Untitled - Chapter 4
A look inside Michael Sheaffer's world outside jail....
Michael cut the engine. He took off his helmet and hung it on the handle bar. He ran his fingers through his wind-blown, black hair. His gray eyes sparkled with delight, and a small smile formed on his lips as he watched the petite blonde descend the stairs.
With a heavy sigh, Michael dismounted the motorcycle. He extended his arms as the young blonde ran into his arms.
"Michael!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He held her hips as he carried her into the abandoned log cabin.
Once they were inside the cabin, Michael allowed the young girl to slide to the floor. She kept her arms around his neck, and he kept his hands on her waist. She gave him a small smile before she whispered, "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too," he replied.
He tightened his arms around her and pulled her into him. She giggled as he began to nuzzle her neck, kissing in and nibbling her earlobe. She closed her eyes and allowed a small moan to escape her.
Chuckling, Michael pulled away. He took her hands and led her to the couch in the den.
"Hey, thanks for having the bike and clothes ready," he said as they sat down. The blonde snuggled close to him.
"No problem. Anything to help."
Michael took a deep breath. "Isabelle, you really shouldn't-"
Isabelle put her finger to his lips, silencing his words. "We've been through this. I'm not going home. I can't. My parents would never understand why I left. Besides, I love you," the young girl replied.
Michael groaned. "Isabelle, you're eighteen! I'm fifteen years older than you. You can't possibly love me!"
"I've known you since I was fifteen! I can love you; our age has nothing to do with it," Isabelle argued.
"Yes, it does," Michael disagreed softly.
"Wait," Isabelle said gently, "does that mean you don't love me?"
Michael head snapped up. He gently grabbed Isabelle's face, forcing her to look at him. "No. I do love you. I've loved you for...for years. But I always hurt the people I love." His voice grew soft. "Look what happened to your sister."
"That was an accident. You said-"
Michael silenced Isablle's objections by gently pressing his lips to hers. He released her face and wrapped his arms around her waist. She entangled her fingers in Michael's hair, keeping him close to her.
He pulled away and rose to his feet. He offered Isabelle his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her up. She stepped close to him, wrapping her arms around him. She kissed him gently as he lifted her up; she wrapped her legs around his waist.
"I love you, Michael," she whispered.
Michael sighed. "I love you, too, Izz."
Their lips met again as he carried Isabelle up the stairs to the master bedroom.
With a heavy sigh, Michael dismounted the motorcycle. He extended his arms as the young blonde ran into his arms.
"Michael!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He held her hips as he carried her into the abandoned log cabin.
Once they were inside the cabin, Michael allowed the young girl to slide to the floor. She kept her arms around his neck, and he kept his hands on her waist. She gave him a small smile before she whispered, "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too," he replied.
He tightened his arms around her and pulled her into him. She giggled as he began to nuzzle her neck, kissing in and nibbling her earlobe. She closed her eyes and allowed a small moan to escape her.
Chuckling, Michael pulled away. He took her hands and led her to the couch in the den.
"Hey, thanks for having the bike and clothes ready," he said as they sat down. The blonde snuggled close to him.
"No problem. Anything to help."
Michael took a deep breath. "Isabelle, you really shouldn't-"
Isabelle put her finger to his lips, silencing his words. "We've been through this. I'm not going home. I can't. My parents would never understand why I left. Besides, I love you," the young girl replied.
Michael groaned. "Isabelle, you're eighteen! I'm fifteen years older than you. You can't possibly love me!"
"I've known you since I was fifteen! I can love you; our age has nothing to do with it," Isabelle argued.
"Yes, it does," Michael disagreed softly.
"Wait," Isabelle said gently, "does that mean you don't love me?"
Michael head snapped up. He gently grabbed Isabelle's face, forcing her to look at him. "No. I do love you. I've loved you for...for years. But I always hurt the people I love." His voice grew soft. "Look what happened to your sister."
"That was an accident. You said-"
Michael silenced Isablle's objections by gently pressing his lips to hers. He released her face and wrapped his arms around her waist. She entangled her fingers in Michael's hair, keeping him close to her.
He pulled away and rose to his feet. He offered Isabelle his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her up. She stepped close to him, wrapping her arms around him. She kissed him gently as he lifted her up; she wrapped her legs around his waist.
"I love you, Michael," she whispered.
Michael sighed. "I love you, too, Izz."
Their lips met again as he carried Isabelle up the stairs to the master bedroom.
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