No time for cuddling afterwards. We are in the shower, when Logan’s ears perk up.
“Vic’s at the door.” He wraps a towel around his waist, and goes in to other room, closing the bathroom door behind him. Image of his muscular back, now slightly marred by my nails, still dripping wet from the shower burns to my retinas. And I’m ready to go again. March after him and take him right there, in the middle of that dingy room, right in front of Victor. I don’t think either of them would appreciate it that much, so I have to settle to my own fingers, and the memory of how his cock feels, sliding in and out of me, rock hard and throbbing.
“She is quite a little vixen…” I can’t help it. Nervous giggle escapes from my lips, and ends to an embarrassing snort. Victor has a way with words. Whole room practically reeks of her arousal. Scent is wafting from under the bathroom door, and we can both hear her muffled gasps.
“What kind of a man you are. Leaving her like that. She wouldn’t need to do that if she had chosen me…” I’m starting to remember how easy camaraderie we had all those years ago. I have actually missed Victor.
“About that vehicle. Did you get it?” I ask and clear my throat. Victor seems to catch my drift, and his face turns serious.
“Yeah. Owner was quite reluctant to sell it at first, but we reached an agreement. He took my money and I let him live. Last time I saw him he was running towards the buss terminal.”
“Good. Let me grab some clothes. We have to get some food and other stuff before we leave…” Marie’s small cry echoes through the door.
“Get her a vibrator.”
Camper is fully stocked. There’s small bathroom, one bedroom, and spacious area for cooking and dining. I’m putting away our last groceries. Victor has gone to return our keys. Marie is fiddling at the front, trying to find some radio station that would air something other than just hockey. Good luck with that, darling. I can almost imagine it’s just the two of us, on a real vacation. She’s going to huff and whine about how there’s nothing good in the radio and why didn’t I bring those tapes that I promised, and how this journey is all ruined now because she can’t listen to her favorite music. Then I’m going to walk to her, take her on my arms and carry her to that bedroom of ours, because I’m about to show her she can enjoy this vacation without some whining excuse of a singer raping his way through every known classic in rock and pop altar. After we have spent very satisfying afternoon rocking our camper, we will go out to eat. I’m going to order some strawberries for dessert, and…
“Ready to go?” Victor asks, brushing past me, shoving the keys of this monster to my hand.
“Your turn to drive. I’m going to take a nap.”
“Not on that bed, you’re not. You’ll get the couch.” I don’t want to smell his scent on the sheets later. Victor groans and grumbles, but folds his massive frame on the couch behind the dining table.
“I could make us something to eat,” Marie proposes. I actually have to think about it for a moment. I really do like Vic, and I would trust him with my life. But I don’t trust him when Marie’s involved.
“Remember to keep your skin on. And don’t go too near to Vic. He’s sleeping on the couch.” She stands up and walks past me, then returns behind me and pats the top of my head.
“Yes, daddy…” Christ! That tone of voice should be illegal. It’s so indecent when combined with those words, and makes me think of all kinds of things I could do to her right now if we just ditched Victor to the side of the road. Maybe on that table, her legs hiked all the way up on my shoulders. Or against the wall. On the couch, from behind, my hands kneading her buttocks… Dear God. I have to get my mind out of the gutter before I forget that Victor is with us.
Victor is snoring. He’s sleeping on his back, his mouth hangs partially open, and I can see the tips of his canines. He isn’t actually so scary when he’s asleep. He looks like a big, lazy cat. I take in his tattered clothes and worn appearance. Wonder when he has last brushed his hair? Or cut it? Why doesn’t he take better care of his looks? I have a feeling that underneath all that fur and grit lurks quite a good-looking man. My gaze sweeps lower and stops to his stomach. His clawed hands rest there. Thick, black and sharp, slightly curving claws. No way to hide those. At least Logan can retract his and keep them hidden. It’s weird, actually. From what I know about their animalistic counterparts, a wolverine can’t retract it’s claws, but all cats can.
I have been so engrossed watching over Vic, that I haven’t noticed the camper has stopped. When Logan’s hands land on my shoulders I nearly scream. His hand clamps up to my mouth. His warm breath tickles my ear when he leans closer grinding his hips against my butt.
“I thought you were going to cook… Is there something that I should be worried about?” He whispers and licks my earlobe. I try to turn around, but his hand snakes around my waist and keeps me still against his hot body. His tongue sweeps over my pulse point and I have to bite his palm to stifle groan that threatens to escape. I’m mortified, but at the same time exited and more aroused than I remember ever being. Victor could wake up at any second now and see us. Logan’s other hand delves lower and rubs my crotch on top of my jeans, slow and firm strokes, making me squirm. Then he suddenly stops and retreats back to driver’s seat, snickering to himself. What the fuck was that?
Ah. Much better. Now that I know we are both hot and bothered, situation doesn’t bother me at all. I’m actually having a great time.
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