The Widows of Sea Trail-Vivienne of Sugar Sands

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  Then I heard him drag a wooden step over and step up on it. I heard his jeans fall to the floor. Then I felt the head of his cock being placed at my opening. Even though I was about as ready as I’ve probably ever been, I felt the tight pull of the large head at the entrance to my channel stretching it. He thrust in and out staying close to the opening, and I felt myself tighten around it. Running the head of his penis up and down my slit and coating it over and over again before replacing it made me impatient. Finally he thrust himself inside me. But he only pushed in partway. I wanted it all. And I told him so by wagging my tail at him and trying to back up to him. But I almost slipped off the bike trying to get more of him inside me. He caught me, his hands gripping my hips, and that’s the only warning I had before he thrust deep inside me, seating himself to the hilt. I felt the immenseness of him filling me. I gasped and took in a deep breath.

  “Okay?” he asked. I could hear the agony mixed with pleasure in his voice.

  I whimpered, not from pain, or anything remotely like that, but from the pleasure. The intense and amazing pleasure. “Yes! Yes. More. More,” I whispered through dry lips.

  He chuckled and gave me more. I watched, my head hung low, my eyes focused between my legs where I could see his heavy sac swatting me each time he slid in and jerked out. It was an unbelievably erotic sight. Then his hand reached under and the tips of two fingers pressed my clit while his cock slid in faster and faster. He pummeled me, holding me tightly against him as he rammed me over and over again, sending electric shocks coursing through me and making my mind spiral away from my body. His breathing became labored. His groan of desire reverberated through me. That coupled with the fact that my brain was now saying over and over again that he was fucking me, that Philip was actually fucking me, sent me over. I keened and bucked, my knees trembling as my thighs strained trying to keep him inside me while the hard contractions of the muscles in my vagina were pushing him out. My convulsions and spasms would have forced him out had his hands not been on my hips and had his hips not been jerking forward with such force—my climax was that strong.

  Forcing his penis deep inside and penetrating me totally, he held himself still and rode with me through the last vestiges of my orgasm and then he began to hammer me so fast I thought I’d fall off the bike and over the toolbox. But his hands gripping my hips held me in place. Then he slowed and I looked over my shoulder in time to see him wetting his thumb. I gasped, as there was only one place he could be thinking of going with that where it would need wetting. He smiled wickedly at me and then penetrated my ass with his thumb, stretching the rim impossibly wide and then pumping in and out with incredible speed. With his other hand gripping my hip he continued to thrust deep inside me with long, smooth strokes. I felt his body jerk and saw his thighs grow taut just before he stilled and held . . . and pumped his seed into me. For what seemed a very long time, he groaned, pumped, and shivered in a series of spasms that rivaled any male orgasm I had ever been privy to. Then his thumb slid out of my ass and a moment later something else was shoved in. He patted my cheek softly and slowly pulled his cock from me.

  “Wow,” was all I could say.

  “Mmmm,” he replied, clearly not in the mood for conversation.

  “You came like forever,” I finally commented as I looked behind me and watched him pull up his jeans and tuck his penis into the zippered opening.

  “Tantric sex. The art of denial. It truly does pay off. Big time.” He said with a groan as he lifted me down and I gingerly placed my feet on the floor. Something was still inside me. “What is in my butt?” I asked, and reached my hand back to check.

  He grabbed it and stayed it. “The motorcycle key. I don’t want to lose it. I wanted to know where it was—this seemed like a good place,” he said with an evil, yet boyish grin.

  “It was in the ignition last time I looked, a logical place for it to be,” I said trying to tug my hand away so I could take it out.

  “But somebody could steal it from the ignition. They won’t steal it from here.” He spun me around and I felt the fob end sway and bump against my cheeks.

  “It looks a helluva lot better in your ass than on that fuselage, let me tell you.”

  “Take it out,” I said, trying to sound firm. Immediately I realized my mistake. This was a man who liked to be in charge, especially in the sexual realm. I had just challenged his authority. Of me.

  “When we get upstairs.”

  He grabbed my hand and began walking me toward the elevator.

  “Hey wait! I need my clothes.”

  “No, you don’t. There’s no one in the house. I gave them all the afternoon off, they left while we were riding.”

  “You could have told me that you know.”

  He laughed. “What and ruin your fun? You know that the excitement of being caught was turning you on, admit it.”

  I smiled over at him and he squeezed my hand.

  “Now, be a good girl and walk ahead of me. I want to see that key fob jiggling between your ass cheeks as you walk.”

  “You’re a pervert, you know that?”

  He laughed, bolder this time, and it rang off the cement walls of the garage. “You aren’t the first person to tell me that. But I can’t help it; you bring it out in me. When I woke up this morning I had no idea I’d be stopping on the way to work to buy you leather biker gear, didn’t even think we’d be riding this afternoon. So I blame this all on you, you bring this side out in me. But I’m not complaining, mind you. And I sure hope that you’re not either.”

  We got on the elevator and I turned to face him. “No, no complaints.”

  “Mmmm, something intriguing to look at on each side,” he said as he bent and sucked a nipple into his mouth. He held it in a full hard suck until the elevator opened onto the fourth floor master suite.

  “Shower with me?” he asked.

  “Will you take this key out?”

  “I thought I’d use it to turn you on,” he whispered.

  “Funny, very funny. Never mind, I’ll take care of it.” And I walked into the master suite bath and closed the double doors behind me. I took the key out and tossed it in the sink. It was a round key and very small and I was very surprised, as it had felt as big as a golf ball back there. Hmm, I thought. I had a lot to learn. I washed it and placed it on the counter top and then removed the rest of my clothing before stepping into the shower.

  Halfway through he joined me. “I forgot to mention something,” he said as he slipped inside and wrapped his arms around my waist.

  “What’s that?”

  “I love you. I truly love you. For the first time in my life, I feel as if my life is perfect—that I wouldn’t change anything if I could.”

  I felt a shimmery warmth spread throughout my body, as if I was being flushed on the inside while the water from the shower was flushing me on the outside. There were no words for how I felt hearing those words wash over me. Euphoria didn’t even begin to convey how happy I was in that moment as he looked down at me with such ardent devotion in his eyes. This was the moment every woman longed for and here I was, getting to experience it for the second time in my life.

  I know there were tears mingled with the water streaming down my face when he captured my lips with his and kissed me hungrily. His hands threaded through my hair and mine in his while we did nothing but kiss for many, many minutes. Then I felt his hands, coatedwith shower gel begin to smooth over my skin and soon the walk-in shower was filled with the scent of lemons and sage as he washed me from head to toe.

  “You have a lovely body,” he whispered in my ear when he stood from washing my feet. “Every inch, delightful.”

  I snorted, “Yeah, right. When I think of the women you’ve seen and touched . . . I can hardly compare. All those Jenna Jamesons and Tiffany Somethings from your heyday in the ‘adult film industry,’I can hardly be worth your time.”

  “Oh but you are. You’re real, you’re soft, and oh my God, so responsive,” he
said as he tugged on my nipples to hear me moan. “You must not know that a man is more turned on by a woman who shows she desires him and needs him, more than anything else there is. It’s an aphrodisiac like nothing else. Most women with truly hot bodies, are so stuck on themselves they don’t need anyone. And even if they did, they’re way too arrogant to show that they do. Jesus, all I have to do is flick your clit and you get wet for me. I can’t tell you what an incredible turn on that is. It’s your body telling me that you’re lusting for my cock that makes me so hard and sends me over the edge.” His finger slid between my legs and entered me. “God you’re so wet. Always when I touch you, you get wet. I love that.”

  “Well, we are in the shower.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re ready, always ready, always ready for me. I love that about you. And your tits, they’re real. All yours. Soft, firm, jiggly. The way they’re supposed to be.”

  He walked me back to the tiled wall and dropped to one knee. With his thumbs he spread my lips and then ducked his head. With the flat of his tongue he used a sawing action to press against my clit while lovely, long fingers massaged me. Then I felt his tongue wrap around my clit and suck it into his mouth where he kept it, alternately sucking and pulling on it. My knees collapsed and he put one leg over his shoulder to hold me up, it opened me wider. Three fingers entered me and with unerring precision his lips firmed, pulled on my clit and sucked me deeper into his mouth. I sobbed his name and I came, my nails trying to find purchase on the tiles as I slid further down the wall. He caught me easily and not taking his fingers or mouth from me, rode my orgasm to the end as if his whole world depended on experiencing my pleasure along with me.

  “See,” he said as he untangled my limbs and helped me to stand. “Responsive. I don’t personally know about Jenna Jameson, but all the Tiffany’s I know would have had me fighting for the better part of an hour to have had a climax, but none even close to that. You’re good for my ego, Viv. And trust me, at this time in a man’s life, there’s hardly anything more important.”

  He kissed me thoroughly and I tasted myself on his lips, felt the extra slickness on his tongue. The flavor was hardly discernable, but nothing I knew tasted anything quite like it. I was wondering how I compared to other girls he had kissed there when he abruptly pulled away and looked down into my scrunched up face and laughed.

  “I can see it in your eyes. You want to know how you taste. Actually all of you women do. Well, I’ll tell you how it is. The more delicate the essence, the headier it is, and the more incensed a man becomes to have more. You are so mild, so free of any particular tang as to be addictive. Women who use artificial flavorings or strong soaps create overpowering aromas that obliterate that primal odor, that indefinable musk that drives a man wild. I love how you taste. I can still savor you on my tongue hours later if I don’t drink or eat anything. And I can tell you, there’s nothing better than freezing in place while driving, or talking to someone and realizing that I still have that incredible zest of you on my tongue. The sensation is heart stopping and just a hint of how much I love you.”

  I had never heard a proclamation of love so profound and so heartfelt. I felt as beautiful as a woman could possibly feel, and as cherished as the most prized possession, to a man who owned so very many.

  He bent and kissed my forehead and then washed and rinsed my hair before shoving me out of the shower area with an admonishment to hurry up and get ready or we’d miss the show.

  It had been years since I had shared a bedroom with a man but I was surprised how comfortable I was with it. We passed each other wrapped in towels as we both went about the business of getting ready, often smiling in the mirror at each other. He patted my rump a few times, stopping to linger and caress but I backed away telling him not to distract me. And then we were standing side-by-side at the his-and-her sinks smiling at each other in the mirror.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Umhmm,” I replied as I slipped diamond studs into my ears.

  “Well this is a first, a woman ready when I am.” He took my hand in his, kissed it and led me out of the suite and to the elevator.

  “I thought we would have dinner afterwards—anywhere you’d like. But we have time for a drink downstairs if you’d like.”

  “I’m fine, but you can have one if you’d like.”

  “No, I’m lingering.”

  “Lingering?”

  “Yeah, flavor lingering,” he said with a smile and a wink. “I’ll be tasting you throughout the show.”

  I laughed. God did this man know how to make me feel special or what?

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Night on the town The symphony was spectacular. I had never been to one so I was truly impressed. There were so many musicians and the conductor looked so regal standing on his little podium waving that baton so enthusiastically. I could tell that Philip was mesmerized, off in another world. Every once in a while I felt him looking over at me and smiling and we held hands almost the whole time.

  “Well, what did you think?” he asked when we were leaving and walking down the grand staircase.

  “I thought it was wonderful. So many talented people in one place like that. The music makes you want to laugh, cry, ride a horse.”

  “Ride a horse?”

  “You know, ‘bumpity bumpity bumpity bumpity bump bump.’” I sang.

  He hooted as he recognized the Bonanza theme the orchestra had played to promo an upcoming performance of show tunes. We were on the bottom step now, so he pulled me close with an arm around my waist and kissed my temple. “You’re a kook, you know that?”

  I smiled up at him, “Yeah I know that. But you still like me, right?”

  “I love you. I absolutely adore you.” After a few seconds he said, “You know I’ve never said that to a woman before. By the time I realized I loved Cassie she was gone. That’s my biggest regret, that she never knew I loved her.”

  I could see his mood turning maudlin over this so I said, “Well that’s cause for celebration, you being in love again. And with me, of all people! Take me somewhere where we can have champagne.”

  “This is Charlotte, everyplace has champagne.”

  “Oh, there are pitifully few places at the beach that do. The only ones I can think of are The Grapevine, The Isles, Bourbon Street, Angelo’s, and sometimes Sea Trail, if there’s an event.”

  “You know I have champagne in the limo, so you don’t have to choose your dinner by the quality of the bar. What do you feel like eating?”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly.”

  “A cheeseburger. A big juicy cheeseburger.”

  He gave me a magnificent smile. “Well, I think I can handle that, too.” The limo had just pulled up so he helped me in and then went around to the other side. As soon as he was in and the door closed, he reached for the door to the bar and called up to the driver, “Take us home, Jason, but drive through a Hardee’s on the way, please.”

  I looked at him with a frown. “Hardee’s?”

  “I can do the burger to perfection, but no one makes better curly fries. While I’m grilling the burgers, you can reheat the fries.”

  So, sipping champagne from Waterford crystal flutes, we ran through the drive-in at Hardee’s and picked up four orders of curly fries.

  “You have ketchup?”

  “I imagine my cook has at least four or five kinds.”

  On the way back to his house, I half dozed on his shoulder while he commented on the sights. Charlotte at night was beautiful and while it had a pulse like a big city, it wasn’t frenetic like New York or Chicago. Then we were home, alone in his monstrosity of a house, sipping champagne. I was sitting on a bar stool at the long granite counter in Philip’s gourmet kitchen watching him stuff two whole Porterhouse steaks into a meat grinder. He’d popped a CD into the player in the media room and songs played by the visiting symphony that we’d just listened to filled the air.

  “I don’t hear Bonanza,” I
said.

  “I’ll mention it to the board. For the money I donate I should be able to request a special song on the demo CDs.”

  “Wow, you’re really into this high-brow stuff. I thought it was really good, but it doesn’t beat Good Vibrations at the Carolina Opry. Now that’s some fantastic music and a really great show!”

  “Well then you’ll have to take me next time I’m at the beach.”

  “Okay, but there won’t be a limo.”

  “I can manage.”

  “There’s no halftime refreshments, like Appletini’s either. But they do have popcorn and Raisinettes.”

  “It’s called Intermission. And again, I’ll manage.”

  “Or champagne in the car—alcohol is not allowed to be consumed even by a passenger.”

  “I’ll suffer.”

  “And I don’t have a fancy grinder to do a burger like that. I buy the patties at Costco or Sam’s.”

  He made a fierce, scornful face.

  “But the fries, we have do a Hardee’s. Oops, only it might be closed before we get back, at least until the season begins.”

  “Then the deal is off. Sorry.”

  He took the plate of burgers and walked to the outside kitchen that with a flick of a button was screened-in instead of glassed-in.

  I got up to follow. “Ah ah ah, You’ve got French fry detail. You’ll need to preheat the oven.”

  “Oh, right.”

  I turned around and stared at the huge bank of chromed ovens, all with multiple keyboards.

  I opened a few and they all seemed grossly over qualified for the task. But I chose one and finally figured out how to set it to bake and to set the temperature to 375 degrees. Then I went looking for a cookie sheet in all the obvious places. But couldn’t find one.

  So I went to the outside door and called to him, “Uh, I can’t seem to find a baking sheet.”

  “Must I do everything?” he said as he mimed stomping back in, spatula waving in the air. “Really, I ask you to do one thing.”

  “Two things really, you said to drink champagne and reheat French fries. I’m batting fifty percent.”