Page 22 of Wren's Winter

Leaning back against the seat, I reached behind me to grab the can and took a big swig. Truly, whoever came up with the idea to put half a bottle of wine into an aluminum can was a genius. A year before, a woman in Buck’s circle of friends had ranted at me about the tackiness of drinking out of a can.

Can you imagine? It’s atrocious, the subtle hints of metal and gasoline.

The wine tasted fine to my palate. The $5.99 sticker made it all the more appealing. Darkness had fallen over the house. If it wasn’t for the moon’s reflection on the snow, I wouldn’t be able to see the trees surrounding the property. With my eyes closed, I could hear the low rushing of the Icicle Creek beyond the tree line. I would have to venture down there and look tomorrow. In the pictures on the website, they showed people sitting in tubes in the sunshine, but obviously, river floating was out of the equation on this trip. Still, like many things in this area, I suspected the pictures couldn’t do the area justice.

Grabbing my phone from the side of the tub, I turned on my favorite angry-girl rock playlist, letting the screaming vocals and righteous indignation wash over me. My eyes closed, I sang along to the lyrics about being betrayed and getting revenge. No one would ever say I was even a mediocre singer, but here, in the woods, with no one for miles, it was only the deer and the birds who had to suffer through my off-key wailings.

I took a quick picture of the can against the snow and cedar yard and posted it for my close friends. Taking a loud slurp from the can, I wondered what Adrian was doing at that moment. He seemed bothered by the call he had. I would never assume I was the best at reading people, but I got the sense he wanted to stay, even as he was leaving. Was that woman a girlfriend? She was something if he left the way he did. In my experience, a guy won’t leave a woman he likes unless he has someone better. He probably had a girlfriend or something. That would be my luck. I guess I was terrible at picking them. Still, at this moment, with no one around, it couldn’t hurt to think about him.

Was he thinking of me?

That moment in the bar ran through my head. Would his lips feel as soft as they looked? His hands were calloused and rough as he helped me into the truck. What would those hands feel like on my body?

Setting the almost empty can down on the lip of the tub, I rubbed a finger over my lips. The beer we drank was smooth and dark. Is that what his kiss would taste like? Closing my eyes, I rested my head back, letting my fingers skim over my lips and then down my throat.

No one could see me. I was alone. I could picture any hands on my body. It didn’t have to be Adrian’s. My nails scratched across my collarbone, sending sparks down my body. Leaning back, my breast came out of the water, my nipples hardening in the cooler air. My hand was his hands, feeling the fullness of my breasts, rough against the peaks. His mouth would kiss down my neck and then he’d take one brown nipple between his lips, rolling his tongue over them.

Slipping one hand under the water, the slickness of my skin gave way to roaming fingers. His hand would be bigger, harder against my flesh. My legs fell apart as I delved between my legs. I wished I had brought my vibrator, but my fingers would have to do until I got back inside. With one finger inside me, I rubbed my clit with my thumb. Would he be fast and hard?

No, Adrian would take his time. My fingers moved in and out of me, edging me closer. I was never good at getting myself off with my hand, but picturing my hand as Adrian’s hand, his cock, I was spiraling out. The area was quiet except for the splash of water as I ground my hand harder against my clit. My eyes closed, I could see that devilish flash in Adrian’s eyes as he leaned into me.

Aren’t you a good girl?

His thick thighs between my own, the tension in his jaw as he stared down at me. His hands on my waist as he pushed deeper.

Good girl.

It was my fantasy, and though I had never been much for dirty talk, the words he would say spurned me forward.

Look at you taking my cock like a good girl.

His mouth on mine, our bodies slick as he pumps into me.

I’m going to make you scream my name.

My hand was no substitution for him. I knew he’d be bigger, take me harder and slower. Still, I fucked my hand as if he were the one inside me.

Come for me, Birdie.

My orgasm rippled through me, an explosion behind my eyelids. The sound of my cries echoed in the trees. Languid, I laid my head against the headrest. My hand felt numb as I eased it from between my legs.

My wet hair stuck to my forehead, a mix of sweat and water. The last time I had envisioned someone was a year before and was a sword-wielding vigilante on a popular streaming show.

My boyfriends through the years had never played a part in my fantasies. In all my years of getting myself off did it happen so quickly and so fiercely. The idea of my temporary neighbor and a few innocuous words, and I was a mess.

With my free hand, I pushed my hair off my face and straightened up. That was fun. Grabbing my can of wine, I brought it to my mouth. As I tipped the can up, my eyes caught on the house opposite me. A silhouette of a man stood in an upstairs window. Without seeing his face, I could feel Adrian’s eyes on me.

Adrian

Iwas so close to asking Wren to come inside with me when I got the phone call. The entire drive up, I played out all the scenarios in my head. I could offer to make dinner or a London Fog. She ordered one of those at the coffee stand on our way into town. I could look up the recipe for whatever that was.

The hooded gaze she gave in the bar let me know she was as affected by my presence as I was by her. Desperately, I wanted the night to continue. And then I got the call from Penny that Tam had to go to the airport to pick up her parents and that a pipe burst in their basement.

My raging hard-on would have to wait while I helped my friend. Penny was apologetic, offering to send me home with a batch of her cookies, but I refused. Penny was a great woman, but the last time she made cookies, she accidentally used garlic butter instead of regular. I was still recovering from the taste of savory snickerdoodles.

As I pulled my truck onto the street, I cut the lights, not wanting to shine my high beams right into Wren’s window. This road was my own, and I could drive it with my eyes closed. I climbed out of my truck, glancing back at the cabin across from me. Loud music was playing somewhere in the house. The light for the loft bedroom was on, and the side porch light was on. As much as I wanted to go straight over there, gunky water sloshed in my boots, and my jeans were soaked through. I couldn’t let her see me like this. Maizie jumped up at me, her paws scratching against my thigh as I walked to the back. Shrugging off my coat, I hung it on the coat rack before toeing off my shoes and lining them up under the rack.

Trudging to my bathroom, I peeled my soggy clothes off, tossing them into my washing machine. If I was going to go over to Wren’s, I would need to take a quick shower first.

---