by Juniper Bell
“Oh, no, you don’t. This…” she pushed him back down on his bench, “…is about you.”
“It is?”
“On one condition.” She drew the coat off her shoulders, and her golden skin glowed in the dim light of the fish house.
“I’m not going to change my mind,” he said, remembering the condition he’d given to her.
“The condition is…” She dropped her coat onto the floor and stood in her rubber boots. How could rubber boots be sexy? He had no idea, but they were. The brown rubber made her skin look like smooth ivory. The boots were muddy, and a splotch of mud had splashed onto her thigh as well. All it did was accentuate the softness of her skin. He wanted to lick it off, like chocolate. She continued, “I get to do whatever I want.”
“Whatever?” He experienced a flash of nerves. Was Chloe about to make him pay for everything that had been done to her?
“Whatever.” Amber eyes, glinting with excitement, lit up the dingy fish house like the beam of the lighthouse. Did he have a choice? Did he want a choice? This was gentle Chloe, transformed into an avenging goddess. If she chose him to work out her demons, he’d count himself lucky. He’d go wherever she led.
“I’m all yours.” He raised his hands in a gesture that gave over all control to this stunning apparition. For a crazy moment, he wondered what his great-grandfather, who had built this fish house, would say. Then again, what red-blooded man could resist? Already his cock surged.
Chloe, naked but for her boots, strolled around the bench to stand behind him. He tried to turn to face her, but she stopped him. Instead, she pulled at the lapels of his flannel work jacket. He shrugged it off his shoulders to make it easier for her to strip him. Once he was naked to the waist, she ran her hands down the front of his chest, and pressed her breasts against his back. The tips were like hot diamonds, hard and alive. He felt her rubbing them back and forth against the ridges along his spine, and his hands twitched with the need to touch those aroused points. But she moved her hands to his arms and held them against his side.
“Whatever I want, remember?”
“Oh, I remember. What can I do for you, my goddess?”
“I’m going to unzip your jeans now,” she murmured in his ear.
Her tiny hands danced over the front of his jeans. There went his button, and the zipper. And there went her hand, latching onto his springing cock. He groaned.
“You like that?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Immediately her hand withdrew. Disappointment swept through him, and he closed his eyes in misery. Apparently she was going to torture him. A sweet sensation on the tip of his cock made him jump. He opened his eyes to see Chloe’s pale head nestled between his legs. She was kneeling on his jacket. And her mouth, that beautiful pair of full lips, caressed the tip of his penis.
“Oh my God,” he heard himself say.
She drew back. “You have to let me do whatever I want, remember? I never got to just, explore, you know?”
“Ex-plore. A-way.” Had it ever been this hard to get two words out? They were going to be the last words out of him for a while. If she needed to explore, he was all for it. But he would need all his concentration to keep from bursting into her mouth like a popped water balloon. She drew down his jeans and boxers. He sat bare-assed on the bench while she settled between his legs. Like some kind of curious archeologist, she began with her fingers, letting them wander over his cock and along the skin of his thighs. As if weighing them, she lifted his heavy balls in her hands. The sight of her white hands against the dark red of his balls almost made him lose it right then and there.
Gritting his teeth, he decided the visuals would be too much for him, so he fixed his gaze on the window that looked out over the bay. There’s Billy out on his boat, probably pulling up crab pots for his dinner. Two curious fingers were now walking up the underside of his penis. It jumped about a foot in response. Billy really ought to fix that stabilizer sail. Next time I see him, I gotta remember to… Oh God, now her fingers were probing the tip of his cock. Something warm and wet licked at the tip, where he knew moisture seeped out. He risked a look down. There was Chloe’s pink tongue lapping at his cock, like a kitten at a bowl of cream. She licked her lips with an innocent look.
“Does this feel good?”
A strangled moan was all he could muster.
“Your penis is wonderful. It’s so clean and straight. And such a pretty color. It has a personality, you know.”
“Yeah?” A word. He mentally patted himself on the back. The fact that she just held him, no longer teasing him with her tongue, helped matters.
“Just like you. A stand-up guy. Straightforward. Direct. Trustworthy.” She squeezed her hand around him, while he tried to focus on her words.
“Someone else would have attacked me by now. You’d like to come, wouldn’t you?” With one hand, she cuddled his balls, and with the other, fisted his cock.
Digging deep, he ground out an answer. “Someday, maybe.”
“But you’re holding yourself back, so I can explore.”
He nodded, as she put her mouth to his cock again. The holding back part was getting a little dicey right about now.
“You don’t have to hold back. I want you to come.” And those were her last words before she wrapped her lips around the purple, bursting head of his cock. One hand still held him, and that hand worked in tandem with her mouth. Rhythm and suction sent the blood draining from his head, and a drumbeat pounding through his body. The thick silk of her hair fell against her cheek and cascaded against his penis. He thought of all the times he’d watched that hair flying in the wind, as Chloe rode her bike, or stood on the wharf on a windy day. The scent of it, like sweet apples, rose into the musty fish house.
Could this be happening? Was Dustin MacDougal really sitting bare-assed on his work bench, thighs apart, jeans around his ankles, surrounded by buoys, coils of rope, and broken lobster traps, while the fragile fairy Chloe Barnes sucked him off? Her mouth sure wasn’t fragile. It tugged at him greedily, while her little fairy hands fondled his balls. He wanted to dig his hands into her waterfall of hair, but he was afraid of ripping it out by the roots in his frenzy. Instead, he gripped the rough wood of his workbench and thrust his hips forward into that hot cave.
Harder and harder she sucked at him, the walls of her mouth urging him on, her tongue swirling around the burning tip, calling for the volcano to erupt.
And when it did, when red-hot lava exploded into her mouth, she didn’t hesitate. He made a move to pull out, but she held onto his buttocks with a grip that wouldn’t let him go anywhere. So he let himself go, let that powerful geyser burst out of him. Spasms wracked his body as smooth throat muscles gripped his penis and swallowed the endless stream of liquid. Dustin felt his hips vibrate, his cock suspended in midair, pulsing its load into her beautiful lips. A primal cry echoed through the fish house. His own voice, wrested from his throat, divorced from any control he’d ever had over it.
After she sucked his cock dry, to its very roots, he slumped back on the bench. Chloe still kneeled on his jacket, her skin gleaming against the forest green of her open coat. He closed his legs just enough to cuddle her between them. She lifted her head, and he thought he’d never seen anything as beautiful as those wet lips smiling shyly at him.
“That was exactly what I wanted to do. Thanks.”
He stroked his hand down the cascading champagne of her hair, and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “Do you mind if I ask you why?”
“I wanted to know what it felt like to choose. And your penis is beautiful.” She held it in her hand like a seashell she’d gathered. Still half hard, it twitched in her hand.
“He likes you too. He’s thinking of ditching me and hanging around with you from now on.”
“Oh no, that wouldn’t work at all. I want the hands that go with it.” One of her hands left his crotch to travel up his body. “And this strong chest, with that odd scar. Fish hook?�
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“Yep.”
“I want to know your whole body. Everything about it. Does that sound weird?”
Did he care? “Nothing you could do or say would seem weird to me. I figure there’s a method to your madness.”
“All I want is a man’s body that I can play with, that will give me pleasure, that won’t scare me or hurt me. That’s it.” She took his hands and placed them on her breasts. The nipples teased the palms of his hands. His cock rose again, and he looked down in amazement.
“You seem to have a willing volunteer on your hands. Your orders, ma’am?”
“Oh, no. This time, I’m putting myself in your hands.”
He stared down at her, into the darkened depths of her honey eyes. The expression he saw there rocked his world. Trust. This beautiful, wounded goddess trusted him.
Chapter Six
Still snuggled between Dustin’s legs, Chloe looked into his midnight-blue eyes. She noticed how black his eyelashes were. Everything about him was so definite. Strong cheekbones, firm lips. Creases at the corners of his eyes from squinting over the water. And from using that dry sense of humor. Straight nose. Sturdy, powerful body, his muscles earned the hard way, by hours, months, years of labor. This was a man who didn’t hide who he was. He was a fisherman, a working man, and proud of it. She couldn’t imagine Dustin pretending to be anything he wasn’t. Not like Andrew, who presented himself as the gilded child of destiny, hiding the twisted needs inside. And not like her, who pretended it didn’t matter what was done to her body, when inside she was dying.
But when she was with Dustin, that strange thing that used to happen, when part of her separated from her body and floated above, never did. She felt at one with herself, strong, healthy…lusty. And she saw an answering lust flame in his eyes. He stood up and refastened his jeans. After pulling her to her feet, he closed her coat.
“I’m going to recommend that we get out of here and continue this somewhere else,” he said. “It’s getting close to cocktail hour, which doubles as Gary’s wake-up call.”
“Gary?”
“My occasional stern man. That occasion being when he’s low on cash. Or low on liquor would be another way to put it. Anyway, I’d rather not risk a run-in with him, not with you around. Everyone on Bellhaven will have a full report by dawn tomorrow. The safest place is probably on my boat. You game?”
Chloe nodded. What would Andrew think about what had just happened with Dustin? What would he do if he found out? She shivered at the thought.
Dustin picked up a hooded sweatshirt and handed it to her. “You’ll need more layers out on the boat.”
The sweatshirt was dark gray, with white letters reading Maine Maritime Academy, and it smelled like Dustin, ocean-fresh and salty. She breathed in its fragrance as she pulled it over her head.
“It’s a good thing I have clothes on hand for the naked ladies who show up on my doorstep,” he said as her head reemerged. And then, quickly, “Not that it’s ever happened before.”
“I can’t imagine why not. You’re a hunk, you know. When we were little, all the girls liked you.”
Rummaging through his gear, he surfaced with a set of oilskins and a skeptical look. “Yeah, right.”
“You didn’t know? We all had crushes on you.” The flabbergasted look on his face amused her.
“Chloe Barnes had a crush on me? You couldn’t have given me a clue?”
She giggled. “There is a clue. It’s still there, parked behind the headboard of my bed. Remember that Bazooka gum you gave me?”
“When you hurt your leg? Sure. You saved it?”
“You were so sweet to me.” Her face warmed with a blush. Had she told him something too embarrassing? That gum had made her trust him back then, and helped her trust him now.
“Sweet on you is more like it. My father teased me for a month after that. Look.”
He kneeled to peer under the bench, and she followed. There, chiseled into the old wood, was the name Klowee, surrounded by a heart. “I didn’t know how to spell it. But I knew how I felt.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked at the word. So innocent, so boyish. No way had Andrew ever carved a heart around anyone’s name. She turned to Dustin and threw her arms around his solid body. “Thank you.”
“For being a lovesick kid?”
“For showing me. For being here. For being who you are.”
She felt him stroke her hair. “What I am is a lucky bastard.”
Dustin rowed her to his boat in a weather-beaten dinghy that had only a few traces of its original blue paint. She’d left her wool coat at the fish house and instead wore a complete suit of oilskins over the sweatshirt and sweatpants Dustin had found for her. The rhythm of the oars was so soothing, she almost hated for the ride to end. She loved watching him row, patiently dipping the oars into the water over and over, pulling against the current so the little boat skimmed across the surface. So many people in her world were in such a hurry. Dustin took his time, giving each stroke of the oars his full attention. Just as he had given her his full attention. She began to feel the rhythm in her own body, her blood surging, and desire building with each stroke.
As they reached the boat, she frowned at the name painted on the stern. “Lisa May?”
He shrugged. “She’s the mother of my kid. And Brian likes it.”
“You’re on good terms? How did you handle custody?” This was her biggest fear about the divorce.
“The best we could. He’s better off in town for school. But he loves it out here in the summers. Let me help you up.”
Summers. If Andrew won custody, could she handle only seeing the girls during for summers? No. The thought was unbearable. She pushed it aside, and took Dustin’s hand. He helped her climb on board the Lisa May. Now that she knew his reason, she loved the fact that he hadn’t changed the name. It showed loyalty to his ex—to the mother of his son. Andrew would probably try to wipe her existence from his life. And maybe that’s how she wanted it.
While Dustin tied the dinghy to the mooring, she admired the orderly deck of the Lisa May. All the ropes were neatly coiled, five-gallon buckets stacked upside down, not a speck of fish gore anywhere to be seen. Inside the cabin, a watch cap hung neatly from a hook in the wheelhouse. Dustin had been wearing that watch cap when she’d seen him from the ferry. On impulse, she sniffed it. Salt, diesel, fresh air, and that indefinable scent of Dustin. Seaweed, or brine. The way the god of the sea must smell.
As Dustin ducked through the opening of the wheelhouse, she turned to him and staggered slightly.
“Careful, there,” he said, grabbing her arm. The boat rocked gently back and forth. The motion reminded her of the stroking of the oars, and the same rhythm began deep inside her.
“I want you, Dustin,” she said. “Where can we go?”
“Why go anywhere?” He looked amused. “No one can see us in here. And I’m so hard right now, I don’t think I could take another boat ride. Feel.” He put her hand on the front of his oilskins, and the lump sent a thrill through her. She squeezed it and saw the fire in his eyes. Crowding close to her, he pressed her against the wheel. “You know, there’s something I’ve always wanted to see. Will you let me?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you want to know what it is?”
“I can’t wait to see.” It was true, her heart was beating fast, and her knees felt weak. With Dustin, whatever it was, she knew she was going to enjoy it. He put his hands to her front and removed her bright yellow jacket. Underneath, suspenders held up her oilskin trousers. These he slipped off her shoulders in order to remove her sweatshirt, leaving her naked from the waist up. He pulled the suspenders back up over her breasts, which pushed against the webbed fabric. One suspender covered a nipple, which immediately rose into a peak.
“Oh, yeah. Your skin against the suspenders, and the way they push your breasts together…mmm. You have no idea how sexy you are right now.” But she could hear it in his voice, and
see it in the appreciative way he gazed at her body. Moisture sprang between her legs. It felt good to know she was turning him on. He wasn’t looking at her like an object, but like a woman, desirable and sensuous. She ran her hands up her torso, and hooked her thumbs under the suspenders. One of them slipped from her grasp, and snapped against her nipple. The thrill of it shocked her.
“Did that feel good?” he asked. She gave a slight nod, amazed that it was so. He took both suspenders and pulled them away from her chest. With his thumbs, he rubbed her nipples until they stood like proud soldiers then let go of the suspenders. This time, the sensation was so intense, she nearly came. Swaying against the wheel, she cried out.
“You’re killing me, Chloe.” He shoved the suspenders aside to feast on her nipples, grunting as he attacked with mouth and fingers. Chloe leaned back against the wheel and let the waves of electric pleasure take over her body. Little moans filled the air. Relentlessly, he sucked her breasts, tugging so deeply at the nipples she thought they might burst. Gripping his thick hair, she thrust her breasts forward in avid invitation, urging him on. She couldn’t get enough of his urgency, his strength.
“Fuck me, fuck me,” she whispered. “Fuck me hard.”
The words sent him over the edge. He pulled the suspenders off her shoulders and yanked the oilskins down her body, so they pooled at her feet, along with her sweatpants. The same with his own oilskins. His cock jutted straight and hard. For a moment, he gazed at her. Chloe looked down, and saw the blonde curls at her sex glisten with moisture. He parted the curls with one finger and exposed her red, swollen clitoris.
“More than anything in this world, I want to make love to you.” He fingered the burning knob and she moaned and spread her legs further apart.