She sat there, in the middle of the afternoon, watching the waves push the shoreline closer to her, as she perched on the steps of the beach house. The sky was sweatshirt gray, and the wind moved ahead of the waves, blowing in her face with determined persistence. Sea grass bent sideways from the wind, and the seagulls seemed suspended in midflight as they flew into the teeth of the storm. Rain had not yet formed, but was threatening with darkening clouds and the musty odor that precedes it.
A blanket covered her Indian style, her face the only visible proof that something living existed underneath it. Her dark brown eyes stung from the wind, yet her tears were more than just the casualties of the weather. She did not move to wipe them away, choosing instead to let them cascade over her reddened cheeks in an endless procession. Her hands gripped the edges of the blanket tightly, leaving her white knuckled, and tense with hurt and anger. Her black cableknit sweater and jeans provided little help in buffeting her from the harsh onslaught of the cold.
Why? Why had he done this to her? Damn him, she thought. She tried to focus, and found her mind running rampant along its edges, scattering logical thoughts and feelings and teetering on the precipice of irrationality. She could not understand his sudden need to leave. All that she understood was that he was gone.
* * * * *
Abby fixed herself another drink, the third or fourth. She couldn't remember. As she lifted the tumbler to her lips, a little of the scotch trickled down the side of her lips. She wiped it off with her fingers as she walked back into the living room that overlooked the ocean. Her eyes, red rimmed with tears, stared out of the window as she tried to warm herself by the fire. She had only been inside a short time, and her body refused to accept the fire's heat. She sat on the hearth, hugging the tumbler to her chest.
He had left that morning, before dawn. His note told her that he had to leave, nothing else. She barely remembered reading it. The rest of the morning had taken on a surreal quality, with fuzzy edges around the pictures. Now the scotch was replacing the shock as a painkiller, and she closed her eyes as it began having its effect.
She woke to the sound of a knocking at the door. Unaware of the time, she looked outside, and realized she had not been sleeping long. Her mind remained sluggish from the alcohol, the remnants of which sat in the glass next to her on the brick hearth. Abby willed herself up from the pillow in front of the hearth, and walked from the living room to the front door. She opened it without following her usual practice of looking to identify her guest.
His frame filled the doorway. "I couldn't leave. I love you," he said as he crossed the threshold and pulled her into his arms.
Abby put her arms around him and held on tightly, afraid to let go for fear that this was a dream. Tears once again began running in rivulets down her face and were captured by his shirt. "I love you too," she whispered through the tears as she looked up at him, her body encompassed by his.
His six foot frame enveloped her small body as he leaned down and kissed her deeply, passionately. His lips pressed against hers, his tongue penetrating her as he lifted her off the floor. She felt her breasts compress against his chest as he pulled her tighter, lifting her from her feet.
"I thought you were gone," she whispered as his lips trailed down over her cheek to her neck.
"I can't run from these feelings Abby. I can't keep running from you just because you make me feel things that scare me. I want to take that chance this time. I want to feel things that scare me. I want to feel those things with you." He closed the door and stepped inside.
The suddenness of his confession left her speechless. He had never voiced these thoughts to her before. As he kissed her, She returned his kisses with ardent passion, which soon turned to full fledged desire. She felt the quickening of her pulse as he continued to hold her closely, and her breasts were aching to be touched. She sensed this in him too, as he thrust his hips into her, letting her feel the full effect she was having on him. His cock felt wonderfully hard as he pulled her against him, his hands on her ass, urging her closer. His kisses became more intense, and his eyes searched hers frantically as he broke the kiss then lowered himself once more to her neck and between her breasts. Her fingers clawed at his back like an animal in heat, her fingernails raking down his spine.
"I want you Dylan. I want you now."
He picked her up and turned around to push her against the wall. He moved away, shedding the denim shirt over his shoulders, ignoring the buttons on the front. His chest, sculpted from years of exercise, showed beads of perspiration. His nipples stood erect, and his deep brown eyes simmered with animal intensity that made Abby weak with desire. He kicked off the shoes, and unbuttoned his jeans, never taking his eyes off of her. He stepped out of them, and his cock stood out proudly, hard and swollen.
He stepped forward again, and reached out, pulling off Abby's sweater with one swift motion. He bent forward, his lips finding her erect nipple as he pulled her bra away, tearing the fabric and dropping it to the floor. His lips wrapped around it, sucking hungrily like a child, and the edges of his teeth grazed against it, sending shivers of pain and pleasure through her. His hands moved downward, finding the button to her jeans, and he popped the button with his thumb and forefinger. He unzipped them with the same hand, and slid them down her legs. His lips broke free from her nipple, and were replaced by his hands as he squeezed her round breasts, pushing them together. His lips moved downward, kissing her stomach, moving to her now damp panties. He pulled them down with his teeth, and found her clit with his lips, sucking it into his mouth. Abby moaned with pleasure, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall as he pulled her clit out with his lips and he pulled her close to him, both hands on her ass.
Abby's hands found the back of Dylan's head, shoving his mouth harder against her swollen clit. He tongue fucked her, driving his tongue as deeply as he possibly could. He tasted the sweet juices as they flowed from her, and lapped greedily from her body. She leaned back, paralyzed, as he continued the barrage against her swollen lips. Her fingers found her nipples, and she pulled at them and pinched them to heighten the sensation he was giving to her. She could feel the orgasm building inside her strongly, and welcomed the feeling. She wanted to feel his hard cock buried deep inside of her.