Page 47 of Enraged

The mention of the fire reminded me that I was wearing clothes that were soaking wet and a towel that was headed in the same direction. Dak was crouched down at the fireplace, my soggy towel’s twin around his waist.

“Uhhh, Dak?”

“Hmmm?” He continued grabbing wood from the rack, never bothering to look up.

“Dakota.” He looked up immediately that time, likely because of the tone of my voice.

“Our clothes are downstairs.”

“Okay?” He looked confused.

“Our. Clothes. Are. Downstairs.” I repeated, emphatically.

Realization flashed across his face. “Oh well.”

What the fuck you mean “oh well”?

“What do you mean ‘oh well’… I’m cold!”

As if by magic, the fire came to life, the glow basking the entire room in burnt orange.

“I know you’re cold. I built you a fire.” He pointed proudly at the flickering flames.

“Which I appreciate, but I still have no dry clothes up here so I’m going to grab our bags.”

I was only able to take one step towards the door before he grabbed my arm.

“Open that door and I’m tyin’ you to the bed.”

I’m sorry, what?

“Bitch, I’m cold!” I protested. “We need something dry, or we are gonna catch pneumonia!”

“You heard me, Lena, but go ahead and try me if you want to.”

His threat sounded delicious.

“So, what the fuck do you expect me to do?” I demanded.

“Take off your wet clothes.”

And put on what, my guy?

“I have nothin’ else to put on! What part of that is unclear?!”

“So, be naked! I’ve made you cum twice in the last twenty-four hours and I’ve seen you naked so what difference could it possibly make?”

I blushed, but deep down, I knew he had a point. Shrugging my shoulders, I dropped the towel and peeled off my wet clothes.

Dakota

Lena stood before me as naked as the day she was born.

Look at something… anything else… because you’re about to have to strip, too, and your thoughts are going to be standing at attention.

“Get into bed and get warm,” I ordered.

“The sheets are cold, Dakota!” She fussed. “I’m cold, dammnit!”

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