Stranded with her ex in the Cabin(Stranded Hate)

Rain hammered the roof like it wanted to cave the whole cabin in. I stood by the windows, arms crossed tight over my chest, watching lightning rip the sky open. The power had flickered twice already. My phone showed zero bars. Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

I’d driven four hours up this mountain to get away from everything. From him. From the fights, the cheating texts I’d found, the way he always made me feel small, then fucked me like I was the only woman alive. The cabin was supposed to be my reset. One weekend alone with cheap wine and silence.

Then his truck pulled up an hour ago; its headlights cut through the downpour. Jax. My ex. Six-foot-three of muscle and bad decisions, soaked to the bone, duffel bag slung over his shoulder as he belonged here.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I’d snapped the second he stepI'md inside, shaking water everywhere. “The storm forced me off the highway,” he said, voice low and rough like always.

“GPS died. This was the only light I saw for miles. Didn’t know it was you till I got close.”

“Liar”. He shrugged, water dripping from his dark hair onto the wooden floor.

“Believe what you want, Lena. I’m not driving back into that shit.” We argued for twenty minutes. Same old shit. He said I overreacted about the girl from his gym. Me calling him a walking red flag. Words got mean. Then the power dies.

Just us, one lantern, thunder rattling the windows, and that old pull between us crackling worse than the lightning. Now we sat on opposite sides of the couch, lantern between us, half a bottle of whiskey already gone. The rain sounded like it would never stop.

“One night,” I said suddenly, breaking the silence. My voice came out sharper than I meant. “We fuck once. Get it out. Then you sleep on the couch and tomorrow when the roads clear you leave. No talking about us. No feelings. Just hate sex.”

Jax eyes locked on mine. That dangerous smirk tugged at his lips. “You sure you can handle that, princess? Last time we tried ‘just once’ you cried my name for hours.”

“Shut up.” Heat rushed to my face.

“I’m serious. One time. Then we pretend this never happened.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Rain drummed harder. “Deal. But I’m not gentle tonight. You want hate? I’ll give you hate.”

Before I could second-guess, he was across the couch, big hand fisting my hair, yanking my head back. His mouth crashed into mine. Angry, teeth clashing, Tongues fighting. I bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. He growled and shoved me flat on my back.

Clothes came off fast. My sweater ripped at the seam. His shirt buttons flew. Jeans shoved down just enough. His cock sprang out, thick and already leaking at the tip. I hated how my mouth watered.

“On your knees”, he ordered.

I flipped over instead, ass up on the couch, face pressed into the cushion.

“Fuck you from behind. I don't want to look at your face.” He laughed dark, slapped my ass so hard it stung. “That’s my nasty little bitch.” Two thick fingers shoved between my legs, found me soaked. “Already dripping. Pathetic.”

“Shut up and do it.”

He lined up and slammed in. No warning. Balls-deep in one thrust. I screamed into the cushion. He was huge, stretched me wide, hitting that spot instantly.

“Fuck—still so tight,” he grunted, gripping my hips bruising hard. He started pounding, no warm–up, just raw, angry strokes. Skin slapped loud over the rain. “This cunt missed me, didn't it? Missed getting ruined.” I pushed back, meeting every thrust.

“I hate you.”

“Good.” He reached around, pinched my clit hard. “Hate me while you cream on my dick.”

I came fast. Shameful. Legs shaking, walls clamping down on him. He didn’t slow. Just fucked me through it, harder. He pulled out, flipped me onto my back, threw my legs over his shoulders. Pushed back in, folding me in half. The new angle made me see stars.

“Look at me while I wreck you,” he demanded. I forced my eyes open. His face was inches away—sweat on his brow, jaw clenched. He choked me lightly with one hand, just enough pressure to make everything sharper.

“Say you’re my worthless slut.”

“I’m your worthless slut,” I gasped, hating how true it felt in the moment. He grinned. Thrusts turned brutal. Couch creaked under us. I clawed his back, drawing blood. He bit my neck, sucked hard enough to leave marks.

“Gonna fill this greedy hole,” be growled. “Mark what’s mine.” “Do it, I don’t care.” He buried deep and came with a roar. Hot pulses flooded me. I came again right after, milking every drop. We stayed locked like that, breathing hard. Rain still pounded. He finally pulled out, cum leaking down my thigh.

“Round one,” he said, voice hoarse.

“We’ve got three days.” I shoved him off the couch. “That was the only time.” He just laughed and grabbed the whiskey. The night was young.

Morning light barely broke through the storm clouds. Power still out. Roads still closed—Jax checked his truck radio. and we were stuck at least another day. I woke up sore, marked, his dried cum still on my thighs. He was already up, making coffee on the gas stove, shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips.

“Morning whore,” he said with that smirk. “Fuck off.” I grabbed a mug, trying to ignore the ache between my legs. We ate in silence for five minutes. Then he set his mug down. “Kitchen counter. Now.”

I should’ve said no. Instead I walked over, dropped my panties, and bent over the wood. He was behind me in seconds, cock out, sliding through my slit. “Still wet roughly last night. Disgusting.”

“Put it in already.”

He shoved in. I gripped the edge of the counter. He fucked me stdidn'tat first, then picked up speed. I was rattled. My tits pressed against cold wood.

,

“Tell me how much you hate my cock while you take it,” he demanded.

“I hate it,” I moaned. “Hate how good it feels. I hate how he slapped my ass twice. “Louder.”

Now we stood in the kitchen, coffee in hand, avoiding eyes. “Storm’s letting up,” he said quietly. “Yeah.” Silence stretched. I set my mug down. “One more time. Then you go.” He looked at me. Something shifted in his eyes. Not just lust. “Lena…” “Don’t.” I stepped close, grabbed his shirt. “Just fuck me like you hate me.”

He lifted me onto the table, shoved my legs open. Entered me slowly this time. Deep. Eyes locked. “I do hate you,” he whispered, thrusting steadily. “Hate how you make me crazy. Hate that I can’t stay away.” I wrapped my legs around him. “Then show me.”

He sped up. Table legs scraped the floor. I clawed his back. We traded insults between moans.

“Selfish prick.”

“Needy bitch.”

“Cheating asshole.”

“Addicted whore.”

But the words felt different now. Softer around the edges. He carried me to the bed without pulling out. Laid me down, covered me with his body. Fucked me missionary, slow and hard. Forehead against mine. “I missed this,” he admitted. “Shut up.” He kissed me instead. Not angry, Real!.

I came first, trembling, holding him tight. He followed, groaning my name like a prayer. Afterwards, we stayed connected. His weight on me is comforting. Roads cleared around sunset. We heard the plow trucks in the distance. He started packing. I watched from the doorway, chest tight.

“Don’t go”, I whispered.

He froze. Turned. “What?”

“I said don’t go.” My voice cracked. “I hate you… But I don’t want you to leave.”

He dropped his bag. Crossed the room in three strides. Pulled me into his arms. “I wasn’t going to,” he said against my hair. “Not unless you made me.” We kissed slowly. Tender. Then clothes came off again. Last time on the cabin floor, slow and deep, whispering things we’d never said sober.

“I love you, you idiot.”

“Love you too, you pain in my ass.”

We came together, holding each other like the storm might return. When the sun finally broke through the clouds, we walked out together. Hand in hand. The hate was still there. But so was everything else. And neither of us was running anymore.