On the road to Canada.
She had been asleep for the past hour or so, resting her head on the window of he truck. Bag of Jelly Babies in her lap. Chest gently rising and falling, dark hair around her face, white streaks tucked behind her delicate ear. Bare feet resting on his thigh, small and pale. Her top slightly open, with the round top of one breast flashing, inviting, tempting.
He watched the road, looking at her briefly ever now and then. Four days; they had been on the road for four days. It was already hard. Being alone with her, now in the middle of nowhere. Harder than at home. It was only her scent that assaulted him, only her scent to manage, only her scent to arouse and call to the beast.
She shifted in her seat and sighed. That was anther thing, the sounds she made. Last night they had slept in the truck because the motel they stopped at was full. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from having her in the front seat. She had giggled and sighed and moaned for nearly two hours. Soft, beautifully-scented breath escaping her lips, close to his face, his skin, and his mind.
In her eyes, he was gentle and loving, making her feel special, loved and cared for. The sex was full of gentle caresses, soft touches and loving kisses. In his eyes, he was controlled, restrained, holding back and struggling with himself. Halfway through he had very nearly stopped, because he wasn’t sure if he could carry on without biting her, pulling her hair, digging his fingers into her hips, bruising her beautiful skin, scratching her, or calling her some name that wasn’t a term of endearment.
She woke up, stretched and yawned, breaking his mind from his thoughts. She still managed to look attractive. “Hey, sugar.”
“Hey yourself.” He smiled at her, and she beamed back.
“How far away are we?” She stretched again and rearranged herself so that she was facing out the front of the truck.
“We make the next left, then about 3 miles of dirt track, and we’re there. It’s the only place around for miles. Lots to look at.”
“Oh goody: scenery.” She picked up her socks and put them on along with her hiking boots.
“Darlin’, you gotta stay awake long enough to enjoy it.” Joking with her like this, being with her and talking, keeping his mind active was easy. She kept him happy, but made Wolverine restless.
“Hey, driving makes me sleepy.”
“You haven’t driven a single mile, Marie!” She laughed and popped a rose-coloured Jelly Baby in her mouth.
“OK, so being in a moving car makes me sleepy! Do you want me to drive?”
“No, darlin’, we’re nearly there now.”
He pulled the truck up outside the small cabin. He had been given it about three years ago by an old Indian man he helped out a couple of times. The guy had died and left it to Logan in his Will.
She bounded out of the truck. The door to the cabin was locked, and she bounced up and down, telling him to hurry up. Opening the door, they were faced with a lot of dust and a musty smell.
There was a small living room. Two sofas made out of old tree logs piled high with furs, skins and cushions. An enormous open fire, it must have been as tall as Marie and as wide as half the wall. It had a spit-roast wheel over it, a hook with a kettle hanging on it, and a wire rack for cooking pans to rest on.
The living room open plan and went into the small kitchen. There was a small table and two chairs. A couple of cupboards on the wall for storing food and other things.
She ran up the stairs that were next to the kitchen. Upstairs was open plan. A huge bookcase full to the brim with novels and reference books. A large old screen blocked off one corner, behind it was the most beautiful Victorian bath she had ever seen. It was huge, white, with a blue Willow Pattern design. In the centre of the room was a large wooden bed full of furs and skins and over against the chimney-breast was another open fire. A smaller one, but with enough room to heat water for the bath.
Everything needed cleaning before it could be used, or before they could even unpack, but it was lovely and exactly what she had expected.
“What do you think?” He was leaning against the front doorframe, looking sexy and pleased with himself.
She ran over and wrapped her arms around him under his jacket. “It’s perfect.” She released him and looked around. “How about I start to clean up, and you head out for supplies?”
“You’ll be ok by yourself?” She raised her eyebrows at him. She didn’t even bother to answer, and he just smiled and walked off to the truck.
Marie rolled up her sleeves and started with the kitchen. By the time he got back two hours later with food and basic living stuff, the whole place was looking fantastic. She had cleaned surfaces, swept the floors, taken all the furs, cushions and skins outside and belted the dust off, and she even had both the fires going. She had just come down from washing the bathtub when he walked in and stamped the snow off his boots.
He placed two boxes on the table and then gave her a quick kiss before getting the rest of their stuff out of the truck. She had brought her lap-top and GPS-phone with her in case of emergencies. It wasn’t until he brought it in that she realised there was no electricity. Thankfully, he had remembered an old petrol generator. They had also brought blankets, pillows and towels, and a small chemical porta-loo, which she was grateful for.
They had eaten and where currently snuggled in front of the fire on the floor in a pile of blankets. He had found an old radio, and there was soft music playing into the room. Oil lamps lit up the place and cast a brilliant glow over their faces.
“You want another beer?” His arms tightened around her slightly.
“I do, but I don’t.” She turned in his embrace and stared at him, slightly confused. “You would have to move to go get it.” He leaned forward and kissed her smile. He held her lips against his by tangling his hands in her hair. It felt like soft brown silk in his fingers. That’s what she was: precious silk.
“Let’s go upstairs.” She got up and took his hand, pulling him up. He picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her and lifted her into his arms. She giggled and buried her face in his chest.
“What?” She giggled again when he asked.
“Sorry, felt like Scarlet O’Hara for a second.” She flung out her arm in an over-exaggerated gesture, and thickened her accent when she spoke. “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!” She recited the only thing from the movie she could remember. He simply stared at her with raised eyebrows. “Ok, so I’m guessing you’ve never seen ‘Gone With The Wind’?”
“No, but I have just seen a little Southern girl make an ass out of herself.”
“Shut up and take me upstairs before I get out and walk.”
He lowered them both onto the bed, pulling the blankets out of the way and feeling her body through her clothes. This would take an extra amount of control. She looked amazing, felt amazing, and smelled unbelievable. If this is what life was meant to be, he was a happy man.
That night they didn’t make love; he pleasured her with his fingers first, then his mouth, and then again with his fingers again. She came, gripping his arms, his hair, anything she could get her hands on.
The last time it just wouldn’t go. An image of how Wolverine had looked from over her shoulder flashed into her mind making her cum, crying out, making enough noise to wake the dead. She felt guilty. Technically she was thinking of another man to get her off while with her boyfriend. She felt almost dirty.
She returned his attention by making him climax with her hand; he showed her how to do it properly. Afterwards she gave him the best blowjob he had ever had. Soft lips, licking, nipping and sucking him into oblivion. He came, but still held back. He had to let go of her hair and grab the bed to stop himself from forcing her mouth further onto him and bucking his hips, fucking her mouth.
He felt like a bastard. She was open with him, honest, true, and here he was not giving her every part of him.
He spent most of the next day on the roof, cleaning out the chimney. She laughed at him when he came back inside black from the soot. He also spent a considerable amount of time chopping wood. Fixing the swing-bench on the front porch. By the time night came and they had eaten stew and garlic bread for dinner, she was beginning to wonder if he was avoiding her.
They both enjoyed a bath together. She sat behind him and washed his back, massaging his shoulders and kissing him. She got out and sat him back. Getting back in, she placed herself on his lap.
He was happy to let her do this, let her take the lead. She eased herself down onto him, both of them groaning at the sensation. He gripped her hips, tipped his head back, and let her ride him. The warm water licking their bodies, adding to the excitement. She gripped his shoulders, kissed his delicious lips and nipped at his neck. She decided on the tempo, and he let her. He held her to him, flesh against flesh, and buried his face in her breasts as they came together.
He dried her sated body off and laughed as he slung her over his shoulder, gently threw her into their bed.
“You’re a very bad little girl, you know that?” He climbed in next to her, and she instantly snuggled down into the safety of his enormous chest.
“Just the way you like me, sugar. And I don’t hear you complaining.”
He wasn’t complaining. He just didn’t know how to handle this. He pulled the skins and blankets around them, and she fell into a nice easy sleep with him watching her.
The next couple of days went the same kind of way. Laughing and joking with each other. Talking about the past and friends lost. Taking the piss out of Scott and planning pranks for when they got back.
She asked him about his sessions with the Professor, and he just shrugged it all off and told her not to worry. If anything happened, she would just have to drop him and that was that. She kind of figured that there was more to it, but she knew him well enough not to push.
They went for walks. He showed her the lake nearby, and killed himself laughing when she screamed as a frog jumped out of the reeds.
“It’s a frog, Marie, not Sabertooth!”
She threw a lump of snow at him and started a snowball fight. She eventually lost when he wrestled her to the ground and stuffed snow in her bra. She was screaming for him to stop, but he laughed her at her and kissed her thoroughly instead. In the back of his mind, it reminded him of something, but he couldn’t place it and let it go.
That night she fell asleep in front of the fire, her head resting on his thigh. He carried her up to bed and sat on the front porch for two hours before he joined her. It was harder after dark, holding back, taking back his control. Being in charge of what he would, or wouldn’t, do.
He went to bed eventually and wrapped his fingers in her hair and breathed in her contented scent. Dreams full of soft skin, flashes of brown and white hair, pleasurable screams. Slipping into darkness and turning into long scratches, bite marks and shouts of pain.
Waking in the morning with a jump, he found himself lying on his back with a generous amount of gorgeous woman plastered to his side. He got out of bed and stoked up the fire a little, making it blaze. Getting back under the blankets and furs, she stirred awake.
He cradled her face and kissed her. She pulled away, rumbling about morning breath, but he just kissed her again. “I love you.” He spoke lowering her jaw, sinking his tongue in her mouth. Rolling on top of her, he slid between her legs, already feeling the heat coming from her. She sighed as his large hand moulded over her breast, squeezing gently.
He continued to kiss her gently. She loved the feel of him on top of her. The weight, dominance, the heat from his skin, roughness from his body hair, and the pressing need of his length. Every time they had made love, every time he had touched her, it had been soft, gentle and perfect. He made her feel amazing, loved and cared about. It was never about him, always her. He took pleasure in it as well, but it was restrained pleasure.
But there was something missing, urgency and need. A bite, a scratch, forced grip, or the sting in the scalp from pulling a handful of hair. She hated herself for wanting it. She shouldn’t.
As he entered her and dipped his head to lick her nipple the same way that Wolverine had in the med lab, she realised what had been happening. He was holding back, he was making sure that whatever he did to her wasn’t what he thought Wolverine had done. He was making sure he was the one she associated with love and their relationship. God, didn’t the man realise that it was part of him, a part she liked? Wanted. Needed. Desired and yearned for.
She pulled his head up to kiss her again. She gripped the back of his hair and bit his lip. “Harder…please.” Raising her thigh. He obliged and pumped harder into her welcoming wetness. It felt so good. Almost too good.
He kissed her neck and the soft spot behind her ear. He growled, and she arched into him. This was it. That edge. That need. She was rocking her hips into him, and his thrusts got quicker, making her moan loudly. She scratched at his back, the marks healing as quickly as she made fresh ones.
His head was in her neck, and she licked and nipped at his ear. She was close, he could smell it. He was close too, but was also close to something else. Losing his control and his sanity. Wolverine was there, snarling, growling, hissing at him to bite her.
God, did the man not know what he was doing with her? Let him out and he would show him.
She was going to come, and she wanted to take him with her. She bit his neck, sinking her teeth in as much as she could. It was his undoing. He was growling heavily into her hair, she flew apart into her own private abyss. Logan flew apart too, it was too much, too good, and he couldn’t hold on any longer. To anything.
*************END OF PART THREE
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