To the Edge

by Anna del Mar

  I focused on Josephus’s last post in a clandestine site on the Dark Net. He had several replies waiting. Using one of my covert digital personas, I answered too, integrating a Remote Access Trojan of the ordinary variety into the message. The RAT would look commercial in nature, a shoe company following a potential customer who’d viewed a pair of their sports sneakers. But if Josephus clicked on the message, the RAT would activate my tracking tool. Then I hightailed out of there, before he could pin anything on me.

  It was almost four o’clock by the time I was able to leave my office. I went upstairs, but Clara was nowhere to be found. I checked my cell. I’d been so focused on the hunt that I’d missed her text.

  Out for a walk, it said.

  I couldn’t blame her. She’d been stuck in the house all weekend. For all I knew, she could be claustrophobic by now. I texted her back. Work’s done. Come back.

  I started to make dinner. The last ferry left Avalon at five but I’d scheduled the Marlin Monroe for a later pickup. I wanted to have as much time with Clara as I could. A half an hour later, I still hadn’t heard a word from her. She’d been out for a good two hours. I started to worry. Twenty minutes later I gave up on dinner and started to pace the deck. Why hadn’t she answered my text? Why wasn’t she answering her cell?

  The anxiety burned at the pit of my stomach. I scoured the beach below with my binoculars. Maybe she’d walked too far out and gotten trapped in the tidal flats. Maybe she’d twisted her ankle or broken a leg. Perhaps she was stranded somewhere and in need of help, help that I, of course, couldn’t give.

  A rainstorm made its way across the bay. I paced my deck like an animal trapped in a cage. If I kept at it, I was going to wear a track on the floorboards. The scenarios only got worse in my mind with each minute that passed. My heart pummeled my sternum. What if she was hurt? My gut ached. What if she lay dying or dead?

  I watched the sun disappear behind a gray curtain of rain. It was getting late. Maybe I should call for help. Fuck it. I couldn’t wait for help. I put on my raincoat and went down the stairs to the lawn. I measured the distance between me and the plastic chair. Twenty-five feet. I’d proven I could do that.

  I forced myself to cover the distance. The rain rapped on my jacket and the ground grew soggy beneath my steps. Christ. I needed to go faster. I was gasping for air by the time I made it to the damn chair, close to hyperventilating. You’d think I’d climbed Everest. I stood there for a few moments, trying to smother the fear. If I could make it to the overlook...

  I picked up the chair and pretended this was just another exercise. I’d done that before. I could do it again. Chair in tow, I made it to the overlook. Under the rain, the part of the trail I could see was empty. “Where the fuck are you?”

  The ground rumbled beneath my feet. I ignored the feeling and went into the breathing sequence, two breaths in, one out. Maybe I should’ve taken some of the liquid courage I kept at the house. But turning around didn’t seem like such a hot idea. The way I felt, if I went inside, I might never come out again.

  I took a deep breath and then another. Blood oxygenation helped clear thinking processes and reduced anxiety, or so Dr. Dodd liked to say. The effect on me seemed to be minimal. I dug my nails into the plastic. Was I going to let the anxiety prevent me from going after Clara?

  I clutched the chair to my chest and forced my feet down the trail, clenching my jaw so hard my teeth ached. The wind tugged at my raincoat and the gulls rioted in the sky, circling over me like buzzards over carrion. The sound of the surf kept getting closer. I fought the urge to turn around and marched forward instead. Every step was agony and yet the rain kept falling, and the trail remained a sandy ribbon beneath my feet, and nothing terrible had happened...yet.

  At the bottom of the trail, the track dipped between two knolls right before it opened up to the beach. Perfect place for an ambush. I hesitated, but my worry for Clara won out. I had to get through. I clamped down on my lips and, with my stomach stuck in my throat, trudged through the treacherous terrain.

  The trail ended at the beach. I halted there, heart shrunk to the size of a pebble. I planted the chair in the sand. My fingers clung to the plastic. My defective brain told me to run all the way back to the cottage, but I surveyed the landscape, unable to believe that I’d made it this far.

  The sea roiled like my guts, gray and sullen. The waves curled into spirals before landing thundering blows on the beach. My head swiveled like a radar while I scanned the coastline.

  “Noah?”

  I looked to my nine o’clock and watched Clara step out from under the shade of the cliff. She stood in the drizzle as if she was part of the island, as if she’d always roamed the beach. The wind ruffled her hair beneath her hood, tugging on the baggy Naval Academy parka she must have borrowed from my coatrack. A pair of shorts encased the tops of her thighs, showing off her long, bare legs.

  My jaw released. I could breathe again. With her flip-flops in her hand and her feet caked in sand, she looked like the kid she’d been so many summers ago, fit, carefree and endearing. And yet it was the full-grown woman I’d discovered who called to me, the stunning, daring, sexual goddess I’d fucked all night.

  “You’re here.” Clara considered the chair, then me, before her face broke into a grin. “This is fantastic, Noah.” She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. “You’re amazing. You came all the way down to the beach.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and clutched her to my chest, breathing in great gulps of her scent. With Clara safe in my arms, my volatile emotions evolved from relief to shock—because I’d indeed made it to the beach, and then anger—because Clara had forced me to do it.

  I grabbed her by the shoulders and resisted an urge to shake her silly. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I went for a walk,” she said with a perplexed look on her face. “I texted you.”

  “Three hours ago. I called. I texted, and nothing. You could’ve been dead for all I knew.”

  “I kept checking.” She pulled out her cell from her pocket and showed it to me. “Look, I have nothing from you.”

  Just then, her cell beeped, announcing reception. My frantic texts began to pop up one after the other.

  “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry.” She scrolled through my anguished messages. “I assumed you’d call me when you were done with work.”

  Fuck her assumptions. I was on the beach, far from the cottage and about to come apart in pieces right in front of her. No matter how hard I tried, my lungs refused to inflate and my knees shook so hard that my brain rattled in my skull. Fuck her cell. Fuck her.

  It was the best idea I’d had all day. My body seized on the command instantly. My cock hardened. My need vaulted over my anxiety and my mind settled on the single objective.

  “Take off your shorts,” I muttered.

  “What?” Her eyes widened. “Out here?”

  “I want your shorts and your panties.”

  “But Noah,” she protested. “It’s not my fault.”

  “This is not your punishment,” I said. “This is my reward.”

  Her eyes surveyed my face. She understood, or at least I thought she did, because she dropped her shoes in the sand, unzipped and slid her shorts and her panties down her legs. She handed them to me with the sort of resigned expediency my overwrought body really appreciated.

  “Thank you,” I said in a perfectly civilized tone. “Now bend over the chair.”

  She hesitated. “What if someone sees us?”

  “Nobody will see us,” I said. “Get to it.”

  “But—”

  “Now.” I struggled not to grovel. “I can’t wait any longer.”

  She eyed me again. She hesitated for a moment, then settled her hands on the chair’s arms and bent over. “Like this?”

  Better, yes
, but I was in an implacable mood. “Is that the best you can do?”

  She might have glowered in my direction, but she inched her heels farther apart and raised her haunches in the air, giving me the visual I craved. A few drops of passing rain tapped on her parka, fell on her ass and trickled over her pebbled skin. She was quite the sight, miles of legs and acres of ass, framing her pussy’s precious real estate.

  I had pressing and immediate needs, like stemming the breakdown shimmering at the edge of my consciousness. I tried to ease the compulsion driving my cock toward Clara’s pussy, with little success. I unzipped my jeans and rubbed the head of my cock against her, spreading her moisture around. That she was ready for me was a gift from heaven, because there was no way in hell I could wait. I cased her hips with my hands and, in one swift, desperate stroke, plunged in her.

  Relief. True, satisfying and complete.

  Clara let out a little cry, a praise that was also a complaint, a tantalizing sound. My cock just wanted to have at her, but I mustered some self-control and kept myself still. I’d pushed myself all the way to the edge and I worried that if I let loose, I’d give in to madness.

  “You take it,” I muttered between gritted teeth. “Come on, you do it.”

  She whimpered quietly. “Why are you making me do this?”

  “It’s what you signed up for,” I said, holding my breath. “It’s what I signed up for.” I paused. “Can you do it, Clara? Are you willing to be what I need right now?”

  “I’m willing,” she said. “Whatever you need.”

  “Take it, then.” I tightened my grip around her hips. “Just do it.”

  She pushed up on the tips of her toes and braced herself on the chair. Her knuckles whitened over the plastic edge. In one swift movement, she rocked backward on her heels, slid her tight, wet pussy over my cock and slammed down all the way to my balls.

  The sensation was like a grand slam. I could’ve come from just that thrust. But I held it together. “Do it again. Hard. Just like before.”

  She grumbled, but she leaned forward, disgorging some of my cock, body trembling between my hands.

  “Come on,” I said. “Do it, Clara.”

  She moaned as she glided down my cock again in a divine drop.

  I clutched her hips and, pressing her ass against my lap, ground against her.

  “Noah.” She moaned. “That feels so freaking good.”

  “Stay for one more night,” I rasped. “Spend Monday with me, so we can stay together, rest together, be us together.”

  I couldn’t see her face, but I sensed her hesitation in the way her shoulders tightened and her body stiffened. I knew she had a hard job, lots of responsibilities and a huge event coming up. I also knew from our conversations that she hadn’t missed a day of work since she began at the foundation. But my work had cut into my time with Clara and I didn’t want her to go.

  “I’ll stay,” she said. “One more day.”

  The joy. The way the world came together to make perfect sense. The fear evaporated from my senses to reveal a beach that was just that, a beach.

  “Move.” I landed a playful slap on her ass. “Come on, move.”

  Clara braced on the chair. She took a deep breath and then jerked back and slid her pussy down my cock. “How’s that?”

  “Jesus.” I gasped with the pleasure.

  The raincoat crackled as I leaned over her back, dipped my hands beneath her clothing and ran my fingers along her back. I slipped my hands under her bra to cup her breasts. They fit perfectly in my palms. I scissored my fingertips over her nipples and reveled at her whimpers.

  “You like that?”

  “A lot.”

  I squeezed harder. With my cock entrenched in her sex, she rolled her hips and swung her ass in a combination of small and wide circles that tested my control. She panted as she bounced up and down, submitting my body to wave after wave of pleasure. Her lower body fell into a rhythmic dance, engaging all the muscles of her core, pelvis and glutes. Christ. I was at the edge of madness and she didn’t even know it.

  “Have I mentioned what a fantastic fuck you are?” I let go of her breasts and straightened behind her. “Now it’s my turn.”

  I pushed her down on the chair until her forehead rested on the seat. I tucked my hands at the tops of her thighs, pulled her up on the tips of her toes and plunged back in her. Her long, throaty moan gratified all of my efforts.

  I slithered out of her and dove back with a stroke. “Did you do this on purpose?”

  “What?”

  “This.” I thrust in and out of her. “To get me to come outside.”

  “No.” Her voice quavered with my strokes and yet she was still defiant. “But I’m glad you’re out.”

  “So you admit to premeditation?”

  “No premeditation,” she rasped. “Wishful thinking, maybe?”

  I slowed down and thumbed her anus. “Do you like it when I rub you here?”

  She closed her eyes and moistened her lips. “It feels odd, nice but odd.”

  “That’s because you’re not used to being stimulated there.” I pressed down, just enough to test her.

  She groaned and breathed out a rush of air.

  “You’re really tight and small,” I whispered, massaging her backdoor. “Lots of work. Would you like to be trained?”

  A shudder ran the length of her body.

  “Well?”

  Her eyes opened and she craned her neck to meet my stare. “Do you want to train me?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

  She closed her eyes again and braced on the chair. “Then I want you to train me so you can fuck me any way you like.”

  I let loose. The chair sank in the sand as my cock thumped in Clara’s pussy. I tried really hard not to grind her into a speckle of dust, holding back to prevent myself from shattering the woman I loved. But despite my efforts, I pounded her hard, flirting with the madness waiting to pounce at the edge of my consciousness, holding her down while the flesh on her ass rippled at the beat of my strokes.

  “Oh, yes,” she cried out, voice trailing into a steady keening. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  I fucked her until her pleasure cries competed with the gull’s shrieks and I came in the depths of her body, roaring like the savage surf.

  When we were done, my knees refused to hold me up. Staggering like a drunk, I managed to pick her up, plop down on the plastic seat and gather her in my lap. Brain spinning, I clutched her to my chest. I couldn’t let her go. I kept a hand between her legs and inserted a finger in her, kneading her pussy, maintaining the sexual connection as if I needed the lifeline.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and, mewling softly, dipped her face under my neck. She submitted to my touch, clutching my finger in her pussy as if holding my hand. Her sex still twitched with the remnants of her orgasm and her channel was hot and fluid with my come. I loved the feel of her body coalescing around me, settling down on my hand like the last piece of a complete puzzle. Neither one of us said a word as our breathing evened. We were both shaking, and it wasn’t from cold.

  “There was an explosion,” I said, after a while, surprising even myself. “We had infiltrated one of ISIS’s strongholds and were calling in the coordinates for air strikes when it happened. I don’t know if the explosion was ours or theirs. It was just...sudden and loud.”

  Clara’s gaze held mine. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s time.”

  Her arms tightened around me. “I’m listening.”

  I recalled a moonless night spent among the broken stones of the ancient ruins those fuckers had recently blown up. The air had been thick with dust. The night smelled like sand, rock and urine.

  “It wasn’t the explosion
itself,” I said. “It was the pulse that hit me about a millisecond before the explosion. I felt it. In here.” I tapped on my chest. “I can’t explain the sensation. A thump punched through me like an invisible wave. It wiped something in me, I don’t know what. The nightmares began that night. The anxiety grew with each day that passed.”

  Clara shifted on my lap, but she didn’t break our connection. The contact grounded me, centered me, soothed me. Her eyes never left my face, giving my gaze a steady target.

  “I could handle it while I was in the field,” I said. “The intensity of the missions masked the effects. But when I wasn’t in the field, I could barely function. That pulse. It tampered with my brain. I wasn’t hurt. Not like some of the other guys. It wasn’t until later, when I got hit by a bullet and went to the hospital, that I became completely undone. But I swear, it wasn’t the bullet that took me out. It was the pulse.”

  “You were hit,” Clara said with a fierceness that startled me. “On that day, you didn’t see the blood and you didn’t feel the wound in the flesh, but you were gravely wounded.” She cased my face with her hands. “Get this through your thick skull: the pulse did more damage than the bullet.”

  Clara’s words cut straight through the white noise. I couldn’t accept my own truth when I told the story of how I felt, but when Clara said it, my brain embraced it a hundred percent. A bullet ripped through my flesh and lodged in my kidney. It left a trail of destruction and a visible scar. The silent pulse that almost destroyed me couldn’t be traced, and yet it left an invisible scar in my brain.

  Clara gave me a little squeeze. “You okay?”

  “I just want to sit here for a moment and watch the ocean.”

  She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Me too.”

  After a while, I felt steady enough to let go. I slipped my finger free, set Clara on her feet and helped her back into her shorts. When she was dressed, I offered her my hand. What she did for me? It was impossible to describe.