THE SEASON I NEVER LOVED

The Escape

Isaac’s pov

I have always known what I wanted.

From the very first day I walked into the sawmill, I knew I wanted to own a furniture-making company. From the very first day I saw Racheal at my doorstep, I knew I had to take her and raise her.

From the very first time I saw this woman, I knew I wanted her, and I was going to get her.

She gasped in surprise and immediately snatched her hand from mine, not that I minded. I knew she was shy, as evidenced by the warm blush on her cheek; my smile widened. I was happy. How could I not be? She didn’t remember me, but was still into me.

“So, are you new in town?” I asked as I picked up my glass again, hoping to diffuse the atmosphere.

For someone who had been abandoned by her once, scaring her until she ran away again was my worst fear.

“Yeah, came to spend the holiday with a friend,” She whispered, obviously still shy.

“Oh, really. Looks like I’m lucky.” I murmured, but she heard it anyway.

“Lucky how?” She smiled.

“I wouldn’t have met you otherwise,” I replied, and she giggled.

“You wouldn’t grow two heads if you didn’t flirt, you know.” She rolled her beautiful eyes at me, and I raised my brows.

That was the second time she called me a flirt. I noted calmly.

“I only speak the truth. Hasn’t anyone told you, you look so beautiful, almost like a dream?” I told her.

She laughed in a silly way, which I liked, moving closer to playfully hit my chest, I presume, because she didn’t get to do that. Instead, her drink spilled all over my white shirt, an ugly brown stain mapping out on it almost immediately.

“Oh, my God! I am so sorry.” She exclaimed, jumping out of her seat and grabbing a handkerchief from God knows where as she began to wipe my shirt with it, hoping to wipe away the stubborn stain, or so I thought until this naughty woman began to touch and press my chest.

‘Does she have any idea what she was doing? And what the consequence of doing this, was?’ I wondered as my gaze on her intensified, unfortunately, she didn't even notice until I grabbed her hands, jolting her back to reality.

“Is there a problem?” She asked, looking at me with those innocent eyes of hers, pretending she had done nothing wrong, if not for the way she avoided looking me straight in the eye, I would have thought she had no idea what she was doing.

“No,” I said with a chuckle, shaking my head at the actions of this sly fox. She had no idea what she was playing with, and I’m going to show just what it was she was playing with.

“Why don’t we go to the bathroom? There is water there, you can wet the handkerchief and help me wipe it better, that way, it won’t leave a stain.” I told her with a hushed whisper, knowing fully well that this shirt was already gone the moment the wine spilled on it.

“Of course. Of course. That is so true.” She replied, agreeing to my suggestion immediately and jumping out of her chair.

She signaled the bartender to help her look after her luggage before heading to the bathroom, not bothering to wait for me. Of course, I let her go before me, making sure she had her back turned to me before standing from the stool. There was no way I was letting her see the tent that had already formed down there.

I followed her slowly, but it didn’t take long before she returned to pull me along. I immediately used my other hand to shield the tented area, too embarrassed to let her see. As much as I wanted her to feel what it felt like to play with fire, I wasn’t too sure how she would react if she saw the fire first. So I had to be cautious.

As I turned to shut the women's bathroom behind us, I didn’t fail to see the surprised look on the bartender's face, but I only smiled in response. After all, I understood perfectly why he had that look.

I was Isaac, Isaac Shellman. The one man in town who would have been mistaken for a monk if not for the existence of my twenty-two-year-old daughter. I have never been seen with a woman, not as a scandal, not as a friend, and certainly not as a fling. This was the first time he had seen me talking to one, and I was already taking her into the bathroom? He would be a fool if he claimed not to know what was about to go down there.

It was like seeing a virgin girl opting for a threesome on her first night. How could one not be surprised?

I ignored his shock and shut the door behind us, but not before making sure no one would be disturbing us. I then checked each cubicle, making sure we were alone; we needed our privacy after all.

When I was done, I turned to see my little kitten busy washing the handkerchief, as if it were the most important thing in the world. I hugged her from behind, kneading her ear with my nose and pressing my hardened manhood against her buttock, my eyes focused on her face in the mirror. I wanted to see her every reaction; I needed to know if I could proceed or not.

If she had even the slightest inclination of resistance, a sign of fear or anger, I was ready to let her go immediately and solve my discomfort with my own hands. After all, I’ve been doing that since I met her one year ago. Luckily for me, she rested in my arms almost immediately, making me wonder if she was made of jelly.

I wasted no time and bit her earlobe; it had always been her weak point, one I discovered a year ago, and sure enough, she gasped in response, pushing her body into mine, unconsciously wanting more. That was all it took for me to lose it. I turned her around violently, lifted her onto the sink, and claimed her lips violently.

She responded to me eagerly, too, wrapping her arms around my neck, allowing me to deepen the kiss and devour her lips as I explored her mouth with my tongue. Her legs were equally wrapped around my waist like a woman who was long deprived of intimacy, I knew she was, but so was I, so I grinded my hardened c**k against her p***y, not hindered by the multiple layers of clothes separating us.

She moaned in response as if greeting me ‘well done’, and I increased my urgency, kissing her deeply, while letting my hands roam her body, to remember those curves, I needed to be sure it was still as I remembered. And it was, every single part of her wasn’t an imagination. I kissed her again with joy, but this time she was slow to respond, so I bit her lips.

“Ztzzzz.” She hissed, opening her eyes to glare at me.

I knew she was wondering why I did it, but she looked so cute when she glared. I wanted to kiss her eyes, which I did as I reminded her, “Focus.” Before claiming her lips again.

She didn’t blame me for long because the next minute, she grabbed one of my hands and placed it on her chest. Understanding what she wanted, I wasted no time and squeezed repeatedly, listening to the beautiful sound of her moaning, which I soon swallowed as my tongue outlined every part of her mouth.

I had wanted to take things slowly, after all, to her, I was still a stranger, I didn’t want to go too far, maybe grind myself against her for a few minutes to relieve myself, kiss her, and then we get to know each other a little more, before we proceed. That had been my plan, but her response to me had that plan jumping out the window.

I couldn’t watch her, the way she clung to me tightly, and began struggling to take off my shirt hurriedly, wanting to make contact skin with me, and then let her go. I couldn’t. It didn’t matter if she thought of me as a stranger; it didn’t matter what she thought. I wanted her as much as she wanted me.

So I yanked off the thin cardigan she had over her oversized white shirt as I began trailing her neck with kisses while my hands slipped under her bra and fondled her breasts, but I wasn’t quite satisfied with touching her breasts with just my hands, so I lifted her shirt and captured her n*****s with my lips. Content with hearing the sound of her moaning in my ears and having her hand wrapped around my head pressing me firmly against her chest, eager for me to have more, if not all of her.

Her other hand was still struggling with the button of my shirt, even though I had no idea why she seemed so obsessed with it. I could have offered to help her with it, but I was busy myself, busy exploring her body with my hands, and I found that she didn’t really need my help as she successfully loosened three buttons herself, even though I wasn’t so sure she didn’t rip it off directly, seeing how eager she was.

I didn’t bother to check, though, because while her hands began to slip into my shirt, mine found their way past her thick cotton leggings and cotton pants to her secret place. I ran my hands through it as if by mistake, just to check my luck, to see if she would resist, and to my greatest satisfaction, not only did she moan louder, she was wet, ready for me to penetrate her; nothing made me happier than that.

I was ready to have her, too, after all, at this time, I had totally forgotten all my earlier thoughts of just kissing her, rubbing myself against her, and letting her go. I let my hands explore that place for real, tracing out the folds while her moaning got louder, as she almost fell back if I hadn’t caught her. I couldn’t help but admire the look of lust on her face; it turned me on in ways I couldn’t explain.

I moved the tip of my finger close to her tiny hole, and just as I was about to slip it in, she froze.

‘Did she finally realize how far we had gone and wanted to stop?’ I wondered as I took a step back and looked at her.

She had a look of shock and surprise on her face, almost as if she had just woken up from her dream… It couldn’t be what I was thinking, right?

It couldn’t be that this woman, all her response and eagerness just now, was because she was drunk and now she had sobered up. Couldn’t be that right?

“What’s wrong?” I asked in confusion, my hands still in her pants, dangerously close to that wet hole, awkwardly hanging there, I wasn’t even sure where to put it.

If she said something like, ‘Who are you? What are you doing to me? What the hell was I going to say? That would be so embarrassing’ I thought.

I just hoped she wasn’t one of those women who feigned ignorance so as not to acknowledge what they had done in their drunken state.

“Are you okay? Do you want us to stop?”

I asked, trying to be as gentle as possible, but God knew how scared I was; if she was one of those girls who feigned ignorance, just imagine how hard it would be to get to know and even pursue her later.

Despite the questions I asked and worry in my heart, her actions were still even more surprising because instead of responding, she yanked open my shirt, and I could have sworn more buttons fell off at that point. But that was not what there was to worry about now, was it, because this time she was staring point-blank at my tattoo.

My rose tattoo.