Hot Summer Lust (3 page)

I swim to the edge and make my way out of the pond. I climb onto a big, flat rock that’s warm from the day, not bothering to put my clothes back on. It’s too good to be loose like this. And completely
alone
.
I can’t even remember the last time I was alone.

I lie here, and that song plays
through my head.
I think of that gravelled husk. How deep his
voice was.
I feel the memory of that melodic rasp as a strange flush on my skin.
I let my hands rove m
y body. I’m illuminated by sparkly, jeweled diamond-drops.

The heat of the sun seems to center in a particular place. L
ike a slow, curling pulse.
I lay still for a while, letting that pulse take hold. I think of trying to put it out of my mind, like I should. I think of trying to resist its licking heat.
But
it’s too sweet, this little promise, deep inside my own body.

You’re a wild, wild girl,
and I know what you like.
I know how to tease and I know how to please.

I let my hand move, all o
n its own.
To that place where a slow shimmer gathers
.
A dark beauty, like a
wash of comfort.
My fingertips barely graze
this most secret of places.
I let them rest there, not moving at all for a while. Just feeling the heat of the sun on my skin and the glow of my own
blooming femininity.

I’ve never touched
myself like this before.
I know it’s a sin but it feels so
good
. I spread my legs a little, settling my fingers a little deeper, finding the soft, sensual heat of my own body.

The warmth spreads and deepens as my fingers rest gent
ly, touching, playing.
A tiny pulse centers inside me and each small beat unfurls a blossoming
desire.
I feel ripe, like a sun-sweet peach
.
Brimming.
I don’t want to resist my own pleasure, even though I know I should.

No one else is here.

No one else will know.

And I want to see what will happen if I just go
with it. To se
e where the slippery lushness might take me.

I imagine his strong hands as he strums his guitar.

He kissed it.

I spread my legs wider. The
warmth where my fingers caress begins
to spread.
My secret flesh begins to soften and swell
.
I dip my fingers lightly into the wetness and swirl it across my secret folds, finding the tiny
nub. And w
hen I touch this nub, the pleasure spikes, sending soft darts of fire to the tips of my breasts, which makes me gasp.

With my other hand I move
the wet strands of my hair aside to touch my breasts.
I always thought my breasts were too full for the rest of me, which is curvy but generally slim. Today, for the first time, I
like
this firm fullness in my hand as I play
with my breasts.
The light squeeze as I pinch my nipple between my finger and thumb makes my slippery core contract in a fluttery clench that makes me moan
. The
pleasure
is dazzling. Like a gentle, flooding tide. I touch my other nipple, rolling it between two fingers as I rub the little nub between my legs. My hand is moving faster, my fingers wet and silky now from my own juices.

Oh, God.

A fire is building in me, low in the pit of my stomach. Something is happening. Some peak is looming. I want
to reach that peak.
Desperately.
I don’t care that I’m
moaning and softly writhing against my own hands. I don’t care that the sun is hot and bright overhead. All I care about is the swelling bliss that rises and breaks inside me, flooding me with liquid pulses that consume me in a rolling, blissed-out wave.

I lay there for a while, dazed by the heat of the sun and the rippling echoes of sensation. When I stretch
languidly, I feel strange. I feel
beautiful
.
More beautiful than I’ve ever felt.
Slowly, I stand up. I walk down to the water’s edge
. Gently,
I wash myself. The water is cool against my swollen, still-pulsing flesh. I splash water onto my breasts, watching my nipples, which had softened in the sun-warmth, contract into tight little peaks. I bend down and cup some water into my hand, to splash lightly onto my face.

Then I see
something. Movement in the near distance. Over the fence.

Oh, my God.

A man.

Watching me.

His dark hair is glinting with a gold
halo in the sun and he’s big, even in this open landscape. Tall and broad
. Shirtl
ess and sun-bronzed and strong.
I see the glint of his belt buckle.
He might be in his early twenties or even twenty-five. Even through my shock it registers that he is
insanely
handsome, in an edgy kind of way
.
He’s standing there and he looks as stunned
as I feel.
There’s more to it that, though
. Something darker.
Hungry
, that’s how he looks
.
Lusty
.

My heart lurches
into an up-tempo beat.
How much had he seen?
I grab my sundress and pull it over my head.

I disappear behind a row of trees and I run away.

It’s goddamn peaceful out here in the country.

I’m writing a song in the sound-proof recording studio I’ve had
installed in my new barn – totally awesome and state-of-the art, by the way. I’
ve got the intro
down, and it fucking rocks.
And the chorus is starting to come together.
But I can’t quite get the lyrics to mesh. I’ve never had trouble with lyrics before – usually they gush out in a torrent of ideas. So I’m annoyed as fuck. I mean, I have a small clue as to
why
this is happening and it’s exactly the reason I bought a house way out here in the middle of goddamn nowhere. I need peace. I need quiet. I need to get away from my manager and my band. The photographers and journalists and culture-vulture dickheads who all want a slice of yours truly. Who can blame them, right?

But I’m feeling the burn-out. Two years of solid touring has kicked my ass. So I told Vaughn I’m taking a break from touring for a couple
months.
I’ll do gigs in Nashville and they can come to me. The problem
is, the paparazzi swarm
my building. There’s only so much dodging and hiding away in a penthouse apartment a person can do without losing their fucking mind.

I decided I needed a goddamn getaway.

Which brings me here. To some
idyllic backwater where nobody knows me. I bought the house under an alias, with my lawyer’s assistance. If I need to I’ll get
a security gate installed, a fence, dogs, whatever it takes. I’
ve got shitloads of land – and I mean shitloads. This place goes on for miles.
I could fence around the house and still get the views. My house is on a hill, overlooking a pond and the hills.

I can see the road
from my kitchen.
Some cute little blond
drove by this morning in a beat-up old pick-up truck and I wondered for a second if they’d already discovered me. But no. She put something in my mailbox and kept on going.
Thank fuck.
Although I almost felt
a pang of regret this time, weirdly. Her hair caught the sun, a long strand of it trailing out the window as she drove away.

I’m even burned out on the chicks, if you can believe that. There are just so
many
of them. Always
on their knees,
begging for it. Waiting to obey
my every command. It’s that easy.

What I need is some undistracted writing time, to be alone with my thoughts, to
let the music out. Before it can get shut down by
some needy bitch who bangs at my door in a desperate attempt to fuck me or
suck me off. I know that sounds harsh, but
some of these women are crazy. They go insane, they want a piece of me so bad.

I need a beer.

I haven’t put a fridge into my studio yet: something I’
ll get to eventually.
I only moved in a couple days ago, and I’ve had shows every night. This morning I ended up waking up in my tour bus before dawn and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I took my Shelby and drove out here alone. I can tell you, knowing I had the whole day ahead of me to do nothing but write was a nice
change. The prospect and the sunrise made me feel happier than I have for a while.
Sure, I’m living the dream but the dream sometimes takes its toll, of excess and exhaustion. Tonight’s the first night in weeks that I won’t have a gig, and I plan on making the most of my solitude.
Shit, maybe I’
ll even sleep for a while. Let the creative juices reenergize.

I go outside and head towards the house.

The day is absurdly
beautiful. The blue of the sky
and the green of the trees is practically surreal, the colors are so bright. I’m almost blinded after the relative dimness of my studio, so it takes my eyes a minute to adjust.

Here I am, walking along, minding my own goddamn business.
But t
he
n I see something. Down by the pond
my house overlooks.

A girl.

At first I think it’s my eyes playing tricks on me.

Because emerging from the water is
not just any girl. She’s
a goddamn
goddess
.

With no clothes on.

Holy hell, I mean it. I actually blink a couple times just to make sure I’m not hallucinating. I don’t take drugs but Dr. Daniels can stay with you for a while if you overdo
the prescription. Not that I drank
that much last night.
At least I don’t think I did.

But …
this
.

Jesus H. Christ.

She’s blond. Her long hair hangs to her hips and catches all these crazy hues of light, like she’s iridescent
or something.
Her skin is glimmering. God help me.
Her
body
.

Holy fucking hell, she’s
ridiculously
hot. Her
beauty is sparked with a shining radiance that’s blowing my goddamn mind.

She climbs onto a big flat rock and I watch her. Because she’s not just lying there in the sun. N
ot at all.
Her hands start to move. Her knees fall open. She touches
herself. Her head falls back and she
starts
getting herself off
.

All I can do was watch her in some kind of goddamn trance.
I’m
suddenly twenty feet closer without even realizing I’d been walking towards her. And I can hear her now. Her soft moans.

Holy Mother.

She’s touching her breasts with one hand and dipping her fingers into her wet, pink pussy with the other.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

I’ve never been so hard in my life. My cock is pressed painfully against the zipper of my jeans. I do it without thought: I undo my belt buckle and unzip
. Jesus.
She’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

Ever.

I imagine what she would feel like.
All that delectable sweetness.
I imagine it’s me that’s touching her. My big, rock-hard cock pressing into her instead of her
tentative fingers. There’d be nothing tentative about the way
I
would touch
her. Fuck
no.
First I’d lick that sweet pussy
.
Get her good and ready. I’d
make her come. Then
I’d slide my painfully-rigid cock right into that tight,
juicy perfection.
Fuck.
So deep
. I’d fuck her so
hard and so good she’d come again. And again.

Her moans are louder. Her hands move faster, and so does mine
.
My cock is about to explode. I can practically feel how soft she’d be, how tight and wet she is for me as I enter her, as I push deep inside all that snug, slippery beauty
.
I can practically taste her sweetness as I kiss her full mouth and lick the dewy sweat from her skin.
As I take those perfect breasts in my hands and suck on her taut, rosy nipples.

Sweet Jesus, show me some mercy: she’s
coming
.
She’s writhing
and gently rocking against her own hand. Her legs are fully open and she’s moaning softly, lost in the rush of her own release.

I watch her lithe little body squirm and come and all I can think is:
I want her. I want to make her come again. I want to
hold her and feel her and be inside her
. My lust is so fierce it almost shocks me.
Hot spurts of cum erupt out of me as I hear her cry out.