Night Tides (17 page)

H
E 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.

S
HE 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.

In 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 trul
y 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

T
HE 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…”

Oh, boy
, she thought,
here it is
. She forced the words out. “It was nothing human. It was in the lake. It
was
the lake. The water itself was my first lover.”

She closed her eyes. Her heart was pounding, and she felt sweat spring up all over her. No one had ever heard this story before, even though she’d rehearsed telling it countless times. Not even Don, but then, she had no doubt how
he
would’ve reacted. But she really knew nothing about Ethan. She’d just exposed herself, in every possible way, to a man who was basically a stranger.

They were both silent for a long moment, conscious of every sound, from the street outside to Tainter’s muted scuffing in his kitchen litter box. Then, in the same warm voice, Ethan said, “Then what?”

“I learned that only whoever or whatever lived in the lake could make me come,” she said. Despite the fear, there was the power of release in just saying the words. “I could get close to it with myself or with someone else. But only the lake could get me there.”

“Only Lake Monona.”

“Actually, either of them, Mendota or Monona. Something about Lake Wingra gives me the creeps, so I’ve never tried it there.”

He touched her hip with his fingertips. “You seem pretty well adjusted, for having gone through all that.”

She shrugged. “Fall down or keep moving. What would you do?”

“Keep moving.” He slid his hand along her belly, idly tracing the outline of her tattoo. “Do you have any idea
why
this happened to you?”

She shook her head. “I’ve read everything I could, talked to everyone who might know. The Native Americans believed something unusual lived in the water, but the tribe that put up the effigy mounds isn’t here anymore. There are references to a tribe called the Lo-Stahzi, who were powerful shamans, but they died off or disappeared long before the current tribes came to this area, and that was way before any Europeans did. So, no, I don’t have a clue. I don’t even have names for them. But in a sense… they own me.”

“‘They’? There’s more than one?”

She nodded. “Several. I know because they behave differently.” How could she really describe the way one would gradually bring her to the height of need, while another used her with such violence she was always surprised when she wasn’t bruised the next day? Some caressed her in ways that made her giggle, others pummeled her into whatever position they wanted. Most times more than one used her simultaneously. And always they gave her fulfillment of such exquisite thoroughness that they more than made up for any brief discomfort. Then, at the end, whether she’d been tenderly loved or willfully taken, she was brought back to the surface, to her world, with soft watery kisses to express their thanks.

“Why do you say they ‘own’ you?”

She turned and smiled at him. “Come on, Ethan. If you could get off with only one woman, wouldn’t you feel like she owned you too?”

“I don’t know. But probably,” he added.

“Yeah, well, there’s my story.”

He shifted on the bed and rested his head on his hand to look at her. “Have you ever seen a doctor about this?”

“What kind of doctor?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some kind.”

“I’m not crazy.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

What kind of whore constantly wants sex and won’t let herself get off?
Don had roared.
And why do you sneak off to
the goddamned lake all the time? Who are you meeting there?
“I know how it sounds. I don’t know why I’m even telling you about it.” She sat up and swung her feet off the side of the bed. She covered her breasts with her arms. “Look, maybe this was a mistake, maybe—”

“Maybe,” he interrupted as he stroked her back, “you shouldn’t assume how I’m going to react.”

His touch sent oddly comforting tingles down her spine. “You don’t believe me,” she insisted obstinately.

“Did I say that? I’m surprised, I’ll admit. And it does sound out of the ordinary. But I
do
believe you.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because…” Now he looked uncomfortable. “Up until now, since I got back from my tour in Iraq eight months ago, I couldn’t… stay up.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond and settled for simply, “Oh.”

His voice grew flat and distant. “I saw something happen there. A soldier in my squad raped and killed an Iraqi girl. I walked in and saw the body and saw what he’d done to her. So whenever I’d get close to … being with a woman, I couldn’t get that image out of my mind. I… wasn’t able to perform.”

She turned so she could see him better. She wanted to touch him, to comfort him, but wasn’t sure how. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”

“From the moment I saw you, though, it’s like… I’ve been hard as a rock. I was terrified it wouldn’t last, that I’d get right to the point of needing it and then lose it, but… I didn’t.”

“So you just wanted to prove something with me?”

“No, that’s not it at all. I just… I haven’t felt safe since then. But when I came with you… I did. And…”

She brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead, almost choking on a wave of tenderness. She knew he was strong physically; now she saw how deep that strength really went. She realized he was voluntarily as naked as she was. “What?” she prompted when he did not continue.

He sat up beside her. “I have an idea.”