Beautiful Burn

by Adriane Leigh

  She rode my wildly, one hand in her hair, back arched, the other hand holding on to the roll bar above her head. I bit my bottom lip as I watched her move, and somehow, smile as she rode me. Auburn fucked competitively, there was no other way to explain it. A challenge lit her eyes when I was inside her like we were racing to see who could push the other over the edge first. It was wild and unexpected and left me begging to touch the flame.

  Auburn lit my mind, my heart, my soul. She'd become the counterweight, the thing I needed to feel balanced and safe. I'd known her since she was in high school, but that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was that I came alive when I was with her. She made me feel, and for so long I'd forgotten what feeling felt like.

  My hands gripped her hips before wrapping around her narrow waist and yanking her down on top of me. I held her to my body, as much skin as I could get, with one hand wrapped around her back and another all fucked up in her hair. I held her to me while I thrust, conscious of her clit abrading my pelvis. I ground deeper still and her reply came in the form of a string of breathless moans. I smoothed one palm down her body, past the dip in her waist, to land at the curve of her ass cheek. I squeezed hard enough to make her yelp, and with my muscles strung tight and bunched, I thrust and whispered in her ear dirty words that spurred her on. With one more pelvic grind she came, pulsing in small waves around my cock and sending me into another world with her.

  We whimpered and moaned and sucked in rasping breaths of air thick with the scent of sex as we clutched at each other in the back of my truck. The movie played and people watched in cars less than fifty yards away from us, as we lay sapped and sated.

  “Mmm,” she hummed before her fingernails dug into my chest as she pushed off me. My hands dropped from her waist and when she was settled beside me again I tucked a blanket around the both of us. With her head tucked into my shoulder, I stroked her hair, my smile widening the longer the movie played until my cheeks hurt and I couldn't contain it any longer. I chuckled softly with a shake of my head.

  “Okay over there?” She asked.

  “I can’t believe we just did that.” I soaked up the happiness radiating through my bones.

  “I know.” She snuggled into me more before her eyes went to the big screen.

  “If this wasn’t my favorite movie before, it certainly is now.”

  “I’ll give you that.” She erupted into giggles.

  “And can we talk about you not wearing panties tonight?” I lifted my eyebrows.

  “I like going commando. What’s the point of underwear anyway?” She shrugged before fishing around the piles of white cotton for her shorts.

  “Umm...because you have to,” I deadpanned.

  “Says who?” she laughed as she buttoned her shorts.

  “Everyone.”

  “Well, I don’t care about everyone. Not wearing undies makes me feel good, so I don’t like to wear undies.”

  “Poetic.” I shook my head with a smile. “So is this law? Say for instance you wear a dress, are there panties under there or…?”

  “You’re stupid.” She pushed me in the shoulder and then ripped the blanket off my flaccid, but still impressive dick. The night air had me sucking in my breath and doing some sort of desperate man grunt reserved for only those times when the junk was involved, before I tucked it back into my pants.

  “You’ve got a mean streak,” I teased, lying back, pants still unbuttoned but dick now fully covered.

  “Shut up!” She tossed a pillow at my head. I caught it, hit her with it, then pulled her to me and tucked our bodies together. I stuck my nose in her hair, sucked in deeply, and then we watched the last of the movie.

  I nestled down into the comfort of our bodies twined together and smiled. This was good. For once, I was here, I was me. I was living in the moment, living fully, and I was happy. From head to toe, I felt gloriously happy.

  eight

  “Do you want to come over?” she offered as we stood outside our vehicles after the movie.

  “Yeah?” The few smart cells in my body screamed no, but the vast majority were thrilled at the prospect.

  She leaned in and brushed her body against mine. “I promise I won’t molest you.”

  I shuddered with waves of pleasure from the contact. I only nodded and swallowed before a car pulled out of the drive-in and accelerated as it approached us. My arms dropped from Auburn's waist when I locked eyes with the driver, one of the secretaries in the principal's office. My stomach rolled and my chest throbbed with anxiety.

  The secretary gave a slow nod as she passed. “Fuck,” I murmured, taking another step away from Auburn.

  Realization dawned as she watched the car getting further away. “Do you know them?”

  “You do too, Mrs. Rose.”

  “Oh no.” Auburn's eyes slammed to mine in alarm.

  “I don't think she saw you.” I hoped she didn’t anyway, all I could do was hope, something I'd been doing much more often the last few months.

  Auburn nodded somberly. “Do you still want to come over?”

  “More than anything,” I growled, my eyes flaring as the anxiety of almost getting caught melted to desire. I knew every moment I spent with her was a risk, but my desire to take each day as it came and live each moment to the fullest was overpowering. Life had taught me that you couldn't take a single day for granted.

  “Good. I promise I'll make it worth your while.” Her face darkened with lust to match my own before she spun on her heel and headed for her car.

  I followed her the twenty minutes home through the twisting residential streets of Traverse and then Sutton's Bay. I was surprised to find she lived only a few blocks from downtown -- and me -- in a restored Victorian home split into apartments.

  She flicked on the light in the cramped space and my eyes landed on textbooks, clothes, and books. Lots of books. “Holy shit,” I breathed as I stepped over a cluster of shoes to get to the nearest book shelf.

  “I’m a collector.” She stopped beside me. My fingertips ran across the bindings -- she clearly loved the written word, her collection nearly matched my own in size and scope. She had the scrappy newsstand paperbacks that we all had, but tucked between were volumes of classic literature, from Edgar Allan Poe to James Joyce. “This is beautiful.” I picked up a first edition of “Walden” by Thoreau. I flipped through a few of the yellowed pages, inhaling the musty smell of vintage paper. “So the romantics, huh?”

  “I’m a sucker.” She shrugged. “My dad gave me that when I turned eighteen.” She caressed the worn cover of the book. “He loved to read, I think that's where I got my love of books.”

  “Has he read your writing?” I asked, interested in learning more about her.

  “No.” She shook her head and turned away. “They want me to get a real job.” She scoffed, but I could see the pain their rejection left.

  “I'm sure every famous author's parents said that at some point.”

  “Yeah, but…” she paused before averting her eyes.

  “But what?” I pushed her to open up to me.

  “They won't pay for my college unless I choose a more practical major.” The frown dusting her lips had me wanting to pull her into my arms.

  “Ouch.” I placed the old edition back on the shelf.

  “It's not such a big deal, I expected to work through college and pay for it any way I could, but when my parents offered to pay for everything free and clear, if I went into law, or medicine, or another suitable career, it was like a punch in the stomach. Even my grandma stopped talking to my dad for a while she was so angry at him.”

  “Sounds like grandma is pretty great.”

  “She is.” The smile that lit her face made it perfectly clear why she'd come home to spend the summer helping her. “She reads everything I write. She even loves the steamy parts.”Auburn winked and I couldn't help the chuckle that fell from my lips.

  “I think I need to read these steamy parts.”

  “
You have to work for the steamy bits.” She shot me a sexy, half grin before leaving the room. “Do you want anything?” she called. “Water, beer, orange juice?”

  “I'm going to make you a bookshelf!” I called in reply.

  “What?” She handed me a bottle of water when she returned.

  “You have so many books, I don't think this thing could stand much more weight. ” I wiggled the feeble shelf stacked high with thick volumes.

  “I don't need a new book shelf.”

  “It's not a big deal. I made custom bookcases for our house, crown molding and everything. I’ll make you something.” I assessed the available wall space. Measurements were already flying through my head.

  “You’re not making me anything.” She set her water down on the table and straightened a pile of books.

  “I like to do it. Helps me get my mind off things.”

  “I generally prefer other forms of distraction.” She trailed a dainty fingertip up my forearm.

  “I think I'd like to hear about these other forms...” I swiveled and ran a hand along the smooth skin of her neck.

  She shivered and a pretty smile split her lips. “Stay tonight and I'll show you.”

  “There's no where else I'd rather be.” I murmured and wove my fingers into her hair, pulling her face to mine and covering her lips with my own. Her fingers ran up my arms to tangle in my hair as she pressed her body against mine and kissed me with a passion that destroyed me.

  My hands slipped down her waist to grip her thighs and I lifted her into my arms. With her legs locked around my waist I headed for the hallway at the opposite end of the room, anxious to lose myself in her arms again.

  nine

  Meet me at the cherry orchard off of West Bay road in an hour.

  I sent her the email before tucking my phone in my pocket and unloading the stuff I’d brought with me to make this night extra special.

  Waking up with Auburn's dark hair twisted around my pillow and her elegant arm draped over my chest had been the perfect start to my day. Making omelets with her had been the most fun I'd had on a Saturday morning in a long time, and sharing coffee with her while the sun's golden rays filtered through her kitchen window felt right.

  This was it. I knew it. I felt it. There was no going back. I couldn't stay away anymore and I was sick to death of fighting what I wanted to do versus what I should do. In the eyes of people in our small town we'd face cataclysmic judgment, but fuck if I couldn't stay away.

  My phone buzzed with her reply.

  Okay.

  That was it. Short and to the point, never one to overcomplicate or ask too many questions. With Auburn, what you saw was what you got. No drama, just a sense of living life by the moment and making it so beautiful it's worth remembering. Her easygoing, carefree take on life had rubbed off on me.

  Text me when you get here. I’ll be waiting.

  I replied, including my phone number at the end of the email, before unloading the little two-person table and chairs I’d brought, set out wine and water and placed the picnic basket next to my chair, and then I waited. Heavy with the scent of sweet grass and cherries, I sucked in deep lungfuls of the humid air and let my mind wander.

  I'd been keeping Mel pushed to the far corners of my mind of late. It wasn't hard to do when I was losing myself so much in Auburn, but it was time to drop the denial and work on creating the life I wanted. A life that included Auburn.

  When I'd promised my hand to Mel in marriage the spring I turned twenty-two, fresh out of college and ready to conquer the world, I'd meant it. We bought the house, she finished the last year of her bachelor's in teaching, and I started as the new english teacher at Sutton's Bay High. Two years passed, and Mel was forced to take a substitute job until something permanent opened up. I worked and she waited, continuing to get more irritable, more resentful. She began to talk about moving out of state for work, I began to talk about getting my Masters and even moving on to my PhD to teach at the college level.

  For six years I gave Mel everything. I gave her all of me until there was nothing left to give, and still, it hadn't been enough. We went from sleepy Saturday mornings over coffee to hurling insults I hoped neither of us meant. Despite a year of fighting and a year of therapy on top of that, we grew further apart. The death of the dream had hurt more than leaving, I just didn’t know who I was when I was with her anymore.

  My phone lit up with a text indicating Auburn was here. I hit reply.

  Meet me at the water.

  I’d lined the narrow path through the rows of cherry trees with candles that flickered and danced in the moonlight. I held my breath and waited for her form to come walking through the trees to the edge of the gently lapping water. When the soft filtered light of the moon lit her outline, I smiled. My girl was here.

  I stood and walked to her. “Hi.” I placed gentle hands at her waist. My fingertips lifted the soft cotton of her tee and made contact with her skin.

  “Hi,” she murmured, almost shy.

  I broke into a cocky grin. “Do I make you nervous?” I nestled into her ear and breathed. She only nodded in response. “Good.” I steered her to the table.

  “Reed,” she exhaled as her eyes took in the one lone candle that lit the table in a golden wash of color. “This is beautiful,” she said as she sat in the chair I'd pulled out for her. “What is this place?”

  “My parents’ farm.” She looked at me, waiting for further explanation. “My family has owned cherry orchards in the area for years. My grandfather planted the original trees in the fifties and the business has grown ever since.”

  “You grew up here?” Her eyes darted from the lapping waters of the bay and then over to the rows upon rows of trees, heavy with ruby-red fruit.

  “Yeah,” I answered, my mind jogging back to my childhood helping my dad plant new trees and the happy chaos that always surrounded harvest season. I couldn't move away from here, it had too many good memories. It was home.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It was a pretty great place to grow up.” I smiled. “Wine?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” She watched as I poured the wine into her glass, then mine, and placed it back in the picnic basket, re-corking it.

  “It’s good,” she hummed after taking a sip. “What else you got in that little basket of yours?”

  “I cooked and everything.”

  “Oh yeah?” She raised her eyebrows, impressed.

  “Slaved for hours.” I set the first container on the table.

  “Hmm...” Her sudden laugh floated between us when I lifted the lid on the second container. “Sloppy joes?!”

  “Homemade sloppy joes. Secret family recipe, goes way back.” I tossed a bag of chips on the table.

  “Wine and sloppy joes, huh?” She shook her head and sipped with a smile. “You sure know how to woo a girl. So what's the special occasion?” She cocked her head as her sexy gaze nailed mine.

  “We're celebrating. I'd committed to something this spring that had me running up to Traverse three times a week,” I paused, the memory triggering a powerful wave of anxiety, “but it's finished now.” I reached across the table and dusted my fingertips across her hand. “And that means I'll have a lot more free time...” My eyes fell lidded when a humid breeze swirled in the space between us and delivered her sweet scent to my nostrils. I inhaled, so thankful I could celebrate this night with her, even if she didn't know what we were celebrating.

  “Mmm...I like the sound of that,” she hummed and twisted her fingers with mine. A low groan escaped my throat -- she never ceased to have all the blood marching straight to my dick. “Something wrong?” She purred, her eyes large and innocent, her grin playful and sexy.

  “I'm trying not to throw you over this table and fuck you until you can't see straight.”

  “What's stopping you?” Auburn shrugged out of her long-sleeved shirt and my dick pounded in my pants.

  “Because I want to woo you first, and the longer I
wait the sweeter it will be when I finally,” I traced fingertips at the underside of her elbow. “Get.” I brushed past her breast and traced circles around the faint outline of her nipple. “Inside you.”

  Auburn's eyes darkened in the warm candlelight. “Well, I've got a secret.” Her voice lowered one sexy octave.

  “I like secrets.” I ran a fingertip down the curve of her neckline, whispering across the soft dip of her cleavage.

  “I'm a sure bet,” she said. My breath caught when in the next moment her foot brushed against my inner thigh.

  “I'm not usually a gambling man,” I murmured as I ran the pad of my thumb across the bow of her top lip. “But I'll take that bet.” Her eyes fell closed and she sighed without answering. “...after dinner.” I flashed her a cocky grin. “So, tell me your thoughts on ‘Lolita.’” I leaned back, satisfied that I’d both turned her on and surprised her with my change of topic.

  “I think Humbert is a perv,” she replied, her voice low, eyes still lidded.

  “You think so?” I smiled as I passed her a sloppy joe, barely resisting the urge to lay her down in the dewy grass and taste her with my tongue.

  “You don't?” She asked, as she picked up a chip, hunger finally overcoming lust.

  “I think he loves her, but he's shocked by his love for her. He tries to deny it, rationalize it, but love can't be rationalized.” I shrugged, biting into my sandwich.