid the hand between my legs inside of me, scissoring my swollen, aroused flesh in a way that had my orgasm suddenly coiling low. “Come again. Come with me.”
“I will. I have to.” He spread his fingers again as he seated himself inside of me, the heel of his palm brushing over my clit, and I exploded. The spasms of my muscles pulled at his cock, deep inside of me, and I knew he was gone, too, when he pushed against me hard, hauling me up and against his chest.
He shouted as he came, the slickness of his fingers on my inner walls loud in the still air. I cried out as that massive, solid frame clung to me like I was a life preserver and he was drowning, as he shuddered through his own release, which sparked a second, brighter one in my own body.
This, I thought as we melted together, bodies joined in the most intimate of places, this was where I felt safe. Here in this man’s arms, nothing could bring me down.