Speaker 1: Ingrid Lund had rented the remote Norwegian cabin for one
Speaker 1: month of silence, no Wi Fi, no deadlines, just her
Speaker 1: laptop and the novels she'd been dodging for years. The caretaker,
Speaker 1: Burne Larsen, came with the property, quiet bearded, built like
Speaker 1: he could split logs with his bare hands and then
Speaker 1: quote Rilka Afterward. He lived in the smaller cabin down
Speaker 1: the hill and visited daily to stack firewood, clear snow
Speaker 1: and leave fresh bread on the porch. The first week
Speaker 1: he was all polite distance. The second week, a blizzard
Speaker 1: roared in and buried them for three full days. They
Speaker 1: cooked together, thick stews simmering on the cast iron stove.
Speaker 1: They read by the fire, legs stretched toward the flames.
Speaker 1: Evenings dissolved into cocoa, woolf socks, and a silence that
Speaker 1: grew heavier, thicker, and war warmer. On the second night,
Speaker 1: Ingrid shivered despite the roaring hearth. Berne didn't ask. He
Speaker 1: simply rose and fetched the heaviest wool blanket and draped
Speaker 1: it over her shoulders. His fingers brushed the hollow of
Speaker 1: her throat and lingered, deliberately, testing her, you're cold, He murmured,
Speaker 1: voice low as crackling pine. I'm always cold, she whispered.
Speaker 1: He sat beside her on the wide sofa, close enough
Speaker 1: that she felt the heat radiating off him. May I
Speaker 1: warm you properly? She nodded, throat tight. His palm settled
Speaker 1: on her thigh over the blanket, broad, steady, unmistakably possessive. Better. Yes.
Speaker 1: By the third night, the blanket covered them both. His
Speaker 1: hand had slid higher, fingertips, tracing the seam of her
Speaker 1: leggings until she parted her legs without thinking. Her head
Speaker 1: rested against his shoulder. Her breath came shallow. I have rules,
Speaker 1: he said against her ear, smoke and cedar in his voice.
Speaker 1: When we're trapped like this, Her pulse hammered. Tell me
Speaker 1: you stay warm, he said, softly, voice low against her ear.
Speaker 1: You let me take care of every inch of you.
Speaker 1: He paused, letting the words settle. If it's too much,
Speaker 1: say yellow, and I'll slow down. If you need me
Speaker 1: to stop, say red. Another breath closer. Now everything else
Speaker 1: you give to me, His eyes piercing hers. She swallowed hard,
Speaker 1: and if I obey so smile made her clit throb.
Speaker 1: Then I make you burn that night, he bound her
Speaker 1: wrists with his thick knitted scarf, so soft yet inescapable.
Speaker 1: He laid her on the thick bearskin rug in front
Speaker 1: of the fire and peeled away every layer until she
Speaker 1: was bare, trembling slick already, he warmed coconut oil between
Speaker 1: his palms and started a slow, worshipful massage, shoulders back
Speaker 1: the curve of her ass, then lower thumb, spreading her open,
Speaker 1: fingers sliding through her wetness, circling her clit with maddening patience,
Speaker 1: before pushing two thick fingers deep inside her. He curled them,
Speaker 1: stroked that spot until her hips bucked helplessly, then added
Speaker 1: a third, stretching her while his thumb pressed firm circles
Speaker 1: over her clit. When she was sobbing with need, he
Speaker 1: lowered his mouth, tongue broad and lap her from entrance
Speaker 1: to clit, sucking gently, then harder, until she came hard
Speaker 1: against his face, thighs clamping around his head, muffled screams
Speaker 1: buried in the pillow he'd slid beneath her cheek. He
Speaker 1: didn't stop. He kept licking softly through the aftershocks, then
Speaker 1: built her up again slower this time, until she came
Speaker 1: a second time, shaking tears on her lashes. Afterward, he
Speaker 1: wrapped her in blankets, pulled her into his lap, fed
Speaker 1: her fire melted dark chocolate from his fingers. She licked
Speaker 1: them clean without being told. The storm cleared, but she
Speaker 1: invited him back every evening the rules deepened quickly. She
Speaker 1: greeted him on her knees on a thick cushion by
Speaker 1: the door, naked beneath his oversized fisherman sweater, nipples hard
Speaker 1: against the rough wool. He inspected her, lifting the sweat,
Speaker 1: running possessive hands over breasts, belly, and between her thighs,
Speaker 1: checking how wet she already was for him. Some nights
Speaker 1: he bent her over the arm of the sofa, sweater
Speaker 1: rucked up, and spanked her slowly with his broad palm
Speaker 1: until her ass glowed warm and pink, then soothed the
Speaker 1: heat with his mouth. Other nights, he sat in the
Speaker 1: big armchair, made her straddle his thigh and told her
Speaker 1: to write it fully clothed until she soaked through her
Speaker 1: panties to his jeans, only allowing her to come when
Speaker 1: she begged prettily enough, he collared her with a soft
Speaker 1: strip of leather he'd cut and tooled himself from an
Speaker 1: old belt, fastened it around her throat each night before bed,
Speaker 1: a constant reminder. She slept pressed against his chest, his
Speaker 1: hand cupped possessively between her legs, one thick finger buried
Speaker 1: inside her To keep you warm. He edged her for
Speaker 1: hours by the fire, fingers, tongue, the low rumble of
Speaker 1: a wand vibrator he'd brought in his truck just in case,
Speaker 1: bringing her to the brink again and again, denying her
Speaker 1: until she was a trembling, tear streaked mess. Only then
Speaker 1: did he flip her onto her back, spread her wide,
Speaker 1: and fuck her slow and deep, thick cock dragging over
Speaker 1: every sensitive spot until she came so hard she saw stars,
Speaker 1: his hand over her mouth to muffle the cries that
Speaker 1: would have echoed through the valley. After every scene, he
Speaker 1: bathed her in the deep copper tub, washed her hair,
Speaker 1: dried her, gently, wrapped her in fresh blankets, and held
Speaker 1: her until she floated in that soft, blist out space.
Speaker 1: The novel stayed unwritten, but Ingrid had never felt so alive, body, humming,
Speaker 1: mind quiet, heart full. When the month ended, she didn't
Speaker 1: pack She simply carried her things across the snow to
Speaker 1: the bigger bed in the main cabin. Biarne drew her
Speaker 1: fully into his lap. One broad hand splayed low across
Speaker 1: her belly, the other tangled gently in her hair. Good girl,
Speaker 1: he whispered against her temple voice, rough with satisfaction. Now
Speaker 1: we keep the fire burning all winter long.