4

When I opened my eyes, Tom was gone.

I stretched in the early-morning light. My whole body ached. I touched my buttocks carefully with my fingertips and felt the welts there. Tom had whacked me a few good ones, and we hadn’t explored the whole cabinet of toys yet.

His pillow was soft and smelled like him. I pulled it up to my nose and lay there for a while, looking around the room. A mounted deer head looked down at me from over the bed. I stared at it for a while, wondering why in the world I hadn’t noticed it before. The glass eyes looked down at me with a non-judgmental air.

‘Howdy,’ I said. The deer didn’t answer.

I looked around the room. The bookcases covered almost every available space, with the exception of the small dresser in the corner. The man had more books than I did. As a writer, I thought I had a massive collection of works, but Tom’s eclectic array put mine to shame. He had books on everything from hunting to astronomy, from music to do-it-yourself projects, from literary classics to dime-a-dozen paperback romance.

I raised an eyebrow at the shelf of those. Tom read romance novels?

I tried to picture him in a deer stand, covered in camo and packing a lethal rifle, slowly flipping through a bodice-ripper with a man like Fabio on the cover. I couldn’t quite manage to see that in my head, but Tom was full of surprises.

Where he was this morning wasn’t a surprise – I could very well guess where he was. I was sure I would find a note of some kind on the kitchen counter, or even stuck on the bathroom mirror, telling me that he had gone hunting and would be back sometime during the late morning hours. I had his whole house to myself.

I started with a shower.

I looked around the bathroom as I stood under the water. Now that Tom wasn’t in here with me, I could explore everything at leisure.

His towels were mismatched, but all of them were in a shade of cream or blue. One toothbrush stood in the holder. He used Crest, and I smiled at the tube that had been squeezed from the middle, not neatly rolled like mine. The soap smelled like sandalwood and the shampoo was something from a salon. It smelled professional, not feminine but not masculine either. I used it and watched the white suds swirl down the drain. The washcloth on the bar was still damp, and I guessed that was the one he had used before he went out hunting. I pulled it off the bar and used it myself.

In his medicine cabinet was every kind of first aid imaginable. I found ibuprofen and took two. There was a bottle of Valium in there behind the ibuprofen. I looked at it curiously, and saw that it had been refilled about two weeks ago. I put it carefully back in the cabinet. My face burned, as though I had been caught peeping at something that was entirely none of my business.

His closet was filled with more camouflage than a military barracks. I chose a camouflage sweater. It fell almost to my knees. I found my black leggings folded neatly on the dresser, and pulled those on. The hardwood floors were cool against my bare feet as I came down the stairs.

It felt strange to be in Tom’s house without him in it, but he certainly didn’t mind. If I had any doubts about that, the note on the kitchen table erased those from my mind.

‘Kelley – Do what you want! Just be here when I get home? xoxo. Tom.’

I poured a glass of orange juice and set out to explore.

I had already seen the kitchen and dining room, and spent some brief time in the living room. I ambled back in there now. The furniture was pine, and looked to be handmade. Pillows were everywhere. There were mounted animals on the walls, and a huge framed photograph of an eagle in flight. The television was hidden in an armoire in the corner, and when I opened it I found a cache of hunting films, nestled in alongside such gems as Die Hard and Star Wars.

He also had an interesting porn collection, hidden behind the more sedate titles. The porn consisted mostly of intense blow-job scenarios. I wasn’t surprised in the least.

There was a pair of boots next to the door, caked with mud. There was a handsaw, painted with a wilderness scene, hanging near the staircase. There was a horseshoe above the door. I wandered into the other side of the house, down a short hallway. There were the photographs of his children. There was a little brunette girl with big blue eyes. She looked nothing like Tom, so surely she must be the image of her mother. The photos of his son looked more like the father. The smiles on the faces in the family pictures made me smile right back.

There were other photographs. There was a man who looked exactly like Tom, and I could see what he would be like when he was twenty years older. That man had to be his father. His mother looked happy as she held her husband’s hand.

I went into the spare bedroom. There was a big sleigh bed in there, a dresser, a few odds and ends. Nothing of interest in there.

The room across the hallway was Tom’s office.

I stood at the threshold and stared, almost afraid to go into the space. It was thoroughly lived in and comfortable. There were two computers. The first was a simple laptop, now closed, that lay in the center of the wide oak desk. The other was a sophisticated, state-of-the-art desktop model. I had no idea why he would need two computers but, from the paperwork on all sides, it looked like they got a great deal of use.

There were papers everywhere, but in surprisingly neat order. There were bookcases in here too, but they held very different books than what I had found in the rest of the house. Books on weaponry, military history and civilian law were neatly pushed into every available inch. He had a whole collection of books on business and entertainment law. There were files clearly marked in his bold hand: Attorney. Contracts. Extended Contracts. Stats. There was even a file that made me laugh out loud when I read it: What The Fuck Ever.

There wasn’t a single piece of hunting memorabilia in sight. Instead, there were plaques and shiny awards here and there. There were all sorts of memorabilia heralding various military units. There were notations of bravery – and, just as I was about to turn away and look at something else, one of those caught me dead in my tracks.

A commendation of bravery. From the CIA? That one got my attention. I looked at it more closely.

‘I’ll be damned,’ I breathed. ‘You’ve been holding out on me, Tom.’

I closed the door and looked at it for a moment. I touched the wood with my fingertips. Here it was splintered, not quite broken, but damaged. That damage was obviously not done by something sharp, but something blunt – and it looked suspiciously like the indentation of a man’s hand.

What would make Tom angry enough to put his hand into a door?

I told myself that I was reading too much into things. What did I really know about his life?

I wandered out onto the porch. There were squirrels all over the place, and they seemed to be completely comfortable around humans. Piles of nuts were here and there on the porch railings. Bird feeders hung from the outer beams of the porch. A birdhouse hosted a family of sparrows. Flower boxes hung on each windowsill, and from the black soil small green shoots had started to show themselves. I stared at those shoots for a long time.

Then I went back to the kitchen and started breakfast.

By the time Tom came in through the back door, smelling of wood and soil and morning dew, the omelets were almost ready. Pitchers of orange juice and milk were waiting on the table, along with orange and apples slices in a silver bowl. Tom wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed the side of my neck.

‘I love coming home to you,’ he said. We rocked back and forth together while the eggs bubbled in the pan. The stubble on his jaw rubbed harshly against my face.

‘Good morning.’

‘Did you miss me?’

‘Yes. But I had the squirrels to keep me company.’

‘I want you to go out there with me today. On the four-wheeler. I want to show you some of the places I go all the time. So if you ever wonder where I’m at or if you ever need to find me for some reason, you can.’

I turned the fire off under the pan and scooped the omelets onto plates. Tom dropped his hat onto the table and his jacket onto the back of the chair. I watched as he sat down and started to eat.

‘We’re permanent, aren’t we?’ I asked quietly.

Tom looked up from his breakfast. The morning sun cut through the window and turned his brown hair a deep shade of red. The old chair creaked when he sat back in it. I don’t know what I expected; perhaps some discussion, some remark that wasn’t really an answer, maybe a question in response to my own. What I got was certainty.

‘If you want to be.’

I sat down beside him. His hand found my thigh under the table and for a few moments we could have been a painting, a still life illuminated by a sunbeam.

We stared at each other. A smile slowly started at one corner of his lips, and I could feel myself smiling back.

‘Where did you go today?’ I asked, and the tension of the moment was broken. We were simply two people eating breakfast on a chilly spring morning.

He talked about hunting while we ate. He cleaned his plate and half of mine. We devoured the oranges and apples. Thirty minutes later we were on a mud-crusted four-wheeler, headed along a trail through the trees.

I wrapped my arm around his middle. Tom’s whole body was solid and unyielding – except for that little spot above his belt. I massaged his belly while we rode. I discovered his ribs were ticklish. I cuddled right up next to him and pressed my breasts against his back.

The sun was high over the trees now, and cast shadows over us. I could suddenly see how his camo would blend in perfectly with the surroundings. Even the ATV was covered with that same subdued print. If not for my red hair catching the wind and blowing back away from my face, we could have drifted into the woods and disappeared.

When we came out onto a high bluff overlooking the Tennessee River, I tightened my arms in fear. The drop was sheer and steep, a good fifty feet straight down.

Tom cut the engine and we sat together, looking out over the water. The engine ticked a melody as it cooled. Birds sang and in the underbrush some small animal chattered before scurrying away. The leaves above us barely swayed on a light breeze. A fallen log sat in front of us, the only thing between the tires of the four-wheeler and that deadly drop.

Tom turned sideways in the seat and kissed me. His mouth was warm and he smelled like sweat and leaves and gun oil. I remembered our first kiss. The memory would always be marked with that peculiar smell of oil on steel. How hesitant I was then, how uncertain – and what a difference a few days could make.

I kissed Tom hard, holding him by the hair to keep him from moving so I could delve deeper. He moaned low in his throat. Already I knew the difference in his reactions, and I knew what he wanted. If I decided to take this any farther, I would be the one in charge.

‘Is this why you brought me out here?’ I murmured against his lips.

‘That’s part of it,’ he admitted.

‘You’re insatiable.’

We were covered in frustrating layers of clothing. Jackets, long-sleeved shirts, pants and even boots. I flipped Tom’s baseball cap from his head and it landed on the ground, where it was almost invisible in the shadows. I started to unzip his jacket.

‘In a hurry?’ he teased.

I answered by kissing him again. Soon he was helping me with the jacket, and I had moved on to more interesting parts, like the zipper of his cargo pants.

He was wearing camouflage underwear.

‘You have got to be kidding me,’ I blurted in surprise.

Tom had the grace to blush. It wasn’t long before the camouflage underwear was forgotten. I was much more interested in what was rock hard and waiting underneath. When I circled my fingers around him, Tom lay back against the handlebars to allow me more access to what I wanted. He closed his eyes while I stroked the length of him. I let my fingers slip down lower, and he groaned when I started to play with his balls. One drop of precome appeared at his tip, and I bent low to lick it off with one quick flick of my tongue.

He pushed his pants down lower, kicked off his boots on either side of the four-wheeler, and soon there was nothing on him but an old T-shirt, which quickly did a disappearing act. He was lying naked on the four-wheeler, his head resting on the wide space between the handlebars, his arms resting on the fenders. I sat back against the rack on the rear of the machine, watching every move he made.

I pushed his thighs wider apart. A ghost of a smile flashed over his face, then disappeared when I surprised him by sliding my mouth down over his cock. He bucked up into me. I held him down with both hands on his knees.

‘Don’t you move,’ I ordered quietly.

Tom lay still underneath my wandering hands. I remembered how it felt to be so exposed on the picnic table, hardly clothed while he was still wearing his, the thrill of knowing someone might come along and see what was happening. I wondered if he felt that way now. I wondered how many people used this trail. I wondered if anyone on those boats down below had binoculars, and if they might see a flash of something moving up there, something they wanted to investigate. Did Tom think about the fact that he might be seen, lying there naked on his four-wheeler?

He seemed calm, but when I ran my fingertips over his chest his heart was drumming hard. I traced his sides, smiling at the way he reacted to every touch and stroke. I breathed cool air across his chest, then warm. Then cool again. He chuckled deep in his throat. I picked a green leaf from the closest tree and ran it over his arms, his chest, his belly. The ticklish spots made it difficult for him to lie still, but he did an admirable job.

‘My exhibitionist,’ I murmured.

The leaf trailed down between his legs. He arched a bit when I ran it over his balls. When I trailed it a bit lower, he shuddered. I lingered there a while, teasing that little hole and the sensitive spot right in front of it, until he started to squirm all over the seat. It made me feel wickedly in control of him, to watch such a formidable man reduced to whimpers and moans at the lightest touch.

I replaced the leaf with my fingertips. Tom stopped moving. Instead he lay perfectly still, barely breathing, waiting for what I might do next.

I slipped my lips over the head of his cock. Tom jerked under me and let out a long breath. I swirled my tongue around the tip, teased that sensitive button right underneath it, and sucked gently while I slid my hand up and down his shaft. I traced every vein and ridge with my tongue. My free hand was playing low between his legs, touching every inch of him, until his hips rose up from the seat and he murmured the one word that had become our personal mantra of pleasure.

‘Please.’

I gently probed with my finger, stroking between his cheeks with it, feather-light touches that made him shiver. His hands went up over his head and he held onto the handlebars. I gently pushed forwards with my fingertip, and was surprised to feel the tight muscle sucking at my finger, as if trying to pull it in.

I took half of his cock into my mouth. His eyes were closed and he was breathing hard, whimpering with pleasure. I pushed my finger deeper as I swallowed his cock, and he cried out for the first time.

‘Please, oh God, please.’

‘Say my name when you do that,’ I ordered.

‘Kelley. Kelley.’

I pushed that finger in another inch, and he rose from the seat, pushing into my hand. He wanted even more. I began to fuck him with my mouth, keeping it soft and supple around him, not giving him enough friction to let him come. I slowly pushed my finger in to the hilt and began to move it in and out, fucking his ass like I was the one with a cock. He gasped for air and gripped the handlebars so hard his knuckles turned white.

I abandoned his cock and moved down. My tongue lapped at his balls. My other hand wandered up his belly until I found the tiny nubs of his nipples, rock hard and sensitive in the cool air. When I squeezed each of them in turn he moaned and soon he was helping me, fondling them himself, freeing up my hand for more interesting things.

I stroked his cock as I sucked both of his balls into my mouth.

The effect on Tom was electric. He shuddered. There was no holding back the groans now. They were pouring out of him, much louder than I had expected him to be out there in the wilderness. He was completely lost in a world of pleasure. I smoothed my tongue along his sensitive skin. My hand moved faster. When he arched up into me, I pushed my finger deeper and sucked on his balls. The steady pressure was almost too much, but I wasn’t giving him that same firm touch on his cock. He needed that to come.

I had him, literally, in the palm of my hand.

‘Please,’ he begged, and this time the word had a different quality. This time it was the plea of a man who was riding the fence between pleasure and pain.

I sucked harder. I squeezed his cock roughly, making it pulse harder under my fingertips. When I pushed a second finger inside with the first, there was no question of whether or not there was enough friction to make him come – he came anyway.

His balls jerked in my mouth. His ass clenched on my fingers. His cry of ecstasy echoed through the trees. He bucked up into my hand as the first shot of semen hit his collarbone, then his chest. Then some of it landed on me as I licked my way up his shaft. By the time he was done my lips, my hand, and his chest were covered with the milky cream.

‘Kelley,’ he panted.

I slowly pulled my fingers out of him. I stroked his cock lightly, carefully, wary of him being too sensitive to handle it. I dipped my head to his belly and licked up what had shot out of his cock. Tom watched me and groaned, and he groaned even louder when I climbed over him and gave him a kiss. He wrapped his fingers in my hair and held me tightly against him, kissing me hard, showing me that he liked the way he tasted, too.

He fell back on the four-wheeler with a satisfied sigh.

I sat up, fully clothed, straddling him. My whole body ached with need. I wanted it exactly that way. I wanted to deny myself until he had me down in his basement again, until he was fucking into me as hard as he could.

‘I want you to take my ass,’ I said deliberately.

Even as Tom laughed, his eyes were dark with passion and intent. ‘You’ll get more than you can handle tonight.’

‘Oh, I know I will.’

I watched Tom get dressed. It was more intimate than watching him undress. I giggled as he searched for the camouflage hat in the underbrush. When he was fully dressed again he sat on the four-wheeler behind me. He pulled me back against his chest and together we watched the lake come to life. Boats danced across the water; from this height they looked like toys in a child’s bathtub. Birds flew below us, dipping into the water. We kissed like teenagers. Tom whispered in my ear, things that didn’t matter in the least, while the sun tried to find us through the canopy of fresh spring leaves.

On the way back, he taught me how to use the four-wheeler. I stalled the engine twice before I figured out how to use the gears. All the while Tom held me tight, his arms around my middle. By the time we came back into his clearing, I felt as though we were one and the same, a single being on the back of that machine.

I cut the engine and, for a long time, he didn’t let me go. We looked at the cabin, watched the squirrels and the birds, and after a few moments Tom pointed out a rather brave deer in the distance, moving like a silent ghost through the trees. A crow called out overhead. Somewhere in the underbrush, a small creature moved.

‘I could keep you here forever,’ Tom said.