The Lovers (21 page)

I thought I was lost in him before. But now I know this is only the beginning. I have no idea where it will end.

“God, Jack…”

“Baby, this is going to be so good,” he whispers into my hair.

I lean into him, loving the solid strength of his body behind me. And even more, his hand between my thighs, his clever fingers playing with my clit, tugging on my pussy lips, teasing me. And his mouth hot and wet on my neck.

I am soaking, shivering with need.

He reaches around with his other hand and draws mine behind me, wrapping my fingers around his cock, which is hard as glass, but with that velvet-soft skin all over the solid shaft.

“Look at them,” he says to me. “She's so into him. She's as wet as you are right now. We both know how wet she gets.”

“Yes…”

His fingers slide into my opening, into that wet heat, and I clench in pleasure.

“You'd love to fuck her, wouldn't you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And I'd love to fuck you, baby. And I will.”

He pushes my shirt up with his free hand. I am naked underneath, open to the cool air, which feels lovely on my skin, the breeze caressing me like another lover.

I watch as Charles pulls off his pants, moving in close behind Audrey. I can see the shape of his hard cock behind her. Then he presses against her body, and I hear her laughter again as he smacks her ass.

Jack pinches mine and I jump. But he shoves his fingers deep into my pussy at the same time, and all I can do is gasp and arch into him.

“Good, baby?”

“Yes, it's good. Do it again.”

A low chuckle from him, then he pinches my clit and my ass at the same time, his fingers really twisting the flesh on my ass, and pleasure and pain flow through me in equal measures. And Charles smacks Audrey again, then again, the sound growing louder. She's groaning now, backing into him. And it is so damn hot: Jack's hands on me, watching Audrey with Charles, the pain and pleasure, which I have never before experimented with. But with Jack, anything would be good.

“I need to fuck you, Bettina.”

I am breathless, wanting, my legs shaky. “Yes, I need you to. Do it, Jack.”

“Move in closer to the tree, hold yourself up. Yes, that's it.”

The bark is a bit rough beneath my palms, the rich scent of the cypress filling my head. My shirt—Jack's shirt—is hiked up over my hips, and I am naked and outdoors and vulnerable. And I love it.

I hear Jack unzip his shorts as he moves in behind me, then his hand is on my lower back, pressing me down a bit.

“Spread for me, girl, yeah, and bend over.”

I do as he asks, hanging on to the tree for support, my gaze
still on Audrey and Charles. He is grabbing her around the waist, and I can see his erect cock moving closer, then her cries as he slides into her. And at that moment, Jack uses his hand to spread the lips of my sex wide, and plunges in.

“Jack!”

“Shh, they'll hear us.”

He clamps a hand over my mouth, and for some reason that just makes me melt. My body goes soft all over, filled with pleasure, with his hard cock inside me. His hand slips from my mouth.

“Fuck me, Jack,” I whisper between his fingers. “Come on.”

He moves deeper, his cock sliding in my juices, and his fingers are working furiously on my hard little clit, which is swollen with need. Pleasure is an arrow piercing into my body, over and over. He is fucking me in rhythm with Charles fucking Audrey, and I know he's watching them, as I am. When Charles picks up the pace, slamming into Audrey, Jack does the same to me. And I swear I feel it as though it is both Jack and Charles, as though I am both Audrey and myself. Pleasure doubled, intensified. Lovely.

My climax is bearing down on me, hot, furious, even these first glimmering surges. As Jack plunges into me, I gasp, “Jack…I have to tell you…”

“What is it, baby?” He is breathless, his voice rough.

“I have to tell you…oh…” I inhale, my gaze focused on Audrey and Charles, my body focused on Jack's cock driving in and out of me. “I listened to you. With Audrey. I listened and…oh, God…”

“Tell me,” he demands, his hips slowing down, his fingers stilling.

Torture.

“I listened to you two together. And it was so…hot.”

He moans, asks me, “What else, Bettina?”

“I got off, listening to you fucking her.”

“Christ, Bettina.”

He slams into me then, his cock hard and driving, pleasure burrowing deep into my body.

“Come for me now, baby.” His voice is a low growl, full of need to match my own. “Come for me like you did listening to us fuck, Audrey and me.”

He pinches my clit again between his fingers, rolls it, the motion hard, demanding. And I come apart, my climax knifing into me, my body arching. My palms bite into the bark of the tree, and it hurts, but that small pain, his hurting fingers, his pummeling cock, are all a part of it. I come so hard I want to scream, but I swallow it down hard, and nothing comes out but a series of sharp gasps.

“Ah, baby. You feel so damn good. Fuck, Bettina.”

Jack tenses, his hips slamming harder and harder, his mouth on my neck again, biting this time. And he grunts into my skin, pushing, pushing, his cock going deep, his free hand going around my waist, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. But it's all good. Wonderful.

I'm shivering, the air cooling my skin now. All is quiet at the house next door. I have forgotten all about Audrey and Charles. They must have finished, gone inside. I don't know. I don't care. All I care about are the shimmering waves of post-orgasm flowing up my spine, through my belly. And Jack's hands going gentle on my body. He is smoothing my hair, as if to make up for pulling so hard, even though he had to know I loved it. Loved feeling so
possessed
by him.

And then he does the most amazing thing. He picks me up, and holding me in his arms, he carries me into his cottage without saying a word. Once inside, he lays me down on the bed, covers me with his body. He's holding himself up on
his elbows, just looking into my face. His brows are drawn together. I don't know what to think; I can barely think at all, still half-numb from my orgasm, as if all the blood has drained from my head.

But Jack keeps staring at me, so intensely, and soon I come out of my stupor enough to wonder what he's thinking.

“Jack?”

“Shh.”

He strokes my hair from my face, and my heart thuds heavily, then begins to hammer. What does this mean? For him? For me?

“I want to make you come again,” he says finally.

“Oh, I don't need to. Not yet.”

“Do it because I want you to,” he demands quietly, his gaze still glittering with something I find impossible to read.

I nod, melting for him already, and he slides down between my legs, his mouth going right to my sex. His fingers pry open my swollen lips, and I am wet, needy once more for him even before his tongue touches me.

He licks me, long, slow strokes of his tongue, and in moments I am squirming. Then he pushes his tongue inside me, like some small, silken cock, wet and gorgeously soft.

“God, Jack…”

My hands go into his hair, and it is nearly as soft as his tongue. But his tongue…so hot as it slips from my body, goes back to licking at my hard little clit. And I am boneless, helpless against the pleasure washing over me. Helpless against the arching of my hips against his face. And when his fingers plunge into me, I gasp, moan, his fingers pushing the pleasure ever deeper into my body.

He moves faster, fucking me with his fingers, licking my clit, then sucking it into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the tip. And I am shivering all over with a fast-moving
pleasure. It's fast yet soft, sultry, like honey moving through my system.

“Jack, please…”

I arch harder, and he fucks me harder, his fingers burrowing deep into my aching and somehow hungry pussy, no matter how much he has fed it already. He sucks my clit into his mouth, sucking, sucking, and I come. Into his hot, lovely mouth, my climax spiraling through me, making me dizzy.

“Jack! God, oh, God…”

He is licking my juices from me as my body calms, licking me clean, causing little frissons of pleasure to echo through me.

“Jack…” I sigh.

He moves up until he is lying next to me. As he kisses my cheek, my closed eyelids, I can smell my own ocean scent on his face. And when he kisses my lips, opening them with his tongue, I taste myself, my desire, my come. But there is something more here, something more than that hot magic that is my orgasm, and his.

He burrows into my neck, kissing the tender flesh there. And something is happening inside me. Something I have been dying for, even though I didn't know it before. It is a sort of opening up. And it's lovely and terrifying.

I can't think about it now.

His body is warm next to mine, and I allow myself that comfort. I let myself drift on those sleepy currents, nearly irresistible.

Don't think, don't think.

I close my eyes, breathe him in, and just let myself
be.

 

When I open my eyes the light is still on, a small beacon casting warmth and shadow across the wood floor. Jack is asleep next to me, the pattern of his breathing long and
shallow. Outside, the sky is swallowed up in darkness, no moon or stars penetrating the layers of fog, and it is like a bowl of night covering everything: the beach, this cottage, the two of us in bed. I can feel it all in some universal way, that sense of darkness, of it protecting me somehow, protecting us. The magic of it.

Am I foolish to think these things? Or maybe a little crazy?

I turn to him, his head pillowed next to mine. His face is less rugged in slumber. Still beautiful. And I remember that look on his face earlier, that intensity. My heart begins to flutter once more.

What I saw there was emotion. I may not know what it means, but it was…important.

I am filled with an uncertainty that seems at odds with the satisfaction in my body. I am filled with fear.

Jack's arm is heavy across my stomach, and suddenly I feel as if I can't breathe, as if my skin is too small for my body, tight all over. I bite my lip, draw in a deep breath, but it doesn't help.

I can't stay here with him. I cannot stay here and let my mind wander into these dark waters, where it seems possible to believe in some liquid and constantly shifting way that he will want me.

Carefully, holding what little breath I have in my lungs, I slip out from beneath his arm, praying he won't wake up. He doesn't. And I am free, pulling my discarded bathing suit on, then moving silently to the door and carefully closing it behind me. I am as quiet as the mouse I have always been.

It's so dark out, and now it just makes me feel alone as I creep back to my cottage. Once inside, I flick on the lights. Everything is perfectly neat, in order, as I always leave it. As everything in my life must be.

I move into the bathroom, where my thick-toothed comb, my hair serum, my body lotions and skin creams are all lined up like little soldiers across the counter. I lay my toothbrush and tube of toothpaste next to everything else, then touch each object, one at a time, silently counting, something I haven't done for a long while. But I am as compelled now as I have ever been, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as I seek comfort from the old ritual I thought I was done with.

Fuck.

Pulling my hand back, I stare at myself in the mirror above the sink, meeting my own fevered gaze there. My hair is a mess of tangled curls, my cheeks flushed. My lips are swollen from kissing Jack.

Why do I want to cry?

Fuck!

With one sharp sweep of my hand I scatter my row of soldiers on the floor. The small clattering sound is satisfying somehow.

I do not want to feel this. I don't want to feel this shit I thought I'd dealt with. Isn't that what therapy was for? And it seemed to be working. It got me here, got me out of the safety of Seattle, of my apartment, my small circle of old friends, my daily rituals that had seemed so damn crucial to my existence. I was out in the world, wasn't I? Meeting new people. Audrey. Jack.

Jack.

Why was he bringing it all back, this old fear of…everything?

I do not want to feel like this! Can I simply decide not to?

I lean into the counter, holding myself up with my palms against the edge, letting it bite into my flesh. I force myself to slow my breathing. To stop counting each breath.

After a while, I pull my still-damp suit off and get into the shower. The hot water soothes me, quiets me. When I get out I clean up the little mess I made, putting everything back on the counter and resisting the urge to straighten each object.

The bed looks too neat to me now, and I yank on the covers, messing it up a little before climbing beneath the cool sheet. My body is buzzing, but it's only the aftermath of sex, not the hard-edged anxiety I felt leaving Jack's cottage. Still, I lay in the dark, listening to the ocean pounding inexorably on the sand, the soft murmur of crickets chirping in the cypress trees, and it's a long time before I sleep.

 

Breakfast at the house is the same as it's been most mornings, which I, of course, take comfort in. Patrice and Viviane cooking, with some help from Leo, who is whistling to himself. Kenneth is feeding Sid bits of bacon, and the entire kitchen is fragrant with the rich, salty scent. Everyone greets me in their own way: Patrice with a nod, Viviane with a kiss on the cheek as I pass her. Leo and Kenneth just say good-morning, both smiling at me.

Jack and Audrey are absent. I refuse to think about that. About them.

I pour myself a cup of coffee from the endless pot Viviane keeps on the counter, and help Kenneth carry into the dining room steaming platters of scrambled eggs, baskets of toast folded into colorful cotton napkins, saucers with small pats of butter, bowls of jam.

We've just sat down and everyone is pouring orange juice and filling their plates when Jack comes in. He is unshaven, as he often is this early. I've always found it sexy. But this morning it only seems to add to the cloud hovering over him, his eyes stormy. He glances once at me, a frown on his face, and I look away. I can't bear it, that he seems to be annoyed with
me. And I think to myself that I don't know what I've done, but the truth is, I do. I left again. I'm sure I'll hear about it from him later, when we're alone.