Elena navigated the Mini Cooper through meandering turns. The black stripes on the hood stood out against the snow on either side of the road. The windshield wipers passed back and forth, pushing great flakes of snow to the side of the car. It was shaping up to be quite the blizzard. The car drifted to the right. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her back stiff from hours of driving half the speed limit on precariously icy highways.
She pulled up to the house, tires silent on the fresh concrete. The house had come a long way since she’d first come home so many months ago. Where once there had been a slate roof full of holes, the new metal roof glinted in the sun. Gone was the porch railing, half-rotted through. A metal railing stood in its place, identical in appearance but much sturdier.
She pushed the car door shut and trudged through the heavy snow drifts, vowing to buy a shovel on her next outing.
I’m actually staying in one place long enough to need a shovel.
The novelty still hadn’t worn off on her, even after months of extensive renovations financed by the council at Haven. They’d been skeptical at first, but after she’d spent hours answering their questions and detailing her plans, they’d agreed to put up the money.
She’d made a deal with the shades, and she intended to honor it.
She took a step, and the ground shifted, her right foot sinking too far, disrupting her balance. She tugged, but her leg stuck firm.
Bloody Minnesota winters.
She tugged her foot and lurched forward as it sprang free without her boot. Resolving to find it later, she continued her route to the house, kicking through the snow with one freezing foot.
When she reached the porch, the door was open. Sandra stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. “Lost another one, did you? It’s going to be a minefield out there come spring.”
“Very funny,” Elena responded. She limped up the stairs and pushed past her friend and newest employee to enter the new headquarters of The Cain School for the Gifted.
She kicked her remaining snow-caked boot onto the mat by the door and then walked over to crouch by the crackling fire in the new fireplace. It had cost a bundle, but she had insisted upon it. The house was so remote that when the electricity flickered out, it was often out for hours, and she did not want future students to freeze.
So long as we have a place to store wood.
A lack of space was the crux of their current problem. The main floor retained the original kitchen and living space for communal use, and the rooms on the second floor had been converted into three double-occupancy dormitories with en-suite bathrooms. That left one major gap in their plans. They needed a classroom.
She thought of Haven, all those gifted individuals trapped underground, their wings clipped. It pained her to think of them spending another six months in confinement.
The sooner we can get the school open, the better.
She peeled off her wet socks and draped them over the electric drying rack set by the fireplace, then flicked it on. When nothing happened, she unplugged it from the wall and plugged it back in. Still nothing.
“Let me,” Sandra said. She hovered her hand above the fan, and three blindingly white miniature lightning bolts shot from her palm into the metal. The red light on the machine flickered on, and the fan started up with a mechanical whirring.
“What’s wrong with it?” Elena asked. Their budget was already so tight, she didn’t want to have to replace anything else. Parting with the fan would be especially tough, given how often she soaked her socks.
Sandra kept her hand held over the metal and released a few more lightning bolts. This time, the flickering streaks entered the machine for only a second before returning to Sandra’s palm.
“Just a blown breaker,” she said, rubbing her now-singed hand. “No big deal. I’ll call Peter and ask him to pick up a replacement on his way in.”
A blush spread across Sandra’s face. Elena couldn’t fight the grin spreading across her face. “How are things going on that front? You ask him out yet?”
Sandra’s cheeks reddened further. “No. It’s too soon. Janet is—I mean, his wife. She’s—uh.” She shrugged. “He’s still married, you know. It’s too soon, I think.”
Elena hoped for Sandra’s sake that Peter wouldn’t pine for his missing wife much longer. From what she’d heard, the woman had been a complete tyrant, and her recent disappearing act was more of a blessing than anything.
From the next room, a male voice called out, “Elena? Is that you?”
“Yes,” she called. “Wait there, I’ll come to you.”
She padded down the hallway on her bare feet into the tiny office they’d set up. David was inside, stapling a stack of papers together on a large wooden desk. His hands still trembled, and he had to walk with a cane some days, but he’d recovered since the attack.
“You are all set. For the record, I love what you’ve done with the place.” He slid the papers into a large yellow envelope and handed it to her.
She accepted the envelope with a smile. “It was hard work, and there is much more work still to do. But progress continues. Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” David said as he stood from his chair. “Your real estate agent did all the hard work.”
There was a creak from the other room, and then the thud of the outer door closing. She raced out of the room and back to the main foyer to see a tall man dressed in a heavy parka dusted with snow.
“Sorry I’m late,” Sebastian said, grinning.
Elena’s heart exploded into a swarm of butterflies the same way it did every time when she looked at her husband. He shrugged off his winter gear and then opened his arms in invitation. She flew into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Sebastian murmured into her hair. “It’s like we’ve been apart for years.”
Elena laughed. “It’s been hours!”
Sebastian feathered kisses down her neck. “It felt like years.” Then he squeezed her tighter. “Are there any rooms we haven’t christened yet?”
Her pulse hammered with anticipation at those words, and dampness gathered between her thighs.
“The office,” she whispered. “Sandra just installed a lock this morning.”
Giggling like teenagers, they hurried to the now-empty office. Elena sat on top of the desk while Sebastian locked the door. Then he turned to face her, a wicked grin on his face.
“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try,” Sebastian said. He shrugged off his shirt and tossed it into the corner. His finely sculpted chest was dusted with dark hairs that trailed down his abdomen and vanished beneath his pants.
“I’m up for something new,” Elena replied. That was one of the things she loved about him, his curiosity and willingness to explore new techniques.
He stepped closer, and she hopped off the desk to meet him in a searing kiss, their tongues tangling in a slow dance. He tasted like caramel and apples, and the coarse stubble rubbing her cheek sent heat pulsing to her core.
He slipped his hands under the hem of her top, then up her sides, until it looped around her wrists. He formed a knot in the fabric, then dropped to his knees and trailed a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses from her navel up to the edge of her bra. He hooked his thumbs into her waistband and removed her pants and panties at the same time.
“This seems unfair,” she said, eyeing the prominent bulge in his jeans. “It’s your turn, now.”
He unzipped his fly and released his erect cock, stroking it twice before removing his jeans and boxers entirely. Their discarded clothing formed a heap in the corner.
“Turn around and put your hands on the desk,” he said, his voice husky.
She did so, spreading her legs and raising her rear as if she was being frisked. If he was going to take the lead, she wasn’t going to make it easy on him.
His cool hands circled her ankles, then massaged her shins and thighs before pausing to squeeze her hips.
“More,” she said. His touch warmed her skin and made her tingle all over.
He leaned over her and cupped her breasts. The hard length of him pressed between her legs, nudging but not entering.
“Please.” She gasped. Her whole body thrummed with pleasure, and wetness dripped down her thighs.
He unlatched her bra and pushed it to join her hands on the desk, then splayed his palm on her back and rocked back and forth, rubbing her entrance with the head of his cock.
“What do you want?” he asked. “Tell me.”
“I want you inside me.” She groaned. Her cheeks were so hot and pulsing with the rapid beat of her heart.
He slid into her sheath, inch by torturous inch. Then he waited, hard and throbbing inside her.
“What now?” He leaned forward to fondle her breasts again. His fingers tweaked her nipples, and she jerked at the sharp sensation, making him slide partially out.
Oh, I see.
She did it twice more before he cursed and began to thrust. The wet slap of their bodies was an intense sound, and she squeezed the muscles in her pelvis, seeking the thread of pleasure that would send her over the cliff.
Fingers touched her, and she moaned. He slowed his thrusts to a steady in and out as if he knew exactly what she liked best, and it wasn’t long before the coiled pressure inside her released. She rode the orgasm until it faded, then jumped on the desk to spare her wobbly legs.
“That was amazing,” she said, between panting breaths.
“I aim to please,” he said. His cock was at full attention, bright red and beaded with a milky liquid. She marveled at his restraint.
“Round two?” she spread her legs wide.
He stepped closer, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, meeting his lips as he speared her, then rocked gently up and down. Her second orgasm was completely different from her first, gently fluttering up from the space where their bodies met.
His breath tickled her neck, and she giggled. He touched the tip of his index finger to her collarbone. “I like the new addition.”
Elena smiled. She’d come up with a story, claiming it was a birthmark. Just between her breasts, a white paw-print was visible, as if a large cat had pressed her down.
THE END
A word about the author…
Melissa Kendall is a technical writer living in the windswept Canadian prairies with her two cats, Ella and Portage. You can find her on Twitter as @MAKendallAuthor. melissakendall.ca