To the Edge

by Anna del Mar

  I braced on my elbows and engaged every muscle in my body in the final push to plant my come in her. The promise of pleasure blinded me to anything but her eyes. They brightened with the impact of yet another orgasm. The surprise on her face was epic. Her body went out of control.

  Marooned in the old sailboat, I dived headfirst into pleasure. What a plunge. Her fingers dug into my back, her nails raked over my skin. She clung to me as my come spurted into new ownership, a flood many years in the making, an explosion that launched me to the edge of consciousness, where dreams transformed into reality and pleasure ruled.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Clara

  I’d dreamed of waking up next to Noah countless times in the past few years. But on Sunday morning, when it finally happened, I couldn’t believe it. My mind couldn’t wrap around last night’s memories. He loved me. He’d said so. He’d never stopped loving me. The joy erased the years apart, the struggle to survive in his absence. And then there was the rest. The sailboat, the berth, the restraints. The sex—oh my God, the sex. It had been the most incredible night of my life.

  It hadn’t stopped once we migrated from the sailboat to Noah’s bed. We were in lust with each other. My memories were blurry, but I did recall launching from one mind-rattling orgasm to the next in an endless loop. The loop hadn’t been broken yet, as attested by the fact that, as soon as I woke up, Noah spooned against my back and slid his cock into my well-lathered depths. Now, as I lay on my side with my knees pressed together, I was engrossed in yet another overwhelming tide of pleasure.

  “Noah?” I rasped, heart hammering against my breastbone.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he said, doing exactly that very terrible thing.

  “Don’t stop,” I begged, rolling my hips, egging him on. “Please, keep going.”

  The breath from his chuckles warmed my ear. “You’ve turned into a greedy witch.” He reached around and fondled my pussy. “Are you sure your fierce little cunt isn’t sore yet?”

  Not sore? Well, that was a matter of degrees, wasn’t it? I winced a little. I was maybe a little sore from both frequency and intensity. And yes, perhaps at some point, it would be wise to give it a rest, but not right now, no way. I always finished what I started and, judging by the pleasure racking my body, my pussy was prepared to face the consequences and abide by that principle.

  “We’ll go easy.” Noah’s breath was warm in my ear. “Nice and slow works just as well.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I closed my eyes and enjoyed his long, slow strokes. “That feels nice.”

  He spanned one hand over my hip and threaded his other hand under my arm to clutch my breast. He held me down as he ground slowly in and out of me. Noah loved me. My body exulted at this new reality.

  “Christ, Clara,” he rasped. “Your cunt is like a fine Ferrari. I want to ride it all night and day. I want to ride it hard and fast, drive it at maximum throttle across the country and back.”

  My pleasure meter hit new levels when he talked dirty. “How am I supposed to hold back when you’re fucking me so deep?”

  “How?” He sank his cock in my pussy all the way down to his balls. “Like this?”

  I groaned. He was going to kill me with pleasure.

  “You’re such a phenomenal fuck,” he murmured, increasing his pace. “And your cunt, it’s the perfect sex pot, always hot, wet and steamy, ready for me all the time.”

  He broke out into short thrusts, until I spun like a wobbly carousel around his cock.

  “Lift your leg.” He leaned over and looked down over my shoulder. “Yeah, that’s good. I like to watch your pussy eating my cock, and I like it when you obey me on the spot. You’re a quick study, Clara, best trainee ever.”

  The title appealed to the overachiever in me. Obeying him was hard, because it required a lot of self-discipline, but obeying him was also easy, because—sooner or later—it led to pleasure. I leaned my head back on his shoulder and kept my knee in the air.

  “Such a fantastic little cunt you’ve got here.” He cupped my sex. “It swells up so nice and plump when you’re horny. Do you like it when I spread you open like this while I fuck you?”

  “Yes.” Oh, yes.

  “Me too.” He fondled me some more. “My cock’s so hard I can’t stand it.”

  His cock was hard, all right, diving through me with decisive strokes, setting off jolts of pleasure that left me dangling at the edge of bliss. His fingers rubbed on my clit while his cock clapped in my pussy, turning me into a gasping, quivering mess. He turned my face toward him and kissed me in an overpowering, possessive mauling that left me fighting the pull of the inevitable orgasm galloping my way.

  “Show me what you can do.” He raked my earlobe with his teeth. “Come. Now.”

  I bore down on his cock and squeezed my pelvic floor like a tantric master. I was in heat, caught in the midst of a sexual frenzy that showed no signs of ebbing. Lust had hijacked my body and my pheromones were out of control. I’d been sexually aroused for forty-eight hours straight. Coming when Noah was around was a slam dunk. He was the ringmaster of my body’s circus. So I came now, because that’s what I did these days, releasing on demand for Noah Blake.

  I cried out as my first climax was soon followed by another long, syrupy orgasm, sustained by Noah’s continuous thrusts. It was only after he’d wrung all the pleasure out of me that he bore down. With a quiet groan, he flooded me with a fresh infusion of come. My fingers dug into the mattress. My sweaty cheek stuck to the pillowcase. My body shuddered with yet another wave of pleasure.

  When we were done, Noah held me for the longest time. He kissed and cuddled me. His magical hands massaged my shoulders and kneaded my back, just like he’d done last night after every rigorous session we shared. He showered me with affection the likes I’d never experienced, except in his arms. The sex was out of this world, but the way I felt afterward, when he held me, murmuring sweet endearments in my ear? Extraordinary.

  I napped through some of the postcoital stupor, my body limp in Noah’s embrace. My pussy smarted pleasantly between my legs, fat and full, like a well-fed pup. Somewhere around midmorning, Noah got up from the bed and returned with a warm cloth and a towel.

  “Time for a service break,” he said, planting little kisses along my thigh.

  I covered my mouth and yawned. “I can wash on my own.”

  “Using your hands is out-of-bounds this weekend, remember?” he said. “Just because the cuffs are off, doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Besides, even if you’re perfectly able, it would be in terrible form for you to deny me the pleasure of taking care of you.”

  It was a uniquely Noah philosophy, but I went along with it. I’d pitched modesty, so I leaned back on the pillows and opened my legs. Gosh, I’d spent more time with my doors ajar this weekend than the rest of my life combined. I was a little self-conscious this morning, because Noah was a prolific lover, sex was an untidy business and frequency only made it messier. I was pretty sure that gallons of come sloshed in my sex and, no matter how neat I tried to be, my body couldn’t hold on to all of it.

  Noah rewarded me with one of his dazzling smiles then got to work. The terry cloth landed, soaked, warm and soothing like his gaze. His large hands handled me and my parts with delicate care. He wiped me clean with tenderness that swelled my heart and stirred my body’s seemingly endless supply of lust. I let out a quiet sigh. If anyone would’ve told me that I was going to allow someone to perform such private care for me, I would’ve laughed in their face. But it was different with Noah, because I trusted him with my body.

  Trust. Was this what sexual submission was? The certainty that no matter how vulnerable, helpless and exposed you become, your partner will take care of you? The thought had a nice parallel with life. It occurred to me that, between trusting partners, the roles of Dom and
sub were really not that far apart.

  Note to blog: who is the servant and who is the master?

  When Noah was done, he patted me dry and dropped the used towels in the dirty linen hamper. He threw open the doors to the balcony and let in the light. Since I was determined to show my progress, I went along with the “no hands” decree. He took great pleasure in feeding me breakfast in bed. Afterward, we lounged as if we’d woken up together every day for years. At some point, I realized that, since my arrival to Avalon, I’d neglected the blog.

  “You dictate and I’ll type,” Noah said, propping up my computer on his lap.

  I cuddled against his side and put my arm around his waist. My fingers tripped over the scar below his rib, where the bullet had hit him. I settled my palm on the spot and willed it never to cause him pain again. Then I watched his big fingers move easily over the keyboard as we scrolled through the thousands of messages that had accumulated in the site’s inbox.

  He whistled aloud. “This is a lot of traffic. Which of these do you want to tackle?”

  “You pick,” I said, leaning my head on his shoulder.

  He planted a kiss on the top of my head. “How about this one?”

  He read the discussion question aloud.

  To: sextattle.com

  From: Dina Distraught

  My guy and I have been together for twenty years. Sex has been up and down and mostly meh, but these days we’re down to nothing. What can I do?

  “It sucks but I get that one often,” I said. “Kind of sad, really, that the newness wears off and sex becomes boring, routine or nonexistent.”

  The black eyes were on me like laser beams. “It won’t happen to us.”

  I eyed him curiously. “It won’t?”

  “We’re explosive together,” he said. “We’re exact, like a chemical reaction. We were so fifteen years ago and we are now. Whether we do it vanilla or with kink on the side, we’re set for life. You can count on that.”

  Set for life. My heart soared like a helium balloon. Was he thinking long-term?

  “So,” he said, “what should I type?”

  I had to close my mouth and gather my wits. “To: Dina Distraught,” I dictated. “From: Raven/Moderator. No, wait.” I had a sudden realization. “I want you to change my forum name.”

  “New name?” Curiosity arched his eyebrows. “What will it be?”

  “I want to be me,” I said.

  He frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Make it from Wildcat Princess.”

  “Ah.” Noah flashed his sexy grin. “You got it, baby.”

  “Write this down,” I said: “First things first. Make sure your guy is up to the task. A visit to the doctor may be in order. Is he fit for business? Once you’ve established that he is, it’s time to reconnect. Spend time together doing things you both enjoy. Talk about what you’d like for each other in bed.”

  “You’re good,” Noah said as he typed, “and a lot cheaper than a shrink. Those psychology classes you took in college paid off.”

  “There’s more,” I said, laughing. “Pull out the bag of tricks. If you don’t have one, get one. Add a little spice. Try something new. Step out of your comfort zone. I recently tried kink for the first time. WOW. I enjoy vibrators, crops and cuffs. What do you like?”

  “Glad to hear you’re enjoying your lessons.” Noah’s glance was a promise for more lessons and soon, but for now, he kept typing. “Here’s what I’d tell that bozo husband of hers.”

  “To: Dina Distraught’s guy,” I read aloud as he typed. “From: Another guy. Hey, Buddy. You’re lucky to have a woman who not only loves you, but is willing to stick with you over the years. For her sake, there are a lot of things that you can do to get in the mood. Exercise, good nutrition and meds for example. But it’s not about your dick all the time. Leaving your partner high and dry? Not cool. If you got fingers, lips or a tongue, you’ve got ways to inflict pleasure. My two cents? Get with it and find a way to please your woman.”

  It was a heartening message for me, personally, but I worried about Dina Distraught’s guy. “Don’t you think that’s kind of harsh?”

  “Guys are thick skulled,” Noah said. “We don’t always understand hints. If this guy was my friend, this is exactly what I’d tell him. And I’d hope that, if the situation were reversed, he’d do the same for me.”

  “If that’s the case, then press Publish.”

  “Done.” Noah scrolled down the page. “Here’s another good one. I wonder if you have anything useful to share with this aptly named lady.” He read on. “To: Sextattle.com. From: Tangled and Confused. What’s all the hoopla about Fifty Shades and BDSM? I mean, what do people get from stuff like that? And is it right or wrong?”

  “Hmm,” I said, moistening my lips. “Take this down.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “People are always intrigued by the unknown,” I said, watching Noah’s big, strong hands owning my keyboard, feeling each stroke of the key on my own intimate flesh. “BDSM and kink in all of its variations has been relegated to the shadows. Sexuality is different for each one of us. Some of us don’t like sex much. We get satisfaction and enjoyment from other sources and that’s perfectly okay—”

  “I’m glad that’s not you,” Noah said.

  “Shut up.” I laughed. “Keep typing.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “Now, see? That sounded fake.”

  “Really?” He flashed me a funny grin.

  “Totally.” I giggled some more. “Moving on. Some of us like sex and enjoy it best in conventional ways. And some of us are looking for ways to experience new thrills. I found great freedom in surrender and I’m having a blast exploring my sexual range. It’s not right for everyone, so what? As long as it’s done safely, sanely and consensually, it works for me.”

  Noah’s lips twitched. “From the mouths of babes.”

  “Your turn.” I read as he typed his take. “If you don’t want to try BDSM, that’s fine. But don’t diss it till you try it. Whether you’d like to experiment as a Dom, sub or both, sexual experimentation itself is liberating. And just in case you’re wondering, sexual experimentation plus affection = unmatched pleasure and deep, complete satisfaction for this dude.”

  I met Noah’s eyes. I didn’t need a note to blog to imprint that one on my brain. The laptop fell by the wayside as he gathered me in his arms and kissed me. My body reacted to his mouth, eager and ready. And yes, I did feel the deep and complete satisfaction of being exactly where I belonged and with the person I was meant for.

  Noah’s cell rang, interrupting my joy fest. He looked at the number flashing on the screen and cursed under his breath. “Sorry, princess, I’ve got to take this. Hey,” he said to someone on the other side of the line, then listened. “Be there in a sec.”

  He hung up and, untangling from my arms, got out from the bed. “My quarry is on the move. Got to go for a bit, so you and your pussy get a mini-vacation.”

  He planted a quick kiss on my lips, then jammed his legs into his sweats, grabbed a T-shirt and made for the door. “Take a bath, rest some, make yourself comfortable. You may use your hands if you want, but only while I’m gone and not for self-gratification. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I watched him disappear down the stairs. A bout of separation anxiety hit me. My stomach squeezed. What was I, a toddler on the first day of preschool? Noah had been gone thirty seconds and I missed him already. Oh, Lord. It wasn’t a good sign, because no matter how extraordinary my time with Noah had been, my life was far from here on the mainland, in a place far beyond Noah’s reach, a world completely inaccessible to him right now.

  I slumped on the bed and clutched the pillow to my breast. Could Noah really get well? Could we ever lead a normal life? Coul
d we really be together for the long run with him, trapped as he was, and me, also trapped, although in a totally different way?

  I closed my eyes and wished the questions away. This time around, we were going to make it. We had to. Because I couldn’t survive being away from Noah all over again and my life made no sense without him in it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Noah

  Josephus’s digital trail on the Dark Net was even more convoluted than usual, which led me to speculate that the son of a bitch was leading us on a pointless chase. The asshole was particularly adept at using a maze of social media sites to preach hate and gain recruits.

  It took me a few moments to decrypt his new code. More of the same vitriol. It was a bad omen for humanity’s future that there were so many assholes out there representing radical ideologies who wanted to connect with that violent junk. It irritated me to no end that Josephus had triggered our warnings and brought the task force to full alert.

  I ripped apart his trail. His IP addresses were all over Europe and the Middle East, but there was something fishy about them. Frequency. They were showing up at regular intervals. Prescheduled. The son of a bitch was on the move.

  The implications were grave. Josephus was no longer in Spain. The blood chilled in my veins. I hit the keyboard, clicked on my coms, brought in the team and mustered the world’s resources to find a single killer, a criminal against humanity.

  Within an hour I’d acquired the fucker on my radar. I ran a global search against the list of his potential aliases. The SOB was on every no-fly list on the planet, but I had a hunch and my hunches almost always proved right. Bingo. There he was, on camera, entering Canada, posing as his cousin Rashid, who, by the way, had died in Madrid. Dead men didn’t travel.

  I contacted my counterpart over at Interpol. In a major clusterfuck, they’d bungled the paperwork so Rashid’s passport was still active. Fuck. Paperwork was going to kill the planet. Now Josephus had made it to Canada. Too close for comfort.