Cabin Affairs

Step 5. You've Reached Your Destination

Step 5. You've Reached Your Destination

Playlist: “Don’t Blame Me” by Taylor Swift

"Unless you'd rather I left now."

That's when he put his hand on my upper thigh. Not my lower thigh nearest my knee, as a friend often would in consolation. Not like I thought he would offer now after such a precarious conversation. Rather, he is holding me by the upper inner thigh, slightly under my skirt. His fingertips are grazing the space where my black stockings stop and my skirt begins, producing goosebumps from the contact with my skin. I bite my lower lip to keep from gasping.

You know that build up of pressure you get in your chest that grows hot and painful until you realize you've caught your breath? The heavenly torture before the exhale. The one caused by an anticipation you can't quite explain. That feeling of climbing up the rollercoaster, edging closer to the drop that will both terrify and delight you, even at the thought of the danger it presents. Where you must fight your instinct not to clutch at your chest for fear of your heart bursting forth. Yeah, that one.

Eric's hand squeezing my thigh stole my breath away. Yet, I dare to catch his eye. My ride on this emotional Gravitron is over, and I am ready to get off before nausea takes me completely. If he's toying with me again, I can't take it.

He's basically admitted to showing up at this cabin only to save my lost soul. I've already destroyed that notion in my rebuttal. What else does he want from me?

He always said we were great friends. Now, he is sitting on this couch, pinning my thigh next to him with his large, warm hand. Gosh, it's so warm… After hearing how attracted I am to him, will he deny the charge between us at this moment?

His mouth can say whatever it wants to, I realize, because his eyes already give him away. There is a fire in them that his years of training at the Station cannot possibly quell. But I can. I know I can. That heat in my chest travels lower with that thought, to a region far south of nausea.

Eric's smolder gradually turns into a smirk, and he hooks his index finger under the garter on my thigh. With a loud snap, he releases it, and I yelp in response to the slap against my skin. There is little pain, but my nerves are still on high alert. The sensation reverberates throughout my entire body and I shudder away from him slightly without thinking.

I wore this outfit for many reasons; cute for fall, comfortable while driving, flattering colors, and not the least of which was the hope that Eric might appreciate what was underneath it. Now, he is using it against me.

Eric refuses this knee-jerk reaction of mine. He uses the hand still on my thigh to pull me closer to him, wrapping the other hand around the back of my neck, under my hair. His lips are almost brushing mine, and he warms them with his breath as he asks - no - as he begs me, "Are you sure, J?"

I am sure I love reading. I am sure I love rich, salty food. I am sure I want to go home to Matthew. I truly love my children.

Still, I have never been more sure about any decision in my life than the conscious choice I am making now to nod my consent.

Eric kisses me gently, almost too gently for my liking at this moment. He is testing the waters like a cautious captain would, yet I am a tempest. My pent-up desire for him yearns for a more dramatic conclusion than this.

He pulls back after a solitary kiss to ask me another question. Will the man stop with the incessant questions?

“I need you to tell me the truth. What do you want me to do?”

His voice is husky and his gaze never leaves my lips, the lips he left stranded only a second ago. With his eyes dark and hooded, watching me, he waits. My chest is heaving in shock at both his advancement and his sudden withdrawal. The previous pressure from my chest that traveled south is now in a hot and liquid region. I want him to kiss me more, so I can find out how he tastes. The heat from just that one, chaste kiss melts me.

“J?” Eric asks me, licking his own lips. Oh, right! He asked me a question. What was it again? Eric seems to read my mind and repeats the question, “What do you want me to do with you?”

Well, Eric, that’s an easy one, I think to myself before breathing out an answer, “Everything.”

I don't need him to love me, or call me afterwards, or even have breakfast together. He is my friend, so some of that is likely, but I don't need him as a romantic partner. That is already waiting for me miles away at home.

What I do need from him is illustrated through every lightning bolt coursing through my veins as he kisses me again. This time the kiss is deeper, using his hand on the back of my head to bring me even closer. He licks my upper lip with the tip of his tongue, playfully and carefully, requesting entrance to my mouth. That just won't do, boy, I think. So for my response, I gently bite his lower lip until he groans at my insistence.

When his tongue enters my mouth, I realize my role of dominance is over before it began. He massages me with his tongue until the cold inside of my mouth from the earlier smoothie turns as hot for him as the rest of my body.

I forgot that his hand was still on my thigh from before that first kiss, yet another snap of my garter belt brings my attention back to it. My thigh trembles under the heat of that hand; Eric's hand. It wasn't enough. How could it be? His hand was still too low for my liking. So when Eric removes the hand altogether, I practically grow indignant.

He uses the little space now created between us to remove his black t-shirt. Then hastily he pulls at my top, peeling it off me. The silver chain strewn on his neck swings towards me. You would think I'd take a minute to appreciate its beauty or craftsmanship after how much thought I put into it earlier, but you are wrong. The cross and chain only serve my desires as I use them to pull his lips back onto mine.

He leans my back slowly onto the couch, propping himself above me. Eric indulges my need to kiss him for a few minutes before he stops. I actually hear myself whine this time at his disengagement, but that only earns me a chuckle from him. Instead, he plants open-mouthed kisses down my jaw, my neck, my chest. He lingers a moment between my breasts, and more heat pools into my lower abdomen. Then, he sits up to look at me below him.

Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, Eric reminds me, "We can't get so far ahead of ourselves that we forget our obligations. Smile for the camera, beautiful. Or better yet, don't. I like how you were biting your lip, too."

I do as he says because, after all, he's right. This is my obligation to Matthew. After what I assume are a couple of digital snapshots, Eric reaches inside my black bra with one hand and pulls out my breast. He snaps a couple more pictures of him tugging at my n****e, before his now raspy voice says, "That seems good enough for now."

Eric stands up from the couch, tossing his phone uncaringly on the coffee table. As he is now only in a pair of athletic shorts, I get a real look at his body. This man is drinkable. His abs bring more to the party than a case of beer. And I am thirsty.

He smirks at me watching him and extends a hand to help me up. The second my hand is encased in his, he brings me to my feet and begins fumbling with the waistband on my plaid skirt. I giggle at him for not being able to find the zipper.

He growls a response at me, "You could help, you know?"

"Sure, I can," I tell him, placing my palms against his bare chest to indicate he should stop fidgeting. Big mistake, I realize, but it's too late. Now that my hands are on him, they have a mind of their own. A delirious mind that must trail over every peak and valley of his muscles with recklessness.

You are being reckless, the white-clad voice with the halo reminds me from over my right shoulder. Friends with benefits never works out well. You could lose Eric as your friend.

It's just s*x! Calls the red-horned voice on my left. Maybe he won't be that good.

That would make it easy to go back to real life after this week. However, looking at my roaming hands on his body, feeling his hands clenching at my hip bones in recognition of my touch, and sensing the hardness he has waiting for me under those athletic shorts, I somehow know that he won't be bad at this.

His dark chocolate orbs are watching my chest heaving towards him with each of my deep breaths. I should give him something else to watch. I find the elusive zipper on the side of my skirt and edge it down only when his eyes are tethered to the movement. I let the skirt puddle at my feet, and step backwards to both kick it aside and give Eric a better view. The black lace bra, matching bikini bottoms, and garter belt attached to my stockings are one of my favorite sets. Judging by the gape of Eric's mouth, it's one of his now, too.

I clear my throat as a remedy to the paralysis he seems to be under. With the enchantment broken, Eric finds my face again. A kid's first trip to Disney World, that's the equivalent to Eric's smile.

"Sorry, J. I got lost for a minute there. You are just so damned beautiful."

That's my cue to reach behind my back and unclasp my bra. I discard it casually with a flick of my wrist, adding it to the pile with the skirt. I feel the heaviness of breasts drop a little. My previous concerns that Eric would find fault with my body are completely assuaged by the look of lust he returns. Something about Eric shifts. The friend is hidden and only the man stands in front of me.

The timely, well-mannered approach we have been taking is at an end. Eric takes a knee so he can kiss my bare chest, sucking each n****e in turn with fanaticism. I'm practically panting at the sensation of his tongue flicking wildly over my n****e held lightly between his teeth. His hands are hastily shedding the rest of my clothing off and down my legs. I have no idea where they land as he tosses them away with such force.

As he stands up, he fills his hands with my ass cheeks, pulling me off my feet. I have to wrap my legs around his torso as he moves us. My back slams against a wall, pinning me between it and him. I can't decide which force feels harder, but the juxtaposition of the cool wall and his blazing body have my brain reeling.

"You want everything?" He murmurs into my ear.

"Yes, E. I promise, I do," I whisper back.

"Good, because I'm not holding back," Eric grunts as he positions the head of his c**k at my entrance.

When did he take his shorts off? That's the last thought I can coherently put together before I am speared by his long shaft. Definitely, the wall is more forgiving than this hardness.

Luckily, I am used to Matthew's enormous… urges, so I adjust to Eric quickly. Just in time for his pounding in and out of me to gain speed. I wrap my arms around his neck to hold on during his reckless abandon.

When my nails dig into his shoulders, he groans, "f**k! I have wanted to be inside you for a very, very, very, very long time." He matches each word to a thrust.

I throw my head back against the wall with a bang. My vision was already blurred from the rhythm of his thrusts, so I barely notice any change. However, Eric takes one hand off my ass and wraps it behind my head to cradle me better in place while not slowing down.

His pace, his length, his masculine scent overwhelm me. This s****l tension between us ends now! Years of buildup are coiling inside me into a ball wound so exquisitely tight. Like diamonds created from coal, I have no choice but to exist in this new dazzling state.

I'm not sure how long I scream his name. I forget what it is that I usually call him at some point. I'm not even sure how many waves of pleasure crest and wash over me, since I never have time to come down from the first one. Those voices on my shoulder warn me that I will be sore tomorrow, yet I disregard their messages, too.

There is no thinking, only feeling. His movements are purely instinctual, feral, primal as he continues to rail into me. I had no idea what my first time with Eric would be like, but this is both unexpected and exactly as it should be.

He never utters more words, only grunts of his own pleasure. When he curses and sheaths into me to the hilt, I feel him pulse warmth into me. I clench my walls around him, purposefully drawing out the sensation for him. His arm and chest muscles relax a little, but his strength has no problem holding me in place.

Only when our breathing has gone from entirely erratic to merely laborious, do I tell him that he can set me down to rest.

This is the first time he has looked at me since we crossed the finish line. Truly looks at me. Pulling his head out of my neck, he laughs. "Rest? But we are only just getting started."