Itâs been three straight days of rain, before it finally stops. Waking up and not hearing the rain outside the cabin, is a strange feeling.
Itâs also been three days of waking up on top of Axel, even when I know I fall asleep on the other side of the bed. Part of me wonders, if we find each other like this in our sleep, or if heâs waiting, until Iâm asleep, and then pulls me on top of him. Either way, Iâm okay with it.
This has been the third day of him telling me to use him to come. Of him gripping my hips and running my pussy over his long, hard, thick cock. He comes every morning, and then he takes his things and runs off to the river to bathe.
No amount of cold showers seem to calm me down. By the time he gets back from the river, I could go another round, but he doesnât make a move for the rest of the day.
Then, no sooner does he get back to the cabin than Iâm finding little ways to caress or rub against him. But other than our morning fun, he wonât touch me, yet, he wonât stop me from touching him, so long as itâs above the waist.
Since that first morning, he still hasnât kissed me either, which has me all kinds of confused. Does he like me, or is he just using me to get off, while Iâm here? If he liked me, he would have kissed me in the last few days, right?
Then, I start to doubt it all. Thoughts fly through my head, but then, I see how he looks at me, and thereâs no way he can look at me like that and not feel something. Watching me like Iâm his whole world, which was the way my mom described it, when my dad looked at her that way.
Itâs not quite lunchtime when the sun finally comes out today. We are sitting on the couch. Iâm reading, and Axel is carving one of the knives heâs been working on. He stands up and goes to look out of the window, and without a word, turns and walks down the hallway.
Iâve gotten used to this. Heâs a man of few words, but he will talk when asked a direct question. A moment later, heâs setting my clothes down on the coffee table, the clothes I was wearing, when I found him in the river.
âGet dressed. We need to go check out the damage.â Thatâs all he says, before going back down the hallway. I assume itâs to get dressed himself.
In the last few days, I got used to wearing Axelâs oversized shirts. They are warm, soft, and smell like him. I should be more excited to put on my own clothes, but Iâm not.
Ducking into the guest bathroom, I get dressed and use my one lone hair tie to pull my hair back out of my face and into a messy bun. What a life it must be to get ready this quickly all the time. Not have to do your hair up fancy, add makeup, and worry about what you are wearing.
When I come back to the living room, heâs putting on his boots and looks at me almost in disgust, before he hides his feelings.
âEverything okay?â I ask.
âYes.â But his answer is short and snippy, as he stands and starts checking his shotgun, while I put my boots on.
I start to get an uneasy feeling in my gut. Things have changed between us. Just an hour ago, the company was easy, peaceful.
He straps the gun over his back, as we head outside.
âStay close to me, as we wonât be the only things checking things out after the storm.â
We walk around the house, checking the sides, and he even pulls a ladder up and looks at the roof. I didnât think the winds were that strong, but I guess when you are on your own, itâs better to not wait, until thereâs a leak, before realizing thereâs a problem.
After we check the outbuildings, he opens the shed and backs out a four-wheeler.
âLetâs go see how far down the road we can get.â He says, as he throws his leg over the seat and starts it up.
I hesitate a moment, and he looks over his shoulder at me.
âGet on, Little One. Iâll take it slow.â
I nod. The nickname gives me comfort, as I get on behind him. Though I hesitate to wrap my arms around him, but he gently places my hand on his hips. Then, he takes my hands in his and wraps them around him, pulling my chest to his back.
âHold on tight.â He says and then starts down the path thatâs too narrow to be his driveway.
Just being pressed up against him is comforting, and I take in the passing trees, as we make our way down the paths.
Itâs a few minutes of a muddy path before we hit the first area thatâs washed out. Water is running across the path, like a small river.
He parks the four-wheeler and gets off to check it out. I stay where I am, because I have no idea what to expect. He walks across, and the water is not even as deep as his ankles.
âWe can cross no problem.â He says but still takes it slow.
Finally, we make it to a gravel parking area that holds what I assume is his truck, as itâs sealed off from the dirt road with a steel gate.
âYour truck?â I ask.
He nods. Itâs a well-loved truck thatâs maybe ten-years-old. Iâm guessing Axel has it in excellent running condition, despite the dirt covering it. It suits him.
âWhat do you do, when you have a large load of groceries from town?â I ask.
I look at the four-wheeler. Without me on it, he might fit a few bags, but I canât see him making multiple loads.
âI have a trailer I attach, before coming down here.â
Of course, he would. Iâm only beginning to see that heâs made living out here adaptable to him.
The creaking of him opening the gate grabs my attention, and I get into the truck and wait on him. He looks at me and then gets in on his side.
âNext time, you wait on me to open the door for you. You donât open that door yourself,â he orders.
Shocked, I turn to stare at him.
âWhat?â I ask, thinking I didnât hear him right.
âMy momma would roll over in her grave if she thought I was mistreating a lady. That means I open your door. Always. Next time, you wait on me.â
Is this guy for real? I donât think Iâve ever had anyone, other than my dad, open my car door for me. Chris sure as hell never did, not even once. I thought manners like those were dead and gone, but to see them in Axel, gives me hope.
I nod and agree before he pulls the truck through the gate and gets out to close it again.
âThereâs an area down here that tends to flood in heavy storms, and this is the only way to town.â He says, as we slowly start down the road.
I watch the forest and trees go by. This is a one lane dirt road thatâs here only because cars or trucks have driven down it, and not because it was put here on purpose.
As we drive, I can catch glimpses of the mountains through the trees. I wonder if we will pass an underwater with a full view. I canât believe he gets to live here all the time. Itâs peaceful, calm, and so different than the hustle and bustle of Billings.
Sure enough, we round the bend a few minutes later to find the next section of the road under water. The water is running down the side of the mountain, over the road, and then down the other side pretty quickly.
It has covered a stretch of road longer than a semi-truck, and even from here, I can tell itâs moving too fast to cross it safely.
âHow long before it dries up again?â I ask.
âAbout a week,â he says.
âThe county wonât come out and pave the road, so you donât get stuck out here?â
âFrom this point, there are only about three of us on the road. The county isnât going to put up the money for that.â
Then, he turns the truck and heads back towards the cabin. The ride back seems to go twice as fast as the ride out. Once inside the gate, he locks and secures it again. Then, we get back on the four-wheeler and make our way back up the path a bit faster than we made it down.
Being trapped here for another week, I find myself relieved that the road is blocked, and we canât go further. I wasnât ready to say goodbye to My Giant. Not only do I love spending time with him, but the cabin and the lifestyle are so relaxing.
The road being flooded took that choice away from me for a bit longer and allows me to unwind.
I am finding Iâm not missing my phone, or the Internet as much as I thought I would, or at all really. Life out here is so simple, and the longer Iâm here, the more I seem to crave it.
When we park the four-wheeler, he helps me off and looks around the house again. I study him, and he looks so sad. The only thing I can think heâs sad about is me being stuck here with him, destroying his quiet for another week. My heart sinks.
Iâll make myself scarce until I can leave, hide out in the guest room, and read there. It was never my intention to be a bother to him, and heâs been so nice helping me out and giving me a place to stay.
âIâm sorry you are stuck with me for another week. I never meant to be such a burden.â I say, but my voice betrays how hurt I am.
His eyes snap to mine, and before I even register that heâs moving, his lips are on mine. Itâs a shock to my system, and My Giant is finally kissing me.
The moment my hands tangle in his hair, I pull him to me, and he backs me up to a tree. He cups my face in one hand, tilting my head up, and his other hand grips my hips and pulls me even closer to him.
It should scare me, this giant using his body to pin me to a tree, but I have never felt safer.
He wedges a leg between mine and grinds his cock on my hip. The friction of his leg between my thighs isnât enough of what I need. As I try to move my hips, he stops me by using his hips to pin me closer to the tree.
Unable to move all, I concentrate on his lips moving over mine, his hand moving up my side, and his thumb running over my nipple, causing it to harden.
This kiss is soft, but itâs like heâs claiming me. Much different than our first and only kiss my first morning here. His thumb pinches my nipple, and I can feel it all the way to my core. When I gasp from the pleasure of it, his tongue claims mine, and he deepens the kiss.
The kiss turns from soft to hard, needy, and passionate in the blink of an eye. Heâs kissing me like heâs starving, and maybe, heâs hungry for attention, for a connection with someone else.
Only when I swear Iâm about to pass out from lack of air, does he pull back and say the words Iâve been longing to hear.