Winter at the White Oaks Lodge (23 page)

I stroked my fingers through his hair and pressed myself against him. We were still fully clothed, but I could feel how hard he was. I whispered back, “I knew it then too, I just wouldn't admit it to myself.” I touched his eyebrows, tracing them, allowing myself the pleasure of caressing his face. He smiled at me and my heart convulsed against him. I whispered, “It's so good to touch you.”

“Touch me,” he said then, the heat in his eyes leaping into mine. There was a catch in his throat as he whispered intently, “And let me touch you. Will you let me make love to you? I know you haven't been on the pill long enough, but I bought a box of condoms the day after you told me, I have them right here…”

I felt feverish, a flame burning through me as he kissed me again, deeply, only breaking the contact of our mouths to yank the sweatshirt over his head, and I moaned at the sight of his bare chest, which I hadn't yet seen, his strong, hairy chest, wide shoulders that rippled with muscle, creating solid ridges on either side to his neck. He was so gorgeous that I could hardly breathe.

“Now you,” he whispered then, taking my hands into his when I caught the bottom hem of my sweater. He said, “Let me. I've imagined this so many times, let me.”

With deliberate movements he bared my belly, pressing his lips there, as I wound my fingers into the dark curls on his neck. He moved slowly up my body, easing the sweater over my breasts, still harnessed into my nursing bra.

“Mathias…” I tensed a little and he immediately stilled his hands, lifting his head from between my breasts, where he had been kissing my skin. My heart was throbbing desperately. I whispered, “I might…”

He traced my cheek and asked softly, “Might what?”

“My…breasts…” I felt heat seeping over my face. I closed my eyes and said in a rush, “I might leak milk on you.”

“You thought I would mind that?” he whispered, teasing me a little. I opened my eyes to his tender smile and my heart beat even more crazily against him. I felt a rush of urgency, desire and love for him swirling into an insistent elixir. I spread my thighs beneath his hips as my arms went around his neck.

“Come here,” I begged and the smile fell from his lips, replaced by the same fervor that was rioting through my blood. He kissed me again, his tongue delving deeply as I arched against him and he unhooked my bra with skillful fingers. I shifted my arms free of it and he tossed it from the bed, a sound escaping his throat, a low groan, as he bent to open his lips over my right nipple. And just like that I felt a prickling rush and he got a mouthful of breast milk. My left nipple began trickling warm liquid at the same instant.

I squeaked and he swallowed convulsively and then laughed, making me laugh in the next instant as he licked the inside curve of my left breast.

“It tastes good, really sweet,” he gasped out, still laughing hard. “This is so erotic…is that terrible of me to say?”

I was laughing too hard to answer. I thought it was erotic too, even though it was probably wrong to think that. But I didn't care; nothing felt wrong with Mathias. I giggled and writhed as his tongue traced the milk trails over my breasts before he pressed his lips between my breasts and breathed deeply. He whispered, “You don't even know how beautiful you are, do you?” He moved above me, bracing over me and studying my face, caressing my cheekbones.

“Thank you,” I whispered, winding my arms around his neck, possessively. I told him, “You make me feel beautiful.”

“I want your love, I'm totally selfish for it,” he said in response, kissing my cheeks, one after the other. He traced my jaw with gentle fingertips. “My heart is all yours.”

“And mine is yours, oh Mathias, you don't even know,” I told him, tears welling again. I giggled a little, even though my throat had closed off too, emotions storming through me. I said, “I'm getting you all wet…”

His eyelids lowered seductively and he kissed away my tears before saying, “That's supposed to be my job.”

Another rush of need raced through me and I heard myself beg, “Get these off…” and lifted my hips in case he didn't realize I meant my jeans.

He had me out of them in one second, his own in the next. He placed a strong hand flat against my belly. I shivered and clung to his shoulders. He kissed me softly and then whispered, “Have you ever had an orgasm before?”

I'd given myself a few over the past few years, but I shook my head, trembling and feverish all over again. He ran his hand between my legs over the top of my panties, not yet touching my skin, and pressed gently against me. I moaned and a throbbing heat overtook my senses. His kisses swept away everything but my longing for him.

He said, “Because I intend to give you a few.”

I couldn't respond in words, shivering as he slipped his hand beneath, stroking me gently as tiny intense explosions flowed along in the wake of his fingers. He kissed me, his tongue stroking my mouth in a similar rhythm.

“I love you with my whole heart, Camille,” he whispered between kisses. “And I want to bring you pleasure, I want it so much.”

“Yes,” I begged him, hardly able to think beyond his touches. I moaned, “Mathias, yes, please
yes
…”

I gripped his shoulders and then bit the top ridge of muscle on his right one as I shuddered beneath him. Sweat trickled over his temples as we kissed and he continued caressing me, deeply and firmly. He bent to my breasts and I caught his head in my hands, arching into his mouth.

He was breathing hard enough that I almost didn't understand him when he said, “I won't…I promise I won't…get you pregnant. Not until…you're my wife.”

His wife.

“Let me see you,” I begged him, shifting to roll him over. I leaned across him, running my hands down his neck, letting my loose, heavy hair stroke all along his chest and belly, before I caught the hard length of him into my hand and held it as his head fell back and he shuddered with harsh breaths.

“That feels so goddamn good,” he said, cupping his hands into my hair as I bent lower and took him into my mouth. His cock was big, hot and rigid, and I was sticky with warm breast milk, yet I had never felt so overwhelmed with desire as I bent over him. I took him as deeply as I could, tasting him, gripping his hips with both hands.

“Come here,” he gasped out, shifting us and sweeping me into his arms, rolling me to my back. He was poised just at the juncture of my legs and I was nearly panting. He said hoarsely, “Condom,” and flung open his bedside drawer, rummaging furiously to find the box. He tore it open with his teeth, shook one out, and had it in place almost before I could blink.

“My panties,” I whispered, and he grinned at me. I licked his dimple, catching his cock back into my hand as he bared me completely.

“Camille,” he said. His eyes were blue fire as we clung and I ran my calves up his sides. He said, “Tell me once more, oh God, tell me one more time,” and joy flowed through me, intense as anything I had ever felt.

“I love you, Mathias, I lo—” and he cut my words short, claiming my mouth with his own.

He ran one hand down my side to my knee, hooking it around his hip. We were kissing so hard that my jaw ached but I would have rather died than stop; the moment he slid within me I felt a tightening, and then a flowing release, completely lost in him. He rocked into me, so hard and strong, taking me over an edge I hadn't known existed. He was mine, wild in my arms, his back rippling with muscle beneath my hands, his face pressed against my neck, our bodies slick with sweat and tangled together. I buried my cries against his neck as he drove into me. I clung to him with arms and legs and then he shuddered hard, falling still and wrapping me close at the same moment, so close that nothing could ever come between us.

Time passed; how much, I wasn't sure. I was so warm and relaxed, safe in his arms. Mathias traced gentle fingertips in a pattern between my shoulder blades, cradling me against his chest. His heartbeat was slow and steady against my cheek, replete. I smiled, thrilled that I could bring him such pleasure, that he could cause such earthquakes of sensation through my body. I slipped one hand down my own belly and pressed gently against my pelvis, where the aftershocks of feeling were still swelling within me. Eyes still closed, he smoothed a hand down the same path, curling his own much bigger hand over mine.

“Thank you for that,” he whispered, winding our fingers together. And then teasing me a little, “I hope it was good for you.”

I giggled, my cheek against his chest, whispering back, “Are you kidding me? You couldn't tell…”

He shifted and grinned down at me, curved possessively over me as I snuggled against him, our fingers intertwined between my legs. I pressed against his hand. He said, “Well…I had some idea…”

“I would hope so,” I said, hooking my left leg again over his hips. He ran a warm hand along my thigh.

“You're so soft, soft as silk,” he whispered, his blue eyes lazy with satisfaction. “Camille. Can I call you ‘honey'?” He kissed my neck, murmuring, “My sweet, sweet honey.”

I shifted my hand atop his and maneuvered his fingers where I wanted them most at this moment. Heat flared instantly into his eyes and I lifted my chin to kiss his neck, licking him in little teasing hot spots.

His voice was slightly hoarse as he speculated, “Maybe I better call you my naughty honey. My sweet naughty little—” I giggled and cut him short as I pulled his lips to mine. He rolled over me at once, stroking deeply as I bucked against him and felt such onrushing desire that I was a little startled at myself. I wanted him to kiss me just where his hand was touching me, but I was too shy to ask. I moaned deep in my throat and twisted in effort to get closer to him, and he pressed his lips to my temple and whispered, “What is it, honey? What do you want, tell me…”

His husky voice sent heat through me just as effectively as his plundering fingers. I held tightly to his neck and spread my legs further around him, closing my eyes to whisper, “I want…”

“Tell me,” he whispered, closing his teeth around my earlobe.

“I want you to…kiss me…here…” and I lifted against his hand in case he didn't realize where I meant. I kept my eyes closed, shuddering with the sensation as he kept stroking me firmly. I felt his grin against the side of my neck and then he was moving down my body, slowly, again building the throbbing within me to a feverish height. He kissed my breasts, my belly, at last bracing over my hips and breathing lightly between my legs as I shuddered and covered my eyes with a forearm. No one had ever done such a thing to me but I trusted him and I wanted him so much that again I was a little shocked at myself.

“Right here?” he whispered, and kissed me so softly, just a brushing of his lips against my flesh. My hips jerked in response and I moaned.

“
Yes
,” I pleaded, and he curved his hands beneath me, lifting me so that he could kiss me again, and again. I didn't even try to muffle the gasping moans that came flowing from my throat. He was so incredible. I should have known, could have guessed, but no imagining came close to the real thing, Mathias here with me.

“Oh my God,” he groaned some time later, breathing roughly. “I don't think I've ever been so hard in my life. I think I could cut through solid diamond. Jesus Christ.”

I giggled at that, also breathless, so totally wet that he slid all the way in with the first stroke. I wrapped around him and he held himself deeply, not moving for a second. He was so hard that I almost couldn't believe that he fit inside of me.

“You're so good at that,” I whispered, still shivering, and he smoothed hair from my flushed face, his eyes so full of love that my heart thrust against him. I held him as tightly as I could. I implored, “Stay here, inside of me.”

“Always,” he whispered back. “Always, Camille.”

I pulled his mouth to mine, tracing my tongue over the cupid's bow on his top lip and then sucking his full bottom lip into my mouth, closing my teeth lightly around it as he began moving slow and deep, drawing forth pulsing waves from within me.

“I love you,” he said intently, tipping his forehead to mine. “It's so goddamn good…oh my God, Camille…I love you.”

“Mathias,” I gasped out. “I know it to the bottom of my heart. I love you so much.”

And only much later we drifted from somewhere up in the bright stars, softly back to his bed.

January 2006

“I don't want you to think…that all
I want from you…is this,” Mathias said, breathless, as we struggled in a rush of frantic need to unbutton each other's jeans. It was a dark winter's evening and we were in the ice shack out on Flickertail. Since New Year's Eve, we had made love every moment available to a man with a roommate and a single mom without her own place. Mathias had stashed a full-size air mattress in our cabin, which we had nearly popped about a dozen times already.

“I don't…think that,” I assured him, my voice hoarse, in between kisses. I loved him so much, craved him so insanely that all sensibility flew swiftly away, on wide, feathery wings. I managed, “It's just…that this is so…amazing…
oh my God
.” He had curved his hand into my panties and was stroking me firmly. My head fell back and his lips were on my neck.

“I need you inside me right now,” I demanded, as though my body wasn't telling him exactly that, and he kissed me hard and hot, his tongue as insistent as his fingers within me. He shoved everything off the top of the overturned barrel, which put me at a perfectly appropriate height for his plans, lifting me atop it without breaking our kiss. I held his head, tilting to take his sweet, questing tongue even deeper, assisting him as he worked busily to tug down my jeans and panties enough to free one leg, still clad in my knee-high woolen sock, which he then hooked around his hip.

Breathing harshly, he tore his mouth from mine to whisper, “You'll get splinters…”

I giggled breathlessly, even though splinters in my ass were the last things I was worried about right now. He ripped off his coat and settled it under me, then pulled my mouth back to his, as I moaned and his taste went all through me, the feel of him, the rushing intensity. I grabbed his hand and brought it once more between my legs, and he made a sound deep in his throat, his lovemaking sound, I knew, stroking me as I lifted against him and then reached to yank his jeans down, just enough to free his cock, which I took firmly into my hand.

“Hurry,” I ordered, breathlessly, and he shifted to impale me as I moaned again. Between kisses I told him, “You feel…so good…don't stop…
don't stop
…”

He drove into me and I clutched his shoulders to keep from getting bucked right off the barrel, thrusting back just as fiercely. I buried my cries against his neck and he groaned and came a little, I could feel the burst of it and was so happy not have a condom in the way. I had been on the pill more than three weeks now.

“Not yet…” he said, low and hoarse, slowing his pace just a fraction. He grasped my hips and tilted me to a slightly different angle, deepening each thrust, and I tightened instantly around him. He plunged again and again, and sweat trickled over my temples and between my breasts. He grinned at me, his eyelids lowered in seductive pleasure; he hadn't shaved in a couple of days and his dark stubble was thick and raspy, totally sexy, giving him the appearance of someone perhaps a little dangerous, maybe a sailor who'd been out to sea for months…

“Oh my…God…
Mathias
…” I gasped out, coming so hard against him that I nearly fell off the barrel. He kept me steady, driving into me for a few final thrusts before he too was overcome and spilled over into my body. I tipped my forehead on his chest and he bit my earlobe, just lightly, but I shivered and squeaked.

“Were we too loud?” I whispered against his thermal underwear sometime later. He was radiating heat, hotter than any furnace, his heartbeat now powerfully steady and even against my cheek. I inhaled almost greedily, absorbing the scent of him; it was a primal, animal thing, this craving for another person that overrode all else.

He kissed my hair, stroking it back from my sweating forehead, and whispered, “I think we're safe. It's pretty loud out there.”

I caught his face into my hands and he grinned at me, tipping forward to gently kiss my lips, my nose, my legs still locked around his hips. I whispered, “We're so naughty.”

“Yes we are,” he agreed. “And I love it.”

I kissed his neck, biting him a little, and whispered back, “Me too. I love being naughty…really, really naughty…”

His dimple deepened as his hands came around my ass, lifting me closer, and I bit his earlobe and ordered, “I want to ride you…lay down…”

He shifted to oblige me at once, and then we were laughing and struggling to get completely out of our jeans and to position something under us, so there was a barrier between Mathias and the ice, kissing deeply, our bodies intertwined in this cramped space. He managed to get his coat angled just right and then he whispered intently, “Come here, honey, come right here,” and I climbed atop his hips and straddled him.

He groaned as I moved over him, faster and faster, bracing myself on his powerful chest. Our motion knocked the leg of one of the camp chairs into the hole in the ice, but it was too big to fall in completely, and neither of us paid any attention. I tore off my coat and his hands went under my sweatshirt, clutching my waist as his head tilted back, exposing his throat. I shifted to kiss him there, slowing our rhythm just a little, licking him, closing my teeth around his ear.

“
Camille
…” he gasped out, shuddering hard, as a fountain seemed to explode inside of me, and at that exact instant there was a knocking on the ice shack door.

I squeaked and bent over him, my hair all around us, while Mathias struggled to gather himself together.

“Hang on!” he rasped hoarsely in the direction of the door and then closed his eyes. He whispered to me, “Shit. I can't move after coming like that. I'm useless right now.”

I floundered to get my jeans back up where they belonged, giggling absurdly, then dragged the camp chair from the freezing water.

“It's Tina!” she announced cheerfully from outside. “Sorry to interrupt! Matty, Dad got the snowmobile stuck and so we need your muscles.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mathias muttered, hiding his eyes behind one hand for a second. He lifted his hips to get his own jeans on and then helped me to my feet. Standing again, he caught me close for a soft kiss, hugging me tightly and rocking us side to side. Against my hair he said, “Thank you for that, sweetheart. I'm sorry my family is such a pain in the ass.”

I hugged him back as hard as I could and we kissed once more before he answered the door to Tina's knowing smile. She was bundled in a silver and blue snowmobile suit and holding a travel-sized propane lantern. She regarded the both of us, still all flushed and disheveled, and lifted her right eyebrow before saying, “Hi you two. I know that look.”

“What look is that?” Mathias practically growled at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“Happiness,” she concluded. “That's what look that is.”

***

“She's right,”
he said later as we drove back towards Shore Leave through the glittering cold night, our fingers tightly linked on the seat between us. Now that the holidays were over, I was back to only working at Shore Leave, freeing up my nights. Before I could respond, Mathias elaborated, “What Tina said. I've never been happier in my life, Camille.”

I squeezed his fingers in mine, his strong hand that held me so securely, that had touched every last inch of my skin many times by now. I said, “It sometimes scares me to say such things out loud, but I agree completely.”

“Don't be scared, honey,” he said softly, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it before holding it to his heart.

“I don't mean to be,” I said, a catch in my throat as he turned into Grandma's driveway. The outside light was glowing in welcome for me.

Mathias parked and said, “Come here,” gathering me to his heart. He held me close for a time, stroking my hair; he kissed my temple and whispered, as though to earn a smile, “My beard doesn't scratch you, does it? I've been so lazy and content I haven't shaved in three days.”

“Not one bit. I like it,” I assured him, holding him just as tightly, storing up the feel of him for all night when we'd have to be apart. We hadn't yet been able to spend the night together, as I felt far too guilty being away from Millie Jo that way. Despite the fact that Millie Jo liked Mathias enormously, I didn't feel as though I could yet make the decision to move out of Grandma's house, dragging her from the only home she'd ever known. And then a spurt of panic flared in my gut, the thought that he might get tired of waiting for me.

“Camille, you feel so good in my arms. I can't bear to drive away every night and leave you alone,” he murmured, sensing the direction of my thoughts, gently caressing my back. And then, startling me, “God, this is terrible, but I'm going to say it.”

“Say what?” I asked him, concern apparent in my voice, and he tightened his arms in response.

He said, “I was just going to say that even though we're taking precautions, I'm sitting here thinking I wish you were pregnant with my baby. Then we could get married next month.”

“Mathias Carter,” I scolded him, though I was touched at this pronouncement. I drew back to see his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes that resonated into my soul. I reached and cupped his cheeks and said softly, “I want to be married to you for awhile before we have our own baby. It's not easy, even with help, as I well know. I want to wait.”

He nodded in all seriousness. We had talked about getting married since the night we'd made love for the first time. It seemed so natural, so right; I would marry him next month, baby or no. But again, Millie was in my thoughts; I couldn't rush into something without considering how it would affect her. Mathias whispered, “I know, sweetheart. I agree, I really do. I just get carried away.” He grinned at me then, his hands around my waist, and said, half-teasing, “Still, I can't wait for you to have our babies. Someday,” he insisted, when I poked his ribs.

“Someday,” I promised. Both of us agreed we wanted a big family. And then I lunged into his arms and held tightly, whispering tearfully against his temple, “Mathias. I thought once that Millie would never have a little sister or brother.”

He rocked me and said, “Honey, we'll give her as many as she wants,” and then he yelped as I started tickling him.

February 2006

“Millie Jo, you're two years old today!” I told her excitedly as we woke up to find the long beams of rose-tinted morning sunlight streaming through the dormer windows. I could hear birds singing madly outside and said, “Do you hear the birdies? They're wishing you happy birthday! It's your second birthday! Two!”

“Two?” she repeated, as though asking a question. She rolled to her back and gave me her crinkly-eyed grin. Tears overspilled before I could help it; since becoming a mother, all emotional response seemed to be connected to my tear ducts. I scooped her into my arms, cuddling her snuggly little body close, clad in her footie pajamas, her bottom squishy with a soggy diaper.

“I love you,” I whispered into her wild curly hair. “I love you so much, baby girl.”

“I wuv you, Mama,” she said back, then wriggled free of my arms and rolled to her belly to slide off the bed. I heard the phone ring downstairs and a minute later Grandma called from the kitchen, “Millie Jo! It's your grandpa Jackson on the phone!”

Millie went running, and I shuffled into my robe, moving to pick up the extension in Grandma's room.

“Hi, Dad,” I said, still feeling emotional, sniffling a little.

“How's my girl?” Dad asked, and his voice was just how it always sounded, familiar and warm, and I reflected that no matter what, a part of me would always be his little girl.

“Good,” I said.

“Are those tears I hear?” Dad asked. “You all right, sweetie? I was calling to wish Millie Jo a happy birthday.”

“I am,” I assured him. “It's a big day for her. I can't believe she's already two.”

“Hi, Grandpa!” Millie said then, picking up the kitchen phone with a click. I could instantly hear the background noise of Grandma and Aunt Ellen preparing breakfast.

“Hi, Miss Millie!” Dad said brightly. “How old are you today?”

“Two!” she blasted and Dad laughed.

“I'll talk to you later,” I told him, leaving the phone to Millie.

Downstairs, I helped myself to a cup of coffee, leaning my hip on the counter as Millie talked to Dad and Grandma fried bacon. Aunt Ellen was at the far counter, stirring biscuit batter. I thought about the news I had learned last weekend: that Noah had dropped out of college and was staying with his parents. That his drinking had gotten out of control and Curt and Marie were trying to get him to consider going to rehab in Bemidji. Aunt Jilly had given me this news after work on Saturday. Somehow this shitpile Noah had created of his life brought me no comfort, no satisfaction. I thought about how he had looked at White Oaks before Christmas, drunk and shameful. But he had stood up for me, even if it was just fractionally. Maybe he had a few redeeming qualities after all.

Dammit, Noah, be a man. Be a man and get your act together and be a father to your child.

I wouldn't keep Millie from seeing him, but he had to prove that he could be worthy of her. I had long ago given up expecting him to be worthy of me, but it was a million times more important for him to be a decent father. I could live with that.

“Grandpa wants to talk to you!” Millie told me, holding out the phone, and I took it from her to talk to my own dad.

***

We had
all celebrated Millie Jo's birthday at dinner here at Grandma's last night, Mathias, Mom, Bly and Matthew, my sisters, Aunt Jilly and Uncle Justin, Rae and Clinty; Marie had called on Sunday to ask if Millie could come for dinner at their house tonight, Tuesday. At first I'd been reluctant, but Marie explained that her sister Hannah would be in town for the day and would love to see Millie. And so it was that I bundled up my daughter on her second birthday evening, Valentine's Day, allowing her to go with Marie and Curt; Noah had not accompanied them this time, to my relief.