Oakhill Cottage

One

Stella

    I love this time of the year where the weather is starting to warm up again slowly, allowing sundress season early access. This dress in particular is my favorite. It's a short white dress with spaghetti straps and hugs my rib cage before flowing right up above my knees.

  Sam actually recommended the dress for this event. We've been driving for two days now and seen nothing but woods. I figured we'd be gone a while since he had me pack almost all of my belongings, which wasn't much considering I moved in with him a few months ago.

He won't tell me where we are going no matter how many times I ask. He keeps saying it's a surprise. I don't know whether to be excited or worried.

"You're totally ditching my body in the woods aren't you?" I joked while observing the dark green forrests on each side of the road. I notice a street sign that read, Oakhill RD. 17 miles.

I happened to notice that we left Portland for Seattle a while back. I was excited to be in Seattle, but we're in the middle of nowhere, although the scenery is beautiful.

Sam turns his head toward me with a grin and gently grabs my thigh. "No, baby, it's much better than that." He quietly reassures.

Half an hour later, we pull up to a large red cottage. It must be at least four stories high. Its gorgeous.

Large metal gates open for us, allowing us through. The mansion is surrounded with trees about twenty yards out. The front lawn is freshly cut and a rich green.

Sam and I step out of the back of his limousine and walk up the stone driveway that is lined with trimmed bushes cut into the shapes of cubes.

This beautiful house is even more massive up close. I stop to observe it carefully. "What is this place?" I ask quietly.

Sam fetches my hand from beside him and utters, "Andorwood House." He gently tugs my hand for me to follow him up the stairs to the main entrance.

  I glance at Sam. He seems so calm, which was like him mostly, but this time he's more quiet than usual. His blue eyes meet mine with a soft grin.

He is a beautiful man. My anxiety diminishes after his refreshing look. Sam has dark black hair that's swept back. He's tall and lean with a defined body. He's no bodybuilder, but it's evident that he works out. And he does, almost every day.

"Don't worry, you'll like it here." He kisses the corner of my mouth.

Now the thing that is unusual here is how nice he's being. Sam to me, always felt like the grumpy type. I've learned to walk around eggshells with him. Just about anything will set him off.

One time, the Dallas Cowboys lost a game which meant he was already in a mood. When I accidentally dropped his beer I was grabbing him, he slapped me across the face and yelled at me. That was the only time he ever hit me in the eleven months we've been together, on the face, that is. However, he apologized to me later. He really does have a soft side sometimes.

The doors open to a big shirtless man wearing only black slacks. He was very muscular with dark skin. His chest was coated with dark curls. The man towered over me by at least a foot.

My eyes met his, he gave me a chilling smile before looking at Sam. "She's tiny."

That wasn't a word I've not heard before. 'Tiny' became the word that identified me since the moment I could walk. Yes, I am a very tiny woman for a 25 year old. I'm five feet tall and barely a hundred pounds. I've been told jokingly that my arms are easy to break. I've heard them all.

My body is beautiful for a tiny girl. Because I'm short with wide hips, my waist angles inward, giving me a pear-like shape despite my petite size.

The shirtless man smiles devilishly at me before growling under his breath, "You're going to be a lot of fun."