White Heat (2 page)

He thought of the enormous bear he had killed, that snowy behemoth with mammoth claws. Perversely, he wondered if it had a mate, a mate that was now alone with an equally powerful sexual urge that could only be satisfied by self-manipulation.

Abruptly he burst out laughing. The image of an erect white she-bear raking at itself with those steel talons while it moaned with pleasure was ludicrous.

A sudden sharp wind made him pull the hood of his parka down even lower. The air was so cold it felt like shards of cut glass. With eyes half closed behind the goggles, he took another step.

Suddenly, he tripped over something. He felt his body hit the ground hard, even though he automatically stuck out two flat palms to break the force of the fall. A moment before, he had flown through the air with the grace of a swan; now he plummeted like a dead penguin. He felt pain in his genitals; the frigid air had seeped in through layers of insulation, making him shrunken and numb despite his own inner fire. He smirked again, amused at his own wit and arrogance. This frozen world was not to be taken lightly by any man.

Looking around, he saw the oblique shape that was just beyond the outcropping of ice that had caused him to fall. It took a long moment for him to make out the curved outline of a human body.

Leaning down, he touched the forehead of what appeared to be a young woman. It seemed so cold it almost felt hot, even through his gloves. He grunted. Whoever she was, she might be half-dead already. And what kind of a fool would go out in this storm; another person as foolish as himself? He laughed out loud and then began the slow and arduous task of digging the woman out of the frozen mush.

CHAPTER THREE

Josh was exhausted when he reached the cabin, but still managed to place some large terry cloth towels on the floor of the living room before placing her down gently. Quickly, he removed the parka and his other outer clothing. Now that he was out of the bitter cold, it was too easy to get overheated. He stripped down to his skin and carefully hung the parka and pants to dry. Then he ignited the small fireplace that was well stocked with a supply of lumber that he had doggedly dragged in over a period of weeks.

He gently massaged his heavy balls. They were still cold to the touch.
Snowballs.
He chuckled, then grunted as feeling slowly returned. He pulled on a dry set of jockey shorts. Then he moved to the woman.

There was a small pool of water forming around her defrosting body. She was soaked to her skin. And she was young; her cheeks were smooth and unlined, and she had a small upright nose and generous lips that were chapped and peeling. Miraculously, she was still breathing. He could see traces of pale exhalation seeping from her mouth as her breath formed a white vapor when it hit the cooler air of the cabin.

Almost mechanically he removed her clothing with practiced hands, then grabbed some more fresh towels and began to towel her nudity, chafing her skin in his effort to dry her chilled, wet body. As he rubbed her with the soft cloth, he suddenly became aware of her skin, of the two lush breasts with plump areolas; they were separated from the touch of his strong fingers by only the thin towel.

He grunted and bit his lip hard; he was not the type of man to have his way with an unconscious woman. Still, he could feel his member already swelling and rising rapidly, standing upright and stiff against his jockey shorts, and pushing to get free. He ignored it, turning his eyes partially away from the luscious female flesh that he was still toweling roughly.

When he reached the tenderness of her crotch, he turned his head to avoid looking at her. He felt a pang of guilt at the throbbing of his dick, which now was painfully swollen and hard.

Moving quickly, he picked up her towel-draped body, and laid her gently on the bed. To a man of his strength, she was light as a feather. He closed his eyes briefly as he undraped the towels to avoid temptation, even though his erect penis now towered above his navel, mammoth and commanding. In spite of his arousal, he carefully placed the bed sheets and blankets over her still-chilled nakedness, covering up temptation.

He was breathing hard, almost panting. He felt the dryness of his throat and the pulse of blood in his veins. Pausing for a moment, he sat on the edge of the bed. His arm and shoulder muscles were stiff and ached from the heavy load he had carried through the snow.

He was aware that he stank of stale sweat, so he sponged his underarms and his chest, then vigorously toweled himself dry. Then, feeling stupid, he took a quick shower. Afterwards, he rubbed deodorant generously under his arms. He wanted to smell clean and fresh for… Suddenly, he realized what he had in mind. Guilt struck hard, and stung as sharply as his mother’s hand smacking his hairless cheek.

He went back to the woman in the bed, touched her forehead gingerly with a gentle hand. Her skin was pale and soft; the strands of hair that had fallen over her face were bright amber. She was still so cold… Her body was shivering, even though she was still unconscious.

Shaking off the guilt, he got under the covers with her. Her body was soft and lush against his muscular torso, but it was so chilled-through that the contact jolted him. He knew that only his own body heat could help her, could stave off the cold that had sunken deeply into her flesh and sinews. And so he wrapped his own bare arms and legs around her damp nakedness, crushed her breasts against the rough skin of his muscular chest, then pressed his nose and face against the side of her tender neck. He inhaled her woman’s scent, felt the beat of her heart under her breast, felt her breath as she moaned weakly, wriggled like a kitten, and then instinctively snuggled against him as she sighed.

He exhaled deeply, felt his own lips part as they pressed against her throat, kissed her gently, felt his tongue emerge to lick and explore her neck, then lapped down toward her…
Stop it
. He was angry at himself.

Then, as her softness wrapped around him, enveloped him in layers of tantalizing, malleable female flesh, exhaustion set in. He felt his eyelids fluttering, closing, even as his groin tingled, his dick started to become rigid, and dizziness shot through his brain.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was dark, and she was trapped.

She was in bed with her husband and helpless. Muscular arms and legs gripped her like bands of tough steel. His body lay heavily against her and the huge mound of his penis pressed up against the nakedness of her crotch through the sheer material of his shorts. His grunt was feral.
No, no
… With a surge of terror, she pushed and kicked at him with all her strength.

“What the hell…”

She half jumped, half fell out of the bed, and the sudden shock brought her to full wakefulness. She looked around. Where was she? The walls were wooden and there was a fireplace in one corner, filled with glowing red logs. A smoky scent like burning pine tickled her nose.

There was a bed to the side of the room and an almost naked man was moving slowly on it and groaning. Muscles rippled under the taut naked skin of his abdomen. Then she realized her own nakedness and, grabbing the blanket that she had dragged off the bed in her fall, she wrapped it around her. What was happening
…
?

The man slung two thickly muscled legs over the side of the mattress. A strong, sour whiff of maleness drifted over to her, and she felt her nostrils widen involuntarily at its acridity. Then, shaking his head, the man rubbed his eyes. His body was bare of clothing except for a pair of jockey shorts that seemed too small for his maleness bulging against the cloth.

He was extremely well built, with a thick, hairy chest, well-developed biceps, large thigh and calf muscles, and an overgrown shock of curly brown hair. His youthful face was surprisingly angular, with high cheekbones and a straight, arrogant nose. His cheeks and chin were covered by a scruffy beard that was three shades lighter than his hair. With a start, Carol realized how good-looking he was. His skin was almost as pale as an albino, except for the ruddiness of his face, and his eyes were intensely blue.

“It’s OK, it’s OK,” Josh stammered, holding up two large, open hands, enormous as grappling hooks.

He was staring at her as if he had never seen a woman before. Her cheeks felt hot, and she pulled the blanket closer around her nakedness. She realized that one firm, tanned thigh protruded from the blanket, and that he was trying futilely to tear his eyes away from it.

She covered it quickly, then stammered back at him, “Who the hell are you? And for gosh sakes, put on some clothes!”

Heat rushed into her face as her breasts quivered against the covering and threatened to pop out.

He thrust out his open palms, fingers splayed wide.

“It’s OK, it’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you! I found you unconscious in the ice.”

She turned her head away to avoid seeing his nakedness; then turned her head back toward him, making direct eye contact. She felt heat rise and scorch her face. “And I assume you undressed me?”

She pulled the blanket tighter against her breasts, felt it rub against rigid nipples, their blunt tips suddenly pointed. He evaded her eyes, nodded. His bare feet, still half dangling from the bed, shuffled aimlessly against the floor. He looked down at his rising penis and colored.

“Damn it, cover yourself!” she snapped.

Abruptly, he grabbed the sheet from the bed and wrapped himself in it, almost losing his balance in his haste.

Startled, she lurched backward, and the blanket slipped from her grasp. She snatched up the ends to cover herself again.

He sounded as if he was choking. “It’s OK,” he said, “I’m not going to touch you.”

“You already did!”

He wilted like a little boy who had been slapped.

The blast of anger that blazed through her faded, and she found herself growing curious.

There was something guileless, something sincere about his plea. She began to relax as she realized the ludicrousness of the situation: the bare room with a twin bed in one corner, a small metal cooking range and fridge in the other; and the fading russet glow of the fireplace. And there they stood, the two of them, practically naked and wrapped in blanket and sheet. It was absurd. She laughed loudly.

Her soprano laughter rang out clear and bright. An odd expression crossed his face. Tossing her head, she let her hair swing long and golden, glinting in the firelight. She realized that she was flaunting it, teasing him. She moistened her lips. He grunted. The sheet rippled at his crotch, as if a small creature were pushing its thick, eager head against it, seeking a way out.

“Now,” she said, “get yourself dressed properly and get me some clean, dry clothes. Please.”

His sudden smile was a bright floodlight in a dark, clouded sky.

CHAPTER FIVE

She had washed up in the bathroom and he’d heard her flip the little lock, which he could have easily broken open if he’d been the kind of man to do that. He had given her some dry things, and she was wearing a pair of his trousers and a long-sleeved plaid shirt that were both several sizes too big on her. She had managed to fold and adjust until they were manageable, but he could still see the sway of her breasts swinging freely under the material.

“Hungry?” he asked. “I made some soup.” They moved toward the table, and he pulled out the seat so she could sit down. His hand brushed her shoulder, and a burning sensation diffused throughout his body. He sat across from her, and they began sipping the hot tomato soup and munching the dry corn bread that he had served from the pantry. After she downed a second bowl of soup, he realized that she’d been famished.

“So you’re running away,” he said, after she finished explaining her solitary flight into the icy storm. Her voice was clear with the sharp articulation of the ivy school-educated. She had rolled up her sleeves, and her arms were slender and dusted with gold.

He readjusted himself in the chair and placed one of his hands in his lap to try to cover the erection starting to swell. “How far did you get before you got stuck?” His voice was faint, hoarse.

She shook her head, and wavy golden strands of hair swung from side to side. Her eyes were wide and hazel, and her slender brown eyebrows were arched slightly. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I was walking for most of the day. Half running, actually, until the storm hit. Then I got lost. Not sure I could find my way back even if I wanted to.”

“And your…husband?”

She shrugged. “I guess he must be looking for me.” Suddenly, she trembled.

He moved forward hesitantly, reached out a hand, and then stopped.

She shook her head. “He…he will never stop looking.”

He frowned, and his forehead was rough with furrows. “After that storm, there’ll be no foot prints or much else for him to track you by. And no one ever comes up here.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what about you? What are you doing all alone out here in this wilderness?” Her hazel eyes had deepened to a golden brown with flecks of green.

He shrugged and evaded her glance. “I keep this cabin as a refuge from civilization. Just come out here once a year or so to get away from it all.”

“Oh. What are you then, rich?” Her eyes were slits, and the lilt in her voice was pure sarcasm. He was lying, and she knew it.

He shrugged again. “You might say that.”

“A stock broker, then?” He nodded. She nodded back, realizing the game they were playing.

“Hmm. Pretty rustic cabin.”

“Yep. I like it just fine this way.” He idly drummed his fingers on the table as she focused her eyes on her bowl, scraping it absently with her spoon to pick up the last shreds of soup.

“Do you have a vehicle? I appreciate your hospitality and all…”

“Yes, I’m sure you want to get going as soon as possible. But…” He stood up, walked over to the side wall, and then briefly opened the wooden shutters that covered the small cabin windows. The sturdy panes were frosty and plastered white with snow and ice. It was impossible to see outside. The storm had not let up, and there was no way to get out until it subsided.