Katie
Armed with a picnic basket of food and a twelve-pack of Newcastle Brown Ale, I drive up into the Blue Ridge Mountains from town. I've never actually been to Whitetail Hollow, but after Jessa badgered me into apologizing, I ended up doing a little Googling on the area.
Yeah, this is definitely where the richest of the rich come to disappear. It’s almost like a bunch of lonely old dragons hiding in their mountains, sleeping on their piles of treasure. It's a very wealthy enclave, and as I drive further into it, I see it also offers a lot of privacy and solitude. I pass one house and don't come across the next for four or five minutes.
Maybe my lonely dragon metaphor isn't that far off after all.
It takes me almost forty minutes of driving through the enclave before I find the address Jessa swears up and down is Aidan's. As I pull to the gate, I swallow hard, hoping that she's right. I'd hate to look like a total idiot.
There is a high, thick wall surrounding the estate that reminds me of some religious cult compound. Next to the wrought-iron gate with fancy scrollwork, is a box with a call button, video camera, and speaker. I'm tempted to back out, drive away, lie to Jessa about making amends, and forget any of this ever happened. My hand on the gear shift is more than ready to do just that.
But, then the guilt bubbles up for the way I treated Aidan the night before – can't back out now. Before I think about it any longer – and talk myself out of it – I let out a breath, push the call button, and wait. A moment later, his voice comes across the speaker.
“Katie?” he asks. He sounds surprised.
I reach over to the passenger seat and grab the twelve-pack, the bottles wildly clinking and clanking as I hold it up to the camera.
“I come bearing gifts,” I say.
“Funny,” he says. “I didn't realize Hail Mary delivered.”
“We do today.”
There's a loud chiming sound, and the gates in front of me begin to swing open.
“Come on up,” Aidan says.
I set the twelve-pack back down on the seat and drive through the gate. It's a long driveway that ends in a circular roundabout with a fountain depicting horses and ancient Greek gods in the middle. It would be beautiful if it didn't feel so pretentious. I wonder if it came with the house or if Aidan had installed it himself.
I pull to a stop in the roundabout near the stairs that lead up to the front porch and feel my breath catch in my throat. His chiseled face practically glows in the sunlight. As I set the brake and turn off the engine, I can't help but let my eyes roam up and down his body. Aidan is a tall, strong, good-looking man. And wearing blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and a gray fleece pullover on top of that makes him resemble a model for American Eagle or L.L. Bean. The trimmed dark beard on his face gives him that sexy lumberjack chic appeal.
He's not alone though. Sitting at his side on the porch next to him is the largest dog I've ever seen in my life.
I roll down the passenger side window and pull my sunglasses down to the end of my nose. “Is Cujo there friendly?”
Aidan shrugs. “Depends on how you define friendly, I guess,” he says, a small smile on his face. “He ate the mailman earlier today, so he's probably not hungry right now. You should be relatively safe.”
“I'm not getting out of this car if there's the slightest chance he’s going to eat me.”
He laughs hard and scratches the dog behind the ears. The dog looks up at him, his big tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, the sweetest expression of love and devotion on his big furry face. It's an adorable moment that makes me smile – and kind of makes me feel better about my odds of surviving the encounter.
“Oliver isn't going to hurt you,” he says. “This dog doesn't have a mean bone in his body. Promise.”
“That's what people always say,” I reply. “Right before the giant dog eats the girl. I've seen that movie before!”
Aidan laughs as he descends the stairs and walks over to my car, the giant dog following close behind. As Aidan opens the door for me, I feel a flutter in my chest – though, I honestly don't know if it's because Oliver makes me nervous, or because of Aidan himself. I look up into his steely blue-gray eyes set in that rugged, chiseled face and think that maybe, I'm not as nervous about the dog as I first thought.
I get out of the car and giggle nervously when the dog comes over and sniffs me. He wags his tail excitedly, which I take to be a good sign. I think. Either that, or Oliver is trying to lull me into a false sense of security, before he attacks. And up in these mountains, who would hear me scream?
Yeah, that's a really comforting thought. I probably should have thought this trip out a little better first. At least Jessa will know where to send the search party.
“I think Oliver likes you,” Aidan says.
The dog wiggles and squirms, licking the hand I hold out to him. His tongue is softer than I'd imagined and leaves a wet, slobbery trail over my skin that makes me grimace. Aidan just laughs.
“Yeah, sorry,” he says. “He does that.”
“Is he sampling me?” I ask.
Aidan grins. “Nah. That's his way of saying welcome,” he says. “Just be glad I don't greet you that way too.”
The smile slips from his face the instant the words pass his lips. He suddenly looks down and clears his throat, as if understanding how flirty that might have sounded, and it made him uncomfortable. Truth be told, I don't think I'd mind if he did greet me that way.
I give myself a sharp mental kick as soon as the thought passes through my mind. I am not here for that. He's a gorgeous man, I won’t deny that. But, I'm not in the market for a man – gorgeous or otherwise. I need to work on myself. Need to get my own shit in order before I should even contemplate indulging in anything of a romantic nature.
Aidan – and Oliver – follow me around to the other side of my car. I open the door, reach in, and hand him the twelve-pack.
“Make yourself useful,” I say.
“Gladly,” he replies.
Reaching back in, I grab the picnic basket and then stand up, using my foot to close the door. Aidan eyes the basket suspiciously, like I'm trying to smuggle a bomb into his house or something.
“What's this?” he asks.
“It's a beautiful day out,” I say. “And what do normal people do on beautiful days?”
Aidan looks down at Oliver, as if the dog somehow has the answer. When Oliver remains silent, Aidan looks back at me and shrugs.
“Drink beer?” he asks.
“And have a picnic,” I say and smile. “Duh.”
“Oh, is that what normal people do?” he asks, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“Supposedly,” I reply.
He laughs softly and leads me into the house, Oliver keeping pace beside us, sniffing at the basket persistently. The floor plan of the front room is open, with three steps that lead down into a large sunken living room on one side. A massive fireplace takes up one wall, and a large flat screen TV hangs above that.
Natural sunlight pours through numerous windows, as well as a large skylight above. Everything is done in light-colored wood and decorated in soft, earthy tones. Beautiful pieces of art hang on the walls, and it's clear that Aidan is dripping with money, but his home is still somehow very – understated. I don't think I possess the words in my vocabulary to adequately express how amazing this house is.
We walk into the sleek, modern kitchen and Aidan sticks the beer into a restaurant-sized, stainless steel refrigerator as I set the basket down on a large island in the middle of the space.
“I think I want to be filthy rich when I grow up,” I say and laugh.
Aidan chuckles, but looks down at the hardwood floor beneath his feet. He almost looks embarrassed by my comment, as if his wealth is somehow shameful. Personally, I see nothing shameful about having money. I'd love to have the kind of money Aidan has – and if I did, you can bet your ass, I wouldn't be embarrassed about it. Not for a second.
“So, should we eat in here?” I ask, tapping the basket.
“Nah,” he replies. “Like you said, it's a beautiful day out. Let's go outside.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Aidan pulls a couple of bottles out of the refrigerator, and I take the basket, following him through a mudroom, and out into a backyard that nearly takes my breath away. There's a large pool and hot tub that look like they were both carved from natural stone. A cascading waterfall flows into the hot tub to complete the look.
Wow.
There are also a couple of guest houses, plenty of green space, and a line of towering trees in the woods beyond the wall. Every building and feature back here was designed in a way to seamlessly blend in with the natural environment around it. Although these are all manmade structures, they look almost every bit as organic as the trees and bushes.
The inside of the house is gorgeous, but the outside is spectacular.
I breathe in the crisp, autumn air, letting the smell of pine and earth fill my lungs as Aidan leads me over to an area with benches and a table made from reclaimed timber, situated near a rock fire pit. It looks like a campsite, to be honest. But, like everything else in the large backyard, it works.
“This space is incredible,” I say.
“I wish I could take credit for it,” he replies. “I bought it like this. But, I have to say, whoever designed it did a fantastic job. There are a few things I would have done differently, but overall, it's almost perfect.”
“Oh, are you an architect?”
I set the basket on the table as we take a seat at the faux-campsite near the fire pit. Jessa told me he's the president of some big real estate development company, but I have no clue what that means or what he actually does.
“I've done some architecture work and enjoy it, but I'm actually a real estate developer. I do more of the administrative and planning side of things now,” he says. “I don't have a lot of time to actually design much anymore. Unfortunately.”
There's a definite tinge of sorrow in his voice when he says it, which makes me sad for him. He obviously doesn’t love what he does for a living. Not that I really know what that is.
“And what do you do as a real estate developer?” I finally decide to ask.
“The short version is, we buy up properties and develop them,” he replies. “Build new houses, malls, office buildings. Whatever our client is looking for, really.”
“Huh,” I say. “Interesting.”
His smile is soft and slightly sad. “Not really,” he says. “You don't have to pretend. Not for my benefit. Personally, I'd rather be designing the buildings. To me, that's where the fun is.”
“Why can't you?” I ask simply.
“Too much to do on the business side of things. Deals to make, contracts to manage,” he says. “It's okay though, I've gotten used to it.”
“If you don't enjoy what you do, why do it?”
“It's not that I don't enjoy it. I do. I love seeing a project progress from negotiations to the blueprint stage to completion. It's satisfying in its own way. So, I do like certain aspects of it,” he explains. “I just enjoy designing a bit more.”
He opens two bottles of beer and hands me one. I take a small swallow of it and grimace at first, but then it mellows. It's strong, but smooth. It's actually not that bad. A small grin touches his lips as he looks at me and takes a long swallow of his own drink.
Aidan seems like a man quick to smile, or at least, he used to be. There's a darkness that hovers over him – one that seems to have really taken root. Deep. There's a sadness that seems to have wrapped itself around him. It's hard to explain, but it seems like he’s been hollowed out by life. A man who is in the grips of despair and has been for some time. He just seems – bleak.
But, he's also goes to great lengths to hide it. Aidan is the type of man to keep tight control of his emotions. He wears a mask – one of stoicism. It's a mask that prevents anyone from seeing the true emotions hidden beneath the surface. He seems like a man who won’t give off the barest whiff of weakness to anybody. Ever.
“Besides, it's not like I had much of a choice, really,” he says. “It's a family legacy thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“My father started the company a long time ago,” he says. “Built it up into this massive empire. When he passed away, his will divided the empire into four equal parts – with my brothers and I all controlling one-fourth of it.”
“Wow, four boys,” I say and laugh. “Your poor mother.”
“Yeah, we gave her hell when we were growing up,” he replies. “But, she kept us all in line pretty well. She was a big believer in the whole “spare the rod, spoil the child” adage. She was tough. Had to be to deal with all of us, and my father, I guess.”
Awkward silence descends upon us as we sip our beers. It's the silence of two people who are friendly but not exactly friends. It's the quiet of two people who don't know the first thing about each other. Which, I guess, I should have expected. We talk about this and that when he comes into the bar, but Aidan and I are barely acquaintances – a fact that is painfully obvious right now.
To fill the silence, I start digging everything out of the basket. I take out a container of pasta salad, some barbecue chips, and a couple of big, well-stacked sandwiches. Next, I remove some plates and napkins and set them down on the table.
“Anyway,” he says. “What did I do to deserve the beer and picnic? If I’m remembering things right, yesterday you were pissed at me, and threw me out of your bar.”
I feel a rueful smile touch my lips, and let out a long breath. I'd been hoping we could just gloss right on over that and enjoy the day without bringing it up. Damn it. Time to pay the piper and do what I came here to do. Clearing my throat, I do my best to humble myself.
“Consider this my way of saying I'm sorry,” I respond softly.
Aidan's gaze is so direct and penetrating that I end up lowering my eyes. It's like he can lay me bare and see my innermost thoughts with nothing more than a glance.
“You don't have anything to be sorry for,” he says gently. “I understand why you were pissed.”
“I was kind of a dick to you,” I reply. “So, yeah, I do.”
“It was a heated moment,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I know I didn't help the situation any and could have handled myself better. I'm sorry that I put you in that position.”
I shake my head. “You didn't do anything wrong,” I reply. “That was all Leon's fault. Truth be told, a large part of me was glad you put him in his place. Someone’s needed to do that for a long time.”
“Well, I'm glad I could help.”
We stare at each other as silence falls over us once more. The longer our gazes are locked, the more it feels like I'm losing myself into those steely blue-gray eyes. I feel my cheeks flare with color, but I'm unable to look away. He's a beautiful man – I can't deny the attraction between us. Even though I shouldn't be having this kind of thoughts or feelings about anybody right now.
Right now, I need to focus on me. Since escaping from Victor, that's been my mantra.
I clear my throat. “Anyway, I wasn't sure what you'd like,” I say as I hand over one of the sandwiches. “I stopped by Eddie's Deli and picked up some roast beef subs and all the fixin's. You look like a roast beef kind of guy to me.”
“What if I told you I was vegan?”
I look at him and feel my eyes widen. I hadn't even stopped to consider that he might not be a meat eater at all. I am and always have been. I sometimes just assume everybody is. The heat in my cheeks burns brighter as I feel the full weight of my social faux pas pressing down on me. I wanted to do something nice, but in true Katie Weathers fashion, I've gone and screwed it all up.
“Relax,” he laughs. “I'm not. I'm just giving you a hard time.”
My exhale of relief is long and loud – and I immediately feel like an idiot for being so gullible. I pick up a plastic fork and throw it at him. He laughs harder as it bounces off his chest, and although he's laughing, I notice his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's making an effort to seem lighthearted, but I can see the darkness in him is still gripping him tightly.
“You're such an ass,” I say and laugh.
“I've been told that's one of my better qualities.”
“Somebody lied to you.”
We both dig into our meals, and the conversation is surprisingly light and fun. I watch as he tears off bits of his sandwich and tosses it to Oliver. The dog snaps them out of the air, munching away on them happily. He turns to me with those big, soulful brown eyes – obviously begging. I've never been much of a dog person, but Oliver is growing on me.
“I know it's a bad habit,” Aidan says. “But, I like to spoil the big guy sometimes.”
“Looks like more than just sometimes,” I say and laugh.
“Yeah, probably. But, he's a good boy. He deserves it.”
I can't resist and throw him a piece of my sandwich, which earns me a full-body wag and a big, goofy smile. I watch as Oliver turns and runs off, sniffing around the trees in the green area of his backyard. The awkwardness that marked the beginning of my time with Aidan seems to have evaporated entirely, which is surprising.
And the more we talk, the more I'm surprised to find that he's an interesting guy. There are a lot of things about him that I never would have guessed – like his love of art and books. He’s a voracious reader, which surprises me greatly. He seemed more of a beer and “enjoys whatever sport is on TV at the time” kind of guy when we first met.
Aidan is also incredibly smart. His interests are well-rounded, and it's obvious he had a first-class education. In the few hours – and more than a couple of beers – we’ve had sitting out on the patio area, I've gotten to know more about Aidan than I have in all the months he's been coming to the Mary.
He's a fascinating man, and I'm more than happy to listen and talk with him about whatever subject happens to come up, from anthropology to philosophy to classic literature. In some ways, he reminds me of my favorite liberal arts professors back when I was taking classes.
I'm no fool. In fact, I know I'm pretty damn smart. But, to me, Aidan is on a whole different level, intellectually speaking. I know part of it is that he’s a few years older. The other part is that he actually finished his education – a personal failure that haunts me to this day. But, it's more than that. He seems to have this natural wit and intelligence about him.
“So, you said you were studying to be a marine biologist at the University of Georgia?” he asks. “I take it you didn't finish?”
I shake my head, surprised that he'd remembered such a trivial fact about me. I like the fact that he actually listens to me – in my life, that has been an exceedingly rare trait in a man.
“No,” I say. “Unfortunately, I didn't.”
He cocks his head. “Why didn't you finish?”
I let out a long breath. This is treading perilously close to territory I don’t want to talk about. It's been just about a year since I escaped from Victor, give or take, but in a lot of ways, the wounds are still incredibly fresh. Even after all these months, I'm still raw and don't know if I'm ready to talk about it with anybody. Well, someone other than Jessa, that is.
But, as I look into his eyes, I can see something of a kindred spirit in Aidan. I recognize the darkness that surrounds him, because it envelops me too.
Well, maybe not the same darkness. I don't know what sort of trauma or heartache he suffered that left a stain on his soul. I only know my own heartache. But, I can tell the two of us are a lot alike – we’re both wounded, broken creatures.
I'm not sure what to tell him – or how much I should tell him. So, I decide to tell him the truth.
“Money, mostly,” I say. “It was tough working a job that didn't pay me much. And of course, financial aid is a joke. I stuck it out as long as I could, but eventually, I couldn't make ends meet anymore. I plan to go back and finish it out one day, though.”
He gives me that look again – the one like he's probing the depths of my mind and heart. It's unnerving really. And although I'm at a loss to explain it, it unlocks something inside of me. There's something about that direct, penetrating gaze of Aidan’s that makes me think I can trust him. That tells me I'm safe opening up to him.
My mind fights back against the idea, but I open my mouth, and am appalled to hear the words falling out.
“Also,” I say, feeling surprisingly compelled to keep speaking, “I was involved in a relationship at the time and he – Victor – he wasn't exactly supportive of me. He said I spent too much time away from home and – well – yeah. He was… controlling, I guess you could say.”
“Sounds like it.”
I look down at the table, and pick at the napkin in front of me, mentally kicking myself for not shutting up sooner. I don't know why I told him that. I don't actually know this man. I shouldn't be putting my personal nightmare out there for anyone, let alone someone I barely know. That's not something I do. Ever. And yet, somehow, with Aidan, I feel like it's okay to open up – to be myself. Like it's okay to talk to him, and that he's not going to judge me.
It's the strangest damn thing, given the fact that I don't know him very well, but it’s true nonetheless.
“That's rough. I'm sorry you had to deal with that,” he says. “But, I don't know what kind of man wouldn't be supportive of his partner. Wouldn't want to see her succeed and be happy.”
A wry laugh bubbles up out of my throat. “Victor was insecure. To say the least.”
“How long were you with him?”
“Almost two years. Way too fucking long,” I say.
Aidan laughs and it's a warm, rich sound that sends tendrils of pleasure crawling across my skin. Doing my best to shove those feelings down, I focus on the story instead.
“When we met, he was a senior. I was a freshman. Anyway, he had a full-ride football scholarship. Victor thought he was going to make it to the pros. But, he hurt his knee so bad that it ended his career before it ever had a chance to get started. After that – he changed. And not for the better.”
Aidan nodded as if he understood. “A big setback like that can really change a person.”
“If I'm being honest with myself, he was never that great. He cheated on me more than once and...”
I let my voice trail off, not wanting to finish that statement. This is not information I should be sharing. My time with Victor is something I always keep private. Just to myself.
But, Aidan’s eyes tell me he's not going to let this go – that he wants me to finish my train of thought. He looks at me without judgment, but with an expression filled with tenderness and compassion that makes my heart skip a beat.
“And what, Katie?” he asks gently.
I let out a long sigh, feeling the tears welling in my eyes as images and memories come flooding back like some dark, hellish tide. I grit my teeth, trying to bite back the words filling up my mouth, but they pour out anyway.
“He was abusive,” I say. “He used to beat me. Make me do things I didn't want to do.”
“Jesus,” he says.
Aidan surprises me by reaching across the table to take my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The heartfelt look in his eyes breaks me, and the tears start to fall, hard and heavy. Even though I'm doing my best to stop bawling in front of him – I can't stop.
Aidan comes around the table and sits down next to me. He pulls me into a warm embrace, and I lean my head against his chest as months – no years – worth of emotions I've kept boxed up are released. Jessa is the only one I've ever shared this with, and even then, I managed to keep myself under control. I have no idea why now is when I chose to have a meltdown about it. But, I can't lie. Having Aidan stroke my hair, telling me it's okay, and to let it all out, as I cry like a damn child, feels nice. It's comforting.
Eventually, I manage to get myself back under control. I sit up, and he hands me a napkin from the basket.
“Thanks,” I say, using the napkin to wipe the tears from my face. “I'm sorry. I'm normally not like this. I'm not the type of person who emotionally vomits like that.”
A gentle smile touches the corners of his mouth. “Seems like you've needed to get that out for a long time,” he says gently. “You have to get the poison out of your system, otherwise, it'll rot you from the inside out.”
I nod. “Yeah, I know. I just don't like talking about it.”
“I understand,” he says.
I look into Aidan's eyes and believe that unlike most people, he does actually understand. Behind his mask is deep and abiding pain. I know there are secrets he keeps buried deep inside. His face, although hard, like it had been carved from granite, is somehow soft and kind at the same time. Gentle. Compassionate.
In some ways, Aidan and I are two sides of the same coin. Two people who've obviously been broken. Two people trying to hide from the darkness and pain by avoiding human connection.
I can’t explain it, but I feel this strange, compelling energy building between us. I can't deny that I feel drawn to Aidan. And that scares me. I don't want to feel attracted to him – to anybody, really.
When Aidan suddenly leans forward, my breath catches in my throat and my heart starts to race. He presses his lips to mine, and it feels like the entire world has stopped turning. I'm so surprised, I don't know how to react. I sit there, frozen in place. Aidan pulls back, and his eyes are wide, his expression one of pure shock, which I'm sure matches the one plastered on my face.
“I – I'm sorry, Katie,” he says. “I didn't –”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish that statement, because without thinking, I lean forward and kiss him. His gasp is muffled as I slide my tongue into his mouth.
He runs his hands through my hair, gently pulling on it as our tongues swirl and dance together. I run my hands over the hard planes and angles of his body, gripping the tight, corded muscles of his arms, a fire burning between my thighs.
I know I shouldn't be doing this. And yet, I can't seem to stop myself. The longer we kiss, the longer we touch and caress, the hotter my desire burns – and the more I want him. This is wrong. So, so wrong. But right now, I don’t care. Aidan’s reignited a fire inside of me I haven't felt in years. He's turned on a light in the darkest room in my soul, and I find myself rushing headlong into it, like a moth drawn to the flame.
Aidan pulls me onto his lap, his hands sliding down my back until he's cupping my ass. He squeezes it tight and kisses my neck as he slides my shirt off me, tossing it onto the table behind us. I reach back, unhooking my bra as he leans forward.
A shudder runs through me as he lavishes my nipple with the tip of his tongue. As he kisses my breasts, Aidan glides his hands up my legs, slipping them underneath the long, flowing skirt I wore today. His fingertips on my inner thighs leaves a trail of fire along my delicate skin. Suddenly, Aidan pulls back and looks at me. In his eyes, I see that he’s scared. Uncertain. But, the shadow of something else is also there. Something I can't quite identify.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks.
No, I'm not. Not really. There are so many reasons we shouldn't do this. But, at the same time, I don't want to stop – and I can see that he doesn't either.
I nod but say nothing. Slowly, Aidan leans forward and kisses me again. It's a soft kiss at first, a little tentative, as if he's unconvinced this is something he should be doing. A moment later, the hesitation has all but faded as our kiss grows hotter and more intense.
I gasp as he touches me through my panties, his fingertips grazing the warm, wet center of me. He presses his fingers harder against the fabric, rubbing my clit. My panties are soaked already and having him touching me is only turning me on more. I bite my bottom lip as he pulls them to the side and slips a finger deep inside of me.
Grabbing his hair, I pull it fiercely and moan, my body exploding with sensations I haven't felt – maybe ever. Especially not with Victor. With him, it was always about his pleasure, and what I could to do make him feel good. I can tell, even now, that Aidan is different from him in that way. To Aidan Anderson, my pleasure obviously matters.
“Oh god, yes,” I say as he starts thrusting his finger, sliding it deeper into me.
I rock on his lap as he fingers me, my cries drifting up and into the crisp autumn air, echoing through the woods that surround us. At least I don't have to worry about anybody overhearing me, given that his nearest neighbor is more than half a mile away. We’re totally free to enjoy ourselves.
He kisses my neck and slips a second finger into me, driving them in with a passionate zeal. This feels so fucking surreal. I can't believe this is happening. Tingles of electricity and bliss roll across my skin in waves, and I never want it to end. It's been so long since I've had anything other than my own fingers between my legs, I've almost forgotten how amazing it feels. I rock my hips, grinding myself against him. I take his fingers into me even deeper, relishing the feel of his tongue on my skin, as he mercilessly licks my neck and sucks on my breasts.
Suddenly, I realize I need more – so much more.
“I need you inside of me, Aidan,” I say, sliding off his lap. “Please.”
I kiss him as I start working on his belt. Once it’s undone, I unzip his pants and slide my hand inside. I feel him tense, that inscrutable look upon his face once more as I grab hold of his stiff cock. He lets out a soft moan as I wrap my hand tight around the base and start to stroke him. His cock is longer and thicker than I'm used to, and some small part of me worries about having him inside of me, fearing that it might hurt.
He slides his pants down, giving me better access. Aidan's gaze is locked on mine as I jerk him off, and the lust in his eyes is powerful. Tangible. I can feel his desire pressing down upon me with an almost physical presence. Biting my bottom lip, I start to slip to my knees, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock in my mouth. To bring him the same pleasure he'd just brought me. But, he stops me.
Aidan picks me up like I weigh nothing at all and sets me on the table. He pushes my skirt up around my waist and pulls my panties down, tossing them behind me, where I assume they join the company of my shirt and bra.
He touches me again, sliding his fingers into my pussy, which makes me draw in a sharp breath. Aidan withdraws his fingers and then raises them to his lips, my juices glistening in the fading sunlight. I watch him intently as he slips them into his mouth, seeming to savor the very taste of me. Watching him lick my juices from his fingertips – and relish the taste – turns me on more than I think anything else ever has.
“I need to be inside of you, Katie,” he says, his voice low and gruff with need. “Right now. I need to fuck you.”
My throat grows dry, but my heart thunders with excitement. I can't find the words in that moment, so I just nod eagerly. I point to my purse, which is sitting on the table, next to the basket. Aidan looks at it and then back at me, not understanding.
“Condom,” I finally manage to croak out. “In my bag.”
I swallow hard as my heart continues to beat so violently, I'm half-convinced it's going to burst straight out of my chest. Aidan leans over and fishes a condom out of my bag, quickly opening it and unrolling it down the length of his cock. I’m struck again by how large he is and feel a quiver of fear pass through me at the thought of such a large dick thrusting inside of me.
Aidan doesn't give me a lot of time to ponder it, though. Finished unrolling the condom, he steps forward and slowly enters me. I draw in a sharp breath as he stretches me open, and wince at the sharp sting of pain gripping my body, making me tense up. The discomfort quickly fades as I'm overcome by a rush of warmth and pleasure. And when Aidan starts to move his hips, thrusting deep inside of me, I see the desire in his eyes is fierce. Intense. He pushes me onto my back and pins me to the table, my legs resting on his powerful forearms. Aidan slams that deliciously hard cock into me again and again, fucking me as the sound of our bodies slapping together echoes through the afternoon air, mixing with my cries of ecstasy, filling the forest with an erotic soundtrack.
“You're so fucking tight,” he growls.
“You feel so good,” I manage to stutter, my voice breathy.
I try to move, to sit up, but Aidan holds me down. I'm pinned to the table, helpless, while he pounds his thick, hard cock into me. I feel completely powerless as he fucks me, as he uses my body – but there's something sexy about it. There's something about his total control over me that is incredibly hot.
I know I should find it scary. I should be threatened by a man having this kind of power and control over me, given what I went through with Victor. But, I know by now that Aidan is nothing like Victor. Even though I don’t know him very well – I feel like I can trust Aidan. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would never hurt me. Ever. I'm sure he'd die before ever laying a hand on me.
It's insane, I know. Beyond insane. But, there's something about him that makes me feel – safe. It's a nice feeling. It's what makes me comfortable ceding my power to him.
A low, rough growl bubbles up out of Aidan's throat as he picks up his rhythm and fucks me even harder. Sweat drips from his brow, sparkling like jewels in the sunlight, and for a moment, I regret not taking his shirt off of him so I could marvel at his entire body.
I feel my body tightening and know that he's bringing me to the edge of the first orgasm I haven’t given myself in over a year. I look up at him, relishing the feel of him pounding himself inside of me, when I'm suddenly overwhelmed with ecstasy, and cry out.
“I – I'm going to come,” I gasp.
“Come for me, Katie,” he grunts. “I want you to come for me.”
As if his words are the key to unlock my orgasm, the heat that rushes through my body is almost instant, leaving me trembling and shaking wildly as my release crashes down over me. I open my mouth, but all that comes out are stuttering gasps. I'm caught up in the grips of a pleasure I've never known, and my entire body is in shock over it.
Aidan lets go of my arms and steps back, wiping the sweat from his brow. He looks down at me, the fires of lust in his eyes not yet quenched. He grabs hold of me, and quickly spins me around, bending me over the table. I feel his hand in the middle of my back, holding me down.
As he pushes my skirt up around my waist, I feel a wicked smile upon my lips. I'm so fucking turned on, it's not even funny. I feel the head of his cock press against me, and with one smooth motion, Aidan’s fully sheathed inside me once more. As he starts to thrust his cock into me, I’m overwhelmed by the sensations, and cry out in ecstasy. He fucks me hard, driving his cock into me again and again. As he starts to thrust his cock into me, I’m overwhelmed by the sensations, and cry out in ecstasy. I hear his breathing growing ragged, and his thrusts are more frantic. I know he's getting close.
“Come for me, Aidan,” I moan.
His grip on my hips tightens, his fingers pressing into my flesh. A low growl escapes his throat as he pounds into me.
“Jesus,” he gasps.
I press back against him, squeezing his cock with my inner muscles as he drives himself into me, his thrusting becoming slower and more measured. I know he’s trying to hold back and make this last. My body is tight, and I'm shaking at the sensations vibrating through me.
“I'm going to come,” he grunts through gritted teeth.
“Yes, Aidan,” I moan. “God, yes. Come for me.”
When I feel his cock pulsing as he bursts inside of me, I almost lose all of my remaining control. He lets out an animalistic growl as he comes, filling the condom inside of me.
Slowly, our breathing returns to normal, and the warm afterglow that had enveloped us begins to dissipate. Aidan steps back, his deflating cock slipping out of me. I turn around and watch as he slips the condom off and tosses it into the trashcan next to the table.
We both stand there, staring at one another for a long moment. The awkwardness that had infused the air between us when I'd first arrived is back, thicker than ever. Clearing his throat, Aidan bends down and pulls his pants up, quickly buttoning them. I smooth down my skirt and retrieve my clothes from the table, just throwing my shirt on, and tossing my bra into my bag.
He looks at me like he wants to say something, but closes his mouth without saying a word. Aidan looks down at his hands, and his face is filled with an expression I can only interpret as regret. Which, of course, makes me feel like absolute shit.
“Well – umm – thank you,” he says lamely. “For today. It was great.”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to suppress the anger and despair welling up within me. “Sure. It was great.”
He looks around, obviously searching for a way out of this. A way to get me out the door. I can take a hint and do my best to not get too upset. After all, it's not like he promised me anything. I went into this knowing that he's as damaged as I am. I just know it. Which means, logically, I shouldn’t be upset at him for acting like I know he might.
But, a small piece of me is still hurt by this sudden switch in behavior. A few minutes ago, Aidan couldn't get enough of me. Now, it seems like he can't get rid of me fast enough. It's a rejection that stings – even though I know it shouldn't. He did ask me if I was sure. I saw the hesitance in his eyes. Saw him searching for a way to stop the lust train before it ever left the station. But, I was too damn horny for my own good. We both were.
“So, I'll see you at the bar soon?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “At the bar. Sure.”
“Great,” he replies and nods. “Well, let me walk you out.”
I shake my head quickly. “It's okay,” I say. “I can find my own way out.”
I leave him standing there, my cheeks burning bright as intense shame sweeps over me. As I rush out to my car, I bite back the tears, refusing to let them fall over this. Feeling a humiliation deeper than anything I've ever experienced, I jump behind the wheel, and start the car.
I drive off as fast as I can, wishing like hell I'd never come up here.