The Widows of Sea Trail (The Widows of Sea Trail Trilogy)

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  He coached me and urged me to touch my breasts in ways I had never done before. I lightly pinched myself and squeezed myself from the fullest part of my breasts to make my nipples stand up and out. I imagined his tongue touching me there long before he told me to. Then finally, he allowed me to touch the nipples. He encouraged me in his soft husky voice, as he instructed me to pull on them, to pinch them and then to simulate his sucking by drawing them out over and over again as fast as I could with the pads of my fingers. I was damn near melting into the mattress.

  He told me how he wanted me positioned, that he wanted me stretched out full-length on the bed with my thighs spread for him.

  “I want you to flatten your palm and run your hand down your belly and over your hips, use it to rub your mons in tiny circles until your thighs spread wide for me.” I do not believe I have ever gotten out of a pair of pajamas so quickly.

  The thought of his hand on my belly made me arch upward. “Let me cup your sex,” he whispered. When I didn’t say anything because I was still tugging at my pajama bottoms, trying to get them off my ankles, he pleaded like a man who was suffering.

  “Please, please, let me,” he whispered as if he was getting some kind of resistance from me on this end. I threw the pajamas on the floor and fell back onto the bed. I did as he instructed, my hands following a sensual path as he coached me. My thighs opened on their own accord, and when he asked for permission to “Slide my longest finger into you,” I practically screamed, “Yes!”

  “Oh, you feel so tight. Awarm, velvet sheath, all wet for me. I want you. I want to touch you and taste you, run my lips and my tongue all over you. I want to go deeper. Slide me in deeper,” he instructed. I followed his missives to the letter.

  “My thumb is circling your sweet little nub as my finger thrusts in and out. Hear the sweet noise of that? You’re trying to suck me back. I like that. I’m going faster now, can you keep up?”

  “Yes,” I panted, lifting my hips to his, I mean, my fingers.

  “Come with me sweetheart, I’m stroking my cock in my hand while I’m fingering you. God, you are so wet, I want to suck on your sweet clit, press against it with your thumb for me, does that feel good?”

  “Yes, yes!”

  “Circle your clit and don’t stop until I tell you. That’s right, you’re doing great.”

  “Nnnngh,” I muttered.

  “I know, it feels wonderful to me, too. Now as I’m pressing, I’m shoving two fingers inside you. Can you feel me? I’m so deep I can almost feel your womb. Mmmm. Let go baby, come with me, ride the sensation, let yourself go and feel me inside you, stroking you. In a moment I’m going to climb on top of you and enter you, I’m going to ride you like you’ve never been ridden before, thrust into you as hard as I can, over and over again, rocking against you until all you can feel is me, touching you right there.”

  I shattered. I completely came apart. There on my bed with a mound of folded laundry still piled at the foot of it. Coming up through the sensual haze I realized that I could hear my heart pounding like a jackhammer. And there was a low, incessant clicking sound. I turned my heard to where it came from. I had knocked over the wineglass and it was dripping at regular intervals onto a book I had thrown on the floor. The sound of it dripping kept time with my heartbeat as I fought my way back from the aftershocks of the most incredible orgasm I had ever given myself.

  I looked around. I had dropped the phone. I rummaged for it, finding it in a fold of the comforter.

  Conscious of my naked body, I pulled the sheet up over my breasts and felt around for my nightshirt.

  “Cat?” a voice called. I had the phone in my hand, but it seemed like a foreign object at the moment.

  “Yeah,” I replied, then turned the phone right side up and tried again. “Uh, hi.”

  “Hi beautiful. You were incredible.”

  “Uh well thanks, but I really didn’t do anything, it was all you.” No, that wasn’t really true, he hadn’t even been here. God I was so embarrassed now.

  “You’re a wonderful lover, amazing in fact.”

  “How can you say that? I didn’t do anything to you.”

  “Oh, just the thought of what I was doing to you took care of me. I’m a goner tonight in more ways than one.”

  “How long have you been drinking if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Not long. And don’t worry, I think I’m going to stop right now. You’ve completely wiped me out.” The next thing I heard was him snoring. I listened to his even breathing for a minute then I clicked off the phone and smiled. I leaned my head back against the headboard for a few minutes of quiet reflection. That really was the best thing about sex sometimes, the afterglow. And as I hadn’t had this kind of satiated bliss for so long, I let myself relish it.

  I was surprised that having phone sex with someone had turned me on. And not just a little, this had been a major lust fest. I smiled when I thought of Matt, slumped over his pillow, possibly naked, quite possibly holding onto his . . . well, his maleness.

  When he woke in the morning would he be happy he’d had phone sex with me? I sighed and got up to clean the wine. I could go for a shot of something more potent I told myself as I sifted through my mind for what I had in the liquor cabinet.

  A few minutes later I settled back against my pillow with a shot glass of peach schnapps. While I enjoyed my version of a post coital cigarette I let my mind wander. Sipping the sweet, strong liquor I had to laugh at myself. What Matt and I had just done was some kind of perverted, but it had been great fun. I wondered if next time I could do my part and talk him through to an orgasm. I had my doubts.

  Then I remembered the conversation about the plant closing. Why had that woman called Matt a billionaire bamboozler? Just how wealthy was this man I was seeing? It made me uneasy to think he could be rich. I already felt insecure around him, more so now that I was falling in love with him. I didn’t want him to be loaded; I didn’t want him to be that desirable to so many other women—younger, sexier women. I took the last sip of my drink and turned off the lamp. Then I slid the pillow down as I hunkered under the covers. I inched over to where Matt had slept the night before and sunk my face into the pillow that he had used. The woodsy smell of him surrounded me as I fell asleep thinking he had said he was thrilled with my breasts.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Guilty Survivors The next day I woke and my first thoughts were of Matt. I smiled while I made the bed, then I felt guilty that I hadn’t been thinking of Stephen instead. I didn’t know whether to be happy or to be sad. I was happy thinking about my future again, but miserable because I couldn’t fully enjoy the giddy feeling I was having. It didn’t seem fair to have these conflicting feelings. I wanted to be happy and I didn’t want anything weighing that happiness down. But there it was. I was beginning to question why I was giving up my grief so easily. How could I forget Stephen like this? Didn’t he deserve me to mourn for him for many more years?

  I knew that grief took over each person in an entirely different manner. Some people grieve over a beloved pet for years, yet a mother or sister’s passing may only cause a minor stumbling block. Some go through the phases over and over, some skip around, and some get stuck in one phase for way too long. As I had gone through each phase I had been careful to reflect on my feelings, to listen to others and to read whatever I could find that soothed and explained the natural process I was going through. Not once had I read that finding a new love to replace the lost one would make you elated one day and darn near suicidal the next.

  Just as I had finished making the bed a violent rage came over me and I ended up throwing all the pillows against the wall and pulling all the linens to the floor. Then I fell onto the pile I had created and had a good, strong cry. Twenty minutes later I was in my car headed to Belk’s at Shallotte Crossing. It was time for a make over, not of myself this time, but of my house. Starting with the bedroom. The room in which both Stephen and Matt had made love to me.
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br />   As I drove through the plantation, and through all the little mini communities within, I marveled at the turning points that led people here, and how everyone handled them so differently. When retiring, some people wanted nothing more than to simplify and clean up their cluttered lifestyles so they sold or got rid of trinkets and flotsam. Others wanted the dream house, the mansion they always felt they had deserved and so they ran out and bought all manner of furnishings in the latest and trendiest styles. Others wanted to eschew the life they’d had of dueling with the neighbors over crabgrass issues and being forever behind the eight ball of housework and to opt for the carefree, maintenance-free living of a condo or townhouse. It was all here at Sea Trail, and though many often changed their minds once here and switched from one to another, jumped the fence so to speak, I never thought that I would.

  I wondered if that’s what was going on right now. Was I longing to restructure my life and opting for a change? Why did I feel this sudden urge to clean out things and throw things away? It must just be time, I told myself. As hard as it was to face, I realized that I was moving onto a new phase. I was ready to try something new, yet part of me was fighting the permanence of it.

  I felt guilty the whole time I was picking out a new ensemble for the bedroom, I felt like I was somehow being a traitor. I roamed the housewares section tilting my head to study the different patterns. As something interested me, I unzipped the plastic bag around the comforter and stuck my hand in to feel it. I finally managed to narrow it down to three that I liked. As I ran my hands over each with my eyes closed, I imagined it touching me, and I tried to sense how it would feel on my skin, how the weight of it would feel as it caressed me as I tossed and turned throughout the night. The feel was almost more important to me than the look. Finally I found one that met my criteria. Soft pastel colors, but not at all reminiscent of flowers, and smooth to the touch without being so satiny it would have a tendency to slide off the bed, and not beachy. I wanted abstract in my bedroom. And not something masculine looking, but not exactly feminine either. I was pleased with my choice as I stood in line to pay for the ensemble and a few things I had chosen to go with it.

  By the time I had returned home, unpacked everything and made up the bed, I was excited and thrilled with the new look. I was taking a slow, thoughtful stroll around the house deciding which room would be next when the doorbell rang. It was Sam the UPS man. We joked about his impending retirement and how it couldn’t be too soon as he hated the heat of the summer, then he handed me a package and headed back to his brown van.

  I closed the door behind me as I stared at the package. I didn’t recognize the name on the label: Adam and Eve. Curious, I sat on the sofa and opened the small box. Even as I held the object in my hand I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but I thought that perhaps it was a vibrator. I checked the packing slip and then the personalized note that was attached at the bottom. “Until I get back. I’m anxious to show you what we can do with this, Matt.” It was a vibrator and despite my sudden embarrassment, I flicked the switch that brought it to life. A low hum accompanied the frenzied shimmy as it pulsed in my hand. I had to smile. Only Matt would do something as outrageous as this just to let me know that he was thinking of me. As I carried it to the bedroom and tucked it into my nightstand drawer, I smiled again. I had heard there were many uses for these things, and I started imagining ways I could use it to please Matt.

  Feeling energized I decided it was a good day for the beach and even though I had never attempted it alone, I took the kite Stephen and I had bought together at Klieg’s Kites at Barefoot Landing. It hadn’t been flown since Stephen had last sent it up, not even when my nieces and nephews had visited, but it was time. It was time for us both to soar again.

  It was shaped like a fish in black, pink and yellow with dangling orange streamers for the fins. We had used it to mark our little plot of sand when taking long walks on the beach as it was visible for a mile or better. I had an easy time getting it up and then I tied it to the back of the chair I had anchored in the sand. It flew high in the sky behind my chair and I enjoyed the sound of the wind whipping against the nylon as I read a few chapters in Sandy Spinatsch’s new book. Like the trendy t-shirts and caps you saw at the beach shops, the ones with the smiling stick people on them, I thought, Life is good.

  The next morning was Thursday and it was time for Pilate’s class at the Pink Palace. I knew Matt was in Raleigh, but still l looked for him in the workout room before and after class. He wasn’t there and since I hadn’t heard from him since our unique phone conversation two nights ago, I was a bit miffed. I was getting worried and losing confidence again. Why did men have this control over women, I thought as I stomped through the warm up and intentionally glared at the clock causing Nicole to frown at me. Why did men campaign so single-mindedly to get you into bed and then ignore you after they had? Why had I put myself in a position to be this vulnerable again, I asked myself as I counted off roll ups. Why hadn’t he called, damn him!

  Arriving home I found a beautiful arrangement of roses on my front porch. My heart softened as I unrolled the huge note that was attached with a gold ribbon to the side of an impressively large vase. It wasn’t a note, but a poster of the movie Ladyhawke. Tears welled in my eyes when I saw that he had included a tiny package of microwave popcorn wedged in between the roses. The note said simply: “From one lusty wolf,” alluding to Navarre’s initial character from the movie we had watched together on the night we had met.

  I was no longer floundering and unsure of myself. I was woman, hear me roar, or howl as the case may be. I was thinking positive again, and my thoughts were along the line that maybe, just maybe I had found a new mate. After all, I had heard it said that wolves mated for life.

  Chapter Twenty

  A B C D E F . . .G! Matt didn’t make it home on Friday, but he called out of the blue on Saturday afternoon and asked me to drive over to The Winds Resort on Ocean Isle Beach. He said we’d already been checked in and that all I had to do was get the key and wait for him. He said he’d try to be back from Raleigh by three.

  I packed a few things, called Leslie to take care of Gimlet for the night and headed over. The room was right on the ocean, above the pool and tiki bar. I loved how it was furnished; everything was reminiscent of the tropics with palm trees as the major theme. There was even a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket along with two champagne glasses to welcome us. It promised to be a beautiful night on the beach. I had to wonder at the reason for his urgent, spontaneous plans. There was an amazing breeze coming off the ocean that kept me outside on the veranda in a rocker until Matt showed up at four-thirty.

  He set his suitcase down and grabbed me up, spinning me around by arms looped around my waist while he kissed me so thoroughly and with so much hunger that I was mesmerized. It was as if he was starved for me and I can’t tell you how good it made me feel to realize that for now, I controlled this man’s happiness. If the way he pulled me into the room after him and slammed the door before throwing me onto the sofa was any indication, I was his sole reason for living at this very moment. I was stripped of my bathing suit and mounted by a man still in his business suit who was too eager to do more than unzip his zipper. He was inside me thrusting within scant seconds of following me down onto the sofa and I knew he hadn’t had time to prepare himself. But I no longer cared; I wanted him, without any barrier, just as he was, taking possession of my body as if he owned it. And truth be told, at that moment he did.

  Something drove him so feverishly that I stopped trying to keep up. I gave him whatever access he needed as he lifted me, spun me and entered and reentered me in a myriad of positions. I was on top of him, my arms on the back of the sofa, being bucked up by hips that were frantic when he came inside me. I felt the heat as his ejaculate left his body and entered mine. Then I heard his heartfelt moan as his hands gripped my butt cheeks and he plunged in twice more, holding me as if he never intended to let me go. I had not come, I ha
d not wanted to, and quite honestly, I think he meant to ravish me with no thought of my own pleasure. I was convinced that his lust for me, that his urgent need to take me and possess me so thoroughly was because, in his absence he had discovered he was in love with me. He hadn’t said it, and I didn’t think that he would, but deep inside I felt it. I slumped over him in my joy and kissed his neck and his chest until he stopped me by bringing my mouth to his. A more tender kiss I could not imagine as he lazily moved his lips over mine and licked under the rim of my lips with his tongue.

  “I’ve been thinking of nothing but you for hours.” “It showed,” I said with a huge grin. “Believe me, it definitely showed!” I eased myself off of him, went to the bathroom and took a quick shower before putting my suit back on. Then we sat on the sofa snuggled into each other, sipping champagne and alternately necking and talking. These were the halcyon moments books were always referring to, and I could hardly believe after all I’d been through in the last four years that I was the one who was getting my shot at them.

  A dinner basket provided by the Causeway Deli was delivered to the room and we took everything downstairs to a poolside table and ate voraciously. He must have known we’d be famished for he’d ordered enough for six. There was no one around so afterward we sat in loungers and enjoyed having the view and the breeze all to ourselves.

  He thought he might like to exercise his muscles in the surf. I was too satiated with food and wine to think about vigorous activity of any kind so I told him I’d just sit in the sand and watch him swim. I ran the leftovers upstairs and changed into a short skirt and halter top.

  He grabbed a towel for both of us and we made our way down to the beach. It was getting dark and as we were away from the lights of the resort, it was an abrupt change. There was no moon and it was eerily deserted on the beach. There were a few couples walking at the water’s edge hundreds of yards away, but the place Matt selected to place the towels was fairly secluded.