Just for the Rush

by Jane Lark

  I slid my tongue into his mouth as the sound of the sea roared around us, washing up on to the beach. ‘Ah!’ My Converse were drenched as it swept right up over our feet. He gripped me about the waist in a bear hug and lifted me up. I bent my legs back to make it easier as he carried me higher up the beach, laughing.

  When he set me back down on my feet literally, figuratively I was still floating. His hands pressed either side of my head and he kissed me again, like he was the thirstiest man alive and I was his only source of water.

  My heart thundered, but it was a beautiful dance rhythm.

  When we broke apart he said on a breath into my mouth. ‘Shall we walk back?’

  ‘Yes.’ I thought of the bed but we’d agreed no sex, and I knew he’d honour it, and sex would raise the risk of this going wrong. But adrenaline rushed in my blood at the thought of taking that risk.

  Our room was huge and old-fashioned, with a high ceiling and an ornate plaster cornice about the walls, and at the centre of the uneven floor was the huge dark-wood, four-poster bed. I was in awe of this room too, but he wasn’t. This luxury was normal to him.

  I watched him take his jumper and shirt off, my heart racing. He had his back to me. ‘Jack.’

  He turned around. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You know we said no sex…’

  He didn’t answer, just looked at me.

  ‘I want to take the risk.’ If I was a fool, so what? I still fancied him.

  When he came towards me it was as if no time had passed since Christmas. His fingers clasped in my hair, holding my head steady as he kissed me. Then, after a moment, his fingers were pulling my jumper up and taking it off, then undoing my jeans, and before I knew it we were tangled up in bed. But in the bed it wasn’t like the early days we’d spent together when we’d gone away; it was like the last night.

  He used his mouth to make me come once, as I gripped his shoulders and writhed under the onslaught of his particular brand of passion and intensity. Then he knelt over me. His pale-blue eyes bright. He’d left the light on tonight and he was as awe-inspiring as the sea, and the Lakes. I’d felt it at Christmas, but having known this and lost it, the emotion in me was triple the strength it had been then. I was excited, grateful that he’d come back to me, but terrified he’d step away again.

  He urged my legs open wider with a knock on each thigh. Then he looked down and watched himself press into me.

  ‘Ah.’ It was bliss. I’d loved having sex with him before. I loved it now.

  He smiled down at me, his hands pressing into the mattress either side of my head, above my shoulders, his arms only a little bent so he was raised above me, as if he was doing press-ups while he pushed in. It was the second time we’d done it in the missionary position. There was nothing wrong with the missionary position when it felt like this. In fact, maybe it was now my favourite position because I could look into his eyes.

  ‘I love your eyes,’ he said it to me like he’d read my mind. ‘They’re the most amazing colour. You know they’re lavender.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Of course you do. They’re beautiful.’

  He was moving with a slow rhythm; it was the second time we’d done it without music too, without a set rhythm.

  His gaze dropped to watch himself entering me, again. I guess that was what men liked, the porn show. I liked looking at the muscle in his chest and his shoulders, and his arms – and when his head lifted, I liked looking at his mouth and into his eyes.

  My fingers held his biceps as he moved and the sensations inside became tangled up with the things I was hearing, seeing and feeling outside my body, as his weight pressed against my hips when he filled me, joining the rhythm of the bed creaking and our breathing breaking the quietness of the room. Everything combined to create something all-absorbing and overwhelming. I came not just because of his movement in me, but because of the aura in the air around us.

  He was breathing hard when I was aware of anything again, and watching my face not our bodies as he shoved into me with firm thrusts, his pelvis striking mine and making my breasts rock and the bed jolt against the wall – and it was a sturdy bed. My thighs were going to ache in the morning.

  ‘Jack.’ His name was a word of acclamation.

  He came with one last hard thrust, then he pulled out just slightly so I could feel his tip pulsing.

  I grasped his head, my fingers buried in his hair and watched his expression. He’d shut his eyes and it looked as though he clenched his teeth, because the muscle in his jaw was taut.

  Feelings broke inside me like a rushing, rolling white wave, washing up on to the beach with a roar. I wanted to call the feelings love. But he’d messed me around for months; I couldn’t call it love. That would be stupid.

  Something hit my arm. ‘Hey, sleepy-head.’

  I opened my eyes. I was tired, and achy. We’d had sex for hours. I think he’d come four times. I’d come about twenty times. The people in the next room probably hated us – the bed had been creaking half the night.

  ‘I think every beautiful lady deserves breakfast in bed. Sit up.’

  He was standing beside the bed, wearing loose, thick cotton pyjama bottoms, and no top, and he looked gorgeous. I could go another round, even though my legs ached. But food and coffee would be nice. I sat up, pulling the sheet and blankets up so they covered my breasts and tucked the covers under my arms as he set the tray over my lap. Then he got into bed with his own tray.

  ‘There’s loads on here.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I ordered everything.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Eleven. I didn’t want to wake you up early, but I want to go down to the sea.’

  ‘So do I.’

  Once we’d eaten breakfast he chased me out of bed and we went down to the sea front. It was different in the day; busier, and the energy from the sea seemed stronger, and the vastness of it was clearer. It was a beautiful day, the sky was blue and it was even warm enough to take our gloves off in the sun.

  We walked all the way along the beach to the serenade of the pebbles rolling around in the waves, and then we reached a little corner that was sand, where a few people were playing with dogs, tossing balls into the waves. We walked on around the cob, right to the end of the ancient harbour.

  The last part, the truly old part, was cobbled, slippery and slanted, and the waves crashed over the top, catching the seagulls that were balanced on the end of it.

  Jack had a hold of my hand and he kept walking when I would have turned back.

  ‘We could get washed off…’

  ‘In a storm maybe; it’s just blowy. If it was really dangerous they’d have it blocked off.’

  He yanked my hand and made me move. My heart pumped quicker, in the way he had of calling it into a particular rhythm.

  I followed his lead, but when we were showered with the salty spray from a wave crashing against the other side I turned and hugged his waist, ducking my head.

  He laughed. ‘Chicken.’ Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me into motion again, making me run on the uneven, slippery cobbles until we reached the end.

  Dangerous Jack Rendell. Captain Control. He probably believed he could even order the sea not to do anything to hurt us. I held his waist again as he stood looking out at the waves crashing over the rocks and sending up spray.

  ‘It makes you feel like a king watching nature.’

  He’d kept saying things like that at Christmas. But I knew what he meant. ‘Nature is probably the most awesome form of art.’

  He looked at me as my head lifted from his shoulder. ‘We’re going to have to remember that for an advert. I’m sure there’ll be ideas in there somewhere.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Come on. Let’s get something to eat, then we’ll walk along the bottom of the cliffs and see if we can find any Jurassic sea monsters.’

  Something to eat turned out to be a small shell of prepared crab meat, which we b
ought from one of the old huts that the fishing boats in the harbour supplied. We sat and ate on the harbour wall, watching the waves smashing up against it beneath our feet. Then we walked down on to the beach on the other side of the harbour and along beside the cliffs, where numerous fossils had been found over the years.

  ‘I heard you can break the pebbles open and there’s fossils in them.’ Jack started picking up the pebbles.

  I walked up to the cliffs. ‘Oh my God. The cliffs are warm and damp. Feel this.’ It was weirdest rock I’d ever felt.

  Jack set his palm near mine and laughed. ‘Definitely not climbing. That feels horrible.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Clay.’

  ‘It’s gross.’

  ‘Yeah. It breaks up easily. Good for finding fossils; bad for climbing.’

  The cliff was in soft layers and it just crumbled when you touched it.

  We spent hours walking along there looking for fossils but we didn’t find one.

  When we walked back, I was tired and achy but in a wonderful way. It had been a good day, even better than Christmas, because we’d talked more. We’d talked about family and friends, and all the stuff we didn’t know about each other.

  When we neared the road that would lead us back to the hotel there was a wonderful smell of frying fish in the air. I gripped Jack’s hand with both of mine. ‘Let’s not have a posh dinner, let’s have fish and chips. You have to have fish and chips at the seaside. It’s illegal not to.’

  It stirred memories of childhood holidays as we queued, following the line in the shop around.

  My tummy growled when Jack ordered cod and chips twice. I smothered mine in vinegar, then sprinkled the salt over them, then took the wrapped parcel of heaven outside to find a bench to sit on, where we could look out at the sea and eat them with our little wooden forks.

  ‘I’m going to label this one of the best moments of my life.’ I swallowed my first delicious mouthful of battered cod. ‘God, this is amazing.’

  ‘I know.’

  What followed was lots of sounds of pleasure, along with some shivers, as it was cold now the sun was disappearing beyond the horizon at the far edge of the sea. But the sunset made the moment even more magical. I added it to my bank of memories to keep.

  Jack scrunched up his empty packet. ‘That was a good call. They were the best fish and chips I’ve ever eaten.’

  I screwed my packet up, although I hadn’t eaten them all. I was full. ‘I bet you never normally eat fish and chips.’

  He smiled at me and took my packet, then threw it in a bin nearby. ‘No, but I’ll start if they taste as good as that.’

  ‘London fish and chips never taste as good as that. That is the magic of the seaside.’

  ‘Where do you want to go now? Seeing as you are into making me slum it.’

  I stuck my tongue out at him. Then pointed at a pub behind the fish-and-chip shop. ‘Let’s go in there for a pint.’

  It was an old-fashioned pub. The people at the bar looked like they had roots growing into their bar stools they were so at home in their seats, and of course Jack stood out. His clothes made him look rich. He was preened and perfect, even though he dressed down most of the time. The guys in there stared at him when he leaned on the bar and called for the bartender to serve him.

  I didn’t want trouble, but I fancied a normal drink in a normal place.

  Jack looked back at me when the barman came over. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I fancy Guinness. I’ll have a pint of Guinness.’

  Jack looked at the guy. ‘A pint of Guinness, and what local ales do you serve?’

  When he pulled out his wallet to pay, I hoped it wasn’t loaded with cash. It wasn’t the sort of place to be loaded with cash.

  We took our pints over to a table for four near the back of the pub and sat down. ‘Do you drink in places like this?’

  ‘Ivy, I’m human. Of course.’

  ‘With who?’

  ‘With the guys I climb with mainly.’

  An old couple sat next to us and we began talking to them. They had a little black poodle they’d got from a rescue place. I cuddled the poodle.

  Then someone put ‘Delilah’ on the jukebox and the pub full of people began singing along. I sang too as loudly and raucously as everyone else. Jack laughed at me, then started singing, and then we were no longer outsiders. The sing-along progressed into another song, and then another. I went and picked a couple of songs on the jukebox.

  It was fun. Normal. The pub, the conversation and the music were good and we drank three pints. It was a really good night, because it had been so spontaneous and unexpected, and when we walked out a couple of the people at the bar lifted their hands to say goodbye.

  It wasn’t far to get back to the hotel. I walked it with Jack’s arm hanging around my shoulders.

  He felt like mine and I treated him like that when we got back to the room. I climbed on top of him, with no belt to tie him up. It was just my body teasing his, my fingers, and lips and tongue, and other parts…

  ‘Hey.’ Jack’s voice woke me as his fingers stroked through my hair. ‘Do you want to go for a walk on another beach to watch the sunrise?’

  I loved Jack’s view of life, his way of life. So maybe he’d been right on Friday – I was like him in a way.

  I nodded, blinking the sleep out of my eyes to see him. It was still dark.

  I’d slept deeply. I couldn’t remember anything from the moment I’d lain down on his chest after we’d had sex until now. In fact, I’d been on top of him then so at some point he’d pushed me off on to my back. But he’d made the best mattress.

  We shared the shower, hurrying to get to the beach before the sun rose.

  He drove around the coastal road to Charmouth. It was entirely different to Lyme Regis; the sea front wasn’t built up at all and the beach wasn’t all pebbles, either.

  The sun peered over the horizon as we pulled into the car park. I yawned and stretched before we got out of the car. I’d put my walking boots on at the hotel. He changed into his with the boot of the car up.

  We walked across a bridge over a river that ran out into the sea. Ducks swam around on the clear water. Then we walked around past a closed kiosk, through the dry sand, to face miles and miles of beautiful cliffs, glowing sand and endless sea. It was a pretty view, highlighted in the first red light of dawn. The tide was right out and we walked down to the shore line, which revealed a layer of dark-grey rock, and oh my God. When I looked down at our feet, every so often there were fossils, embedded in the stone.

  ‘Wow.’ I laughed.

  ‘Look at this one.’ It was an ammonite; bigger than Jack’s boot. A wave rolled in and the last of it swilled over Jack’s foot and over the fossil.

  ‘This is amazing. I’m so glad we came down here.’

  ‘I know. Someone told me about this place when we were in the pub. But they said to get down here early, while the tide was out.’

  The only other people here were a couple who were way ahead of us in long wax jackets carrying a spade. They looked like proper fossil-hunters.

  A Jack Russell dog ran along beside them.

  ‘I’m going to have to bring Daisy here. She has to see this.’ Jack’s eyes always brightened when he spoke about his daughter. He looked at me, his hand squeezing mine. ‘I want her to meet you, but we’ll have to give it time. I can’t introduce you for a little while. When she stays over for her first weekend she’s going to meet her new grandma and granddad – that’s all arranged, but I’m taking everything slowly. We’re moving at her pace.’

  I knew nothing about kids. ‘I guess that’s wise.’

  He gave me a smile and we carried on walking.

  When we went back to the hotel we ate lunch then packed up our stuff and loaded up the car. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go back to work and my reticence was worse than after Christmas because I felt as if Jack would slip through my fingers when we were ba
ck in the office, away from another awesome place. I thought maybe it was beautiful places that made Jack like he was with me, and in the office it would change again.

  When we got to my apartment, he carried my case up for me.

  ‘Do you want to come in and stay for coffee?’

  ‘For your coffee… uh-uh, thanks, but I’ll pass.’

  ‘For anything else, then.’

  He laughed and hugged me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders. Then he kissed me, a hard press of lips, before whispering in my ear. ‘Thanks for the temptation but I need to be on my game tomorrow at work. I have some stuff to do. I’d better go. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  I caught his arm before he could turn away. ‘Please don’t ignore me tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m not going to.’

  We shared another, more amorous, kiss. Then he left me. When I’d shut the door, I called Milly and poured out all the details of the weekend.

  Someone was doing that ‘Lord of the Dance’ jig in my tummy when I woke up, I was so nervous. I’d dreamt that Jack ignored me. I’d dreamt of him in his office, refusing to look at me. I looked at my phone to check the time. Seven. It was time to get up.

  It was time to go to work and discover my fate.

  Was Jack going to be true to his word – or not?

  I rolled on to my back. There was a text on my phone, from Rick, it must have come in late last night. ‘Are you still up for a drink on Thursday night?’

  ‘Yes. Sure. No worries.’

  I got up and showered, then blow-dried my hair and did my makeup.

  Seeing as it was spring, and also maybe to prod Jack a little, I put on the chequered trousers he’d told me he liked, with a thin purple sweater that matched my hair, then slipped my feet into my black-patent heels.

  My heart thumped when I hurried downstairs. I loved that Jack was a heart-pounding guy, but I wished I didn’t have to feel afraid. I wished I had more faith in him. But then faith had to be earned and he’d kicked it away.

  ‘Ivy!’ Greg was coming out of his door.

  ‘Greg.’ I turned around.

  ‘A man was looking for you at the weekend, he didn’t give a name, but when you didn’t answer the intercom he was asking if I knew where you were. I’m sure I’ve seen him here before.’