“Don’t tell me that was a raindrop.” I pout, as another pelts me on my nose.
“Afraid so, sweets.”
“Damn!” I growl. Next I know, the heavens open up, and it’s a torrential downpour. Oregon weather is as unpredictable as my period. I don’t want to leave this lovely moment, but I’m afraid we have no choice.
“Geesh!” I complain, as the rain begins to fall harder.
Ian stands up and pulls me to my feet. “Give me your hand, and let’s run for cover.”
I quickly stuff my damp blanket into my backpack, and we sprint down the beach, back toward the public parking where we left the SUV. By the time we arrive, we’re soaked to the bone. The rain continues to pelt us both as we jump into the SUV. We slam shut the doors, and I quickly glance over at Ian. His hair is drenched, and he looks as sexy as hell with his dripping locks.
“I know a place we can go to dry out,” he announces.
He places the key into the ignition, pulls onto Hemlock Street, and heads south down the coastline. We leave the outskirts of town behind. A minute or two later, he turns right down a street that heads back toward the ocean. I glance over at him, wondering where we’re going. His face is expressionless, but there’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.
“Where are we headed?” I’m thoroughly confused now.
He smirks like a roguish teenager. “My beach house.”
“Your what?” The words fly out of my mouth as he pulls into the driveway of a beautiful home that sits smack dab on the ocean front. I’m stunned.
“It’s my house, Rachel. Come inside and let’s get you warmed up.”
Panic floods through my veins, along with anticipation of what getting me warmed up insinuates. If he touches me, I’m toast.
He helps me out of the car, leads me to the front door, and fiddles with his keys until he finds the right one. It fits in the lock, and the next I know I’ve been ushered into his home in Cannon Beach. God, talk about a dream come true! My wide eyes gawk at my surroundings, while he takes my wet jacket. He kicks his shoes off, and stomps his feet to get rid of the sand.
“Leave your shoes at the door, and I’ll go light a fire.”
I look inside where he’s headed and see a magnificent stone fireplace on the right. Walls of windows from the floor to the cathedral ceiling look out over the stormy Pacific Ocean. The interior is decorated throughout in warm earth tones. It is so gorgeous that I want to cry.
After removing my shoes and wet socks, I brush the sand off my toes and leave a pile of dirt at the front entrance. I feel awful for messing up his house. For a brief moment, I’m frozen as I take in my surroundings, and then I slowly shuffle my way into the interior.
Off to the right is a staircase that leads to what appears to be a bedroom loft upstairs. I gulp. To the left is a kitchen and dining area, and another bedroom. I see a desk and computer inside, and figure it’s his home office. Straight ahead, Ian strikes a match to the kindling. A moment later, it pops and cracks as the fire catches and starts to burn. He turns and looks at me like a mischievous little boy that got his hand caught in the cookie jar.
“This is home for me, for the most part, Rachel. I only have a small apartment in town, much like your own. I work so much, all I do is sleep there, but when I want to live and relax, I come here during the weekend and on my days off.”
“Oh, my God,” I breathe, in secret jealousy. “You’re so fortunate, Ian.”
“Oh, I don’t look at it that way, really.” He seems embarrassed and looks over at the fire. “Yes, it’s gratifying to be here on the ocean, but it’s no fun being here alone.”
I’m chilled to the bone, and my lower lip is quivering.
“We have to get you out of those clothes and throw them in the dryer. Your lips are blue.” He looks at me for a moment. “I suppose you don’t have anything to change into,” he says, with a knowing smirk across his face.
“No, I hadn’t planned on this detour,” I reply. He nods toward the bedroom upstairs.
“You’ll find a robe behind the door in the bathroom. Go take those things off, and throw them down to me. I’ll put them in the dryer.”
I’m petrified of what is upstairs. He sees my hesitation. My feet are planted in cement, and I can’t move.
“Listen, Rachel, I’m not going to take advantage of the situation, I promise.”
Ian reaches over and strokes the side of my cheek with the palm of his hand. His eyes look sincere. The fire is warm, and I’m cold.
“Okay,” I reply, answering with my favorite acquiescent word.
I trot up the stairs, and turn around to see the view from the railing. His bedroom looks over the massive great room below, straight to the ocean. Behind me is a large king-size bed, covered in multiple throw pillows and a brown satin comforter. I see a door to the right and assume it’s his bathroom, so I head in that direction. Sure enough there’s a robe hanging where he said it would be.
Hurriedly, I hide and start stripping. I’m shivering. When I look into the mirror, I see that my lips are blue. I glance about the bathroom, but don’t touch anything. My panties and bra are dry enough to keep on, so I wrap his robe around me and tie it tight.
“Hey, toss me your clothes,” he yells up at me.
My arms wrap around the pile, and I walk to the railing. He’s looking up at me with his head tilted back. “Here you go.” I let them fly down to his feet. Ian picks them up, and then disappears toward the kitchen, where I’m assuming there is a utility room somewhere with a washer and dryer.
I don’t descend the stairs right away, but stand at the railing and get lost in the view through the floor to ceiling windows. It must be spectacular when the winter storms roll in. I close my eyes and imagine us together on the floor in front of a roaring fire, with the sound of rain pelting the windows and the roar of the waves outside. I can’t think of anything more that I’d love to experience. Maybe I will in a few minutes. My heart rate increases over the thought, as I make my way downstairs to bask in the unique fairytale backdrop.
“Your clothes are in the dryer,” he announces, giving me a grin. “I’m going upstairs to change. Be right back.”
The fire beckons me to approach. The warmth is filling the room. I’m thinking that it’s ingenious, as the hot air will rise to warm the loft upstairs. A large, brown couch faces the fireplace, and I plop myself on it. My nose catches the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. Before I know it, he’s back in loose sweat pants and a tight tee shirt.
“I should have given you a pair of these,” he says, looking at me enticingly in his bathrobe.
“Oh, I’m okay. It’s warm.” The robe is way too large for me, and I feel like I’m caught in his perpetual embrace. I’m enjoying the secure feeling of being wrapped in something he owns.
“You want a cup of coffee?”
“Oh, God, yes,” I reply, jumping to my feet and following him into the kitchen to snoop around. “Wow, nice.” He remains casual while I ogle.
“Cream? Sugar?” He fills my mug to the top.
“Just cream.”
The refrigerator door opens, and there’s plenty of food inside. I surmise he must come here every weekend, and suddenly I feel terrible. He should have been here yesterday, relaxing, but instead he spent it with me.
Ian looks at home and calm. My eyes rove over his toned, bare arms. He definitely lifts weights with those biceps. His taut chest, underneath his tight tee, teases the hell out of me, which make him look smoking hot. Thank God, his sweat pants are loose. I eye the dangling string I’d like to loosen so I can peek behind the curtain.
He clears his throat as his eyes catch me during my examination of his goods. I can see he’s pleased with my exploration, but suddenly I’m blushing like a school girl. I take the cup and lower my gaze into the brew. “Sorry,” I mumble. I hear him chuckle under his breath.
We sit down on the couch and start sipping the coffee, staring at the fire together. The rain conti
nues to fall in a steady stream, and I look at the clock above the mantel. It’s only just noon, so we don’t have to drive back to the city yet. As I sip the warm drink, my mind wanders. He’s already flopped one arm over my shoulder, while he holds his cup in the other.
“Did you own this place when you were married?” I’m curious, of course.
He tilts his head down. I’ve hit a sore spot, and I wince, sorry that I asked the question. I can tell he honestly doesn’t want to answer it, but he does anyway. He looks at me with that same sad, screwed-up look.
“Yes.”
I feel disappointed, because now my mind runs to his bed upstairs imagining the two of them together. The romance of it all sort of takes a step back, because I bet there are memories underneath that brown comforter.
“Yeah, I gave her the house in town, and I took this one in the divorce. She didn’t care,” he says, pulling his mouth to one side. “Susan doesn’t enjoy being here.”
“Oh.” It sounds strange to me, until he explains.
“She’s more of the city lights, city-type girl. I’m more of the laid back, get-me-out-of-the-city-type guy. It was a substantial difference between us.”
My favorite one word comment pops out between my lips. “Okay.” I don’t know what’s okay about it, because suddenly I feel terribly sorry for Ian.
“You hungry?” He changes the subject and forces a grin.
“Um, a little.”
We head off to the kitchen, and for the next few hours I feel like the two of us are playing house together. I enjoy the fantasy, and he seems comfortable with it as well. We eat a sandwich, talk, sit by the fire, watch the storm, a little television, and relax until the hours slip away. He’s being a perfect gentleman, for which I’m happy and disappointed all at the same time.
When the clock reaches five, I feel like he’s getting antsy. Maybe he wants to get back to Portland, and I don’t blame him. The drive back will be miserable in the rain. Before we go, I really want an intimate moment.
“Kiss me.” I invite him with a sassy expression.
He looks surprised over my request. A small, sexy smile brightens his face. My body goes limp when as I see him coming toward my lips. I don’t know whether it’s the coffee, the fire, or the storm outside, but something ignites between the two of us.
The tongue that’s been hiding bursts forth with a thrust into my mouth that turns me hotter than the embers in the fireplace. If he keeps this up, I’m going to lose it.
I soon discover he’s a freaking good kisser, once he gets going and loosens up. Beside his tongue, which thrusts deep into my mouth, he has a way of sucking my lower lip that drives me nuts. It’s such a turn on, that I’m aching.
One of his warm hands finds my bare leg underneath the robe and slips up and down my inner thigh, stroking me tenderly. I moan over his touch. All I can think of is his long fingers and where I’d love to feel them in the next few minutes. It doesn’t take but another moment for the red flags to start waving between the two of us yelling “warning, warning, warning.”
Suddenly, he stops sucking my mouth, and lets me come up for a breath of air. I realize that I’m desperately clutching him and panting.
“God, Rachel, this isn’t good,” he puffs, out of breath. I can’t help but notice the erection looming in his sweat pants.
“What’s not good?” I ask innocently, looking at him like I don’t know what is going on.
“I told you that I wouldn’t take advantage of you, but all I want to do is strip that robe off and devour you here and now. It’s too soon.”
He stands up and runs his fingers through his hair, and then turns back and looks at me. I know it’s too soon. If we start this trip down sex lane, there’s no turning back. We’ve been together what, three times? Of course, what does that matter to me? In three months, I could be his wife—if I had my way. Besides, I’m easy, and I know it.
“You want to do this?” I can see in his eyes that he wants to. Of course he does, he’s a man. I hesitate. He looks at me. My body is wet and aching as I imagine every muscle underneath that damn, tight tee shirt he’s got on. Indiscreetly, I wonder how big the joy stick is in his pants.
Then it hits me. “I… I…” Words are escaping my brain. I look at him square in the eye and blurt out my confession. “Ian, I haven’t had sexual relations with a man for over five years. I’m so starved for affection and touch that I don’t know if I can say no to your offer.” I don’t want him to think I’m a slut, but it’s the truth—I’m ravenous inside.
He stands there staring at me. I know he’s contemplating the cost. Make the decision for me! I scream in my heart. I’ll do whatever you say. Just tell me.
“It’s been a while for me too, Rachel.”
“If I say yes, you won’t think less of me, will you?” Fear fills my eyes.
“God, no,” he says, flashing me an adoring look of desire.
Next I know, he grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. I don’t even have time to think about anything else, because I’m climbing the stairs to his loft. I’m suddenly lost in raw manhood and female desire. The robe is gone before I know it, his hands are all over me, and his tongue is in my mouth.
“I’m not on any birth control,” I urgently tell him.
“That’s okay, I’m prepared.”
He starts in on me again, and all I can do is moan like a fool over the feeling of being touched again. I want to cry. I want to laugh. I want to faint. Every emotion courses through my body as he relentlessly feels my flesh. My breasts are captivated by his touch, and my mouth is filled with his sweet taste.
I’m so overwhelmed that I keep my eyes tightly shut. A few moments pass, and I realize he’s stripping off his clothes. I hear the rustle of a condom packet, and then he’s back at it, exploring my body.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers into my ear.
He unhooks my bra, shimmies down my panties, and then pulls me against his naked and warm flesh. My knees buckle beneath me, and he holds me upright.
“No woman should go without tenderness and touch for that long, Rachel,” he says, as he gently lays me upon the bed.
He touches me quickly with his fingers and discovers I’m wet and waiting. I’m lost in craving, and my mind flows to dark places. The door to my imagination is flung open, and then I’m consumed with visions of Ian.
He’s so hungry, that he quickly parts my legs and slowly slips his penis inside of me. I gasp at being stretched by a man when I’ve been closed and unwanted for so long. It’s overpowering, and I start to whimper.
“Rachel,” he says, stopping. “Am I hurting you?”
I shake my head. “It feels wonderful.”
He begins his slow progression of love making. It’s sweet, too sweet. Inside my mind I beg him, Ian, hurt me. I want you to hurt me. Please. It’s what I truly want, not sweet, but rough, painful, and wild sex.
The demons of my mind pull me behind the dark door. Ask him to hurt you. Beg him to hurt you, they tell me. Imagine him hurting you, they growl. Ian keeps tenderly trying to bring me to an orgasm, and I know he’s at the brink. I want one so bad, but I can’t do it—not like this!
“It’s okay, Ian, go ahead.”
He knows what I mean, and suddenly he bursts inside of my body. I lie underneath him and leave my dark desires behind in the closet and close the door.
Tearfully, I explain my lies. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t…” I don’t want him to feel like a failure.
He pulls himself out of me. “Hey, open your eyes and look at me,” he says sweetly. I do. “Is there something I can do to help you?”
“No,” I say. “It’s not you, Ian. It’s me because it’s been too long since I’ve done this.”
He looks devastated, as if he’s taken advantage of me and given me nothing in return. “It’s okay, really,” I say, touching the side of his face with the palm of my hand. All the while I know I can’t tell him why. Not now. Not like this. Maybe never
. I’ll do what I always do. I’ll go home, fondle myself, and come in the darkness of my desires that I’m too ashamed to share with another human being.
Chapter 8
Penitence Gone Wrong
When I arrive at work on Monday morning, I’m reminded of Ian. My poor roses are slowly dying, and I can’t help but wonder if this flash-fire introduction with the law man is about to suffer a quick death. It’s time to throw them out, because the petals are falling and making a mess on my desk.
I pick up the vase and walk to the employee lounge, where the large, green compost container resides. I open the lid, pull out the dead flowers, and drop them into the bottom. It saddens me, so I retain one dead rose and decide to press it between the pages of a book when I get home. After I wash the vase out, I take it back to my desk. I’m not about to leave a crystal vase underneath the sink for someone else’s enjoyment.
Feeling in the dumps, I plop on my chair and turn on the computer. With my letter opener in hand, I start slitting the morning mail open and reliving the weekend in my mind. I have much to think about, because the last two days have, for the most part, been a heavenly whirlwind. I reposition my butt, because I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m actually sore from my previous night’s activities. Five years of no sex definitely made it a bit uncomfortable.
Our drive home from Cannon Beach turned out to be pretty quiet. I think we were both in shock after our unexpected romp on top of the satin comforter. Ian looked mortified, and I didn’t know how to console the poor man. His ego was either suffering from not being able to bring me to an orgasm, or he was sorry he lost it and dragged me to the loft.
To be honest, I was glad that he did. My slut in the closet has no moral compass anyway, so I felt no guilt over letting him in my pants. Of course, I predicted he wanted in there all along, and then encouraged him to enter. As fast as he did me, it was obvious he hadn’t had any in a while either. I wasn’t surprised he shot it off so fast and left me hanging.
As I think about it, a smile spreads across my face just remembering the heat of his embrace and that I actually had sex. The dark door in my mind, where all of my secrets are kept, flies open and fear stares me in the face. I’m in no mood to be taunted, so I imagine banging the door in the demon’s face and focusing upon work.
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