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I cup my tight balls as images of her float through my mind. My cock aches. I can’t help myself; it’s been too long since I’ve been with someone, and the darkness welcomes all kinds of fantasies about the two of us together, reaching for each other in the middle of the night…my fingers slipping into her heat…the tip of my tongue teasing her hard nipple… I can almost hear her moan, but that can’t be real. It’s just a hallucination from all the blood leaving my brain and headed straight to my dick.
Pardner, you’re never going to get to sleep if you don’t get your mind off her.
But wait. She did make a noise. That wasn’t all in my head. Clearing away the brain fog, I also hear shuffling and creaking in the next room. Penny has woken up, and she’s rooting around in the drawers, mumbling softly. I still myself to listen, smoothing my hand over the fuzz of my stomach and up to my chest.
My cock twitches at the unzipping of her cut-off shorts.
In the moonlight, I see her shape exit the bedroom. I hold my breath. The bathroom light flicks on. Before she closes the bathroom door, I gl
impse her in a tank top and cheeky pajama shorts, her hair mussed from the pillow, her hand feebly blocking out the light from her eyes.
She’s so cute, shuffling around half asleep in the dark, I’m almost mad about it. Mad that she’s not mine yet.
If the sight of her round ass wasn’t enough, I get a view of the front when she exits moments later, her full, pink lips still talking to herself. Her brows knit together in concentration as she quietly mutters something about having drunk too much wine and not remembering putting her laptop away. A screenprint of an old monster movie is displayed on the front of her tank top, which makes me like her even more. The light clicks off, and I’m shrouded in darkness again, listening to her journey back to bed. The springs creak, the blankets rustle, she stretches, yawns, sighs, and settles in, whispering to herself about what, I don’t know. I love it that she talks to herself. Not to mention how sexy she is without even realizing it. Her bed noises conjure up another, new type of ache that I’ve never experienced before.
To my surprise, the longing isn’t just about me being a horndog stuck in a small space with this woman. The yearning for connection, to protect, to care for her. I realize I want to someday come back to this same cabin together, the two of us sharing that bed. The caveman in me wants to get her pregnant.
Her body shifts on the mattress, and she lets out a muffled noise as she settles into the pillow. I roll over on the futon and think about spooning her from behind, my forearm sandwiched between her breasts while we sleep.
The fantasy of her wanting me just as bad, finding me, and taking what she needs…
“Fuck,” I whisper, grasping my shaft in my hand. Tonight is only our first night here, and I can’t stand being apart from her.
If I have to rub one out every night just to get to sleep, then so be it. It’ll have to do until she’s even the slightest bit interested in me.
If she ever will be.
Chapter 7
Penny
I wake up the next morning and realize several things. I did not plug in my laptop or set down my mom’s box of ashes carefully on the floor last night. The extra blanket did not come from this room.
My half-asleep state in the middle of the night didn’t register these findings. All I knew was I had to pee. My clearer head this morning tells me what I already know. Joshua did all of those things for me.
As if that’s not enough, fresh hot coffee awaits me in the kitchen, along with an eyeful of Josh. Fiddling with the contents of his tackle box, he says, “Good morning, sunshine.”
“Back at you. Thank you for putting up my laptop and stuff, and thanks for the blanket. You didn’t have to do all that.”
He picks up a garish neon green lure with about seven tiny hooks on it, examining it. For what, I couldn’t say. “I run hot. I didn’t need the blanket. And you shouldn’t fall asleep with your laptop in bed. Those things run hot too.”
I sip my coffee and look him over, deciding he’s not meaning to be critical. There’s a sense of protectiveness in his voice that I find charming. The warmth mingles with the coffee as it goes down to my belly.
He still hasn’t looked me in the eye this morning. “Planning on catching Jaws with that thing?” I ask.
He laughs. “What this? No, this is for walleye and northern pike.”
“Those are fish, I presume.”
I expect him to laugh or ask me how I could not know anything about fishing, but he doesn’t. “Wanna come with? I’m heading out in a few minutes.”
Honestly, fishing to me sounds like a lot of work once you catch something. And a lot of boring stuff before that, and potential for sunburn without the perks of swimming.
I politely decline, explaining that today I’m planning on swimming and then unwinding with a bath and a good book on the dock. “And I’ll be sightseeing when I’m not on the dock. You might not see a lot of me for the rest of our stay.”
He nods his head. “Yeah, good idea. There’s lots to see around here. Lock Day is coming up.”
The phrase conjures up romantic images of couples memorializing their love by placing locks on that bridge in Paris, and I can’t imagine what he’s getting at. If he’s suggesting we go and do something like that here, I might have to pump the brakes. We haven’t even been on a proper date yet. “What’s Lock Day?”
