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Exposed and restrained, Clair discovers her need.
"Cool," he said, "I got this. Sleep well."
"Thanks. Good night."
For the second time in less than twenty four hours Andrew was awakened from a sound sleep by unfamiliar noises in the night. He lay on his back, his heart beating fast as he cleared the sleep from the corners of his mind. He had been dreaming. He'd been dreaming of Camille, one like the dreams from their high school days. His hand had managed to find his cock, stiff and warm. He blinked in the darkness, thinking of how she looked, how her skin felt, the way her dark, curly hair fell across her face, the way she moaned and gasped his name-
"Andrew!" He bolted upright. "Andrew, are you awake?"
"Uh, yeah, what's going on?" he whispered back.
"There's something downstairs. I can hear something down there!"
"I don't know!"
"Alright," he said, getting out of bed. He crossed the room in the dark and she came into focus as he neared the doorway. She looked panicked, standing in a silk nightgown.
He stepped past her into the hallway and started slowly down the stairs, Camille nearly glued to his back, her hand on his bare shoulder.
The stairs creaked beneath their naked feet. He stopped at the bottom and listened; he wasn't sure what it was, but something was outside the kitchen door.
"Do you hear that?" She whispered.
"What is it?"
"I don't know."
He moved into the kitchen and she followed. He recognized the sound of the doorknob jiggling and froze.
"Two break-ins in one day." He said.
"This isn't funny!" she hissed.
Suddenly the garbage cans toppled over outside the door with a loud 'crash', and Camille jumped.
"Alright," he said and walked to the door, pushing the curtain back from the window. There, on the other side standing in the shadows were half a dozen raccoons. "Little bastards." She peaked over his shoulder. "They've been trying to figure out those animal proof garbage cans for the longest time. They're smart, but we're smarter." He turned to her, "we're safe for now."
She smiled nervously, shivering in the cold air. "I bet you think I overreacted just a tad bit there."
"Nope. Strange place, strange noises, makes sense to me. But now I think you should get back upstairs because you look like you're freezing."
She nodded and turned, walking up the stairs quickly. To her surprise he followed her into her room.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to put a fire in this fireplace so you're not so cold. The fire downstairs went out hours ago and it's only going to get colder."
She sat in the bed, her knees to her chest, the blanket pulled up and watched as he took wood from the corner of the room and stacked it expertly in place. "I'll make it just the right size to get you through till morning." He took a box of matches from the mantle and struck one, tossing it onto the small woodpile and watched as the smoke grew to a steady flame. "There, that should do it." He walked to the door and turned to her, "let me know if you hear anything else."
She blushed, smiling. "Good night Andrew."
The next morning Camille awoke to the sound of an axe splitting wood at a steady pace. She got out of bed, pulling on the same terry cloth robe Andrew had given her the night before and looked out her window. He was behind the cabin and she watched as he went through the pile of wood, cutting each piece down to size. She could see the muscles in his arms, his back and his shoulders as he swung the axe with as much ease as a ball player swings a bat. She lay across the bed and closed her eyes, listening to the sound and thinking about...Andrew. His tall, muscular frame, thick, dark curly hair and a smile that simply devastated her senses...Amanda's little brother.
The axe stopped. The kitchen door opened, closed, and he was on the stairs. Each step he took quickened her heart. She knew he was right at her door, that he could see her lying there, that he was watching her, not knowing that she was thinking of nothing but him. He tapped on the door, "you alright?"
"I have some more woo