Chloe downed the remainder of her Red Stripe in one long pull and slipped away from the eclectic group gathered around the bon fire. The bass thrum of a boom box followed her up the beach, but the soporific sounds of the surf swallowed the reggae beat. The cloying aroma of hash was a bit more tenacious, though, and it carried on the humid sea scented air—a peaceful infusion that blended the edges of her being with the coming night like smudged charcoal under an artist's thumb.
She didn't think anyone noticed her departure, and Chloe preferred it that way. Ideally, the osmotic sensuality of a Jamaican sunset should be experienced with a lover, but airline snafus delayed Jack's arrival. She had other options, of course, and he certainly wouldn't begrudge her an opportunity to play. Their relationship was beautiful in that way: love without limits, without the grasp and clutch of possessiveness, without smothering fear.
However, it had been several months since they'd been together, and Chloe wanted Jack to enjoy the full force of her appetite. Determined not to mute that hunger, she distanced herself from the temptations—from the resonant vibration of the music and the enticing scent of salty, sun-kissed skin.
She dug her toes into the cool, wet sand as day surrendered to night. Deep orange tendrils spread across the horizon, fading to red and then purples until the line between sea and sky vanished. Tiny waves lapped at Chloe's ankles, and only by standing still in the crystal clear water could she feel the pull of the tide—sinking her heels ever so slightly. Warmth and a peaceful passion engulfed her, smoothing her desire across her entire body such that it didn't throb in just her sex, but formed an aura of allure that matched the silvery glow of the crescent moon on the placid surface of the sea.
Glancing over her shoulder, Chloe studied the distant cluster of bodies before unknotting her sarong. She could see them, silhouetted by the fire, but doubted they could see her. She held the soft wrap by its corners—above her head—and allowed the breeze to catch it, laughing at her whimsical impulse before letting go to watch it float softly inland and come to rest on the dry sand. Peeling off her swimsuit, she balled it up and flung it so that it landed alongside the other garment.
With arms wide, Chloe walked into the sea, submersing herself when its warm waters reached her waist. It embraced her, not dousing her fire but instead stoking it through a symphony of sensation. It penetrated her body and her mind, and she floated on waves of want—buoyed by the desire for Jack's touch. She felt its fingers caressing, probing, drawing forth her own fluids.
When the enveloping touch of the liquid touch began to coalesce into a pulse between her legs, she worked her way toward the shore: prolonging the need until it became integral to her existence—one with her spirit. Whole. Raw. Pure.
Although it wasn't chilly by anyone's standards, the air was cooler than the water, and Chloe's skin reacted to the change in temperature as she emerged from the water. She ran both hands through her hair, wringing as much moisture from it as possible, and then shook her head in an attempt to dry it further.
The act—coupled with the effects of the beer and the pervasive arousal—made her dizzy, and she stood knee-deep in the surf with her eyes closed until the vertigo passed. Upon opening her eyes, she discovered Jack standing on the shore, grinning at her. At first, she thought him a figment of her imagination—an apparition of desire—but then he spoke.
"You're a sight for sore eyes."
"How...? I thought...." Although elated, Chloe seemed anchored where she stood, stunned and unable to move toward her lover.
"A seat opened on an earlier flight," he explained as he took off his sneakers and socks. "I got here an hour ago and have been searching rather frantically for you ever since. I suppose I should've looked first for a naked nymph in the surf." His t-shirt came off in one smooth move and fell atop his shoes. Chloe drank the sight of his bare chest. Shorts and boxers followed, providing an even more enticing visual buffet. A primal growl formed in the back of her throat, and she stepped forward to meet Jack as he entered the water.
He took her face in both his hands and kissed her quite tenderly—not at all what Chloe expected after such a long separation—and she resisted when he first tried to break away. Being bigger and much stronger, he easily broke her grip and held her at arm's length. For several moments, Jack looked intently into her eyes. She felt their souls reconnecting and understood then why he slowed their collision.
"Yes," he whispered, again pulling her into his arms. "
There
you are, my love."
Chloe felt his cock grow against her tummy, and she ached to take him into her mouth. Her eyes asked—begged, really—and Jack simply nodded. He knew her well and knew exactly what she wanted. Wasting no time, she dropped to her knees. The water lapped at her bare mound, and Chloe swung one leg to the side to plant her foot in the sand—opening herself to the dance of warm, wet tongues across her clit. They fueled her arousal, but weren't strong enough to be a serious distraction.
She licked the silky head of Jack's cock and it leapt to meet her lips in that way she so adored—like a sexual divining rod. Slipping it all the way into her mouth, Chloe buried her nose in the bristly thatch of hair at its base and inhaled deeply, murmuring her enjoyment of his taste and his scent.
