Chapter Eight
Maya
As I walk into my cabin, I look around, heaving a huge sigh of relief. I’m home, finally. I love everything about it here; it’s perfect in every way. Probably because I basically started from scratch when I first moved in. The old man who lived here before me didn’t do much other than eat, sleep and drink beer.
It feels warm in here with the dark wooden beams, dimmed lights and rich coloured décor. I have kept it traditional apart from the large TV, which is mounted on the wall in the middle of the room above the log burner. Just being back here has settled something deep inside of me.
When I was younger, it was my dream to have my own place to escape too, growing up in such a volatile home was rough. I was lucky in the sense that my mum took the brunt of all the men she brought home, rather than them hurting me, but it will always affect me; I will always carry the memories and scars from my childhood. All I want is a life that she didn’t have. To have aloving family. A man who would move heaven and earth for me. Children for me to dote on, to show how it feels to be loved.
Passing through the kitchen, I grab a bottle of wine, a glass and a box of chocolates. After the past few days I’ve had, I deserve to wallow in self-pity for a while. Once I have secured the goods, I decide to jump in the shower, get fresh PJs on and set up a romcom on Netflix. The perfect night in.
Maybe I should buy a cat, since I’m bound to be alone forever.
Isn’t that what all spinsters do?
It doesn’t feel like my life flipped upside down merely two days ago. I am now single, on day two of a hangover, and here I am, still pining after the same man that I have been in love with for possibly over ten years. After last night, the pining has turned more into a craving; Tommy is on my mind every minute of the day. If only we could have kissed for longer. I can still feel the lingering touch of his hands on my neck and his soft lips against mine, as if it were mere moments ago.
I know that doing anything about it is out of the question. I can’t lose Fallon, she’s my soul sister, the other part of me. I already can’t stomach the fact that I’m lying to her now by omission. I don’t know if I can hide it from her for much longer.
But… I can think about it.
My head is spinning, thinking up unrealisticscenarios of what could have happened had we been alone. If we hadn’t been interrupted, how far would I have taken it?
The moment is going around my head on repeat. How the hard planes of his chest felt under my fingertips. How his eyes burned into mine like I was all he had ever wanted. It was as if he intended to rip the clothes right off my body, there and then. I recall the way I had to tighten my legs in order to ease the ache from such a simple touch. What I would have given for him to touch me in that kitchen.
I can’t control the urge any longer.
Setting my wine glass down on the bedside table, I lean back and let my eyes drift shut. The more I think about him, the more my body starts to heat. I haven’t even touched myself yet, and my breathing is already starting to accelerate. My chest rises and falls rapidly. The thought of this being bad, almost like it’s forbidden, turns me on even more.
I shouldn’t…
The tips of my fingers travel down my body, leaving feather-light caresses in their wake. My eyes still closed, I picture Tommy. The raw manliness that is him. I imagine that it’s his hands touching me.
As I reach the hem of my silk pyjama shorts, I stroke my fingers delicately up and down the inner side of my thigh. My senses are getting all the more heightened by the touch. Movingthe flimsy fabric aside, my hand slides up inside my shorts. Needing to ease the throbbing down there.
Slowly, I circle and stroke the slickness between my legs, my back arching off the bed. The sensation of my nipples rubbing against my silk vest adds to my pleasure. Back and forward, the pressure builds. I increase my speed and slowly dip into my centre, before returning to massage once more. Over and over again.
I’m panting. Needing more.
Needing him.
Needing him to fill me to fully take the ache away.
I spread my legs further, deepening each thrust of my fingers as my orgasm washes over me. I crash over the edge, moaning and panting his name.
Shit.
That was amazing.
What is that annoying noise?
The sun is shining through my large, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the lake outside of my cabin. I like to leave the curtains wide open to wake naturally when the sun rises, which makes the day feel calmer than being woken up to an alarm blaring. It also makes me feel less trapped.
So I know it’s definitely morning time, but who the hell is making so much noise? I live remotely for a reason, and being rudely awoken onmy morning off isn’t one of them.
“Mayaaaaa” A female voice drones at the door.
“Girl, open the bleeding door. It’s freezing out here!” shouts a different voice.
