The trees swayed in the gentle ocean breeze as she drove up the lane to the Sea View. Even the construction trailers sitting off to one side of the grounds didn’t detract from the elegance and beauty of the old house. The new roof gleamed in the evening sunlight. Reflected glare from the new windows temporarily blinded Jem. She squinted and flipped down the sun visor as she crept forward.
Pulling her car next to Jack’s truck, she shut the motor off. The air conditioning died along with the radio. Yawning, she climbed out to face the house. She stared at the stately old structure, taking in the screened porch to the left of the front door.
She beckoned to Clooney in the back seat. “Come on, handsome.” As he hopped out, Jem saw movement on the porch from the corner of her eye. She turned sharply as Clooney barked loudly, standing alert next to her, snout pointed to the house.
The porch was empty. Had it been her imagination, or had someone been sitting there? She envisioned the wicker furniture she’d seen from pictures in Amy’s book, a settee, a low table, a butler’s cart loaded with tea and cakes. She blinked hard and shook her head from side-to-side, then dragged her gaze back to the porch. The area was littered with nothing but boxes and construction tools. Bone deep exhaustion had left her so out of sorts she’d begun seeing things. Probably best not to mention this little episode to Jack. He’d ban her from the site for good.
Giving a slight chuckle, she rounded the back of her car and popped the trunk. Before Avery left for the day, he’d helped her prepare a picnic of fried chicken, coleslaw, a green salad, and peach cobbler. They’d made enough for Avery to carry some upstairs to the apartment over the café where he and his small family lived. They’d moved in right after Jem had relocated to Jack’s house.
Slinging a light blue blanket over her shoulder, she pulled the cooler of food from the trunk. She grabbed another tote containing a thermos of lemonade, red Solo cups, a bottle of chardonnay, and the diary Jack had found. She’d arrived early, so she planned to read while she waited for him to join her.
Loaded to the teeth, she headed toward the path to the bluff. “Let’s go, Clooney. Jack will be out soon. This is a good place for a good-looking dog like you to run free.”
By the time she found the perfect shady area, she was sweating in the heat. The temps had cooled a little, but humidity made it difficult to catch a breath. It was late August after all. She dropped her packages, then spread the blanket under a tall white oak tree. She used the hem of her fitted T-shirt to wipe the moisture from her brow. She settled on the blanket and slipped her flip-flops off, pushing them aside.
After pouring a cup of lemonade, she took a sip. The refreshing, sweet-tart flavor burst on her tongue like the Sour Patch Kid candy she used to devour as a child. She shuddered as she swallowed, enjoying the taste and the memories. Clooney trotted toward the tree line and nosed along, his clipped tail whipping behind him.
When Jem whistled, he spun around to face her, ears pricked up. “Clooney, stay away from the edge.” She pointed to her left and shook her finger. After releasing a happy doggie woof, he returned his attention to the scrub along the trees.
In the distance, the surf rolled rhythmically in and out, pounding against the rocks that lined the bottom of the bluff. The sound soothed her. Jem took another sip, then rested the cup at the edge of the blanket. Flipping to her stomach, the locket slipped free, hitting the ground with a soft thud. As she lay facing the ocean bluff, she opened Mary’s diary.
Familiar spidery writing crawled across the page. The words detailed Mary’s life after learning Edward’s ship had been lost at sea. She’d railed against his decision to take the final, fateful journey. Although he would have been devastated by the loss of his crew and his vessel, he’d have been alive to see the birth of his daughter. Based on her writing, Mary’s one true joy in life after Edward perished was Olivia. Her writing was filled with details of the birth and early days of her life.
Clooney loped back to her side and settled next to her on the blanket. He laid his big head on his front paws. As she read about the baby’s early days, Jem found her eyelids drooping and her brain getting fuzzy. She closed the cover and set it aside. Mimicking Clooney, she laid her cheek on the back of her hand and closed her eyes. The gentle sound of waves rolling in, the cooling breeze, and the dog’s easy breathing lulled her to sleep.
* * * *
As Jack approached the spot Jem had picked for their picnic, he discovered her fast asleep, mouth slack, and cheek nestled on her hand. He stood and observed for a moment. Clooney leaped up and pushed his big muzzle against Jack’s thigh. While Jem quietly snored, he bent and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Go on, Clooney. Go play,” he whispered.
As Clooney trotted toward the trees, Jack unlaced his work boots. He took a seat to pull off the heavy steel-toed footwear. After tucking his socks into the opening of the shoes, he rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves. He stretched out next to Jem on his back, arms pillowing the back of his head. This is what peace was like. After an entire day spent in the company of his workers, blaring music punctuated by the constant pound of the hammer and the high-pitched buzz of the power saw, Jack allowed the peaceful moment to envelope him. Above his head, a breeze stirred the leaves of the white oak. In the distance, waves crashed upon the rocks at the base of the bluff. Above every other sound was the easy in and out breaths of the woman he loved beyond measure. He twisted his head to the side to gaze at Jem.
Although a bit pale, she radiated health and beauty. His heart expanded and thudded in his chest. He rolled to his side and propped his head on one hand. He reached out and pulled one of her corkscrew curls free of the mass of honey-colored tresses and wound the silken strands around his finger. He rubbed his thumb over it. Finally releasing the single curl, he moved his hand to the crown of her head and stroked down to the wispy ends. He repeated the gesture several times. When she shifted an arm, he stilled his hand. Knowing how tired she’d been lately, he was loath to disturb her slumber.
The traces of fatigue shadowing the tender skin under her eyes had been replaced by a glow of happiness when he’d given her the new book he’d found. He’d known she was tired when she’d slept through her alarm this morning. In the two years they’d been together, he couldn’t remember her oversleeping. Ever. Starting this new venture was causing her to burn the candle at both ends. Her all-out pace worried him, but every time he asked, she brushed his concern away. It hadn’t surprised him to find her napping in the shade of the trees.
Her ongoing dreams about Mary weren’t helping. But Jem wasn’t the only one having dreams about the first owners of the Sea View. As he lay quietly next to her, he contemplated the dream he’d had the night before. Jem felt a strong connection to Mary, probably due to her blood tie to the woman. But the subject of his visions centered on Edward rather than Mary, which was odd considering they knew so little about the captain.
A vivid image rose in Jack’s mind, a remnant from last night. Edward standing on the bridge of a ship, knuckles white where he’d clenched the railing as the deck rolled around him. Over his head, a banner snapped and jumped. Woven red hearts emblazoned on a field of white. Jack had recognized it as the Baron’s flag. Thunderous gray clouds behind the pennant made the flag almost glow as it danced in the wind.
Elation and anticipation had filled Jack’s heart when, in his dream, Edward released the wooden support and rubbed his hands together. He’d lifted a spyglass to his eyes, the stern look on his face fading, replaced by softness and love.
As the dream continued, the banner overhead stopped dancing and lay slack against the pole. The cream-colored sails behind him deflated. Edward lurched on the bridge, the spyglass flying from his hand. Spreading his feet wide, he balanced himself and shot a worried look at the clouds. When a gust of wind blew hard across the ship from another direction his long, dark hair whipped into his eyes.
Jack had distinctly felt the sharpness of the squall wind and smelled salt and ocea
n tang. Reaching out, he laid a hand on Jem’s hip, grounding himself in the present as he relived the sensation of the deck buckling under his feet, the way Edward must have. Jack had heard wood splintering, which had jolted him from the dream.
He’d been sweaty and disoriented as he’d surfaced from the dream. Rolling to his back, he’d stared blankly at the ceiling for a long while, attempting to analyze how he’d known the sailor was Edward Baron. Jack hadn’t looked through the book that Amy Mastin had given Jem, so he’d never seen a picture of the man. It must have been the emblem flailing in the breeze.
Next to him, in the early evening sun, Jem muttered in her sleep. Hoping to soothe her, he stroked his hand over her shoulder, down the sleek line of her rib cage, then made the return trip up her spine. The sense of elation he’d felt at the beginning of last night’s dream returned with a vengeance, snugging tight around his heart.
* * * *
A feather-light touch pulled her back toward consciousness. Jem stirred under Jack’s hand. “Mmm, that’s nice.”
His breath kissed an instant before his lips. “You like that?”
“Oh, Jack, I love any time you touch me.” She blinked her eyes open. Light shone on his face, making his eyes glitter like sun-dappled water. A pool she wanted to submerge in and never come up for air.
She flipped to her back and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down until his muscular chest melded to her breasts. At the touch of his lips against her mouth, electricity crackled through her. Heart racing, blood sang through her veins. Putting his hand on her hip, he pulled her under him, resting his other arm over her head, toying with a lock of her hair. His cock was hard against her belly, which was only fair since she was already damp between her thighs. And they’d only begun to kiss. Although, truth be told, she was always semi-aroused when he was near. She never seemed to be able to get enough of him, but there was something about the setting, about being under the evening sky, that made her super horny and eager to have him inside her. The cleft between her legs pinged with need. She bent her knees, raising her legs around his hips. The motion exposed her center to him. His cock prodded her through their clothes.
Plunging his tongue into her mouth, he stroked his hand from her hip to shoulder. The slide of his tongue on hers fanned the flame between them to an inferno. He opened his palm on her breast, kneading the flesh under the cotton of her shirt.
As though impatient to feel, to taste her flesh, he dropped his hand to the edge of her T-shirt and jerked it up and over her chest. The humidity of the day caressed her bare skin the way his hands did. He dipped his fingers under the edge of the lacy cups and pulled it down as he tore his lips from hers. Her breasts popped free, and he paused to stare at her nipples.
He licked his lips. “Rosy and hard, just begging for my mouth.” He dipped his head and captured one taut peak between his teeth and nipped.
Her breath hissed out when he bit. When he drew her areola deep into his mouth, she gasped. As he laved a circle around her nipple with his tongue, an undeniable tugging sensation pulled from her breast to womb. The callouses on his hand rasped against her skin when he cupped her flesh and squeezed his hand in rhythm with the movement of his mouth.
She pushed at his shoulders. “Jack, wait.”
“Sugar, I can’t wait,” he mumbled around a mouthful of her breast.
Weaving her fingers into his hair, she tugged. Hard. “Jack, we’re outside.”
He lifted his head and lowered his hand to the snap on her shorts. “I know.”
“What if someone sees?”
“I sent everyone home. We’re all alone, sugar. It’ll be okay.” He tongued her nipple as he pried the snap open.
The quiet sound sent a shard of need to her pussy. “Jack, we have a lovely bed at home.”
He popped open the next three snaps on her pants, then pressed his hand on her flat belly. “Can’t wait. Need to be in you now.” Sliding his fingers under the edge of her panties, he plunged downward. He found and flicked her clit before continuing his journey until he hit her slit. When he drove one finger deep, her belly clenched, and she sucked in a breath.
Resting his head against her forehead, his breath rushed in her face. “Sugar, you’re hot and tight, just the way I love you. I’m going to fuck you right here in the sunshine.”
Oh, she loved it when he talked to her like this. Despite the chance someone would discover them, or maybe because of it, her passion, her need for him to pound into her, bloomed like a peony bursting open in the sun. He kept his fingers moving in her, stroking her toward oblivion. Erotic tension stretched along her spine and colors mounted behind her eyes.
He worked his hand back and forth. Dipping into her, then pulling away, only to slide right back in. Each time pressing the heel of his hand on her clit. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.
Jem rocked her hips up and moaned, forgetting her inhibitions. Moving her hands to his shirt, she impatiently pulled the buttons free. As he continued to move his finger deep inside her, she pushed his shirt open and ran her hands over his pecs, doing a little nipple tweaking of her own.
Jack opened his eyes to watch her face as he fingered her. She felt empty when he pulled his finger out, but sensation flared as he stroked up to her clit, rubbed the little nub, then trailed back to her channel. He pressed into her and circled around, finding the sweet spot. She squeaked as he continued to undulate his finger inside her.
“Sugar, you’re so hot and wet for me. I want you now.” He sealed his lips over any response she might have made and continued the motion of his hand in her pants. Slick and wet and ready, she shivered under him.
Jack sucked in a deep breath when she molded her hand over his cock. Rocking his hips, he pushed against her palm. “Too many clothes, Jem. Why aren’t we naked yet?” He angled his hips, giving her better access to open his jeans.
Jem slipped her hand under the elastic of his briefs and wrapped her fingers around the silk of his throbbing shaft. Rubbing her thumb over the pulsing head, she fondled him at the same time she thrust her tongue into his mouth. She mimicked the motion of his hand and hers with her lips and tongue. His soft groans and panting mewls sang to her soul.
Jack tore his mouth from hers and his fingers from her body. In a heartbeat, he was on his knees and had his thumbs hooked at the waist of her pants. Jerking down as she lifted her hips, he pulled shorts and panties off her body and threw them aside.
He shoved his jeans and briefs down his thighs, then stretched out on top of her, hot flesh to hot flesh. She raised her legs around his waist and locked her feet behind his back, fully open to him. Pressure built within her as his dick prodded against her opening. He rocked his hips gently against her.
When his tip first slid inside, she whispered, “More, Jack. Please.”
Jem dropped her hands to his ass cheeks and squeezed hard, urging him to bury himself. She tilted her hips up and pulled him forward, each sexy inch of his slide sweet torture. Groaning, he pushed in as far as he could, balls deep, then pulled back. Jem whimpered until he stopped, just before he slipped from her body.
He thrust forward again, starting a motion that made her purr. “Yes, Jack. Like that. Faster. Please, faster.”
“Yeah, sugar.” He increased his speed. Under the blanket, a rock dug into her hip as he moved to get a greater angle. She didn’t give a damn about the pain because pleasure built like a volcano within as he thrust harder. His sac slapped against her with each stroke.
The clench and roll of her inner muscles, the fullness of his shaft inside her, built erotic sensation from her core to her brain. She sighed his name as color exploded behind her closed eyes. Passion flared with each roll of the wave that swept over her.
“So tight, Jem. So hot,” he gritted out, grunting with each thrust, building to a roar as his climax claimed him.
Buried deep within her, he continued to rock. With the friction between them, the heat continued even as he dropped
his head to the ground beside Jem’s. His ragged breaths gusted in her ear.
“God, I hope I’m not too heavy. I don’t think I can move.” He shifted his head enough to capture her earlobe between his teeth and nibble.
“You feel good.” Jem rocked her hips, drawing him deeper, then clamped her muscles around his shaft. Lord, it felt like heaven. “So good.”
Without lifting his head, he dragged a hand to her hair and tangled his fingers in it. He rubbed the strands between his fingers, the sound crackling in her ear. She sealed her lips around his collarbone and sucked. His lips curved into a smile against her ear.
Jem rolled her head to the side. “Oh shit! We have an audience.”
At that instant, Clooney’s wet tongue slurped against Jack’s ass. “Jesus Christ!” Jack reared back and twisted, his dick slapping heavily against her thigh as he jerked out of her and dropped to his side. His cock bobbed as he shoved the dog’s muzzle away. He snapped his fingers. “Down.”
Clooney immediately responded to the command, dropping to his haunches. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he panted as hard as Jack.
Laughter bubbled up until it burst from Jem’s lips at the curious tilt of the dog’s head. Poor animal had no idea why he was in trouble.
Jem dragged the edge of the blanket from under Clooney’s front paws and flipped it over their lower bodies. She jerked up the cups of the pale pink bra she still wore. The top slope of her breasts spilled over the edge, but was quickly hidden when she snatched her T-shirt into place.
Jack’s low chuckle when he joined her laughter sounded like magical music. “You were afraid of getting caught by one of my workers.”
“Neither of us considered our voyeuristic pet a threat.” She reached out to pat Clooney’s leg.
Jack lifted his hips and pulled his pants back into place, carefully tucking his still swollen shaft back into his briefs. He left his jeans unzipped. “Damn animal.” He glared at Clooney, who raised his brows. The dog lay down, draping one paw over Jem’s calf. “He’s always had a crush on you.”
A Spirited Love (A Five Senses Short Book 2) Page 8