Not Looking For Love: Episode 5 (10 page)

"But this is Martin," she croaks and walks over to the men by the bar, showing them my phone. "Don't you think this is Martin?"

My heart is beating so fast, I might actually pass out this time.
 

"Yes, I think you're right," one of the men says, and they're all staring at me now.

"But he told us his name is Martin Winters, he's renting that house on Pine Lane from my cousin. Though he had no ID, said he got mugged in Anchorage," the other man says, and a look of knowing passes between the three of them.

"Are you Gail?" the woman asks, handing the phone back.
 

I'm just about to stand up, ask them for directions to this Pine Lane, but I topple back into my chair at her question.

"How…how do you know?"

They all laugh, but it's not a harsh sound, and it fills the room with a whimsical hope.
 

"Oh, we heard a lot about you," the lady says, smiling at me. "It's good that you're here. Martin never thought he'd see you again."

My eyes are wide, flashing from one to the other, because this is making no sense, none whatsoever. It's like I'm stuck in some romantic movie, and I'll just wake up at any moment, back in the hospital bed, because the weeks since Scott left have all just been a sick dream of my deranged mind.

"People don't come here unless they're running from something," one of the men says and finishes off his drink. "It's good to finally get someone who's looking for one of them. Other than the police I mean."

They all laugh again, but it's a tinkling sound, not unlike my mom's laugh.
 

"I'll take you to see Martin," the man says. He's standing now, zipping up his jacket, but I'm still sitting in my chair, pinching my hand so hard my whole arm is shaking from the pain.
 

"Are you coming or what?" the man says. The lady is still smiling at me, her eyes filled with twinkling lights.

I pick up my bag and stand up, my legs shaking, my heart thundering in my chest. It's not until we reach the door that I remember I didn't pay for my sandwich.

She waves her hand through the air as I offer to. "You'll get it tomorrow. Go now."

"It's that one over there," the man who drove me says and points at a small house on the other side of a snow-covered field. "I can't drive you all the way to the door, because Martin hasn't shoveled away any of the snow yet."

I smile. "Yes, he's lazy like that."

I sink down to my knees into fresh snow as soon as I climb from the truck.
 

"Step lightly," the man tells me. I thank him for the ride and slam the door shut.

Only a single light is on in the house. Behind me, the car rattles and the guy drives away. If Scott's not actually this Martin they all know, I might be stuck out here all night and I'll probably freeze to death, but all those fears are so far away they don't even touch me. Of course Scott is here, I felt his presence as soon as I entered this town and I feel it more so right now.

I try to walk as lightly as I can, but I'm still sinking into snow on every third step, and I'm panting by the time I finally reach the house. On the porch, I stop my feet hard against the wooden boards to shake off the snow, sweat running down my face.

The front door swings open, and Scott is standing in front of me, wearing is ratty pajamas, his eyes so wide they're taking up half his face.

"Gail?"

"Hank Henderson, Scott," I say and stride into the house, my skin crackling as it thaws in the heat. "Hank Henderson."

The door slams shut behind me, and then my back's against the wall, Scott's weight pressing into me, his lips on mine, so hot and hungry, I might never escape them. Not that I ever want to.

I open my mouth and let his tongue in, my hands pulling up his sweatshirt, because I need to feel his skin against mine, like I've never needed anything else.

He pulls away long enough to take off his clothes, and then his lips are on mine again, his fingers fumbling with the button on my jeans, getting caught in the leggings I'm wearing under them. I shake off my jacket and pull off my sweater as he struggles to get my pants down. His skin is hotter than fire against my cold flesh, searing me to the core as I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close.

His lips are all over every inch of my face, covering my neck, my chest, the heat they're causing meeting the one flowing up from between my legs, connecting in my stomach, melting into my blood. And I'm kissing him right back, electric currents flaring through me each time our lips meet.

I manage to shake my right leg free of my pants and wrap it around his hip, pulling him closer. I moan, smacking the back of my head on the wall as he buries his cock deep into me. The stars flashing before my eyes join the explosion between my legs, feed off it, until my entire body is crackling like I'm just another log in the fire.

Scott's still thrusting into me, his breathing loud between the kisses, his hand stroking the back of my thigh. Inside me, heat is building again, reforming hotter than before. His cock thickens inside me and he jams it in to the hilt, buries it so deep I'd jump off it, but I'm cumming so hard I don't even know my name.

"Who's Hank Henderson?" Scott asks me later, stroking my hair as we're lying on the sofa, the fire crackling beside us.

I lift my head and kiss him softly, feeling his cock twitch inside me.
 

"Hank's my dad's brother," I whisper, resting my head against his chest. "He's currently serving three life sentences for first degree murder. And that's never stopped my father pursuing a successful career in law. And I think you'll agree that stealing cars pales in comparison to premeditated murder, right?"

Scott hoists me up so I'm laying on top of him, his rapidly hardening cock buried deep. I push myself up so I'm sitting, rock my hips back and forth to speed him up.

His palms slither across my belly, wrap around my breasts.

"Oh, OK. Because I thought you'd finally gone completely insane and were introducing yourself as Hank," he says and laughs so hard tears start flowing from his eyes. And I probably should be mad, at least a little bit, but I'm seeing myself covered in snow, red in the face and panting, answering Hank Henderson over and over, and I can't stop laughing either, until my belly is cramping up and tears are flowing into my mouth.

"But even thinking I was insane you had no trouble letting me in," I say, once my laughs finally settle. He's staring so deep into my eyes, it's like he sees right through me.
 

"But when has that ever stopped you, right?" I whisper, because I could never just keep my mouth shut.

He kisses me instead of answering, his hands running up and down my back, my sides, my breasts, and I've got my fingers buried in his hair.

"How the fuck did you even find me?" he asks later, his lips glistening from the kisses.

His cock is so hard inside me, I'll probably never get it out. Not that I'm planning to.
 

"I found your mom's diaries and the picture of their cabin," I say. "And then I called every Martinsson I could find in the greater Portland area. I finally tracked down your aunt and she told me this is where that cabin was."

I feel him grow softer inside me, and I clench down hard, not ready to let him go.
 

"You spoke to my aunt?"

"Yes, and she sounded very sorry she never got in touch," I say, running my palm down the side of his face. "Maybe it's not too late now."

"It is," he says, his voice colder than it was when he told me not to look for him. I want him to laugh again.

"And you came out here in the middle of the night just based on that?" he asks softly, his hands cupping my cheeks. "What if I wasn't here?"

"Then I'd find you somewhere else. I wouldn't give up," I say. "But luckily everyone at the bar knew a Martin Winters who spoke a lot about a certain Gail. What did you tell them?"

He sighs, his hands coming to rest in the small of my back. "I told them we loved each other, but we couldn't make it work because you were in a committed relationship and I couldn't make you choose like that, or get in the way of the future you planned for yourself."

"So, in other words, you lied. And made me sound like a total two-timing bitch," I say and smile to take the edge off my harsh words.
 

"No, I didn't make you sound like a bitch. Love is hard, everyone knows that, and sometimes you have to let go," he says, his eyes a perfect sky blue.
 

"And who's Martin Winters then?" I ask, pinching his nipple and gasping as his cock jerks inside me.
 

"He's an artist from New York, escaping here to find inspiration after his heartbreak," he says, his hands kneading my breasts again. "Martin's my middle name, and Winters is actually the last name Mike uses for his alter persona. And he'd probably never guess I was using it, not with how I teased him about it."

"Well, how hard did you tease him?" I ask, my breath catching in my throat. It's a stupid plan, of course Mike would guess. He should have gone with something like Smith.

"I asked him if he was trying to channel my mom through it, since she's Swedish and everything, and he got really defensive about it, like maybe I guessed it," he explains. "And it seemed fitting to use it here."

"It's just Mike you're hiding from all the way out here, isn't it? Not anyone else?" I ask. "That's why you didn't even tell your dad where you are.

"You saw my dad?" he asks, his eyes wide again. "How is he?"

"He seemed OK. But he really misses you." I could sugarcoat it, but why lie to Scott? He must know it already. "Ava was with him. Apparently Janine left too."

He nods. "I know. But I'm sure she'll get in touch with her mom as soon as things calm down."

"Until what calms down?"

He sighs, his hands clutching my hips now. "Mike. He'd would never let me just walk away. He has all these big plans, and he wants me to help him. But I think he'll do it better on his own anyway, and I absolutely do not want to go back to prison."

"So that's why you left me? It wasn't even about me screwing up my future?" I move to climb off him, but he's holding me too tight.

"It was all because of you Gail. I would've stayed and helped him out for a while longer if I hadn't met you. But I couldn't force you to be with me while I was still stealing cars. And I couldn't stop unless I got away from Mike," he says, his eyes so deep I'm not even seeing the cabin anymore. "And if he so much as thought we were still together, he'd use it against me. So I made him think Janine and me were running away together. He never did understand how it's possible that we weren't doing it all these years, so it was a good lie."

"But was it a lie?" I ask, fighting the image of Scott's arm wrapped around Janine on that first night when I totally lost it.

He smiles, his hands running down my ass. "Yes. It's a lie."

I look deep into his eyes, the snowy plain shimmering like a million diamonds, only this time that world is right outside the window too. "I believe you."

"Good," he says, and bucks his hips into me, making me gasp as his cock hits that spot deep inside me, heat coiling all around it now. "Because I think maybe we should stop talking for awhile. I'm getting cold."

I lift my hips a little and rock back down, repeat. He lets me do it my way, sliding up and down slowly. His eyes are so blue and so open, I could never look away and still miss nothing.

His thumb is tracing a slow circle across my clit, making heat shoot out across the surface of my skin, matching, exceeding that roiling inside me. I grab his wrist, and press into his hand, sitting down all the way on his cock. I shudder as he cums, the hot jet spilling into me coaxing out my own orgasm, slower and softer than any before, but intense, as deep as his eyes.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The sunlight spilling across my eyelids wakes me the next morning. We're in bed. I remember coming here after the fire died, remember him climbing on top of me, his tongue in my mouth as he thrust into me, slow and powerful, my body reeling, my eyes fluttering shut. He's spooning me now, his palm hot against the skin of my belly, resting under the shirt I'm wearing, which I don't remember putting on, his even breaths stirring my hair.

I burrow closer to him, and shut my eyes tight, lacing my fingers with his. His breathing turns irregular, his lips hot against my neck. He slides his hand down my pajamas, and I shudder as his fingers find my soft clit. I want him to keep going and I don't.

"Not ready for more?" he mutters and bites the top of my shoulder softly, the electric current that shoots straight down into my clit almost strong enough to make me reconsider.

"Not yet," I mutter. "Maybe tonight."

His hand slides back to my belly, smearing the wetness across my skin. "I still have some pain killers somewhere, if you want?"

I shake my head. "No, I kinda like being sore like this."

He chuckles. "Yeah, you would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it," he mutters, pressing into me and holding me tight. "So, some breakfast then? I think I have some eggs and stuff."

"You have actual food? But I thought you didn't know how to cook?" I say.

"Turns out I can. So what kind of eggs do you like, I can make all kinds?" he offers.

"Benedict?" I ask. I'm not even sure which those are, but it sounds complicated.
 

"Never made those, but I can check online," he says, hugging me again and then letting go.

"Don't bother, I was kidding. Scrambled is fine," I say and roll over, lacing my fingers with his as we both stare at the ceiling.
 

"It'd be no problem, you really need to start eating. You're even skinnier than when I first met you," he says, watching me from the corner of his eye, his lips curled up at the edges, probably wanting to get a rise out of me. But I won't argue with him, not now when I only just got him back.

"It hasn't been the easiest couple of weeks," I say instead, memories of the transparent ball I was stuck in flooding to the surface.