Winter Miracle Read online

  No one has touched me like this before. It was all about their pleasure, their release. I haven’t even touched myself like this.

  Another finger, I don’t know which, slides onto the slick canal of my body, gripped tight. Prickles of sensation sweep over me, my nipples rocky against the cups of my bra, desperate for his mouth, for attention.

  He kisses me, working with his fingers, playing me like an instrument. He sets the rhythm and the pace, allowing me to crest and fall, but always with the symphony building and building into a coming crescendo.

  I let out a guttural groan as a second finger joins the first inside me, curling upward and finding a new source of pleasure there previously unknown.

  This isn’t his first time. No, no, no. Of that I am sure.

  These skills have been acquired, and perfected, to surgical precision. He knows exactly the type of response he can elicit and I’m happy to be carried away in his power.

  I start to shake, reaching out to grip his arms, can feel the outline of his cock ahead as I jerk against him.

  The wind beats harder against the windows, the door to the room still open, threatening to expose this lurid act.

  “Yes,” he moans at my ear, his scent intoxicating. “Come,” he commands. “Come for me.”

  My mouth opens, wants to confess I’ve never had an orgasm before, wouldn’t even know what one feels like… before it hits.

  The suddenness, the way it wells up, is unexpected, rushing inwards to my core and exploding out. My jaw drops until it aches, my eyes squeezed tightly shut, my thighs clamping hard against his fingers.

  He does not stop.

  He does not relent.

  “I… I…” I don’t know what to say as I lift onto my tippy toes.

  It crashes into me hard, the sensation slamming deep into my subconscious as I come.

  I know I’m wet, so wet, but I don’t care.

  The wave of pleasure rises again, toppling over the first. My knees buckle, but his strong hands hold me in position, his fingers never leaving me.

  My mouth opens and closes, my head snapping left to right as it goes on, and on, and on…

  His lips are back at the side of my neck, exploring. I finally manage to breathe and take stock.

  That was an orgasm.

  I know it.

  My very first.

  And I barely know this guy.

  He removes his hand and holds my arms, looking at me with a gaze that is all power. “How was that, Haley Walker?”

  I’m conscious of the heat in my cheeks, the way my face and skin are flushed. “Wonderful,” I reply, sincere.

  He takes my hand and guides it down to his cock, wrapping my fingers around its velvety heat. He leans forward and whispers again. “I’m going to fuck you now, Haley, and you’re going to come again. Do you understand me?”

  I snap out of it at these words, letting go of his member and almost falling backwards in my haste to leave.

  My skirt drops back into position.

  I grab the cart and pull it in front of myself, allow some barrier of protection in this madness.

  I can’t even look him in the eye as I back away. “I’m sorry… I, I have to go.” I’m babbling excuses, trying to get the door open as I do so while he continues to stand there with his hard-on and that slightly amused, curious expression on his face.

  I’m definitely back in reality now, the guilt and shame crashing into me, because that, that was not me. I don’t do this kind of thing.

  But I was so stressed, and his fingers felt so good, his lips… I let myself go.

  And look what happened.

  I can’t deny it didn’t feel good, amazing even, but it’s over now and it can never happen again.

  I manage to get the cart through the door, closing it as fast as I can and breathing in the cold air, anything to abate the heat still pulsing from my core.

  I spin the cart and make for the next room, my inner thighs slippery, the phantom memory of his hand still there.

  Safely inside the next room, I press my back up against the door breathing hard.

  I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or head to the nearest confessional.

  All I do know is that I can’t stop thinking about Dane Carr and his magic fingers.

  And what else might be magic…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DANE

  I wake up sleepless and groggy, the storm having blasted through the night.

  My pillow was more like a sack of dirt, the sheets cheap and prickly. This place is a total shithole.

  I stand and walk over to the window, which continues to rattle with the wind outside. Make that an icy shithole, I correct.

  I start the shower and step in, placing one hand against the wall and the other around my cock.

  She’s there when I close my eyes—Haley the motel maid in all her naïve, never-had-an-orgasm perfection. She never admitted as much, of course, but I know that response. Her previous relationships were probably with Bob the one-eyed mechanic or Tony behind the bleachers. She’s probably never had a real man in her life to show her how it’s done. These pencil-dicked pricks around here wouldn’t know a real pussy if it slapped them in the face.

  I smile as I jerk myself off, smile at the way she bent and bowed at my touch, pale cheeks flushed and heavy. God, I wanted to fuck her.

  It was fun getting her off, sure, a distraction, but then she rushed out before the party really started.

  It figures. I have no doubt she’s one of these typical prudish, small-town types who’ve been brought up thinking sex is dirty, that pleasure should only be a man’s. She’s probably as sweet as they come, always trying to do the right thing, looking both ways before she crosses the street. She’s the first to volunteer for anything and the first to get fucked over. Yes, I know the type alright. Almost too well…

  I stiffen and come quicker than I imagined with a picture of her in my head, holding my cock as it continues to cough and jerk against the streaming water.

  Pity, I think. She might have been a screamer.

  I dry myself off looking out the window again, but in the time I’ve been in the shower the storm’s really coming down hard. I can barely see anything out there except for infinite white.

  Well, shit.

  I don’t have a coat for this kind of weather, forced to pull my leather jacket tight around myself as I step out into what basically amounts to a blizzard.

  Struggling against the snow and wind, eyes straining to make out the sidewalk, I’m reminded yet again how much I fucking hate these backwater towns.

  My thoughts turn to Haley Walker again. This is a small town, I realize. I might bump into her out here. There’s probably enough time for a quickie, one for the road, so to speak, but I don’t find her. I can barely find the ground.

  Fuck it, I tell myself. There’ll be another girl in the next place. There always is.

  It’s a hard slog to the bus station, but I make it just as the man I bought my ticket from yesterday attaches something to the booth window.

  He squints to make me out. “Oh, how you doin’?”

  I’m cold, basically soaked through and in desperate need of a fresh fuck, but I nod in turn and mutter, “Fine.”

  I see he’s put up a notice. I walk forward to read it, my heart sinking as I take in the words.

  I turn to the man. “The bus station’s closed?”

  He nods his head gravely. “’Fraid so. Real bitch of a storm last night, iced out the roads all the way to Conner County.” He looks past me. “Seems like she’s still blowing through, too. Nothing’s getting in or out of here for a while.”

  It sinks in.

  I’m stuck here.

  I’m stuck in this shithole.

  It’s like a god-damn nightmare. What next? A zombie apocalypse? My dick falls off?

  Given the cold, it soon might.

  It needs somewhere warm to park itself—stat.

  “Sorry to say it, son,” t
he man continues, sensing my disappointment, “but there won’t be any buses through until the ice has cleared.” He taps the notice. “You can call this number to reschedule your tickets.”

  “Fuck,” I whisper out, turning to pace back through the snow and sleet in the direction, I hope, of the infamous Merit Motor Inn and its shiny two stars.

  I cuss and grumble my way back, my stomach starting to protest. I can’t imagine Merit, USA is known for its Michelin stars, but right now I don’t really care. I just want some fucking food.

  Safely back in my motel room, I peel my jacket off, huffing by the bed.

  And that’s when the power goes off.

  Poof.

  Nada.

  Gone.

  I’m surprised how dark it is, only the snowstorm outside providing illumination.

  I run my hand through my hair. As if this could get any worse.

  It’s like some higher power is trying to punish me. For what? For being too good? For being the best?

  Fuck that. I answer to one person and one person alone.

  Myself.

  I wait fifteen minutes until I can’t take it anymore. “Fuck this,” I stammer, grabbing my jacket and heading out again.

  I make my way down to the manager’s office, but it seems I’m not the only one with this idea.

  Other guests stand limp-faced around the reception desk, the manager standing—yes, standing now—among them with his hands raised, gesticulating wildly.

  I come in, a few curious looks thrown my way. The manager catches my eye and pulls in a deep breath, taking a step back so he can address everyone.

  “Look, folks,” he says. “You’ve got my apologies. You really do, but there ain’t much I can do about this. The power company’s looking at it, but with the storm and all… It could be down for a while.”

  A spattering of murmurs and general gloom.

  The manager scratches his head as if trying to will an answer to emerge. “Those electric company boys, they can’t work when the snow’s coming down like this. They’ve got to get chains on the tires, approval, but rest assured they’re going to be working as fast as they can.”

  “What are we going to do?” asks one of the quests, an elderly woman with garish pink hair rollers in. “We’ll freeze!”

  The manager nods, his hands still raised in surrender. “You’re right, ma’am. It’s going to get cold, real cold, which is why I’m reaching out to the locals to find open rooms.”

  Open rooms? What the hell does that mean? I wonder. He expects us to stay in their homes? Here in town?

  Jesus.

  “For those not familiar, these ice storms can get pretty bad up here, so I don’t recommend leaving town, not that you could,” he adds.

  Nonetheless, a couple of guests seem intent on getting out of here with their own vehicles, bucking the trend.

  Sadly, I don’t have that option.

  I step up to the manager and lower my voice. “Come on. Honestly, you think this is necessary?”

  He faces away from the others to talk to me. “We had a similar storm here a few years back. It cut the power for weeks. But trust me, folks around here will come through just like they did then. They always come together when it counts. This ain’t the city.”

  You’re damn right about that, I want to reply.

  He claps me on the shoulder. “You’ll be just fine, just fine, and hey, at least you won’t have to sleep on some stiff motel mattress, right?” he chuckles.

  I paste on a smile, doing my best to remain upbeat. “Joy.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HALEY

  For once I’m thankful for the howling wind outside, if only that it’s drowning out Andy’s cries for food. I’m shaking up formula in one hand and mixing up veggies in the other, all while trying to get ready for work. And this is with one kid. I don’t know how single moms with two or three do it.

  Superpowers, I think, AKA Nannies and grandparents and all the support network a single mother should have, but I do not.

  And back we go to the pity party.

  I finish mashing up the veggies and slide the bowl in front of Andy, tossing in a spoon. I’m about to pass him his formula when the phone rings.

  Andy scoops up the first spoonful and flings it against the fridge door. All I can do is eye-roll as I pick up the phone. “Hello, Haley Walker speaking.”

  By the following sigh, I know immediately it’s Barry from the motel. It’s the ‘bad news’ sigh. “Haley, hi,” he starts. “Look, this storm’s come in really hard. The power’s out, so, ah, you won’t need to come in until we get it fixed.”

  Great. I’m temporarily out of a job—the absolute last thing I needed right now.

  I dodge left as another spoonful of pumpkin-potato goes flying towards the living room. “Are you sure? I could bring a torch?” I offer.

  I know how ridiculous it sounds, but I’m desperate here.

  Another sigh. “Actually, the guests are going to need places to stay. Without any power, or heating, the temperature’s going to drop dangerously low as the storm ramps up.”

  I’m not sure where he’s going with this. “Okay.”

  “I was hoping, you know, you might be able to take one of them in?”

  “A motel guest?”

  “Just for a night or two until the power’s back up and the storm blows over. You know how these things are. We all come together in times like this. It’s the Merit way.”

  I don’t need to be lectured on the ‘Merit way.’

  I watch the storm unfolding out the window. I don’t have a car. It’s not like I could make it across town to work in these conditions anyhow.

  “So, can you take someone in?” asks Barry.

  My eyes run over my bombshell of a house, a battleground of strewn toys, pacifiers, and random clothes. It’s in no condition for guests.

  “Please,” continues Barry. “I’m in a real pickle here.”

  “With Andy… I just don’t think it’s a good idea having a stranger here.”

  “Look, I’ve only got one more person to place. You’d be getting me out of a real fix here. Come on, Haley. Everyone’s got to do their part in a time like this, right?”

  And damn it, I can’t say no. It’s not in my nature to turn down someone in need. I silently curse my upbringing as I, begrudgingly, agree.

  “Great,” says Barry. “I’ll get someone over right away.”

  “Who’s c—” I try to ask, but Barry’s already hung up, no doubt dialing Mrs. Ainsworth next door with the same spiel.

  Now I’m wishing I never told Barry about my spare room here, the one I’ve been considering renting out. I needed those hours at the motel—bad.

  I distract myself by helping Andy find his mouth with the spoon. He gets it and smiles up at me with those giant baby blues that make everything alright.

  I smile back, rubbing his flaxen hair. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

  A shard of memory flashes through my head, Andy’s father, but with every day it gets more and more muddy. I barely remember him now. Andy will probably never meet him.

  For the best, don’t you think?

  That’s the problem. I don’t know what to think anymore.

  It was stupid sleeping with him. I knew better, but my cursed hormones got the better of me. I wanted more from this town, a spattering of excitement, even if it was only for one night.

  But that’s just it. It wasn’t even that exciting—just a lot of grunting and awkward positions.

  The man at the motel, however… Dane. I doubt ‘awkward’ is part of his vocabulary.

  I change out of my work clothes and get Andy cleaned up. I set him up on the floor with his favorite toys, a teddy missing one eye and a red monster truck, watching him from the sofa.

  There’s a knock on the door an hour later.

  I look down at Andy. “I suppose that’s our guest, little man.”

  I get up and open the door expecting to find a m
iddle-aged salesman, maybe a sharp businesswoman on her way to the city, but no.

  No, no, no, no, no.

  It’s him.

  It’s Dane ‘Magic Fingers’ Carr in all his leather-jacketed, sharp jawed, carnal glory.

  I stand there slack-mouthed and stunned.

  It makes sense, but I never expected him.

  Come on. He gave you your first orgasm. The least you can do is let him in.

  Although his expression is city cool now, I noted the equal surprise on his face when I opened the door, the downward grin emerging when he realized he’d be staying with me, the woman he’d tried to seduce back at the motel, another notch for his big, black belt.

  “Well,” he says, his voice sending fresh shivers down my spine, “you going to let me in or should I stand out here and keep freezing to death?”

  I stand aside and he walks past me, that scent I found so intoxicating drifting inside along with a flurry of snow and leaves.

  I close the door and press my back against it as he surveys the house.

  Andy’s out of his line of sight. He hasn’t spotted him yet.

  I notice the badges sewn onto his jacket—military, Air Force.

  Dane dumps his duffle bag on the floor and rubs his hands together. “It’s a nice place you’ve got here, Haley.”

  He remembered my name.

  Put a stop to this, I tell myself. It’s only going to lead to disaster.

  I peel myself from the door, moving around in front of him. “Didn’t you say you were leaving today?”

  He thumbs at the door. “In that weather? The guy at the bus station said the roads are iced over. The buses can’t get through.”

  Why is my heart beating so fast? I’m standing here still, yet it feels like I’m simultaneously running a marathon.

  Andy is remaining miraculously quiet down on the floor. Another few steps forward and there’s no way Dane will miss him.

  Dane takes his jacket off, the black tee underneath clinging tight to his giant arms and chest. No one in Merit looks like this, like they just stepped from a movie set.

  Or a gym.

  Hell, we don’t even have a gym here. Most Merit men spend their free time boozing at the Recovery Room or hunting. They sure as hell don’t care about their bodies or what they’re putting into them.