Cabin of Axes - Bea Paige Page 0,54

I’m a wreck. I could’ve been down here minutes or even hours, either way I’m sick to my stomach with worry. When a fist slams over and over against the door, I stiffen, all of my worst fears coming to life.

Then a voice booms.

“Sweetheart, please let us in…” Franklin begs, his voice broken and hoarse as though he’s been shouting for hours and this is the first time I’ve heard him.

“Franklin?” I whisper, losing my ability to speak. I move towards the base of the stairs, fear still ruling me. Berrin had told me to wait until he returned.

“Baby, please, open the door!” It’s Mathieson now and my stomach lurches just like my feet towards the stairs. I climb up each step slowly one by one. My heart pounding, my chest heaving, tears pooling in my eyes.

“Where’s Berrin?”

“I’m here! Darling, I’m here!” he shouts, his voice further away than the others as though he’s just rushing into the cabin. “I told you to fucking wait for me, arseholes. I told you she’d be scared!”

“Don’t be afraid. Everything’s alright now. We remember. Sweetheart, we remember. Open the door. I need to fucking hold you,” Franklin begs.

I don’t think, I act. Taking the stairs two at a time I fumble with the lock and yank the door open and run straight into Franklin’s arms. He wraps me up in his powerful hold, stumbling back a little from the impact, a groan of relief releasing from his throat.

“Franklin!” I press my face into the crook of his neck, drawing his scent into my lungs. Breathing in his woodsy smell, the pine trees, earthiness, sweat and masculinity. He clutches me tightly, laughing as I press frantic kisses against his neck, his cheeks, his lips, all while my fingers dig into his scalp. “I love you, I missed you. I’m never ever leaving again. Not ever!” I say fiercely.

“A guy can get a complex, you know,” Mathieson says from behind me, his voice is gravelly and filled with insecurities. He was always the least certain of my affection, that hasn’t changed, and I need to rectify that right now.

Franklin kisses me roughly but lets me go so I can fling my arms around Mathieson this time. I hold back my tears as I press my mouth hard against his. The tears can come later when he’s drawn them out of me the way we both like. Mathieson kisses me back with a hunger that promises hours and hours of pleasure laced with pain and love. I can taste the remnants of honey on his tongue and I moan, my body grinding against his with abandon.

“I love you,” I mutter against his mouth. He grabs me tighter, his hand already beneath my joggers and clutching my arse.

“We need to take this somewhere more comfortable,” Berrin suggests. I pull back to look at him over Mathieson’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, seeing the black eye already forming and the split to his lip.

“Yes, darling, I am now. These fuckers are gonna pay for making it hard for me to help them, but right now we’re going to do some healing. Together.”

“Take Goldie upstairs,” Franklin demands, the heat of his words caressing my neck as he steps closer and brushes his lips against the curve of my neck. A shiver tracks down my spine, knowing what’s to come.

With my arms and legs still wrapped around Mathieson, he carries me upstairs and into their bedroom. “Baby, God…” he croaks, laying me down on the bed and pressing his hips into mine. I feel the hard length of him rubbing against my core and see the absolute need he has to just let go glinting in his flint-coloured eyes.

“Shh, I know, I know. I’m here now. You’re here now,” I say, clutching his face and loving the recognition I see reflected back. “I don’t want to go over our mistakes. Not now. We have time for that later. Right now I need you all.”

There’s nothing more that I want than the hard sting of his slaps, the soft caresses of his lips and fingers, and his own brand of glittering darkness.

“Then that’s what you’ll have.”

Standing, Mathieson undresses. He’s covered in bruises of his own, a huge one is blooming on his right pec, a perfect fist shaped mark. He has mud, leaves and grass sticking to his body and hair, but I don’t care. I don’t want him clean. I want him dirtied up, raw, wild. Just like Franklin and