by Laura Day
Last night was just wrong. It had to be. But Sarah’s situation aside, he knew he had needed it, too. And Goddamn it if she hadn’t been something else. She was like a dirtier, hungrier version of Angie with a sexual intensity that almost matched his own. And the muscle control, Christ!
As he allowed himself to get lost in the memories of the night before, he noticed a certain part of him seemed to have fond memories, as well. Of course, the fact that the part in question was now suds covered and had somehow managed to get into the palm of his hand might have helped a bit. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander deeper into the happenings of the night before.
Soon, his thoughts made it back to the present, as he wondered if she was still asleep. What would her reaction be if he slipped into the bed beside her? The alcohol out of her system, would she still be willing? With his dick now fully into the what ifs, he found himself completely lost in a fantasy second round. Consequently, he never heard the bathroom door open, not to mention the shower curtain slide to the side.
“Can I help?”
He jumped quickly, almost losing his footing and crashing to the floor of the shower. He spun around when he saw Sarah smiling at him, embarrassed at being caught in the act.
“Jesus!”
She laughed as politely as possible, but laughed just the same. It was the last thing any man would want with a raging hard on. Plus, The Admiral had feelings for crying out loud. He looked back at her over his shoulder, both hands trying to cover his embarrassment even though there was no way she could have seen it anyway.
“I think we ought to talk about last night,” he said.
“If it’s all the same, why don’t we talk later,” she answered, smiling still. With his back turned to her, Derrick heard the shower curtain slide back to its closed position. Relieved, he let a sigh escape him and turned back toward the running water, expecting to see nothing but her shadow on the other side of the curtain. When he saw her standing naked in the shower in front of him, he again had to steady himself to keep his wet feet from slipping out from underneath him. His hands immediately went back to full cupping position.
“I thought you said we would talk later,” he managed weakly.
“We will,” she teased, “but I didn’t come to talk.”
“Oh.”
She stepped toward him, one hand wiping the water from his lips, the other quickly finding and removing his hands from in front of him. The question of how she would feel about the night before was quickly answered as far as he was concerned. As her hand found its way below his shaft and squeezed his balls, she planted a soft kiss on his lips.
“I am not my sister,” she said quietly, as she looked into his eyes. “I just…well, I need this. That’s all. And, I think you do, too.”
“Yea,” he said, “I know.”
“Good.”
Apparently, that would be all the talking that was required. Steadying herself, her hands slowly slid down his sides and then his legs. When she stopped, she was kneeling before him. He looked down at her, so sweet, so sexy, so fucking sexy. She glanced up long enough to make eye contact briefly. As one of her hands wrapped around the base of his dick, she smiled up at him. Then, as she closed her eyes, she opened her mouth and allowed it to slide over his dick, slowly taking it all into her mouth. He could feel the tip of it touching the back of her throat, then sliding slightly further with less difficulty than he had ever imagined. No one had ever been able to do this before, ever. There was always that gagging sound, and then his dick would find itself barely halfway inside the girl’s mouth, as she seemed to be afraid of choking on it.
Effortlessly, she rocked her head forward and back, his dick sliding into her throat and then back out again. She would stop just before the head would reach her lips and then make it plunge back inside again. Oh, sweet fuck, this was incredible! He found the wall with one hand and grabbed the shower rod with the other to steady himself, as she fucked him with her mouth. He wanted to push her away, to make her stop before he came, but he couldn’t make himself. There was doubt this was going to end quickly, as much as he wanted it to last. It was the most incredible thing he had ever felt. Her mouth was like a vacuum, a sweet, cock-sucking vacuum.
“I’m gonna…” he tried, but it was all he got out before the words turned into a deep guttural moan. As he felt the cum shoot into her mouth, she slowly backed away, her tongue trailing the length of his shaft from underneath. As it slid out of her mouth, he managed to open his eyes and look down at her. She was looking up at him, the tip of his dick still resting against her lips. And as her tongue came up and licked over the very tip, she caught the last drop of his offering.
He felt her hand again grip the base of his dick, tighter than before. With the precision of a goddess, she cupped his balls in her free hand and began stroking his dick. She loosened her grip as she sucked deeply, like a thick chocolate malt through a straw. As her lips reached the end of his dick, her hand would tighten at its base and she would let him slide back into her mouth. Dear God, she was milking the damn thing.
Avoiding the very end, recognizing how sensitive it was after an orgasm, she worked it brilliantly. The process of going limp stopped in its tracks. In a matter of minutes, it was back to its former glory, raging and ready. This, too, was something new for Derrick. Apparently, she wasn’t done with him just yet.
Grasping his hips with her hands, she rose to her feet, turning slightly as she did. With her ass pushed back against him, she turned toward the wall, pulling him after her by his hips. She spread her legs enough to allow him entry from behind without making him bend his knees too much.
Looking back over her shoulder, she whispered two words to him, “Like this.” Then, she placed her hands on the wall above her.
Derrick needed no more instruction. He knew she wanted him inside her again, and he was more than happy to oblige. The Admiral was at full salute again and ready for action. Anchors away, mother fucker. As he grabbed her by the hips and stepped closer, he felt her pelvis rotate slightly, her pussy rising to allow entry even easier. He reached between her legs and slid two fingers across her slit, noticing instantly that she was ready.
He placed his face against the back of her neck. As he licked his fingers directly behind her ear, a light moan escaped his mouth. She tilted her head slightly, as his tongue slide from his fingers to her neck. While he lightly nipped the back of her ear with his teeth, he could still taste her pussy in his mouth.
Expertly, he placed his feet between hers, and with a slight bend of the knees, found the waiting opening between her legs. As he drove his dick inside of her, it forced her firmly against the shower wall. As he straightened his legs to get as deep inside of her as he could, she was lifted to her toes, almost completely off of the bottom of the shower. She had her head turned to the left, her right cheek against the wet tile.
As he filled her tight, wet pussy with his shaft, he could see the mixed look of pain and pleasure on her face. It was absolutely breathtaking. His hands found their way around her sides, each grabbing an ample breast and squeezing with each thrust. Tighter and tighter, he squeezed, as she passed the point where pain no longer hurt but was replaced by rapturous ecstasy.
When the risk of slipping and sending them both crashing painfully to the floor reached a maximum, he turned her and led her down onto her knees without letting his dick come all the way out of her tight pussy. When she was safely on her hands and knees in front of him, he again found his rhythm. He pulled her toward him by her hips, as he thrust himself inside of her, trying to reach deeper than ever before. The water from the shower fell on them unnoticed, as he fucked her from behind. His balls swung and slapped hard against her clit repeatedly.
By the time he approached his second climax, she had all but collapsed on the shower floor. Spent from her own dick-gripping orgasm, her arms had become useless. While he held her ass firmly in place, giving her the pounding she needed, her head rested on the
shower floor, somewhat stifling her grateful moans.
Derrick reached the point of no return almost instantly when he felt her hand reach between her own legs and squeeze his balls tightly. One last thrust, accompanied by a surprisingly loud and victorious cry left him spent. As she rose back onto her hands, he leaned forward across her back. His dick, finally allowed to retire for the moment, slowly slipped out of her and fell across his drained balls.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly. They still had a lot to talk about, where she fit in with him and his son, where they fit into her life, but they would talk about all that later. Right now, they were simply finding some sort of peace. That would be enough for now.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Eighteen months later
Derrick opened one of the boxes quickly, using his key as a knife to split the packing tape which joined the two cardboard flaps. Green packing peanuts flipped up into the air before falling quietly back onto their cousins in the box. He thrust his hand down into the peanuts and retrieved one of the books. He held it in front of him and stared wide-eyed at the cover, smiling as he felt the tears threatening to breach.
“They’re here!” he called into the bedroom.
“I’m coming!” came the distant, but clearly excited reply.
Sarah joined him at the kitchen table, first retrieving one of the books for herself. They both hesitated briefly, admiring the cover which showed a picture of the surf in the evening. The waves crashed on the beach as dark clouds loomed on the horizon, allowing only a single ray of bright if not blinding sunlight to peak through the clouds. In bold print across the face of the picture were the words, THEY WILL HEAL by Angie Baker.
They had taken her stories and put them together into a book. And though they had read each of the stories many times, the sight of them together like this, with her name on it, was just perfect. As if some unspoken clue had been given, they both opened the book in their hands and started to read.
Lori knew she was going to die. In fact, she had known for quite some time. But though she had come to peace with this, she still had something to do before she could go. The gods apparently agreed, for the hand of fate, while forever hovering above her just out of reach, waited patiently.
The one thing which had always plagued her dreams, aside from the knowledge she would not live to be eighty, of course, was a great concern for those in her life, those near, and those far. And as the time she knew was coming began to draw nearer, she knew she had to connect the dots, so to speak. She had to bring them all together in some way, so they would be able to lean on each other as they healed from their pain, drawing strength for her memory and from each other.
The details surrounding her death would not come to light for quite some time, but those who she loved would know her love for them. They would feel it in the ocean breeze, they would see it in the starlit sky above the ocean she loved so dearly. Certainly, they would know how she died. Undoubtedly police reports, or most likely an accident report if she was to trust what she believed to be true for her, would tell the manner in which the spirit actually left the physical plane, but that was really of little importance in the grand scheme of things as she saw it.
No, Lori saw it from a different perspective. She would go so they could heal, not from the pain of her passing, though they would depend on each other for that as well, but from the pain which had followed them since long before. They would honor her by honoring each other. Their love would grow, enhanced by the love they shared for her, for her memory. In that, she would live forever, finally coming to know the peace she had for so long desired.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sarah Baker sat at the computer desk, trying to get the words to fall into place on the screen, but she wasn’t having much luck today. Michael had proven to be a handful since he jumped out of bed – not crawled out of bed, mind you. The little scamp literally jumped out of the bed, hitting the floor in a dead run, and he had been going ninety to nothing ever since. He had awakened his little sister almost immediately, seemingly unaware that she would need hands on attention from the moment she was taken out of the crib.
They hadn’t considered naming her anything else, so Angie it was since the day at the doctor’s office when they first learned Sarah was pregnant. Derrick’s brother had seemed a little concerned, but then again, he had been concerned since the beginning. They couldn’t really blame him though. Theirs was an unlikely situation, and there was no denying that.
She had hoped to get a little work done before they had to leave, but the kids running – Michael running, Angie chasing him in one of those plastic seats with the wheels – had not really allowed much room for concentration. The romance novel would need to be worked on tomorrow.
“Michael,” she called from her study, already turning the computer off. But there was nothing but silence in return. Dear God, what is he into now? “Michael!” she called again, this time intentionally letting him know she knew he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing, the way mothers always did.
“Yes?” his little voice, the sweet, innocent one came from behind her. She turned to see him in his Batman shorts…on his head, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Get dressed, boy. We have to get ready.”
“K!” And he was off again, feet slamming on the hallway floor, his bedroom door slamming against the wall inside his room. Bam!
“Michael!”
“Sorry!”
Angie cooed beside her, smiling at unknown jokes that were clearly spoken in the language only babies knew. It was almost the same language some adults used trying to talk to them, but it was clearly an entirely different dialect. Hoochey knoochey koo. Whoobebeebop? Whobadeebop? Yea, that ridiculousness. As if somehow they were channeling their inner child or some shit.
The baby laughed excitedly when her mother picked her up and headed for the changing table. Exactly 3.7 minutes later, missing a new record by only two seconds, Angie was changed and dressed. Michael in the other hand, she doubted.
“You better be dressed, Michael,” she called playfully, as she carried the younger of the two down the hallway. Michael jumped into view from his room, landing sideways in the hallway, his best TA-DA look on his face. She laughed. Well, he was dressed…mostly, anyway.
“Shoes?” she asked.
“Oh, yes!” And he was gone again into his bedroom, quickly throwing toys and clothes through the air. Some made their way to the hallway, some landed on bed, the lamp, and the floor. “Got ‘em.”
“Well, get them on and come into the kitchen,” she said.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked skipping into the kitchen, hopping on one foot, the other suspended beside him, as he tried to slide the shoe over his heel.
“He’s meeting us at the beach,” she answered, grabbing the small cooler, already packed with water and Juicy Juice packets. “He’s probably there now asking himself just what could be taking us sooo long.”
“We can tell him it was Angie’s fault,” he said with his patented sly grin. It was entirely too cute for his own good now, but it would be especially cute when he got older, 16, 17, and God forbid, 21.
“We will do no such thing, little man.” He rolled his head back, laughing at this. He loved it when she called him little man. It tickled him in a way that nothing else did. She grabbed the car keys and opened the door.
“Ready?’
“Ready!”
“Coo!”
Just 20 minutes later, Sarah sat with Derrick on the blanket, Michael artfully building a sand castle in front of them, and little Angie sleeping in the umbrella covered playpen beside them. The short beach was deserted except for them and the two men fishing almost a mile down the beach. For all practical purposes, they were alone. This was as it usually was.
The beach ran no more than three miles in length. It ended to the north at the beginning of a short cliff and on the south end by the beginnings of a marina. The marina
got larger as one went further south, growing over time, and stretching further away from the beach as it did.
This was their beach. To their left, about halfway between where they always spread the blanket out on the sand was the old wooden pier she had grown to love so much before. She still occasioned it at times, a notebook and a couple of black Gel II ink pens with her. Before, she would come here and just sit on the end of the pier, searching for…well, for him. As it turned out, her heart hoped to find someone…ok, hoped to find him. She had felt it, felt him, when she was with her sister.
Now, when she ventured to the pier alone, she could feel Angie, as she whispered in her hair, holding her, loving her. The words would come easily, drifting off the coastal winds into her heart. She knew the sacrifice her sister had made, perhaps not intentionally, but in her heart. It was sadly beautiful. All her happiness she owed to Angie.