My Mother Married Into Four Brothers, and Each One Says I Saved Him novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: The Bunkhouse

The bunkhouse door shut behind us, and Ansel pushed me up against it.

He didn't kiss me.

He stood with both hands flat on the wood either side of my head and looked at me, breathing hard.

It was a long, low room with steel bunks down both walls and a smell of cedar and diesel.

One bare mattress sat under the window, with a gray wool blanket folded on the end.

"You can still say no," he said.

"I said take me somewhere with a door."

"I'm asking."

His hands did not leave the wood.

"Ansel."

"I'm asking once."

"Then I'll answer once," I said. "Get your mouth on me."

He made a sound in his chest, and then he kissed me.

It was nothing like the lot.

It was deep and slow and thorough, with his hand cradling the back of my skull and his thigh pushing between mine.

I got my hands under his jacket and pulled his shirt out of his jeans.

His skin was hot and hard under my palms, ridged with muscle from a lifetime of lifting.

I worked at his buttons from the bottom.

When I got to the cuff of his left sleeve, he caught my hand.

"Leave that one," he said.

I looked up at him.

His face closed for a moment, and I did not ask.

"All right," I said.

I left the sleeve buttoned, and his tense posture eased.

He pulled his shirt open at the front and shrugged out of his jacket and let both fall.

His chest was broad and smooth, with a dark line of hair running down his stomach, and I put my mouth to his collarbone and bit.

"Signe."

"Bed," I said.

He lifted me.

He put one big hand under each thigh and carried me down the room.

He set me on the edge of the mattress.

Then he knelt on the plank floor between my knees and looked at me.

I was still in my wool dress, ruined tights around my hips, and my coat was somewhere by the door.

"Take them off," I said.

He took hold of the torn nylon and peeled it down my legs, slowly, and my underwear with it.

He dropped both on the floor.

The room was cold, and the bare mattress was cold under my thighs, and I did not feel either.

He pushed my dress up over my hips.

"Look at you," Ansel said, to himself.

It was barely a whisper.

"Don't look," I said, and reached for his belt. "Do what you want."

"I want to taste you."

"Then do it."

He put his hands under my knees and set my legs over his shoulders.

His breath was hot on my skin, and it made me shake.

His tongue touched me, one slow, flat stroke from the opening to the top, and I came up off the mattress with a cry.

"Easy."

"Don't tell me easy."

"Hold still, then," he said, and put one arm across my hips and pinned me down.

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