Chapter Fifteen

Jake

I didn’t feel guilty about what I had just done, but I couldn’t shake the feeling it hadn’t been right, either. Now I needed to focus on getting my mind off the images of her naked body convulsing with the multiple orgasms I had given her. I closed my eyes, taking several deep breaths as I tried to right my world.

She was just too damn responsive. I had been with plenty of women, but never, ever had a woman cum that many times with so little effort on my part. It had intoxicated me. Challenged me to do it again and again. Even now, I had to fight the urge to push my fingers deep inside her and feel her pussy clench around them as her body responded.

I grabbed the potatoes and tossed them in the sink before pouring some of the water into a bowl. The cold water on my hands should help calm the fever burning inside me, but it did nothing. I was still hot and she was still naked. This woman absolutely wrecked me and it blew my mind. I was not prone to such strong emotions. I fucked, I orgasmed, and I left. But this situation was different. I couldn’t leave. She couldn’t leave. I had to face the woman, which worried me a bit. Facing her wasn’t the problem. Keeping my dick out of her was.

I heard her moving around behind me, but didn’t turn around to look at her. I wanted her again and I knew that would lead to me wanting her again after that. I stopped scrubbing the potatoes. How many times could we have sex before the search and rescue team showed up?

“Pull it together, Jake,” I whispered to the potatoes in the sink.

“Did you say something?” she asked, in a lazy voice.

“No.”

I could hear her shuffling around again and knew she was getting dressed. That was probably a good thing. Bummer.

I grabbed the potato peeler from the utensil drawer and started furiously peeling potatoes. I was starving.

“I’m starving,” I heard her say, echoing my sentiments.

“Me too,” I grumbled.

“I bet. You worked hard.”

I stopped peeling. The woman was going to kill me.

“Outside.”

“What?” I asked, my brain was muddled. Sex with her had scrambled my brain.

“You worked hard outside. All that shoveling and chopping wood,” she clarified.

“Oh, yeah. The oatmeal wore off a long time ago,” I agreed.

Fucking her hadn’t helped. I couldn’t believe I had managed to find the stamina to have sex with her. I had thought I was bone tired, but the moment I saw her on the couch, writhing and saying my name, I was lost.

I heard her soft footsteps behind me and steeled myself to be near her. I had to keep my raging hormones under control.

“Can I help?” she asked, coming to stand beside me at the kitchen sink.

“I got it,” I said, more abrupt than I meant. “Sorry. I can do this. Please, you’re a guest, have a seat.”

“Let me help. I need to feel useful,” she argued.

I took a deep breath. She was being normal. I wasn’t.

“Okay, you can peel while I light the burner and get the water boiling.”

“You have propane? Why do you use the woodstove to make coffee? Or the oatmeal this morning?” she asked, in obvious surprise.

I shrugged. “I conserve propane when I can. If I’m burning wood and the stove is heating, it just makes sense to use it.”

“I guess that’s a good idea. Will the woodstove work for these potatoes?”

“No. Too much water. I mean, I guess it would work over time, but I’m hungry and I don’t want to wait that long,” I explained.

She smiled, “I can understand that.”

She wasn’t talking about potatoes and I knew it. The light was fading fast and chopping potatoes in the dark wasn’t a good idea.

“I’m going to grab my lantern,” I said, excusing myself from the kitchen.

“Okay,” she practically sung the word.

I grabbed a lantern out of the hall closet and turned it on. It provided enough light for the kitchen.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed, when I hung it from the hook I had installed for this purpose. “That is crazy bright!”

I grinned. It felt good to smile. “Yes, it is. LED. They don’t make them much brighter than this.”

She nodded. “I would hope not. You could land airplanes with that thing. I think I’m seeing spots.”

“Don’t look directly at it. I like the light when I’m using a knife. I’ve made that mistake before,” I said, holding up my thumb.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed, looking at the thin white scar. “Did you get stitches?”

I shrugged. “Nah, I used a little superglue.”

Her eyes bulged, “What?”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Whatever you say.”

I watched her peel potatoes for a few seconds before leaving the kitchen to stoke the fire and light a few more candles around the place. When I went back into the kitchen, I paused, watching her work. Once again, she was swaying those hips and humming.

“What song is that?” I asked, curious to know.

She giggled, “I don’t really know that it is a song. I think it’s just a mashup of a bunch of different songs to be honest. I couldn’t put words to it if I tried.”

“Oh.”

She slid the potatoes into the pot. “Now what?”

I didn’t consider myself a gourmet cook, but I did know a thing or two about preparing a meal.

“Want to chop that onion. I guess I should have asked, do you like venison?”

I realized she may not be into the game meats.

She grinned, “It’s been a long time, but yet, I love it. What cuts do you have?”

I was surprised she knew the lingo. “Backstrap. We can bread them and fry them up reach quick with some onion if that works for you.”

“That sounds delicious. The more grease the better,” she teased.

Her enthusiasm made me happy. There were few women who would be excited to have fried backstrap, heavy on the onion. I was only sorry I didn’t have something to make for dessert. An image of her naked on my table with whip cream dotting her body popped into my head.

“We can have carrots as well,” I blurted out.

“I’ll wash and clean them,” she volunteered. She reached for the carrots, the shirt stretching across her breasts, reminding me she didn’t have a bra on. Her tits were rubbing against my shirt and I was never going to wash that shirt. Or those pants.

We worked together, breading the steaks and frying them up in a bath of grease. It smelled divine.

“Want me to set the table?” she asked.

“We can eat in the living room if you want?”

She looked at the meal. “I’ll set the table. We can have a candlelight dinner.”

“I’d prefer the couch,” I blurted out.

“Oh. Okay. That works. I just thought,” she waved a hand over the steaks. “I thought it would be easier. Cleaner.”

I shook my head, “I don’t care if it’s messy.”

“Okay, fine,” she said, holding up a hand.

I just didn’t want to sit down to a candlelight dinner after what we had just done. It was too intimate. She would get the wrong idea about what was happening between us. It had been sex, and there was nothing romantic about it.

“I’ll grab a couple plates,” I said, trying my hardest to be nice.

We each dished up our own plates. I noticed the heaping pile of mashed potatoes she put on her plate and smiled. We had both worked up an appetite. I doubled the amount of food on my plate and carried it to the couch.

She followed suit and sat on the opposite end. We ate with serious gusto. Neither of us bothering to talk. I liked the silence. It meant the food was good.

“You’re an amazing cook. Did you harvest the deer?” she asked.

I nodded, chewed the mouthful of food I had and swallowed. “I did. This is from last year.”

She started giggling. “I can’t believe you are so self-sufficient. You’re a true mountain man.”

That made me chuckle. “I don’t know if I would call myself a mountain man. My friend Gabe, now he’s a mountain man.”

“Well, the fact that you hunt your own food, chop your own wood and basically rely on only yourself to survive in a place without reliable electricity or communications, makes you a real mountain man in my view.”

I shrugged a shoulder, “Works for me.”

She stood up, took my empty plate and carried it to the sink. I watched as she poured a little water over each plate, being careful not to use too much. She learned quickly. I leaned my head back on the couch and stared at the fire in the woodstove. She was back a few minutes later, sighing with contentment.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For?”

“A lovely dinner. I honestly didn’t think it would be so good. I haven’t had a meal that good at the lodge and they charge a small fortune.”

I nodded, knowing she was right. I had eaten at the lodge restaurant many times. It was always okay, but never great.

Once again, the room fell silent. Instead of a comfortable silence, it was awkward. This was one of the few times I wished I had a television or a radio. Anything to disturb the silence in the room. If I was alone, I would read, but I knew that would be rude and I didn’t want to offend her.

“So,” she mumbled.

“Sorry. I know there’s not much to do here. I guess I’ve never really needed to do something all the time,” I explained.

She grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the couch and covered her legs. “It’s fine. I understand. I have a TV at home, but I don’t really use it. If I’m not writing or reading or thinking about writing or reading, I like to go for walks. I guess that’s kind of out of the question now though.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Ya, I don’t normally take walks in a snowstorm at night,” he said, pointedly.

That made her laugh. “Hey, I didn’t exactly plan to get lost and quite frankly, if people would have looked for me sooner, no one would have been out in the dark.”

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, shame on the search and rescue team for not sensing there was a woman lost in the forest.”

She laughed again.

Then, the room fell into the same awkward silence.