Promises to Keep

by Sex, Nikki

It was wonderful to see and feel how much she turned him on. To know he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  She sat up once more so they could see each other better. He looked incredible—greedily, Laura drank him in. Like shots of fine, aged whiskey, the sight of him intoxicated her.

  Jack held her hips as his eyes hungrily consumed her face and body. She took his hands in hers and placed one each on each of her breasts. They hung heavily, tender and tingling from arousal.

  The cords of his neck stood out as his head tipped back. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice low and hoarse with arousal.

  Eagerly, reverently, he scanned every inch of her. His eyes were heavy-lidded, partially shaded from the sun by her shadow.

  Laura inhaled sharply when—with gentle precision—he traced her pink areolas with the pads of his index fingers, as if awed by what he saw. Then he gripped her gently but firmly with both large hands, stroking and messaging her breasts.

  When his gaze met hers, he lightly flicked both of her nipples simultaneously.

  Lightning shot straight from her breasts to between her thighs, causing her core to clench. She moaned loudly as she threw her head back.

  Sweet baby Jesus. That feels exquisite.

  Ever the gentleman, she saw Jack's eyes flare, as he attentively noticed her response. Smiling, he did it again, adding a tug and gentle pull. Her nipples were already plump and taut. So sensitive and erect.

  She couldn’t get enough of him.

  Being tall enabled her to bend down, flexing over him so that her breasts were in his face.

  “Hell yes,” he murmured like a whispered promise.

  Jack swirled his tongue around one, then the other, licking, suckling and nibbling—making her writhe, gasp and whimper with pleasure. Laura’s entire body heated, flushing pink with desire. Every cell and nerve ending was hyper-alert and alive.

  She’d wanted this to be a drawn out seduction. To take it slow and easy and tease him. Like with the young woman who'd taken his virginity, Laura considered going down on him, making them both wild with desire. Maybe even making him come.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  Oh God, I need this.

  She had no will to resist.

  Once more, she pressed herself against him, stretching her whole body on top of his—needing his closeness. The rigid length of his erection pressed against her sex and they both moaned.

  Breathless, Laura’s chest rose and fell, rose and fell, as she raggedly gasped air. Her face was in the curve of his neck; her lips were along his throat. Needing more, she sucked his skin.

  Jack’s breathing sounded harsh in her ears while his calloused palms traveled over her hips, flank, back and buttocks in a seductive caress.

  Their hearts thundered against each other’s chests.

  For so many months, Jack had filled her thoughts, her mind, her dreams and fantasies. This man she’d never seen—yet felt as if she’d known forever.

  Her body was empty and aching—she needed him badly. Jack’s whole body tensed when she reached down to grasp him, reveling in the silky scorching heat of him while she put him inside of her.

  It was madness, it was crazy, but she had to have him inside of her right now. As much as she was in charge, her longing was a raw, overwhelming animal passion that robbed her of the control to wait any longer.

  Mindless. Liberated. All inhibitions left her.

  Laura lowered herself on to him, taking him in slowly, gasping in surprise. Inch by inch, she took him all the way in. Wonderfully stretched, her eyes shut with pleasure. It was such an incredible relief to have him inside of her.

  He’d seemed a normal size when she saw him, yet he felt enormous.

  Jack groaned long and guttural.

  He filled all of her senses and then, with him deep inside of her hungry, aching sex, he filled her there, as well.

  Wonderful. Deep, throbbing, hard heat meeting thick, swollen, tight yet slippery softness. These erotic sensations were all encompassing.

  Lying flat against him, flesh-to-flesh, she rode him, rode him and rode him with wanton, aching need. Twisting, writhing and grinding, stimulating her swollen sex. Her body shuddered, melding into one luscious, rhythmic feeling of exquisite pressure and pleasure.

  Jack cupped her buttocks with strong firm hands, guiding her, steadying her.

  A tremor of blinding feeling went through her, shaking her whole body. It became a sensual quake.

  This desperate, desperate need! This deep euphoric pleasure! The heat and feel of him physically inside of her. The building erotic tension. The intimacy. The joy.

  It was all too much.

  “Yes! Yes!” Laura shouted.

  Never had the act of sex been so fast and ferocious. Volatile. High-octane. Explosive.

  Thrashing and moaning, she came hard within moments, bucking, arching and convulsing against him.

  Wave upon wave of pleasure crested through her body while white stars flashed in her eyes. Her molten core clamped down hard on him, gripping him again and again until Jack called out her name.

  With a glance, she saw his face contort with passion and ecstasy matching her own. She saw the savage intensity of his expression as he found his own release—their bodies clinging to one another.

  Long, long moments passed with Laura in a coma-like daze.

  A seagull called while the ocean continued its ceaseless wash of waves against the beach. All was quiet except for the sounds of their rapid heartbeats and ragged breathing, beginning to slow.

  They lay entwined, tangled naturally together like seaweed cast upon the beach. Laura’s thoughts drifted, lightly sailing upon an ocean of pleasure.

  It was some minutes before they fully returned to themselves and caught their breath.

  Laura looked down at the strong man beneath her. Witnessed the maleness and the beauty of him, but she saw more than that. She saw him.

  “God, I really wanted to do that,” she said.

  “I did, too.”

  Laura giggled. “I think we just barely made it over your thirty-second record.”

  “No way.” His smile was slow and mellow. Jack looked spent and happy—more relaxed than she’d seen him before.

  “No?”

  “Trust me—that was more like three minutes. Every sweet second of it is etched into my brain permanently. Even if I live to be a hundred, on my deathbed—I'll be remembering this perfect day on the beach with you.”

  “Wow, that’s some sweet talk.” She chuckled. “Just so you know? Flattery works for me.”

  “I’m not exaggerating.”

  Grinning, she asked, “Just how long has it been for you, anyway?”

  “Oh Lord, it feels like years. Why?”

  “‘cause you’re still hard.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, well, my body’s in shock. That’s what long-term deprivation will do for you. It’s too good to be true.”

  “Really?” Her eyes searched his speculatively. “Can you go again?”

  One hand moved to tuck her hair gently behind her ear. “Right now? Well, ma’am, I’m not exactly sure.” A smirk curled his swollen, passionately kissed lips. “Can you make me want to?”

  He was teasing her and she didn’t mind at all. In fact, she liked it.

  “I can do anything,” she said impulsively, because just then, she felt it was true.

  Here on the beach in this glorious sun, after riding the perfect wave and the perfect man? It seemed to Laura, that anything was possible.

  Chapter 35.

  The drive back to New Bern didn’t include conversation. There was no anxious need to fill any silence. They were both comfortable, cheerful and at peace. Enjoying the moment, they rode with the sunroof open, and tunes blasting on the stereo.

  The wind and sun quickly dried the seawater to a slightly itchy crust on his skin, but Jack couldn’t care less.

  He didn't even mind all of the sand that had been tracked into his brand new Jeep
.

  The little stuff just didn't seem to matter.

  For a long time now, Jack had lost all patience for bullshit. It was the war, probably. When it came to life or death, the real priorities slapped you in the face—they were so damned obvious.

  Like separating wheat from chaff, he knew what was really important in life. Good friends, good food and family. Helping others and letting them help you. Being grateful and thankful for the gift of being alive. These were the things that made life worthwhile.

  And at the very top of his list? It was those rare and vital moments of connection. Those times when there’s complete clarity—when you understand someone and they understand you. Times when another person sees your flaws, but loves you anyway. Yet, it was more than that.

  Maybe it was love.

  Mere words couldn't describe what that kind of connection was, but he’d found it with Laura.

  They were a good fit.

  They were completely different, of course, but that was part of the excitement and part of the fun. Like pieces of a puzzle or maybe Legos, they linked together on all the essential points.

  They both continued to be silent, but that was OK. Based on the ear-to-ear, shit-eating grin she had plastered on her face, Laura was happy.

  He recognized that grin because he had it, too. He couldn't help it.

  There was a tiny bit of remorse about Bob gnawing away in the back of his brain. Jack knew he'd have to talk to her about it sometime, but not right then, not on this day.

  Today was perfect the way it was.

  However, he'd have to come clean if he was going to let this situation go any further.

  As they drove on Highway 70, he realized that was exactly what he wanted. Only he didn’t want to go further—he actually wanted to go all the way.

  Jack surprised himself, because the very thought of it made him even happier. He wouldn't have thought it possible.

  They stopped at the Trent River drawbridge, at the entrance of town and waited for a double-masted schooner to pass underneath. Charmed, he reached out with a solitary hand and gently stroked her sunburned cheek.

  Laura smiled, took his hand in her slender, distinctly feminine fingers, kissed his wrist and cuddled it into the nape of her neck. She positively purred when she did that.

  Jack was prepared to keep his hand there all day long.

  With much regret, when the bridge came down and the lights turned green, he gently took back his hand and put the car into gear.

  It had been a long day at the beach with fish and fries, surfing, swimming, romantic walks and passionate lovemaking. Jack’s mind and body remembered everything. After such an extended sexual drought, he’d made love to Laura twice.

  When they got back to her apartment, they would again.

  Jack smiled as his thoughts went back to the alluring and erotic view he’d had of Laura in the shower. Only this time he really would be joining her.

  Just how many times they'd make love tonight was anyone’s guess.

  Jack felt like a love-struck teenager with way too many hormones. That was the odd thing about sex. The more he had, the more he wanted. Like right now. He was hard again—dammit. Just thinking of Laura affected him that way.

  Jack didn’t imagine he’d be getting over that anytime soon.

  They didn’t even need condoms. Lucky for him, Laura explained that she’d been on the pill since after her accidental pregnancy. She'd also been tested for everything known to man.

  Jack’s tests were clear, too, and since he hadn’t had sex in like—forever, he was also safe. Riding bareback was a first for him, and a pleasure he could get used to.

  The sun was setting by the time they drove into the guest parking at Laura's apartment building.

  When they pulled up, Laura leaned over and kissed Jack on the cheek. "Thanks for the day out. I really needed it."

  He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "I think we both needed it."

  "You rat." She tapped him lightly on the side of his face and leapt out of the car.

  Jack laughed and put his hand on his heart. “I cannot tell a lie. You were desperate for me,” he said.

  Hands on her hips, Laura faced him. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but she had a half-scowl, half grin.

  “What?” he asked with mock innocence.

  “Oh never mind,” she said, but her lips kicked up in a slow, sexy smile. “We had such a wonderful time. Everything was perfect.”

  “Roger that.” He couldn’t stop grinning. "I'll leave the boards on the roof and run 'em though a wash before I take them back. I saw one of those do-it-yourself, brush free ones a few blocks over."

  "Might as well come up for a shower and a change first. Feel like scrubbing my back?" she asked with a coy arch in her eyebrow.

  "I don't think I'll find a better offer anywhere. Just let me snag my duffle bag."

  Pulling it out of the back seat, Jack chased her up the walk. He pressed kisses onto the back of her neck, along the hollow of her throat and behind both ears while she tried to work the lock.

  "Stop that, you'll make me drop my keys."

  "Then you'll have to bend over and pick them up, won't you?"

  "Oh, now you're just being awful."

  "Part of my job, ma'am."

  Smiling, she finally got the door open. He followed her inside. They climbed the stairs in a hurry—Laura taking them two at a time. She stopped abruptly at the landing.

  "Jesus…" she breathed.

  "What?" Jack came to a halt beside her. "What's wro—Christ!"

  The hallway before them was a mess. Scattered in front of Laura's door, was a newspaper, spread out as if someone had thrown it up high in the middle of a hurricane.

  In several spots, the plaster from the wall outside of her apartment was caved in with a half dozen perfectly fist-shaped craters and a single, rather ominously head-sized dent. There were boot print scuffs on Laura's door but the lock and frame appeared intact.

  As Jack took in the scene, the most disturbing sight—the one thing that screamed out a warning and resonated in his brain—was the bright red blood trail. It started at Laura's doorstep and went all the way down the hall.

  Laura must have seen it too, because she took off running.

  "Oh, my God!" she screamed, her voice high and panicked.

  "Laura, wait!"

  Jack took off after her.

  The duffle bag was bulky and slowed him down so he threw it aside. She was a good five feet in front of him but his longer legs enabled him to gain on her with every step.

  "Laura! Stop!"

  He could hear her gasping for air as she ran, and see the soles of her shoes flashing strobe-like in front of him, as she ran full speed down the hall.

  Jack closed in on her at four feet, and then three.

  She was almost within his arm's reach.

  He didn't have a clue what was at the end of the blood trail, but he knew it would be bad. It wouldn’t be something he wanted her to dive into headfirst.

  Jack reached out for her. His hand was just inches from the back of her shorts, when she burst through the very last door at the end of the hall.

  He'd been so focused on her that he hadn't noticed it was wide open. Laura obviously had, because she didn't slow down a bit.

  "Laura, don't—"

  “No, please—God!” she called out. She screamed.

  There was a crash, a thud and a cry of pain.

  Then Jack made it through the door.

  Chapter 36.

  Jack took in the scene. It looked familiar, like the aftermath of a war zone.

  Crying, Laura was curled up on the floor, blood all over her legs and chest and arms. Blood. She’d slipped on the pool of blood that coated the linoleum.

  "Jesus, Laura, are you hurt?"

  He scanned the room but saw nobody else, only one man and he was dead. Ron had been his name, Jack recalled suddenly. With no immediate threat, he went into first assessment mode and check
ed Laura for wounds.

  Sobbing, but breathing, physically Laura appeared OK. She just had a fall. The blood was cold and congealed.

  Not hers, then. Thank God.

  No threats, the living unhurt, Jack turned his attention to the dead.

  He'd seen hundreds of dead men, women and children in the war. He could recognize a lifeless body in an instant. It was the old man that spoke to him the other day.

  Jack remembered him as a bit over-protective, but he now understood that the man had his reasons. He lay in a tremendous puddle of his own blood, splashed and disrupted by Laura when she skidded into it and slipped.

  A lot of it was on her, but even more was on the ground.

  Ron lay on his side, arm outstretched to the telephone that lay on the end table, just beyond his reach. It wouldn't have done him any good, because the gash on his neck was deep and had obviously severed his carotid.

  Jack was astounded that he'd made it that far.

  "Ron, I'm so sorry. My fault. My fault." Laura reached for the dead man.

  "Don't touch him," Jack said as he gently pushed her back. "He's gone. This is a murder scene and the only way you can help him now is to help the police find out who did this. We can't touch anything."

  He reached for her bloody hand and softly guided her up and back out of the door and into the hall. "My phone is in my bag. Let's go over here and sit you down while I call."

  "My fault," Laura repeated.

  "No it isn't," Jack insisted. “It's not your fault. You weren't even here. It's some sick fuck's fault and we're going to help the cops catch him. Just sit here and let me call."

  He wasn't sure exactly what she meant about Ron's murder being her fault. Friends and survivors had so many odd ways to blame themselves for the death of a friend, as unreasonable it might have seemed.

  ‘Survivor's guilt,’ it was called and many people had it. It was illogical and emotional—that is, Jack thought to himself, if it wasn't actually true.

  Jack gently sat her against the wall and dug his phone out of his bag. He didn't even have to think about dialing "911." All he had to do was mash the emergency call button on the keypad and the little electronic brain did the dialing for him.

  The operator seemed a little bored. "911-what is your emergency?" she asked in a deep southern drawl.