White Heat (5 page)

And then he reached around her, and she felt his fingers sliding down the velvet of her back, down to her tender ass, where they tickled at the down and made her squeal; then shifting her in the cradle of his arms, he dug his fingers deep into the soft, resilient flesh of her buttocks. She heard his breathing, as ragged as her own, and at every breath, she felt the fire of his insistent strength and desire prodding within her.

His ice blue eyes were bright and intent upon claiming her. Her brain was flame; his member pulsed inside her, and detonated again. Her nipples quivered, straining to pin him against her, and her nails raked hard and insistent at his back.

Moisture trickled as they sucked and grappled. Pleasure so acute it made her gasp with fierce delight, and shockingly, he was still inside her, still driving in and pounding. And she felt herself give way, as if his thing was a monumental spike about to pierce right through her. Once again, their bodies jolted with the joy of his ejaculation.

Setting her down, he panted for a moment, out of breath from his exertions. Her body squirmed frantically as his mouth moved down upon her. His lips slid down to her still-aching breasts, and he paused in his attentions to suckle at her, licking at her roseate crests as if her skin gave forth a sugared sweat.

She cried aloud, with lewdness and elation. She felt him nibble hard upon a nipple. Excitement thrilled her. He drew back, admiring the rich, deep color of her areola; then his mouth returned to her flesh and he sucked it hard.

The sandpaper texture of his skin, the pain of his teeth denting the tender nipples of her breasts made her entire body boil and sizzle with desire. She pressed her warm mouth against his silky hair, giving him hard, repeated kisses. A moment’s rest; two breaths that came as one. And then he swelled still further.

Deeper and still deeper he forced his shaft until it was lodged up to the hilt—until it suddenly burst, spraying a torrent of semen into her body. She heard the howl and roar of her own voice as his deeper-pitched one sang and bellowed; while her pelvis continued thrusting even as her body wriggled lasciviously against his wild dick. Until, at last, with one more convulsive blast, their two entwined bodies spasmed, jerked, and then relaxed. And they lay there, weary but content.

He looked at her, his lips murmuring soft things that felt like love, and she responded, wrapped herself around him. They lay quietly for brief minutes staring at each others’ eyes, and their faces shone with adoration. It was a time of tenderness. She touched his face, he stroked her silken thigh, caressed her crotch.

In her thoughts, she was comparing him to Dugan, who was insensitive and horrid in his indifference to her woman’s need for affection and for caring. His eyes had never looked at her as if he thought her valuable and priceless. And although Josh was determined in his intense lovemaking, she understood even when he entered her forcefully, it was not just to please himself, but to please her too.

She realized, with a sting of recognition, that she liked this. With a trace of guilt, (thinking how her mom would blush and stutter if she could see her and Josh coupling like beasts in heat) she realized she needed a heroic male, a mighty Thor who would treat her like a goddess. But she also needed tenderness; a man whose thoughts of her were sweet and dripping concern and tenderness. And one who respected her as more than just a sperm receptacle to use instead of whacking off. She felt that, in Josh, she had at last found such a man.

Dugan would kill her. Thinking of him, she felt a tremor of fear, which heightened her arousal. And Josh—responsive to her, to her emotional vibrations—must have felt it too. The result was that once again his dick was beginning to grow firm and upright, readying itself for fulfillment.

And then their urgency erupted again, leaving them breathless.

* * *

They showered briefly, just to freshen up. The water stung her face and dampened his penis down, though, even hanging limp, it was a masterpiece. As they toweled off, she saw him start to rise again. Kneeling before her, he fondled her stomach and her abs.

“Stop,” she giggled as he probed her belly button with his tongue.

Then suddenly, she shouted vehemently, “My turn.”

He grinned and let her ease him off, then turn him like a turtle on his back, exposing his now-flaccid penis for her use.

Avidly she sought his member with her hands. She stroked it tenderly, rubbing the wrinkled, softened flesh, then licking it until he moaned and trembled like a leaf. She felt a shiver go throughout his entire body, as she bent to her task with avid attention. And then, still delighting in his genitals, she turned her face up toward his. She loved staring into his eyes.

He mumbled hoarsely, “I love you.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he murmured.

“No, say it again. I want to hear it.”

“I’m a fool,” he said quietly. “A damn fool.”

She felt his penis go limp and droopy at the words.

“No, you’re not. Say it. Say it.”

She had found a real lover for the first time in her life. She didn’t want to let him go.

“I love you,” he said again. This time his words were clear, definitive. But his face was deathly pale, and she felt his body shaking.

“I love you too,” she said. And then, taking his dick in her hands and holding it gently, she said, “I want to do this for you.” She looked him in the face, and her cheeks were blazing red. “He…he forced me to. But… I want to do it for you. I need to.”

He nodded. She felt a surge that made his penis vibrate, and then it rose and thrived under her careful devotion. It was no act of lust, but one of love, sealing and solidifying their passion.

They cuddled close together for a while. After this, they spooned together, and she felt warm as toast, despite the winter’s chill. A little later, after gazing tenderly into his eyes, she told him how badly she wanted to love him yet again. He nodded, content once more to let her take the lead; he was not afraid her assertion made him any less a man, and she thought it made him even closer to her heart.

Gently, she took first one, then the other of his balls into her mouth, wetting it and sucking. The balls had the texture of soft leather; spicy, salted with a hint of ginger. She heard his moans of joy,

Then, gripping his pulsing shaft with both hands, she opened her mouth stretching her moist lips as widely as she could. She felt saliva rise against the lining of her throat. Then, she slid his penis smoothly through her lips, into her mouth. It was firm, but gave like taffy when she mouthed it.

Closing her eyes, she sighed, and then squeezed her lips around the creamy staff and slid it in and out, in and out. The saliva in her mouth bubbled, gurgling around it. His body quivered, and his moan was loud and harsh; he thrashed his arms as if he were in agony and cried aloud. Squeezing the bottom of the shaft, she sucked it harder, then swallowed noisily as he spurted out, screaming his pleasure.

Her brain was sweltering with mist, as if she was about to faint. Tiny dots like sparkling fireflies flew before her eyes as his body convulsed with an ecstatic jerk so intense that it must have been unbearable. And then he sobbed and tears came from his eyes as lush as rain.

“My darling sweet, my sweetest darling.”

She smiled, sucked it for a moment longer, and then released his flesh. She, too, was weeping, and her face was soaked and stained with passion.

The two lovers spent the rest of the day asleep in each other’s arms, their legs tangled together, their bodies pressed close. They were exhausted, but savored each and every taste and smell of love.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Dugan set out at first daylight, eager to hunt down Carol as soon as possible. A seasoned hiker, he knew that he could easily cover ground two or three times faster than the smaller woman, despite her honed body and strong legs.

He spent most of the day trudging ceaselessly through piles and drifts of snow, some of which were so deep that at times they almost reached to his shoulders. He kept plodding, his eyes fixed, stony, ignoring the snow, ignoring the cold that made his joints stiff, and focused on his prey. Still, even with his great endurance and the flaming hate that propelled him like a rocket sled, he began to tire; but, even his rest stops were brief and restless, necessary inconveniences that fueled his rage even more, as if the cold itself was his personal enemy.

He chewed on pieces of dried jerky that he had brought along with him, sipping periodically at an energy drink to rally himself. Yes, he was dead tired and chilled to the bone, but the fervor of his rage and the fever of his lust kept him going even as dusk approached, even as the frigid cold of the day was slowly replaced by the deadly frost of night in this untamed wilderness of snow.

Dugan literally devoured the miles in his haste to follow the trail, to follow the GPS tracker that registered with a small beeping signal the location of the cell phone Carol had taken. He knew that—now that the weather was better—she, too, might decide to move on, to run so far that even he might never find her. Or worse, she might decide to ditch the cell that was their only link.

Now it was getting too dark and icy to continue, despite the electric lantern he had brought with him. Reluctantly, muttering foul curses at the injustice of it, he decided that he had to stop and set up camp for the night, or else he would freeze to death while trekking around half blind in the frigid blackness.

He paused for a moment at the crest of a small hill that he had climbed. She was nearby; he could sense it in his gut, feel her in the slight twitching sensation in his crotch, as if his penis had some type of radar that honed in on her womanly essence or the body that it had marked and conquered.

Taking a pair of night binoculars, he searched in a small semicircle, inspecting the nearby ridges and embankments, seeking a sign of habitation. There must be some kind of shelter nearby. He was sure of this; it was the only explanation for the stationary blip that signaled her location.

Wait a minute
…

Carefully adjusting the binoculars, he focused on a small, obscure shape that appeared artificially regular. Despite the shadowy image, he thought he could make out what appeared to be a small shack or cabin.

Yes, yes. There it was.
He could even make out a small contrail of gray-white smoke rising from it, far away at the bottom of the hill.

He took a sip of energy drink, gulped hungrily, and then wiped his mouth off with the back of one gloved hand. He spit, and then saw the spittle turn into tiny icicles. Yes, she must have taken shelter in that cabin.

So this was the end of the trail. His jaw was tense, and his eyes felt red and irritated from the icy air, despite his goggles. His brain was stung by a thought. A cabin, yes. But whose cabin was it? His gut told him it must be a man. Who else could it be out here alone in this icy wilderness?

Yes, a man. And a lonely man who must have been extremely horny when she arrived. There weren’t exactly a lot of women around here to satisfy a man’s need. And Carol was irresistibly attractive. He thought again of her ass and tits, and his fists clenched automatically.

His mind was ablaze with images. Had she paid for her lodging with her body? Allowed that stranger to offer his hospitality, then given him a taste of her lush body, let him drill his cock into her? Maybe she had even sucked him off, done the thing she had been so reluctant to do for her own husband. Yes, he was sure of it.

That fucking whore. Yes, she must have pleasured him. A horny man with a warm, snug cabin and a cushy mattress; and a frightened, freezing bitch in heat. She had paid for a bed by fucking him.

And, knowing her, she had probably already convinced herself that it wasn’t just sex, but that she was “in love.” Yes, just like the dumb, romantic bitch had convinced herself she was in love with him after he relentlessly deflowered her. Yes, she would have to make herself believe that she was in love, else she would have to admit that she was just a whore. And her mind she would never be able to accept that, not with that rich, tight-assed upbringing of hers.

All right. He’d deal with her.

But first things first. Now, he had to set up camp. Make sure he was warm, safe, and out of sight in case anyone from the cabin happened to be looking. And then, come dawn, he would go down on that cabin like a man going to war. He felt a sudden tension in his crotch. And he would kill that new man of hers with his bare hands, right in front of her. Maybe even cut his cock off, just to make a point, just to drive home the lesson, and make sure that she would never do it again. A woman should not cheat on her husband. Even the preachers preached that in church. Yes, that new man of hers deserved to die, and he would oblige him.

And then, well, then would come the reckoning. His mouth twisted, and he shook his head. He looked forward to it.

First, he would beat that big ass of hers raw. And then he would take her like a dog takes a bitch, shove it up her behind. Absently, he began grinding his teeth as images of rough sex with Carol swirled in his brain like a sex video.

Suddenly, his molars crunched together with a horrid cracking sound. Disgusted with himself, he spit out a piece of broken tooth, along with glob of sputum that was pink with blood.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was still dark outside when Josh slowly roused himself. He rubbed his eyes, which were slightly red and irritated from the cold. She was snuggled up against him, curled tightly against his chest.

Smiling, he stroked her hair with love. She wriggled slightly, gave a small moue, and then nestled down into the mattress. Her skin was tinted pink, and as he gently kissed her throat and bare shoulders, he thought that she tasted like fresh strawberries. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. Isolated out here, despairing of any life more satisfying than this isolation; and suddenly, like a benediction from on high, a lovely, amazing woman enters his life, and offers herself to him.