by Marlie May
Exiting the main road, Dag bumped the car along a dead-end street that led toward the point.
While a few locals held onto spits of land, taxes drove many to sell to the highest bidder—out-of-staters mostly. “You know someone down here? Because this is all private property.”
“It’s okay.” Driving into a cut-out on the side of the road, the Honda’s tires crunched on the shoulder as Dag slowed and put the car into park.
Dense forest encroached on our left. To our right, the ocean called, with its crashing waves and salty spray.
“Hop out.” Dag unbuckled. “I’ll get the basket.”
Emerging from the car, I hugged my arms around my waist and shivered. Since it was warmer inland, I hadn’t worn a jacket.
Dag dropped a quilt around my shoulders. He kissed my cheek and switched the basket to his left hand, taking mine with the other. His chin jutted forward, to a dirt drive. “This way.”
I waved to the post with the orange sign tacked in place. “That says no trespassing.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Last I’d heard, someone had bought a large piece of land in this area. The new owner was building a big house with a porch spanning the front that overlooked the sea.
The driveway gave way to an open area with seagrass fluttering in the breeze. We crunched along a path, moving past the skeleton of a house. Cricking my neck, I tried to see what the place looked like, but only caught timber frame beams, many already encased with golden lumber. Stone chimneys stuck up from the metal roof.
“You’re going to get us arrested,” I whispered. Dag sure loved to live on the dangerous side.
“Don’t worry. I know the owner. I’ve got permission to be here.” His hand tightened around mine before I could escape. “Come on.”
We crossed the front lawn and moved toward the sea.
Stalling at the rail spanning the cliffs, I drank it in. The moon had risen, and a black sky filled with winking stars surrounded it. Below, the ocean rose and slipped away, lapping the rocky shore. A trail wound down the cliff face until it emptied at the beach. The wind carried a mix of brine and roses. I closed my eyes and inhaled, trying to imprint this moment in my mind forever.
“This way.” Tugging my arm, Dag led me down the wooden stairs until we reached the base. He dropped the picnic basket in the sand and walked forward alone, not stopping until the sea edged at his sandals. “I could stand here forever, letting the world go on without me, just watching the water move in and out with the tides.”
Hugging his waist, I rested my head on his shoulder. “It’s beautiful.” I’d never seen a more perfect spot. I envied the person who owned this land, who had the privilege of enjoying this view whenever they pleased.
Dag flashed me a smile. “But we didn’t come here tonight just to soak in the view.” He moved around me, returning to the picnic basket. After kicking larger rocks out of the way, he created a smooth place where he spread another blanket. Returning, he guided me to the nest he’d made. “Sit.”
I tumbled down and crossed my legs. The day’s heat had passed, and while the quilt kept me from freezing, the breeze cut through, sending shivers up my spine.
Dag dropped beside me and riffled through the basket, pulling out wine and a glass. “I thought we’d share.”
More intimacy I could get used to. “Red or white?”
“Which do you like better?”
I shrugged. “I’m pinot girl, but I’m okay with whites.”
“Pinot it is. A decent year, I think.” He uncorked the bottle, poured a splash, and handed me the glass. “This one’s from a vineyard in Seattle. Let me know what you think.”
Seattle, huh? I’d never paid attention to where my wine came from. Swirling the liquid, I tasted it. Berries and cloves. “It’s yummy.”
His smile warmed me through. I gave the glass to him, and he sipped. His tongue peeked out to trace his lips, removing any lingering wine. Thoughts of that tongue on my body, driving me to the edge and beyond, stirred heat in my belly.
Dag extended his legs and patted the space created between them. “Come over here. You’re cold. Let me warm you up.”
I was warming up nicely already, thank you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t warm me even more. Climbing over his leg, I settled in front of him and scooted backward until his solidness surrounded me. Pure heaven.
He wrapped us up with the blanket and tucked his arms around my waist. His chin rested on my shoulder. “I love this place. Can’t get out here enough.”
“Is the owner away often?” I couldn’t imagine owning this and ever wanting to leave.
He paused. “He’s here every now and then.”
“Is your dad building the house?” I tipped my head toward the cliffs. “He does residential construction, doesn’t he?”
“An architect designed it, and my father’s the general contractor, yes.”
“I imagine you’ve helped some with the building, then.”
“Here and there.”
I chuckled. “Using your handyman skills?”
He trailed his kisses from my neck to my nape, generating delicious quivers. “I hung up my handyman services years ago.”
While my heart thrilled to hear that, I wasn’t sure he should’ve retired the profession yet. I might have need of it. I turned in his embrace and rose onto my knees. We kissed, long and slow, tasting each other while fire built between us.
“Tell me something,” I said.
“Sure.”
“Why didn’t you sleep with me? Back at your house?”
His hands stroked my back, blazing wherever he touched. “That was for you.”
“Couldn’t have been too comfortable for you, though.”
“I’ll live.”
“We could do it now if you want.”
“I want to be with you.” Raw need filled his voice.
The husky tone fanned my flames into an inferno. “Then take me.”
“I plan to. All in good time. I’d rather get you hot and bothered first.”
“Seems to me, I was already hot and bothered.”
“You suggesting you’re a once-a-night woman?”
I shrugged. “Hard to know. It’s not like I’ve had that much experience.”
Lying back on the blanket, he pulled me down on top of him. His hand slid around to the back of my neck, and he urged my face closer. His lips brushed mine. “I think we should do a little experiment to find out, don’t you?”
My body roused to that notion.
We kissed, our tongues moving together. Dag’s hands slid underneath my shirt. I hadn’t bothered with a bra, and his fingertips rewarded me for my foresight. I eased back onto my knees and pulled my top off, tossing it aside. We kissed some more, our lungs raging. My head spun toward the stars. Our fingers stroked, and urgency consumed me.
We scrambled out of our clothes.
Dag lay back on the blanket and pulled me down on top of him again with a sigh. “Damn, you feel good.” His hands slid across my back to my butt where he massaged my cheeks. He parted my thighs until I rode his hips. His erection jutted between us, insistent and straining.
“I hope you brought condoms,” I said. “Because it never occurred to me.”
“At least a dozen.”
“Aren’t you ambitious.”
He grinned. “It always pays to be prepared.” Rising up onto one elbow, he riffled through the picnic basket and located the box. He removed a packet and tossed the rest onto the blanket.
“Let me.” I was eager to slide my hands down over him.
Settling back on the blanket, he waved to his body. “Take me. I’m all yours.”
I chuckled at that notion. One thing at a time. Right now, I craved to possess this moment. To be possessed by him. To feel him surround me, moving within me. Ripping into the package, I removed the circular ring. I scooted back on his thighs so I could take in the view.
“Like what you see?” he asked.
Ever arrogant. It suited him.
“I think I need to try things out before I draw conclusions, don’t you?” I unrolled the condom over his length, taking my time.
“Getting bold in your old age, are ye, lass?” he asked with a strain in his voice.
Emboldened by my newly-found brazenness, I smirked. “Guess we’ll just have to see, now won’t we?”
With a growl, he rolled me onto my back. He rose above me like Poseidon emerging from the sea, prepared to stake his claim to a goddess for the night. I was more than ready to be claimed. Dag’s kisses ignited me. Moving down, his mouth teased my breast while his hand drifted across my belly to touch lower. I writhed, aching for what he’d given me earlier. Only more.
When my moans made a symphony with his groans, echoing around us in the small cove, he lifted himself above me. “Keep your eyes on mine? I want to watch every expression you make.”
Closing them brought sensations into sharp focus, but I wanted to please him as he’d already pleased me.
His warm hand parted my thighs, and he settled his body between them. His erection nudged against me until he reined it in and centered it at my core. With his gaze locked onto mine, he pushed inside, filling me. “You feel incredible. I want to stay here all night.” Pulling out, he thrust back inside.
Again.
I arched my hips up to meet his, while heat coiled inside me.
He cupped my butt with his palm and lifted me as he dove inside, increasing his pace until our bodies slapped together. I squeezed everything inside, and he gasped. “Yes. That. Do that again. That’s fantastic.”
As we moved in unison, our cries mingled and my soul drifted from me to soar into the sky.
I slid back down, into the shelter of his arms.
Complete.
* * *
Later, we dressed and walked along the shore, kicking sand, letting the waves wash against our ankles.
Dag kept his arm around my waist. And he kept kissing me as if he’d never get enough.
I’d never get enough.
We stopped to stare at the water. Inky black, speckled with tiny bits of dark blue and white. The moon’s glow shimmered as it sped to nowhere.
“When I was a kid,” I told him, brushing my wind-blown hair off my face. “My mom would take me to Plum Island. Salisbury Beach. Once, I found a stone with a single white band all the way around it.” I laughed at the silly kid I’d been. “I decided striped stones like that were precious, rarer than diamonds.”
“Let’s see if we can find one.” Dag sped back to the picnic basket and dug out a small flashlight. He rejoined me at the shore, and with wide arcs, we searched, moving slowly south.
“Not much luck,” he said with the disappointment of a little kid in his voice.
“I told you. Rare.”
When we were about to give up, we discovered two rocks with striped bands running around them, much like the ones I’d found as a kid.
“One for you.” He dropped it into my palm. “And one for me.”
I grinned up at him. “Now we can make wishes.”
“Show me.”
Turning, we stood side-by-side, staring out at the sea.
“I called them wishing stones back then.” I slanted a shy gaze up at him. The wind blew his hair into wild disarray. I wanted to stroke it, wrap the curls at his collar around my fingers. “I’d close my eyes, make a wish, and throw the rock away with my wish.”
“Did your wishes come true?”
I shrugged, and my voice grew wistful. “Once, I asked for a kitten, and my mom got me one.”
“Only one wish in all those years?”
Well, no. But it was stupid.
I’d learned wishes don’t come true.
My shoulders sagged. “When I was twelve, I wished my father would swoop into my life. With a big laugh, he’d lift me into his arms and announce to the world I was his daughter.”
Dag tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Did that wish come true?”
I shook my head, shedding the bitter memory. “I don’t think my father ever knew I existed.”
Dag wrapped his arms around me. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” I lifted my lips to join with his. “But talk like that isn’t why we’re here tonight.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “We’re here to use all those condoms, right?”
I socked his shoulder. “For a full box of condoms, I’m holding out for date six.”
His lips warmed mine. “You free tomorrow night?”
“I think I’m free most every night for you.”
I was about to pull him back to the blanket and tear into condom number two when he chuckled. “You’re an incredible distraction, but I’ve got a striped rock and I’m dying to make a wish with it.”
“Okay.” I shuffled my feet like the child I’d been all those years ago, back when promises were never broken. “What are you going to wish for?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t come true, now would it?”
I tilted my head to stare up at him. “Do you really believe that?”
“Sure do.”
“Then let’s do it.” Taking his hand, I tugged him closer to the water.
“Together, right?”
My smile trembled.
He gripped my hand in his, his stone in the other. “One, close your eyes.”
Night enveloped the world, taking me along with it. Without sight, the ocean dominated, crashing waves on the shore and sucking at the sand, before dragging itself back out for more.
“Two,” I said brightly. “Squeeze really really tight.”
His hand gripped mine.
“Three,” he said. “Make a wish.”
I already knew what I wanted.
Inhaling, I lifted my voice. “And throw.”
After squeezing my rock so hard it pinched my palm, I hauled back my arm and released my wish to the sea.
Praying that life would deliver.
Dag
Over the next week, I spent every night out at the beach with Lark. We filled the picnic basket with fruit, gourmet cheeses, crusty loaves of bread, and wine. We fed each other, laughing when we missed mouths, tossing our food aside to climb all over each other.
We shared stories from our lives. Each evening ended with a long walk, our hands clasped together. We couldn’t stop kissing, and I savored our moments together.
I needed her.
Loved her.
But I wasn’t sure I dared tell her the truth about who I really was.
Lark asked me to join her for the Piney Meadows Trailer Park potluck dinner on Sunday night. When I parked my Honda out front, Lark came down her front steps, holding a plastic bowl. I exited the car and went around to the passenger side to grab my casserole dish.
“Just in time.” Lark delivered a smile and a kiss.
We strolled down the road to the grassy area the trailer park residents kept mown for this very occasion. Arriving, Lark introduced me to Jolene, one of her elderly neighbors.
“Nice to meet you, Dag.” Jolene’s rheumy eyes widened as she took in my clothing. “That’s an interesting thing you’re wearing, now isn’t it? Get buggy underneath there?”
“Excuse me?” I glanced down at my kilt. Because I wore them so often, I’d ordered a bunch online.
“Bugs. They bite your be-hind?”
“Not so far.” Wow, what was I getting myself into here?
“Why the skirt?”
“It’s a kilt.” I grinned. “I’m delving into my Scottish heritage, Ma’am.” Get me away from her. Fast.
Jolene clapped her hands and beamed, crinkling her already crinkly dark face. “Are you Scottish, then? I love that show on TV. Outlander.” She nodded toward the casserole I held braced against my hip. “What’s your donation to this evening’s meal?”
“Haggis.”
Lark gasped and stepped backward, clutching her clasped hands to her chest. “You didn’t.”
Jolene’s nose twitched. The gushy look she’d delivered, no doubt brought on by the idea of a man actually cooking, dove south, tugging her lips along with it. “And what might haggis be?”
“Haggis is a traditional Scottish dish, a kind of pudding made with sheep’s pluck—”
“Pluck?” Lark blurted out.
“Oh, you know.” It was hard to hold in my smile. “Heart, liver, lungs. Toss in minced onion, oatmeal, spices, and wrap it up inside a stomach.”
“A real stomach?” Lark slapped her palm over her mouth.
Haggis wasn’t bad. I’d eaten plenty of it in Scotland. “It has a sweet, nutty texture that’s appealing.” I paused and shook my head, delivering a half smile as if I relived a wonderful memory. “I opted to skip the neeps and tatties tonight, however.”
“Not even asking what those are,” Lark said.
Jolene grunted, her penciled brows narrowing. She poked the cover of my casserole dish with a lean finger. “You plan on us eating this haggis, then?”
“Sure do.” Striding forward, I dropped the dish on the table they’d set up for food. “I brought enough for everyone.”
Turning, I caught Jolene drilling her eyes into my backside, which made me want to rush home and put on loose jeans and a sweatshirt.
“What do you think he’s wearing underneath that thing?” Jolene asked Lark. Hearing loss appeared to be a common ailment around here if the loud conversation nearby was anything to go by. A speculative gleam filled Jolene’s eyes. “I’m seventy-six, but I’m not in the retirement home, yet. Will he tell me if I ask him?”
Color rose in Lark’s cheeks. “I imagine he’s wearing boxers.”
“Well, well. Perhaps.” Jolene’s gaze lingered on my legs. “We must talk later, my dear. You can fill me in on what it’s like to date a man in a kilt.” Leaving Lark, she walked over to stand with the flock of women congregating beside the punch bowl.
As I rejoined Lark, I cut my gaze around the area. A few more people had swelled the number to eighteen or twenty. “So, lass, will there be dancing tonight?”
“You don’t need to keep talking like that.” Sliding closer, she nuzzled my neck. “Although, I like it verra, verra much.”