Cabin Affairs

Step 8. Using the Defrost

Step 8. Using the Defrost

Playlist: “Play With Fire” by Sam Tinnesz

Eric crosses the distance between us and stands in between my legs, which are dangling off the kitchen counter. His hands warm the tops of my thighs, but it’s not enough. How could it be enough knowing what he is capable of now? Knowing the satisfaction of his scratch to my itch?

To my very pleased surprise, one of Eric’s hands is sneaking into the sudden wetness between my legs, which is unguarded as I am only wearing his shirt.

"I have all the access I need right here." Eric’s voice rumbles from deep in his chest.

My ability to breathe changes instantly and the air that most wants to exhale is lodged in my lungs. His eyes are hooded as he leans into me, both with his body and his two magical fingers. Now, I’m sucking in another gasp of air when I have no room left in my lungs for more oxygen. The sudden change in the atmosphere is heady.

“Breathe, J,” he tells me, while slowly kissing the spot on my neck just above the collar bone. Eric may only yesterday have discovered that this action causes goosebumps to trail all down my arms and back, but he uses the newfound knowledge like one teaching a Master class. I can’t help but exhale on instinct… and with a shiver.

His lips find mine quickly afterwards, taking turns with quick, closed kisses then sucking and biting on my bottom lip. This incredibly rugged man has unbelievably soft lips. I cannot get over them. They find dominance against my own efforts, yet sink into mine with a pillowy yield. Eric is such a contradiction; soft, firm, comfortable, exciting, friend, lover.

My thoughts swirl, so I instead focus back on his lips. Everything about this man is hard, except his lips. Wait, everything?

I wrap my legs around his torso, pulling him closer to me. My inner thighs aren’t happy with me, for the strain of last night is still resonating in their ache, but I ignore that part of my body right now. I still need the validation that he wants me, truly wants more physical time with me. My answer should be in those lips on mine. Or in the wet tongue massaging mine. Or in the fingers growing more slick by the second as they rock slowly in and out of me. But I am greedy. I want to feel his desires for me solidly pressed against my body.

Damn this counter height! I am too high up for even his tall stature to align with me. I take my hands off the counter behind and seek out the answer to my question. Is everything really hard about this man right now?

Yes.

When I find my answer developing in both my hands, I smile into the kiss. I start stroking his length and I am rewarded with his moans on the inside of my mouth. I swallow the sound down with gusto. Like I said, I am greedy.

Within only a few minutes though, Eric releases his control on my s*x and grabs my wrists in his corresponding hands. His voice comes out raspy, which gratifies me as well. “Not so fast, beautiful. Wait here.”

“Damn it! Why are you always telling me to wait?” I ask impatiently, but he’s already leaving me alone on the kitchen counter to make his way into the living area.

I am reminded how cool the temperature of the room is without the adrenaline of a fire alarm exploding in my ears, or the warmth of his touch and proximity to me. “It’s still a pretty chilly morning. Especially with that window open. Don’t you think we should turn the heat up in here, E?”

He is already back, head down, tapping away on his cell phone. I try to be easygoing and tolerant, understanding that work and other responsibilities do not usually have the good grace to be convenient, but sadly, patience has never been one of my virtues. I cross my arms over my chest as I wait for his attention to fall back on me in due course. I think he notices my gesture. When he glances back up to me, he says, “Turning up the heat was my plan all along, Jenny Lynn.”

Eric sets his phone behind me, propping it up in the angle between the counter and the backsplash of the bar. The camera function is in selfie mode, facing us. It’s now that I realize Eric has it recording.

Here comes that familiar rush of adrenaline again. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping my promises.” He smirks at me.

Eric grabs onto my hips on both sides and lifts me like a doll off the counter, helping me carefully to find my footing on the wooden kitchen floor. The rough, unfinished wood under my bare feet is sturdy, doing almost as good a job at steadying me as Eric’s biceps that I find myself gripping onto.

Why am I always surprised at the vast difference in our heights? After all these years, I shouldn’t be. I am not that short, but he is that tall. When we’re this close, I am always on tip-toes, straining my neck to look up at him. There is a vulnerability in being next to a man who has so much physical prowess to your own. It adds to my adrenaline, but in an exciting way as I always feel safe with Eric.

He catches me shift on my tip-toes and lets out a contemplative sigh. I can see gears turning in his head, and I’m dying to know what he’s thinking about. My musings are answered with an action. He turns around and grabs an empty metal bin of some kind from the top of the refrigerator. Then, he places it upturned on the floor next to my feet. “There you go.”

“There I go, what exactly?” I eye him in confusion.

His hands move back to my hips and he lifts me up until I am settled standing on this bucket. “There you go, little Smurfette.”

I love how even in a sexually charged moment, Eric can still make me laugh like when we were kids. And laugh at his antics, I do. He c***s one eyebrow up at me playfully.

“What’s with all the giggling, girly? I saw a problem, and I fixed it. Plain and simple,” he says with an exaggerated nod at me.

“Yes, sir,” I reply in jest with a two fingered military-style salute from the top of my forehead. I meant to match his humor, but his eyes once more grow dark.

He offers no more than a grunt of approval at me and one last full, head-to-toe look at my body covered in his t-shirt. After that, Eric uses his hands still on my hips to spin me around, facing both the counter and the cell phone that I had already forgotten was recording. You can’t see our faces, now closer in height, but Eric soon changes that, too.

With his left hand gripping my hip tighter, his right hand is moved to the small of my back and he presses down slow and firm. I naturally reach out my hands to catch myself from falling face-first onto the tile below. I find myself now bent over the kitchen counter in full view of the camera with a bare-chested man behind me. It’s embarrassing how much wetter I get.

Eric lifts the shirt to my waist, exposing my back side to him. In the camera’s viewpoint I can see him use that right hand to also pull his sweatpants lower, and he positions his c**k at my entrance.

I know what’s coming, yet still I am unprepared for the fullness and stretching of my walls at that first thrust into my core. Eric sheathes his whole length into me without remorse and stays there for a moment, making me pant with anticipation.

“Warmer in here yet, J?” he asks.

It takes me a moment to respond due to my accelerated breathing and heart rate. Still, I smirk into the camera, knowing full well that both he, and later, Matthew can see me. With my most sultry voice, I finally find what I hope are fitting words for the occasion. “Getting there, handsome.”

Eric’s grip on my body tightens even more, and his c**k twitches inside me. “Oh my God, this is fun. You are quite the vixen, you know that?”

Vixen, huh? I remember my plotting in bed earlier. Let’s leave him with no doubt of my sexuality after this week is through. There is no going back to a mere friend zone anyway. Only five days left, then I leave the following morning. Better make the most of it, right?

He won’t know what hit him.

I keep my tone low and breathy, evolving from angelic to devilish before the end of my sentence. “Me? I prefer to be called… Medusa. You know, the goddess who turns men into stone.”

To bring the metaphor home, I push my ass back onto his body, reminding us both how hard he is and exactly what he should do about it. His left hand never leaves my hip, now nearly bruising the bone in its terrific intensity. His right hand finds my shoulder. Eric uses this new leverage to start moving through my core. As my moaning increases, so too does his speed. I have to place my forearms on the counter with a skinlock to help hold myself against the soon merciless pace of his thrusting.

I hear the cling and clang of the metal bin under my feet match my squeals and Eric’s groans. Despite the morning chill, I feel sweat from his body coating my legs as his skin slaps against mine repeatedly. The scent of burnt bacon and grease in the room is being replaced with the smell of s*x… of us. Eric and I. Every one of my reactions to his movements is being visually cast back at me on the phone screen when I open my eyes, too. In short, all my senses are being overwhelmed.

I hear his voice pitch slightly higher as he moves until he stills inside of me. His head rests against my back, the stubble of his beard sending tingles down my spine even through the cotton fabric of his shirt. But he only remains like that for a few short seconds, and then he resumes pummeling into my core, still the hard man that he is.

The hand from my shoulder now moves down my curves, fondling every inch along the way, and then seamlessly opens my folds. Eric finds my c**t with ease, as if a homing beacon was sending more shrill sounds throughout the room. I was close to orgasm before, but now the edge looms at me with vertigo.

I place my face down on the counter, enjoying the cool feel of the tile on my flushed cheek. It’s a short-lived feeling though, because Eric removes that left hand to grab a fistful of my brown hair and yank it gently backwards. When my eyes flutter open for a moment, I realize his goal is to watch my expressions on the phone screen. I shut my eyes tight in shyness, but forget my bashfulness seconds later as the sensations to my p***y require my full concentration.

“Let go, beautiful,” he whispers against my back. The desire in his words pushes me, hurtling over that precipice with such force that I am grateful his arms will catch me in the fall.

So, I fall. And dear God, am I grateful for every millisecond of the long, long way down.