This story is rated R.
Kara sat in the corner of the old wood outbuilding, wrapping the last few coyote steaks by the light of the lamp. It was a slow season so far, but the coyote was big and she’d be eating well. The wind howled outside like a raging maniac, unpredictably quiet, then deafeningly loud, drowning out the crinkling of the wax paper.
Her eyes wandered to the pile of traps piled in the corner. She’d brought them all in, dumped them there, empty, bite removed. I’m just bringing them in to clean, inspect. I’m not stupid.
Yet a part of her silently tugged, whispered about how he might be back come dawns light. I said no, do I expect him to somehow construe that as ‘maybe’, as ‘I want to, but I’m afraid’.
Kara shook the thought off, focusing on her work. This was what was important. This was food, supply’s, whatever she couldn’t go without. She’d return the traps tomorrow, knowing that if she faltered the tundra would sense her weakness and grind her to icy dust.
Once she’d scrubbed herself clean with the water boiled over the fire and checked the clock that sat on the mantle (safe from freezing), it was an hour and a half til the sun would rise, cracking the dawn. She moved heavily through the small house, cold from the floor seeping through her socks. Kara stripped despite it, folding her clothes and laying them on the night table, glancing in the mirror, cupping her breasts, weighing them, trying to imagine what he saw, what had made him make love to her like a beast. She couldn’t see anything special though, so she crawled under the pile of quilts and comforters, spreading her average limbs out to fully feel the caress of the chilled blankets over her naked body.
As her eyes closed, every muscle and nerve hummed with unrequited energy. Sleep was sorely needed, but the memory of Val’s lips were hot on her breasts, burning between her thighs, engorging her as though she’d been denied the paradise of climax.
Kara gave in, fingers skimming her own sensitive areolas, teasing the already hard nipples, then slowly, very slowly pinching and rolling them until her back arched, small sounds of pleasure escaping her lips. But she faltered, stopping to lick the tips of her fingers, making them damp, like his perfect lips. It wasn’t exact, but if she imagined hard enough it made every touch tingle between her legs. Her knees spread wide, moist inner lips flowering, exposed and waiting for the intimate plucking of her fingers, which wandered slowly down her flat belly and obliged, teasing them ever so lightly. Two of her fingers worked her nipples relentlessly, doubling the sensation of every touch. Kara delved slightly into her own wetness, capturing it and pulling it up to her sleeping clit. She stroked impatiently, eliciting the desired spike in pleasure.
The pressure of him pushing my legs open, the way his hips rest heavy on mine, the tip of his hard cock.
Her fingers bunched together, pressing against her entrance, opening herself slowly.
It was so deep, so steady.
Her fingers slid in easily, spreading wide to imitate his girth. Kara struggled to reach the desired depth, chasing the orgasm that was just at her fingertips. It came though as her fingers delved particularly deep, bringing a wonderful rush.
She lay back after that, pulse pounding in her ears. As the feeling faded she began to feel something else, something unexpected.
It curled up in her stomach like an unmovable rock, making her shake and quiver. First her shoulders, then her hands as she wiped at the hot tears pooling in her eyes.
Why had she said no!
Dawn was reaching its suddenly cruel fingers through the cracks in her curtains, lighting up her tiny room. There was absolutely no reason for him to come back, and no reason for her to go to him. And how would I even find him? What would I say?
Kara rolled over on her side, clutching the blankets close to her face, sobbing. She was screwed, doomed to live out here alone forever.
That was when the pounding on the door started. Kara bolted upright with a gasp. The pounding stopped. She scrambled for her clothes, pulling on the basics, pants and shirt, no underclothes.
Damn her eyes were so wet and teary. She dried them quickly on her shirt, rushing to the door. Her hand paused on the door handle, heart racing like a herd of horses, then she opened it, almost afraid to look, to be disappointed.
Val was standing on the porch, the strong morning sun cloaking his huge shoulders like gold, adorning his hair angelically.
He smiled at her, then stopped, looking serious. “Why have you been crying?”
Kara swallowed, her pride aching. “I haven’t been crying. Why are you here? I thought you had some urgent business.”
Val shrugged casually. “Well I didn’t want you to think I was a cad, not returning the clothes you lent me.” He held out the bundle, all neatly folded and wrapped in a blanket.
“Oh. Thank you.” Kara gave him a shy but appreciative smile, shifting her weight and almost unconsciously pushing her breasts out. Val’s eyes fell slightly, but pulled back up to her face. A awkward silence ensued. Then finally-
“I still want you to come with me.” Val’s eyes burned with passion as he said it. “I know you don’t know me, and I know-”
“I’ll come with you.” Kara could feel her face flushing. “Let me pack a few things, and secure everything.” She turned back in the house then, hand over her heart, not able to stop the grin spreading across her face.