At the Brink

by Anna del Mar

  Josh stripped the flannel top from me and discarded it on the floor.

  “Arms up.” He tucked my hands into one of the wooden beams that held the mattress above and wrapped my fingers around the plank. “Don’t let go.”

  I found myself naked, stretched out between the bunks and balancing on my knees. The mattress dipped behind me as he settled on his shins and pushed his thighs between my legs. I craned my neck and spotted his cock sticking out of his pants.

  Dear God. This was an orgy—an exclusive, two person orgy perhaps—but an orgy nevertheless, if frequency counted in the definition. Could I really take him in when he was so hugely aroused and my pussy had been so thoroughly worked over?

  He planted his hands at either side of my waist, lifted my ass and angled my hips backward. I whimpered when he entered me from behind. His cock pressed into me, pushed through my swollen tissues and stretched my sensitized vagina in a journey that left me panting.

  “Too much?”

  “No,” I mumbled, my sex tightening. “I want more.”

  His cock transferred his laughter’s vibration into my overwrought pussy. I hissed, vibrating myself. He peppered my back with random kisses that tapped on my skin soft and warm like summer droplets. His hands caressed my torso, ran down my back and stroked my belly. He massaged my knotted shoulders as if I were a boxer about to step back into the ring.

  He reached around, cupped my breasts and pinched my nipples, making them bloom between his thumb and his forefingers until I yelped. Then he released my nipples and his mouth settled to nibble on the sensitive spot behind my ear while his fingers grew my clit into a blazing flame.

  I threw my head back and squealed. “Oh, God, yes!”

  His breath gusted in my ear. “Do you want me to fuck you some more?”

  “Please.”

  “Please yourself, Lily.” He grabbed my hips and guided them in a delicious figure eight over his lap. “Come on, sweet, move.”

  And move I did, a capable bouncer on his knees, a true lap dancer guided by instinct and fortified by the instant rewards that riding his cock granted my body. I was so glad we were a half a mile away from the house. No matter how hard I pressed my lips together, I couldn’t silence the emotions welling in me. They came out in moans and whimpers, in squeals and cries for mercy that were anything but, as miles of solid cock split my sex and drove up a path that inevitably included a direct run on my G-spot.

  God help me. How was I supposed to hang on like this?

  I tried to focus on something other than the orgasm threatening to blow me up. My eyes drifted over to the wall. I did a double take. Was I dreaming? A tiny heart was carved on the wood paneling. Inside of it, the initials J&L appeared freshly carved.

  My pulse bolted. My orgasm escaped. I bore down on Josh, my body vaulting into yet a new level of pleasure. My eyes closed as bliss enveloped me, and yet the image of that sweet little heart lingered, engraved in my brain like the fond memories of a careless summer.

  “Thank you,” I rasped.

  Josh squeezed my hips and slammed me down on his lap, shuddering between my thighs. His teeth sank in the back of my neck, not painfully, but firmly. It was his tiger, dominating the tigress in me. As his come shot up my channel and flooded my sex, I convulsed on the fourth bunk, embracing not just Josh, but all the gifts he’d given me tonight.

  In the aftermath, I wilted on the bed and curled next to him. He kissed the top of my head, rearranged me against him and gathered me to his chest. I was exhausted, but my body hummed with satisfaction and my mind was finally at peace. I was glad I hadn’t run away the moment I discovered he’d brought me to his parents’ house.

  Four bunks, a sex marathon and an orgy for two. That’s what Josh had planned for tonight, to distract me from the stress of meeting his family and also to welcome me home. But whether he knew it or not, each bunk had taught me a lesson. Best of all, he’d offered me his heart and carved his initials on mine. And that, I’d never forget.

  “Top or bottom?” Josh murmured in my ear. “Which one did you like best?”

  “Not fair,” I said. “You knew the answer from the beginning.”

  “Which is?”

  I smiled and planted a kiss on the curve of his jaw. “The one with you in it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lily

  Josh wasn’t in the cabin when I woke up, but he’d left me a note next to the empty coffee pot. Out for a run, the note said. Wait for me here.

  Where did he get his energy from?

  I was slow to get up and even slower getting out from the bunk where—after our stints in the other three bunks, I’d spent a good part of the night on my back with my knees parted and my mouth crammed full, pinned down in a relentless but glorious sixty-nine.

  After finishing my morning toilette, I checked my phone. I was sure the text there was from Josh, but when I pulled it up, it was from a number I didn’t recognize.

  Dear greedy whore, the text read. You’re just a money-hungry slut, sucking and fucking your way up the ladder. Your streak is almost over. Time to exit, before you’re flushed down the drain like you deserve.

  With trembling fingers, I hit the number and placed a call back. The phone rang three times and then an automated message clicked on, telling me that the number I’d dialed was no longer in service. I thought about the officer at the community relations desk. She hadn’t done anything about my door. Would she find reason to investigate now?

  I had a murky list of suspects, no proof, a disconnected number and only hollow accusations to make. I couldn’t tell Josh. He’d get mad at me for not telling him before. I didn’t want to ruin his day with his family, either. Besides, what was he going to do that I couldn’t do on my own?

  I wasn’t going to let the text ruin my day. I’d try the officer at the police station again when I got back. My stomach was still in knots and my nerves were frayed, so I decided to go for a walk before Josh came back.

  I didn’t intend to go very far. I put on my tennis shoes, threw my coat on over my flannel pajamas and trapped my hair in a messy bun at the top of my head. I headed away from the house, following the lakeshore, my feet disrupting the patches of fog lingering on the ground.

  I stopped for a moment to enjoy the views, the lake, the mountain, the cabin... I knew this place! This was the setting of the picture Josh had showed me that day at his office when he brought me back from the brink of a panic attack. One of Emma’s children was probably the budding artist responsible for it.

  Fifteen minutes into my walk, I regretted not wearing gloves, a sweater and a hat. My nose was freezing, my ears ached and my fingertips went numb. As I went around the lake bend, I spotted a building ahead. It was a large greenhouse and it looked warm.

  The door was unlocked. I went in. “Hello?”

  No one answered. The air was warm and pleasantly perfumed. I looked around and I saw that the greenhouse held roses, and not just regular roses, but rather row after row of perfectly organized roses, divided into sections by color and species and pruned to the same exact height and shape.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  I whirled around to confront a tall man who looked a lot like Josh, except for his bristling white hair and the deeper lines radiating from the corner of his eyes. He wore work boots, jeans and a camo combat jacket. He was Josh...thirty years from now.

  I felt totally inadequate meeting Josh’s legendary father looking as if I’d just gotten out of bed, which I had.

  “Um, hello,” I mumbled. “You must be The General. I’m Lily. I came with Josh?”

  “Lily.” He clasped his hands behind his back and circled around me, inspecting me from head to toe. “Last name?”

  “Boswell.”

  “Age?”

  “Twenty-
nine.”

  “Education?”

  “Art,” I said. “Masters in fine arts...sir.”

  “At ease.” He stopped before me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I took a walk, and I got cold, and it looked warm in here.”

  “Well, what do you think?” He stretched a muscled arm, inviting me to walk with him along an immaculate soapstone counter that ran the length of the greenhouse.

  “Lots of roses,” I said, trying to keep up with his long strides. “Very organized.”

  “Organization is at the root of success,” he said. “Chaos is the greatest enemy. Do you like roses, Boswell?”

  “To be honest,” I said, “I haven’t really had much experience with roses.”

  “I like roses,” he said. “They’re a reliable flower. They’ll be fair to you if you’re fair to them. And they’ll bloom for you if you treat them right.”

  “Have you been growing roses for a long time?”

  “Five years,” he said. “Since I retired from Phoenix Prime. I’ve been best of show every year.”

  “You must love it then.”

  “Nope,” he said. “I actually hate growing roses. All that fuss about compost, manure and phosphorus fertilizing. It’s all a pile of crap, literally. But a man needs a challenge to keep the body fit and the mind working, and this one’s mine.”

  “Okay.” I mean, what else could I have said to that?

  He halted by a workbench, took off his gloves and jacket and, grabbing a steaming pot of coffee from a hot plate, offered me some without words.

  “Yes, please.” I could’ve drunk the entire pot plus a shot of whisky at the moment.

  He selected a mug from a line of identical mugs stamped with the Marine Corps’ seal and poured. “How’s Josh?”

  “Josh is doing okay.”

  He handed me a full mug, no sugar, no cream, no nothing. “Health?”

  “He’s good.” I gulped down the bitterest, most terrible cup of coffee I’d ever had the misfortune of tasting. “Doesn’t sleep much, you know Josh.”

  “I do,” The General said. “Work?”

  “Work is demanding.” I tried not to gag as the coffee seared my gullet and scorched my stomach. “Long hours.”

  “Excellent performance last year,” he said. “Going for a record this year. Work is good for a man. Don’t you think?”

  “Work is good,” I agreed on principle, “but not all the time, not at that level of intensity either.”

  “I didn’t leave Phoenix Prime in his hands just so that he could be lazy,” The General said.

  “Josh, lazy?” I gave a strangled laugh. “I don’t think that would ever be a problem.”

  “I expect nothing but the highest performance from him.”

  “But hopefully not at the expense of your son’s health and happiness.”

  The General’s eyes narrowed on me. “I think work keeps a man alive.”

  “If that’s the case,” I said, “Josh is going to live to eight hundred.”

  He shoved his hands in his gardening gloves and, grabbing a menacing pair of pruning shears, stomped off. “You sound just like him, insubordinate little jarhead he was. What are you waiting for, a printed invitation? With me, Boswell.”

  “Um, okay.” I set my coffee cup aside and followed him down the aisle.

  “Did you know that boy joined the Navy just to rile me?”

  “Oh, I doubt that.”

  “I told him to join the Marines. I mean, the Marines are—well—the Marines.”

  I tried to keep up.

  “But no, he wanted nothing to do with my branch of the service.” He halted suddenly before a section where a bloom of amber roses was in full progress. “And do you know why?”

  I shook my head and kept my mouth shut.

  “Because I was in the Marine Corps.” The General clipped a rose from one bush, moving down the line to clip the next rose, and then the next, like a clipping machine. “Who in their right mind would choose the Navy over the Marines? Hold these.” He deposited the cut roses in my hands. “Do you know why he did that?”

  “No idea,” I said, pulling my sleeves over my hands, trying to avoid the thorns.

  “He did it because he had a chip on his shoulder, that’s why.” Click. “He didn’t want my help.” Click, click, click. “He didn’t want people saying he was given advantages because he was my son. So my own goddamn son chose to go into the Navy ’cause he wanted to make it on his own. Can you believe that?”

  Knowing Josh, yes, I could totally believe it.

  “The Navy.” He scoffed, waiving the shears recklessly in the air. “The goddamn Navy.”

  “I hear he did really well in the Navy.” I ducked the dangerous shears. “First in his Naval Academy class, youngest Naval Special Warfare Officer ever, youngest commander in the history of the SEALs, and all those medals.”

  “Precisely my point.” The General stalked back up the aisle, motioning for me to follow. “He had the stuff to be a marine.”

  “Mac was in the Marines,” I said, depositing the roses in the sink.

  “You’ve met Mac? A fine marine.”

  “He says that Josh was the best.”

  The General suppressed a smile. I saw pride in his eyes, and pain too, along with regret, as he bunched the flowers into a manageable bundle and wrapped the stems in brown paper. “Mac’s right. Josh was the best. My boy’s tough, he won’t stay down.” He ripped off the gloves and poured himself another cup of the toxic coffee. “More?”

  Yikes. I retrieved my cup from the counter and pretended to sip on it. “I still have some, thank you.”

  “You don’t like my coffee?”

  I forced myself to swallow a great big gulp without gagging. “It’s the stuff of legend, I’m sure.”

  He laughed, a startling sound, three loud cackles that ended with total silence. His brows knotted as he stared at me. “So,” he said. “Are you more than a pair of nice boobs and a shapely ass? Is there a brain between those frozen earlobes?”

  I blushed like the reddest rose of the lot. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear the first question in order to answer your second.”

  “Ah, a girl with wit.” He laughed again. “I like wit. It shows the mind’s not idle. Josh does stupid, but not for long. The boy doesn’t need another bimbo. My son is brilliant, but he can also be very stupid.”

  “Josh is not stupid.” I flushed, but this time in anger. “He’s the smartest person I know. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call him names in my presence.”

  The General’s eyebrows rose. “Feisty too. You might have made a good marine. But Josh is my son and I get to call it how I see it. Beside, your hips are too narrow anyway. You won’t birth me a strapping grandson any time soon.”

  The far door banged on its hinges and Josh came marching down the aisle. He sported black thermal pants and a hoodie with the SEAL insignia on it. He also wore running shoes and a knitted cap. I couldn’t help thinking that he looked hot as he stopped before his father and gave him a smart salute.

  “General,” he said.

  His father returned the salute, then stepped forward, took Josh’s hand and hugged him, slapping him on the back. Something softened in his eyes, if only for a second. “Son.”

  I looked from one man to the next and took it all in, how they related to each other, the precise, neat way in which they both dressed and carried themselves, the greenhouse’s meticulous organization... What was it that Bree had said?

  People’s upbringing can define an individual’s need for control.

  Bingo.

  “Good morning, Lily.” Josh’s face broke into a smile. “I see you’ve met my father.”

  “That I have.”

&nb
sp; “No harm done, I hope.” Josh took off his cap and released a cloud of steam from his head.

  “Now what’s the matter with your hair, son?” The General stared at Josh. “You look like a shaggy dog.”

  Josh raked his hand through his hair, making the sweat-soaked spikes stand every which way. “I was going to get a haircut but—”

  “I like it that way,” I blurted out.

  The gazes of both men fell on me.

  “You brought home a pit bull in the guise of a poodle,” The General said. “The girl’s got guts, Josh. I’ve got no clue as to why she’d actually stand up for a son of a bitch like you, but she does. She’s way out of your class.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Josh flashed a smile. “That’s the goddamn truth.”

  The General winked at me. “I found her half frozen and looking for warmth.”

  I shook my head, pleading.

  “She stole into my greenhouse frozen like an icicle.” He broke our brief truce. “Her earlobes were about to fall off.”

  And I was hoping that after all that sex last night, things would go smoothly for me this morning.

  “Why aren’t you wearing your gloves?” Josh said. “And where the hell is your hat?”

  “I forgot them.” I scowled at The General.

  The General clucked. “How careless of you. Which reminds me, I need to go.” He grabbed the roses from the sink. “Amber Flush. Evelyn wants them on the kitchen table in time for breakfast. She’s making Josh’s favorites, huevos rancheros and banana pancakes, but,” he added, smiling innocently, “breakfast won’t be ready for another forty-five minutes. So sayonara kids.” He headed for the door.

  God. I gnawed on my lips. I was this close to swearing out loud, but the look that Josh gave me pummeled the breath out of my lungs.

  “Off with your pants.” He picked me up with one arm and slid the pajama bottoms over my shoes as if I were as light as a plastic doll.

  “But—”

  “No buts.” He turned me around, propped up my knee on the soapstone counter and trapped me against it with his body. “As per my instructions, Miss Boswell, where are you supposed to be?”