Saturday, June 22, 2013
Wind in White Birch - Issue # 25
Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey. I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-one years, my seventeen year old daughter, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info about me and contact links, check out the author bio tab up above.
Enough about me, let`s get back to Wind in White Birch and our lovers Jonah and Dana.
Wind in White Birch
Somehow we managed not to break our necks running up the wide curved stairwell. I wanted to stop and drink in the ambiance of Jonah`s other woman, but his insistent gentle tugs on my hand persuaded me to put lodge admiration on the back burner. His room was located at the very top of the steps. I slowed considerably when we entered his sleeping quarters. There were small oils hanging on the rich buttery log walls and a fireplace that was banked low for the night, this one with a screen that had a meandering bear artfully made into the grillwork. It was his bed though that grabbed my attention, aside from the obvious reason.
The frame for the queen-sized mattress was cedar logs about as thick as my leg that formed a canopy around the bed. The coverlet was blue and green and thickly ticked. There were no drapes or swags dangling from the logs over the bedding. A short table rested at the end of the bed where some people would have a hope chest. This table held volumes of books on its shelves. Two nightstands flanked the bed and held lamps that appeared to be made from miniature tribal drums. A pair of snowshoes hung above the logs that made up the headboard. To the left of the masculine sleeping spot was a tall coat rack from which dangled some of Jonah`s outerwear.
Two oak dressers were pleasantly placed under artwork with a woodland scheme. The windows had long drapes that puddled on the floor, done in a dark green and cobalt pattern to match the duvet. I stood on a huge round area rug that was hunter green with flecks of gold and rust. The room was masculine, rustic, and vastly appealing because of its manly vibe.
“Will it do?” he asked, still clasping my hand. I nodded dreamily. “You can still say no,” Jonah said, tipping his head to the left. I shook my head. “You didn`t lose the power of speech did you?” the man inquired. Again, I shook my head.
“No, I was just stunned at how beautiful this room – this lodge is,” I told him. He squeezed my hand.
“You`ve only seen this room and the living room,” he pointed out, reaching around me to push the door closed. The latch clicking caused my skin to prickle in anticipation.
“You want to give me the grand tour?” I asked.
“Later,” he said, pulling me into his chest. He lifted my hair from my neck and placed his lips under my ear. “You don`t want to sight-see now, do you?”
I wiggled in his firm embrace, rubbing myself against him. “Not really,” I groaned when his teeth nibbled a path to my collarbone.
“Good.” His words vibrated into my ear. I arched against him. He left my ear to claim my mouth. The kiss was hot and wet: a vibrant and erotic display of how he planned to love me. Slowly at first, with gentle caresses, then faster and rougher, hands gripping and fingers clawing. Our clothes were shed quickly, without care for buttons or snaps. Jonah slid his hands down my bare ribs as he suckled my neck like a vampire fresh from the coffin. His leg slid between mine. I asked him to hurry. The man spun us around smoothly, his hands now lifting me upward. I wrapped myself around him like a wanton vine embraces a lamppost. The goose-down mattress enveloped us when we fell into it. The air left my lungs in a rush when he landed on me.
“Sorry,” he muttered into my mouth, kissing his way across my jaw then downward, stopping to taste the hollow of my neck.
“Don`t be.” I held him close, intoxicated by the weight of him pressing me downward. His hair streamed over my face and shoulders as he made his way to my breasts. His tongue found a nipple. My back bowed as my fingers dug into his wide shoulders. He toyed and teased, flicking and nuzzling until I was begging. His mouth was warm and wet. I writhed wildly under him, arching my back to give him more, rubbing my foot up the back of his thick thigh, running my palms over his back, arms, sides, and tight ass. The feel of hard muscle flexing and contracting under his skin as he moved made me mad with want.
Jonah released one peak then rose up to taste my mouth before moving onto the other breast. He slid to the side. I groaned at the loss of his body flattened against mine. Then his hand danced down my ribs and over my pelvic bone. I stopped bemoaning the heat of his chest when his fingers slid through sodden gold curls. My knees fell apart. Jonah made a sound like a Kodiak bear. His name bounced around the bedroom in a woman`s heated exhalation that I realized only after a second had passed was mine. His fingers were already slick as they slid into me, one then two and then three. His thumb stroked my clitoris one single time. That was all it took. I blew apart like a dandelion blow in a hot summer wind.
I could feel his eyes on me as he brought me into a convulsing frenzy with just his fingers. The orgasm ran on and on, each rotation of his fingers deep inside me combined with the sweep of his calloused thumb began another tsunami of breathless pleas for more while I threw sheets and pillows around like a crazed woman.
“You looked just as beautiful as I knew you would,” he purred like the puma whose claws dangled from his corded neck. I made some sort of sound that slid off into nothingness when he left me for a moment.
“Jonah . . . God . . .”
“Yeah, I know,” he told me, quickly tearing open then rolling the condom over himself. I welcomed him back enthusiastically, locking my arms and legs around him. He slid into me slowly, his brow resting on mine as my body stretched to accommodate him. Our soft sighs intertwined. I wanted to say something profound as I`m known to at times.
“Jonah?” I gasped as he began moving within me.
“Hmm?” he said. His dark eyes found mine.
“I got nothing,” I moaned. He chuckled then pulled out until I feared he would leave me then he thrust deeply, all the while staring at me with burning eyes. I threw my head back and gave up on talking.
“Look at me,” he ground out a few moments later. I couldn`t think or speak. He was moving so quickly and so forcefully now my hands were over my head to protect my skull from the log headboard. My eyes flickered open. “I want to see you leave your body.”
He didn`t have to wait long to see me fly away. The next orgasm blew me to tiny bits like a mirror hit with a mallet. I heard myself panting his name. Jonah buried himself in me, letting my internal convulsions pull him over the top. I watched him in fascination. Teeth bared, neck corded, shoulder muscles and biceps twitching and flowing as he tried to get as deep as he could. He was breathtakingly beautiful and ruggedly masculine in his release. When the worst of the tempest was past I reached up to push damp hair from his cheeks. He smiled awkwardly, balanced above me as he was.
“I love you,” I whispered, cupping his sweaty cheek with my palm. He lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me with such passion I feared I might weep.
“That is music to my ears,” he whispered breathlessly over my lips. “Gano: da.” He kissed me once more, rolling to the side and pulling me with him, the blankets barely covering our flushed skin. “Night song,” he huskily explained the Seneca term before I even asked. “I want you to sing about your love for me every time we share a bed.”
I was fully prepared to sing those lines to him every night from here on out. For now though, I was content to lay here in his arms and listen to the strong wind wuthering through the white birch.