When she spoke at last, her voice was ragged, soft, yet certain. “I want you to come inside.”
“I want to,” he said, and rested his hand lightly on her waist.
It felt huge to her, and powerful, a hand that could hold her down and make her do anything. No, she corrected, make her want to do anything. She took a deep final breath before her courage failed. “I have to warn you, though, there are things about me that are a little… no, they’re very weird.”
“Are you secretly a man?”
She giggled. “No, not that weird.”
“Then I can probably work around it. I have some dark things too.”
She felt dizzy with desire and wanted nothing more than to fall against him and feel those strong arms lift her up. But she held on to her dignity. “Can we talk first?”
“We can talk only. If that’s what you want.”
She could tell by his eyes that he meant it. It was more than she’d hoped, and now she was even more apprehensive. But she turned and opened the door before she could change her mind. His hand slid to her hip as she moved, and she felt the brief touch all the way to her toes.
Neither noticed the lone figure slumped in a Ford pickup parked down the street, invisible in the dark evening shade of an old birch tree.
THEY KISSED in the stairwell before she even turned on the lights. He spun her easily to face him, but his initiative was swept away by the hungry embrace she threw around his neck. Off balance, he fell back against the door and slammed it shut. She kept him pressed there in the dark, standing on her toes to reach his mouth with her own. She felt his response through his jeans, and his hands were on her ribs, thumbs stroking the sides of her breasts.
She broke the kiss long enough to gasp, “We’re not talking.”
“No.”
“I lied back there, when I said I wanted to talk, you know.”
“And I’m lying right now, when I say I don’t want to see you naked.”
She giggled. “It’d be way too much like Cinemax to do it for the first time on the stairs up to my place, wouldn’t it?”
“Well, we are adults, and this is your building,” he said, moving his hands to fully encircle her breasts. She sighed at the pressure of his strong fingers kneading her through her dress. “Technically, we’re already in your place.”
She kissed him again, her tongue hungrily raking his. “It’ll be more comfortable upstairs,” she said against his lips.
“Smells like you just painted down here too.”
She nodded. “And I need to pee.”
He chuckled. He moved his fingertips back to her hips, running them along the band of her thong panties beneath the dress. “Then apparently we’re meant go upstairs.”
They kissed intensely as they worked their way up the steps. At the top landing, she kicked off her shoes and ground herself wantonly against him, delighted by his response and her own eagerness. She felt the beer just enough; she was far from drunk but relaxed enough to quiet the second-guessing commentary in her head. Whatever happened, she’d chosen this of her own free will, and, by God, she’d follow through and enjoy it, even though she knew there would be no climactic moment for her.
She opened her apartment door, turned on the light, and felt the expected rush of mild embarrassment at her decor. But thoughts of shame of any sort vanished the moment he spun her around and kissed her again. This time he backed her up to the wall, and there was a fleeting moment where she remembered the other time a man had done that, when it had not meant desire or tenderness or lust but an attempt at possession. But, again, the intensity of the moment pushed those memories of Don back down out of sight. She lifted one leg and rubbed her bare thigh against him, his rough denim delicious against her soft skin.
“Excuse me for just a moment, okay?” she gasped.
“Okay,” he said, and stepped back. He made no effort to hide the erection distending the front of his jeans. She closed the bathroom door and stood still for a long moment, simply catching her breath.
ETHAN FOUGHT the panic coursing through him. He’d stood upright while bullets struck the sand all around him, walked knowingly across a mined bridge, and never faltered. But those acts had not depended on his damn dick staying upright. At the moment he could barely remember how it felt when it wasn’t tumescent, but he knew from experience that its attention could flag at a moment’s notice.
He noticed the cat curled up on an arm of the couch, one paw dangling. He smiled, grateful for the distraction. “Well, hi there,” he said softly. “You must be Tainter. Rachel told me about you. Yes, she did.”
The cat’s eyes did not open. He slid slowly off the arm and landed on all fours, then slunk under the couch.
Ethan took a long breath and slowly let it out. Maybe he should leave now, before he disappointed her and humiliated himself.
IN THE BATHROOM, Rachel flushed the toilet, then pulled the dress over her head and hung it on the bathrobe hook. She wore only dark blue panties beneath it. She turned on the water and looked in the mirror, trying to see herself the way Ethan would. She was slender, firm-breasted, her hair a bit disheveled. She had tan lines, and the tattoo below her navel drew attention to that area. But she had to admit, for a woman her age she held up pretty well. He might not be winning the lottery, but she was no cheap parting gift either.
She reached for her robe, then stopped. That was pointless; she was already naked in a way that had nothing to do with clothes. No need to be a hypocrite.
She turned off the light and opened the door. He stood in front of her couch, contemplating the Frida Kahlo poster above it, until he realized she’d returned. The look on his face was everything she’d hoped for.
He finally said, “I’m… speechless.”
She smiled. “Good. We decided not to talk, anyway.”
She guided him into the bedroom and closed the door to keep Tainter from interrupting. The only light came from the streetlamp outside the window. She pushed him down on his back and peeled him like fresh produce in the diner, starting with his socks and working up. When she slid his jeans down his legs, his erection announced itself through his Jockey briefs. With a moan of desire that made him shiver, she pulled off his underwear and knelt over him, her fingertips lifting him to her mouth.
He closed his eyes and arched his back. “Oh, God, Rachel—”
“Shh!” she ordered. “Just… enjoy.”
She wanted him to know what it felt like to be engulfed in something, to experience what she did when the lake spirits claimed her. She wanted to take him, to possess him, and she knew that at this moment his whole being was concentrated in what she now kissed, licked, and sucked.
HE RAISED his head enough to watch her rhythmically bob over him. She still wore the midnight blue thong, and he desperately wanted to rip it from her and show her what she’d done to him, what she’d made him newly capable of after months of failure. But he held back, waiting for an indication that she wanted it too. If, he thought with a shiver, he lasted that long.
He clamped his eyes shut against the vision, the memory, that hovered just beyond his consciousness. The poor dead girl, and the soldier standing over her, grinning at what he’d done to her body—
Yet with one artful stroke of her tongue, Rachel sent the image back into the darkness and replaced it with healing images solely of her.
SHE TOOK HIM to the very edge, then, with a final kiss on his swollen tip, she stretched out beside him, running her hands over his chest. “Did you like that?” she whispered.
“Now we’re talking?” he said with a shudder in his voice.
“Not really,” she sighed. His belly was tight and sweaty, the light hair around his navel damp. Her hand moved lower, encountering more hair and the residue of her own kisses.
“Then, yes, I liked it. It’s been… a while since I felt so good. I liked it very much. Do you want me to show you how much?”
She nodded against his shoulder.
I
n one explosive movement he had her in his arms—no, in his hands, those huge paws around her waist, lifting her and turning her onto her back as his mouth slid down her torso, lingering over her nipples and then moving lower, his fingers sliding her panties from her. Before she could say anything, beg for him to wait so she could explain that this was ultimately pointless, he lifted one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder, while his hands spread her thighs and allowed his tongue the access it sought.
The first stroke made her cry out; it had been years since she’d experienced this, and all the desire for it seemed to burst forth from a forgotten reservoir within her. She heard her own voice gasping, whimpering, and almost sobbing as he worked on her. He knew where to nibble, when to bite, and what to suck on, drawing her into almost a rage of physical need. And he got her so close, closer than anyone ever had. Oh, God, if only, she thought.
Finally he rose above her and said, “I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“Condoms in the nightstand,” she gasped. He rolled one on with trembling fingers.
She fell back, legs spread, weak from the things he’d already done to her. She felt him position himself and reached down to help guide him in, feeling the hard, hot presence within her that was completely different from the way the lake spirits felt. Her awareness was so heightened that she could barely breathe.
He stayed in that position, his arms trembling, looking down at her. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, but he remained still, as if afraid his size would injure her.
“Don’t be gentle,” she said, her hands running over his shoulders, her legs wrapping tightly around him. “I’m not fragile. Just fuck me.”
He pushed down with his hips, driving himself deeper, and the mattress groaned along with her. She arched her back, knees wide, and rolled her hips to let him have all he could take. Her hands roamed his flesh, amazed at the layers of muscle she encountered. She’d expected him to be strong—cut, in gym parlance—but this was more than that.
She put her palms against his chest as he lowered himself again, and she felt the muscles sliding beneath his skin. She moved one hand to his buttocks, already slick with sweat, and squeezed as much as the hard muscles allowed. He moaned in response and raised his head to gasp for air.
She nipped at his chin, then his neck, and finally took one of his nipples in her teeth. He cried out and again drove deep into her, using one hand to tangle in her hair and pull her head back. His mouth crushed against hers, his tongue penetrating with the same forcefulness, and she clung to him as he began to truly fuck her.
When he rolled onto his back and she was suddenly astride him, the deeper penetration made her scream. She arched her back and pushed with her hips, riding him with all the fury she could muster. His cries grew animalistic and urgent, which just made her grind against him even harder.
She felt a rush of emotion that, while not a true orgasm, nevertheless left her with a feeling of such feminine power that she wanted nothing more than to submit to him. She crawled off him, onto her belly, and raised her hips. She looked back, offering herself to him in total submission, as he got to his knees and positioned himself. He lifted her off the bed with the intensity of his entry.
Finally, simultaneously exhausted and infuriatingly incomplete, she pulled away, rolled onto her back, and again spread herself for him. He returned to her and she wrapped him in her arms and legs, holding him tight.
“I’m not good for much more,” he breathed between grunts. “It’s been a while since…”
“Go ahead,” she sighed into his ear, stroking his sweat-damp hair. She almost wished they hadn’t been so responsible, so she could feel his release deep inside her.
“What about you?”
“I can’t, baby. Just go ahead.”
“No, whatever you need me to do, I can—”
“Please, just do it,” she said, suddenly desperate for the feeling, the knowledge that she could inspire that in him. He didn’t argue. He rose above her, all his weight and strength pressing her down into her mattress, and then she felt it. He swelled within her, then twitched, and his contained lust strained against the latex. It almost brought her to the same release, but her orgasm hovered just out of reach, the tingles building and spreading but never quite digging in and taking hold. She pumped her hips desperately, wanting it more than she’d ever wanted anything, but it withdrew as always, leaving the ache that could be sated only one way.
Finally they collapsed side by side, each sweaty and out of breath, looking up at the ceiling. Tainter scratched at the door with a plaintive, worried meow. They turned and looked into each other’s eyes for a long, serious moment, each knowing that something fundamental had changed. This could be no simple one-nighter.
Neither moved for a long while. Tainter went away, and the air-conditioner compressor kicked on. Finally she rolled onto her side and put her hand on his chest. His heart thudded against her palm. “I need to tell you something, Ethan.”
He started to speak, but she touched his lips and added, “No, I promise you, it isn’t what you think, no matter what you do think. Just let me get this out before I lose my nerve.”
“Okay,” he said, and stroked her cheek with his fingertips.
She took a deep breath and began her story.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE SUMMER I was fourteen, my sister, Becky, and I were swimming in Lake Monona. Our parents were on the bank watching us. There were lots of other people around. Then some drunk in a speedboat, trying to get into the Yahara channel locks, cut across the swimming area. He came up behind me; I never even saw him. He went right over me. The boat knocked me out, and the propeller cut my scalp down to the bone.”
She tossed her hair to one side and he put his hand on her head. She felt him slowly trace the raised line of the scar.
“I was underwater for two hours,” she continued. “The police came, and rescue boats. Everyone at the lake that day helped look for me. Well, except for Becky, who just lost it. She blamed herself. Anyway, they finally found me floating in the weeds more than a mile away. Naturally they thought I was dead. God knows, I should’ve been. But I wasn’t.”
She paused, recalling that day with all the clarity only life-changing trauma can provide. She’d spoken of it so seldom, she found herself searching for words. “They had to do CPR and get all the water out of my lungs, but I wasn’t dead. No one could explain that. They also couldn’t explain what happened to my swimsuit.”
“They found you naked?”
She nodded. “My suit was one of those one-piece numbers my mom insisted on, about as sexy as a cabbage. It did turn up, but it wasn’t torn or ripped. It looked like I’d simply taken it off, which of course made no sense given the situation.”
She shifted on the bed and felt the fabric pull away from where it stuck to her sweaty skin. This was harder than she thought, more so because she couldn’t see Ethan’s face clearly enough to gauge his reaction. “They took me to the hospital, stitched me up, and I recovered. But something was different.”
“What?”
She rolled onto her back and crossed one ankle over her knee, staring at the ceiling. Now she was glad it was dark and he couldn’t see her face, because she felt the burn of a blush. “Can I ask you something personal first?”
“Sure.”
“How old were you when you first started… well… masturbating?”
He was silent for a moment, then said, “Eleven or twelve, I guess. Why?”
“Well, me too. Only, after that day at the lake, I couldn’t… you know.”
“Masturbate?”
“No, of course I could do that, it was just… I couldn’t have an orgasm. I could get close, right up to it, but never quite there.”
“And that’s why—”
“Wait, I’m not done. I couldn’t tell anyone about that, of course. If you ever meet my family, you’ll understand why. And that didn’t make it any easier to put up with. I was a two-a-day girl
back then, even though I was still a virgin. The thing is, whenever I’d try, I kept having this urge to go skinny-dip back in the lake where I nearly died. When I’d get close to… you know, coming, I’d remember the way the lake water felt on my skin. It became kind of an obsession.”
She paused again. After a moment he quietly prompted, “So what did you do?”
“Put up with it until the next summer. I spent that whole winter begging my folks to promise they’d take me back to the lake, told them some b.s. about needing to ‘face my fears.’ I was constantly so horny I bit off everyone’s head who spoke to me. I started drinking and smoking dope, just to deaden the way I felt. It was a tough winter.”
“So did your parents take you back to the lake the next year?”
“They did. I had to promise a thousand different ways that I’d be careful, watch out for boats and everything else. But I had my own priorities and, by then, I was so desperate I would’ve said or agreed to anything. As soon as I could that day, I slipped away, took off my swimsuit in some bushes where I hoped no one could see, and …”
She trailed off. The headlights of a passing car swiped across the ceiling. The next few moments would determine everything. What if he jumped up, grabbed his clothes, and ran? What if he went and told Marty, and his other friends, about the crazy woman who ran the diner? It was more than a personal revelation; it was something that could damage and destroy every aspect of her life. Did she trust him that much?
“What happened?” he asked softly, nothing but kindness and curiosity in his voice. She could dimly see his face. He wasn’t laughing or scowling, just looking at her with interest and concern.
“I disappeared for two hours again. I stayed underwater the whole time, apparently. And something in the water… made love to me. It took my virginity.”
She waited for the laugh, or at least the derisive snort. But he said nothing.
“When they found me, I was bleeding… down there,” she said. “They thought someone in the park had molested me, then thrown me into the lake to drown. My mother was absolutely hysterical. But I knew that whatever had done it wasn’t anything…”
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