by Krista Lakes
Since I'd seen the house while out on the beach with Jenny and Kimberly, I already knew the way to the house. I half-consciously started to lead the way. "What's your hurry?" he asked. "That eager to get me to my house?"
I stuck my tongue out at him. "All right, big guy, what else do you have in mind?"
He shrugged his shoulders. I couldn't help but notice the strength in them whenever he did that. "Have you ever checked out the shops in Old Town?"
I smiled. "Yes, we went there earlier today, as a matter of fact."
"Did you check out the surf shop? There was some surfboards with some fantastic designs on them," he said.
I shook my head. If I had seen it, I had probably just walked right past it. I had never been surfing in my life.
He grabbed my hand and smiled. "Come on!" he said, sounding like an excited five-year-old. I couldn't help but come along.
When we got to the store, it was already closed for the evening. Still, Dean pressed his face to the glass and looked at them. Even in the dim light from the street, I could see a whole wall full of surfboards. Dean pointed out a few that he liked. The ones he picked tended to be simple and super masculine. The rest were mostly beach scenery, but one in particular caught my eye. It reminded me of a watercolor painting, something that Kim would have painted.
"I love surfing," Dean said, still peering into the store. "One day, when I retire, I'm going to live on some resort island and just surf every day." He turned toward me, smiling. "How about you?" he asked.
I laughed. "I have no idea where I'll retire. I have to actually get a job to retire someday."
He laughed back at me. "I didn't mean that. I meant surfing! Do you like it?"
I crossed my arms. "I've never been."
"Never been!" he shouted, as if he had never heard something so ridiculous. "I'd love to give you a lesson sometime."
I smiled. "I'd like that."
Our eyes were locked. Dean's crystal blue eyes seemed to gleam as he delved into mine, and I just wanted to melt right into them. "For now, though, you wanted to see the house."
I fell out of the trance for a moment. "Right. The house," I said. He held my hand again and began to lead the way. Suddenly, he seemed to be walking a little faster, as if he had a purpose now.
It was a short walk to the big, blue house. As Dean stepped onto the Southern-style porch, I was just tipsy enough that I missed the last step and tripped. Dean caught me effortlessly, wrapping his strong arms around me and making sure I never hit the ground.
This close, I could smell his cologne. It was clean and fresh, like soap but with a super masculine undertone. His heat was wonderful against my skin, sending little pangs of hot desire deep into my core. His face came close to mine as he made sure I was steady on my feet. For half a heartbeat, I was sure he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me more than anything. Our lips were so close that I could feel his breath, and I leaned forward, silently begging him to kiss me.
But he simply gave me that infuriating smile and pulled away.
He didn't let me go until he was sure I was relatively stable, but I shot him an evil glare. I had wanted that kiss. He simply continued to give me that impish grin as he grabbed my hand and led me inside the giant house.
The inside was just as beautiful as the outside. The wooden floors creaked as we crept past heavy white wooden furniture with comfortable-looking cushions and giant painted seascapes to a big open kitchen. Dean let go of my hand for a moment. The disconnection almost seemed to cause me physical pain, even though he only did it to open the fridge and get us drinks. I wandered across the wooden floor until I came to a couch facing the large window overlooking the beach. The moon was starting to rise, casting a magical glow across the white sand.
I flinched as a purple and gold top went flying past my head, followed by a giggle. Looking down over the couch, I could see arms and legs of two people, along with the tattoo that we had heard Jenny admire. Color rushed into my cheeks. I backed away slowly, and Jenny and Matt never even noticed me, but I still couldn't get the blush off my face. I made my way into the kitchen where Dean grabbed my hand and hurried me to the foot the stairs. Moans of pleasure started to come from the couch, and the two of us giggled as we sneaked up the stairs. The dark seemed warm and inviting, caressing the two of us like clandestine lovers.
Dean guided me carefully down a hallway and into a room. He hit the light switch, and I instinctively closed my eyes as the light blinded me. When I opened them up again, I surveyed the room. The king-sized bed dominated the space, but the wicker furniture was comfortable-looking and reflected the easy style of the beach outside. Dean held up a bottle of champagne with two champagne flutes in one hand, condensation already collecting on the cold glass. He headed toward two big French doors.
He threw them open, the sea air filling the room as it came in off the ocean. I turned off the light, letting the soft glow of the moon transform the room into something romantic and wonderful. Dean set the glasses on a dresser near the doors, pointing the champagne cork out toward the water. The pop as he released it made me jump, the satisfying rush of endorphins making the night that much better.
With a delightful flair, Dean handed me a glass of the bubbling golden liquid. I bit my lip with anticipation as he raised his glass in a toast, his voice warm and seductive in the moonlight.
"To meeting new friends."
"To meeting new friends," I echoed, my own voice somehow more sensual in the moonlight. The bubbles tickled my nose as I took a sip. The ocean air blew softly through my hair. Dean stepped closer, our bodies inches apart and yearning with need. He set his glass on the balcony, his hand then finding its way to the small of my back so that he could draw me in to him.
His eyes shone as if the stars themselves burned within. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine. The sensation made my spine feel like it was made of champagne, bubbly and ready to float away. I pressed my lips against his, begging for a better taste. He opened his mouth, the effervescence of champagne permeating my senses. I smiled as I moaned softly. All I wanted was to drink his champagne kisses.
Dean's hands flew all over me, touching me in places I hadn't been touched in quite a while. I felt the lust coursing through his body as he tugged at my shirt, and I wanted more. I wanted it so badly that I found myself jumping up and wrapping my legs around him before he even had the chance to remove my shirt. His hands grabbed me around the waist and held me up as we passionately kissed each other. My fingers went to the bottom of his ripped t-shirt, pulling it over his head.
There was that chiseled form that I had admired at the beach. He was muscular but not overly so. "Strong" was the word that I was searching for. He held me up with ease, his strong arms supporting me with no problem whatsoever. I reveled in the feeling of his chest, feeling those strong muscles. My fingers went to my own shirt, pulling that over my head as well. It wasn't long before I had my bra off as well.
Dean lifted me even higher. I ran my nails across his upper back and shoulders as his mouth went to my breasts, kissing them hungrily. He began to walk over to the bed, which required quite a bit of talent, since he had been drinking and he couldn't see where he was going. I squealed with laughter as his legs bumped into the bed and he slowly let me down. As I hit the sheets, I unwrapped my legs from around him.
I didn't waste a moment. I leaned up, undoing the belt on his jeans immediately. As I unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down, I saw the bulge in his briefs. I froze up while looking at it, and he chuckled and pulled his pants the rest of the way off.
He knelt in front of me, grabbing my leg in his hand. As his kissed traveled upward, I lay back down on the bed.
"I think I've died and gone to heaven," I said.
"Not yet," he said, kissing even further up my leg. When he reached the bottom of my skirt, he slowly hiked it up, bringing it up past my underwear. I had worn a thong, the first I had ever owned, and I already felt naked as soon as
he could see it. He continued nibbling his way, tasting me, his lips touching every spot where the fabric ended and my skin began.
His tongue found my nub, and he began to lick over my panties. The alcohol still in my system made me lose control quick, and I found myself writhing underneath his touches immediately. I thought that this was as good as it got in life. That was before he pulled the fabric of my thong to the side, licking directly on my sensitive sex.
My world seemed to fall away from underneath me, and I found myself quickly rising toward an orgasm. The way his stubble rubbed against me, the cool air of the night, and the steady and rhythmic pressure against my body drove me to the brink quickly. I grabbed onto Dean's head as I found myself falling off the edge, moaning as my orgasm took over my muscles, making them twitch with delight.
Dean continued to lick me, but then he stood up. The last piece of his clothes, his briefs, were off of him, and I marveled at his naked body in front of me. The V-line of his muscles headed toward his groin was simply spectacular. Truly, an Adonis stood before me.
He quickly pulled my skirt and thong off, then slowly moved on top of me, kissing me deeply. I could feel his manhood pressing against my inner thigh. He pulled the hair from my ear. "I want you," he said.
I shuddered with pleasure at his breath in my ear, and my eyes closed. "I want you too. Take me," I said. I felt him shift, felt him approach my opening.
"Wait!" I cried out, my eyes shooting back open. He looked at me with barely-contained lust. "Don't you have a condom?"
He hesitated. "Aren't you on the pill?" he asked.
I nodded quickly, and he seemed to take that as permission to continue. He moved even closer. I closed my eyes, and in my inebriated state, I almost let him...
"Stop, Dean. Put on a condom," I said.
He frowned, then smiled. "You're right, of course. I got a little carried away. Thanks." He immediately got up. I watched his muscular body walk across the room and root around in a nearby duffel bag. I definitely checked out his ass as he bent over to search. Finally, he pulled out a square package.
I smiled as I watched him unroll the condom onto his fully erect penis. As he crawled back onto my body, I let him know just how I felt about his responsibility by spreading my legs even wider. I knew I was extremely wet; I had wanted this all night.
He entered my temple slowly, and I wrapped my arms around him as he filled me. He slowly pumped into me as he looked in my eyes, obviously searching for a sign that I was enjoying myself. I searched his face, biting my lip and writhing under his solid body.
I watched his biceps flex as he moved his body back and forth. His pecs hardened as he positioned himself for maximum pleasure. I even stole a glance behind him, watching that ass of his as he moved up and down, undulating like a snake. Everything about Dean turned me on, and when those piercing blue eyes met mine, I felt like I could melt there in his arms.
Suddenly, he grabbed my hips in his hands and rolled to one side. The bed was big enough that there was no way we could fall off, but I still screamed as I felt the butterflies in my stomach. Dean stayed within me as he rolled, and soon I was on top of him. I leaned up, intending to give him a show, but his strong hands went to my shoulders, pulling me back down on top of him.
He began to thrust upwards into me, and I was trapped against his muscular chest. He moved into me quickly, a grimace forming on his face. He started slowing down, as if he didn't want this to be over yet. He seemed to relax a little bit, as if he was backing away from his orgasm, and he let go of me so that I could take charge. I arched my back, grinding against him, giving him the most pleasure that I could.
The grimace returned, but he didn't try to stop me. Instead, he grabbed my hips and moved at my tempo. I watched as a light sheen of sweat formed on his skin. He locked eyes with me, and then he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. His strong hands gripped me even harder, and I knew I'd have a couple of bruises. I didn't care. I cried out louder than ever as I felt him jerk under me, finally finding release.
A few moments later, I stopped grinding. I felt myself falling onto his sweaty chest, putting my ear against it and listening to his racing heartbeat. His breathing returned to normal, and soon his heart rate slowed as well. I laid there, enjoying the feeling of this strong man underneath me. He pulled out of me, quickly tying the condom up and throwing it to the floor. His hands immediately returned to my back, his fingernails rubbing up and down my spine. Every touch from him sent tingles through me.
I raised my head from its place on his chest, and looked him in the eye. I had been in this position before, and I'd always felt embarrassed, like I should get dressed quickly. Not this time, though. This time, I felt like this was where I belonged. I felt like it was right.
Dean must have felt right too. "Hey, Rachel."
"Hey, Dean," I quickly said back to him.
"Would you go surfing with me tomorrow morning? The swells are supposed to be amazing on this coast," he said, sounding a little sheepish.
I smiled at him. "You mean you don't want this to be a one-night stand?" I asked.
He shrugged, then threw on a cocky grin. "I mean, I'm here for another few days, and I like you just fine."
I rolled my eyes. "I guess I'm around for a few days as well, and I like you just fine too."
He smiled and closed his eyes. "Good." Like tons of other men, it seemed like he was about to roll over and fall asleep.
I rolled off of his muscular body and snuggled up next to him, using his arm as a pillow. "Since I'm going to be surfing so early in the morning, I might as well spend the night here," I said.
"Might as well," he said. Then, he really surprised me. He turned toward me and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. A man had never done that to me.
We were both completely spent, totally sweaty, and closer than either of us had ever been with another person.
Chapter 5
Present Day
Half of a turkey sandwich stared up at me, daring me to eat it, but I just couldn't find the appetite. I had eaten the first half, and had even enjoyed it, but my aching heart was taking up all the space in my body and I just didn't have room to fit the sandwich. I pushed the food away, the plate making a soft grating noise along the wood table.
The Saunders family portrait stared out at me from across the table. It was one from when the two boys were young. Dean stood next to his father, his hair neat and eyes bright. Robbie, his younger brother, sat on his mother's knee. Despite the outward calm of the picture, I remembered running around trying to catch Robbie to make his hair lay flat for the picture. He had run around the studio like a wild child, eventually tripping and scraping his knee. I could see the edge of the bandage poking out from beneath his shorts.
The table vibrated. I looked askance at the plate, wondering if I had angered the turkey sandwich gods by not eating it; I hadn't pushed it that hard when the tabled buzzed again. Shaking my head at my thoughts, I picked up my phone and the table stopped humming. It was a number I didn't recognize, but that was common enough with my work phone.
"Rachel Weber, how may I help you?"
"Hi Rachel. It's Robbie. I, uh... I need you to come get me." Robbie's voice crackled over the line. His words slurred together just enough that I knew he had been drinking. I sighed. When Robbie was on land, he was always drinking. Some days I was glad he was on his boat just because I knew that meant he was sober. Robbie had a strict rule that he never, ever sailed drunk.
"All right. Where are you? I'll send a car." If I knew Robbie, he was at the bar by the marina in a small town a couple of hours north of the Saunders' mansion. I had picked him up there more than once, to the point where the owner knew my car on sight.
Robbie stayed silent for a moment. "I'm actually gonna need you to come get me. Not just send a car." Uh-oh. This wasn't going to be an easy bar-run.
"Where are you, Robbie?" I managed to keep my voice even. Getting angry with him never worked. It was because I ke
pt calm that he trusted me. There was a reason he never called his mother or brother to get him. It meant several three-o'clock in the morning phone calls, but at least that also meant that he always told me the truth.
"Winchester..." Robbie said. "in the county jail."
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Some days I just didn't know what to do with him.
"Why are you in jail, Robbie? Please tell me it's for something minor." I had bailed him out a couple of times, usually for public intoxication or finishing a bar fight. He always finished a fight, even though he never seemed to start them. Please let it be just a little bar fight...
"I hit someone with my yacht. I technically had the right of way, but.." his voice trailed off.
"But what, Robbie?" I began rubbing my temple with my free hand. Please, don't have killed anyone! Please, please, please...
"I was drinking. That's why I'm in lockup."
Shock went through me like ice water. Robbie hit someone with his boat because he was drinking? But Robbie never drank and sailed. That was like saying he could breathe underwater. It just wasn't something he could do. The fact that he was drinking and sailing startled me more than if he had said he had accidentally killed them.
"You were sailing drunk?" I couldn't believe the words could even come out of my mouth. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dean step into the kitchen and pull the milk out of the fridge. I found myself focusing on his smooth movements, my brain refusing to believe what it had just heard and instead focusing on something it could understand. Dean carefully screwed the lid back on and put the jug away, leaning casually against the counter as he sipped on the glass. I could tell he was waiting for me to get off the phone, but I didn't care if he overheard my phone conversation. He knew all the trouble Robbie had been in up to this point.
"Yes. Listen, this is my one phone call. Will you please come get me? And don't tell Dad. He already thinks I'm a screw-up." Disappointment and failure rang through his voice. My heart sagged in my chest. Their relationship was difficult at best. Telling a dying man that his youngest son was in jail was not something I wanted to do.