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Those eyes.
“Ben?” I call, not wanting him gone for a moment.
“Yeah?” he rasps, looking like he’s making time where he has none.
“Uh… soap?” I volunteer, feeling suddenly helpless under his intense gaze and realizing I’ve left all my clothes in my rental car, including my underwear.
Unable to find the right moment now to show and tell him a proper thank you like I want to.
Feeling the ‘L’ word erupting from inside me but unable to form the word.
“Right here,” he replies, flicking open a cabinet, and exposing row upon row of fresh, hard fragrant bars of soap.
Chapter Six
Ben
There are less than a dozen windows in the whole place.
Nowhere near enough of an excuse for me, even if I wanted to cement each and every one of them up, but something compels me to bar them.
Not just from the storm outside.
I want to lock us in here, forever, not just a night or even a day while the wind blasts over us and the branches bounce off the shutters.
I want her, and I only realize how hopeless it all is once I hear myself croak something stupid about soap before she runs a shower, turning her sweet body away from me.
Not even hiding her near nakedness anymore. The outline of her hips. Her breasts and the subtle heaving of her chest when she speaks is almost too much for me.
The front of my pants is drenched in precome. I need her now, not just want. Need.
But the weather, her dad, and all my responsibilities compel me to think beyond the huge, fat ache in my pants.
The one thing I know I wanted more than anything.
Stacey.
Her name in my mind is like a hot brand.
I know I don’t just want her. I know now that I love her. Before I’ve even tasted her sweet lips, I know she has to be mine or I’ll go mad.
She’s a little hypothermic, but a warm shower and plenty of rest, some food…
Ah, who am I kidding?
I know what she wants as much as I know what she needs, a damned good dicking is what she needs.
The thought frightens me as I thrust the heavy bolts on the solid wooden shutters into place.
As hard and as fast as I picture my own rock hardness driving into her sweet pussy.
Her thick ass and thighs rippling with each pounding stroke until we’re both spent.
It’s tight, it’s hard and fast, but she keeps crying out for me.
Begging me to make her come as much as I come deep inside her every time.
I almost growl the words by the time I focus on the task ahead, feeling my cock ache terribly as I hear the trickle of water from her shower.
Stacey. Needs it.
Stacey. Wants it.
I’m chanting it in my mind by the time I’m done with the shutters.
They’re hurricane proof and so’s the whole building.
We’ve got food, water, and batteries for three months if we need them.
That shower though?
The one I know I yearn to watch her take, watching the hot water revive her, spilling over those thick pebbled nipples—
Stop it. Stop it!
She’s your best friend’s daughter and she’ll never be interested in an old man like you. Just do your job and get her home safe. Through this storm and then straight home.
I feel my jaw about to shatter I clench it so hard, reasoning everything I’ve just told myself.
Preparing myself for the facts.
I’m a forty year old man for Christ’s sake. I can’t bed or even wed my best friend’s twenty year old daughter… I can’t I just.
“Ben? Ranger Ben?” I hear her sweet voice calling out for me all of a sudden, catching me off guard, discovering me unzipping my pants again at the thought of those huge, pendulous tits swathed in hot water.
Those bullet hard nipples under her own caress, like in the forest as she pinched them between her own fingers, red with cold.
Nipples swollen with her arousal.
Begging for my intervention.
I groan loudly, feeling like my own needs are the least of my worries as my fat cock twitches in my pants, but vowing to fill her balls deep with it.
Promising to empty my seed inside her while she screams my name.
Ranger Ben.
Oh, you’ll say that more than once before we’re through. I promise.
I stagger to the bathroom door, inhaling the steam that’s infused with her scent.
The whole place feeling better with her in it now.
“There’s no towels. Can you pass me one, maybe leave it inside the door?” she asks innocently.
I clear my throat, hoping it’ll clear my filthy mind too, but it’s no use.
I agree and reach for a couple of fresh towels from the closet, grunting for some reason as I only nudge the bathroom door wide enough to slip them in.
My eyes meet hers through the steam, and I can see she’s opened the glass screen with the water still running.
