Wandering

by Daniela Jackson

“The day is beautiful. Go for a walk. Come back in an hour.” She moves closer to me and shoves me towards the exit.

  I nod at her and walk out of the shop. She’s the boss here, after all.

  The bright sunshine blinds my eyes as I saunter, with my arms crossed over my chest. A row of white historical buildings guards the path leading to the beach I can see across the roundabout.

  This village is beautiful. We’re living in a small cottage with a thatched roof and two bedrooms. The garden around the house is quite devastated, but Ruby is eager to take care of it. She loves gardening and I hate it. There are too many opportunities to face really nasty creepy crawlies while working in the garden. Even tiny spiders make me scream. Ruby loves having her hands covered in soil and doesn’t pay attention to all the disgusting life hidden among the plants and below the grass.

  I focus on my breath. In and out. It feels safe here. I want to feel safe. But I can’t. The cold exhale of invisible menace haunts me day and night. Smile. Relax. Live. This is for Ruby.

  I have to be strong for her.

  I don’t think about Seafra. I can’t afford to think about him.

  I’m keeping the memory of him buried at the bottom of my heart, trapped in a dark cell.

  As I move closer to the beach, the murmur of the sea waves fills me with calm. The walk will do me good. I always sleep better after a walk along the beach.

  I cross the road then move along the pavement and walk down the concrete stairs. The grey pebbles scrunch under my feet as my eyes roam over the surroundings. Houses sit on the cliffs like daisies in the grass. The white clouds overhead float lazily as a seagull interrupts the eternal whisper of the sea reflecting the sun’s rays.

  I sit on the pebbles, pulling my knees to my chest whilst the sun’s rays are burning the nape of my neck. It’s peaceful. Safe. Time doesn’t exist.

  Ten minutes. I will be myself for ten minutes.

  I inhale deeply and happiness washes over me. My being merges with the surroundings, tastes the very particles of the smell coming from the sea, and resonates with the song of the waves. It’s lulling me, making me float in a sweet weightlessness, making me open my mind. Memories enter my head.

  My mother’s joyful voice. “It’s beautiful.” And her hand showing the beach stretching like a white majestic ribbon against the deep blue colour of the sea.

  Ruby’s bright smile. “Can we stay here forever, mummy? We don’t have to go back to the house. Daddy doesn’t like us.”

  “Don’t be silly, honey. Your daddy loves you.” My mother strokes Ruby’s head then hugs her.

  I finish my sand castle. “Daddy hates us.”

  “Don’t you dare say that ever again,” my mother hisses as her eye twitches.

  Somebody’s form throws a shadow onto mine, an abrupt disconnection from my reverie, and I jerk my head back, eyes glancing up.

  A man wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoody and smiles at me.

  I turn my face away and stare at the sea, but the figure behind me doesn’t move. Putting my hands on the pebbles for support, I lift myself, but two hands push at my shoulders and immobilise me in a sitting position. I turn my face and find myself in that man’s embrace, his chest against my back, his legs guarding either side of my body.

  “Hey,” I growl and jerk my hands up, but the man wraps his arms around me, squeezing the oxygen out of my lungs.

  “Be quiet,” he says.

  I feel dizzy at the familiar huskiness of his voice.

  “Seafra,” I whisper and slump into his embrace.

  “What a fucking coincidence, huh?” he rasps into my ear, his anger tangible, seeping into me. “Let me guess. You hated me so much that you decided to escape from me to this hole. So... Are you living here?”

  “No.”

  “So what are you doing here?” He tightens the embrace around me, and I feel tiny and helpless against his power. Breathless.

  “What are you doing here?” I gasp.

  “I have a concert in the local pub.”

  “I have to go.”

  “No,” he growls. “You’re not going anywhere. Do you understand? Not until you explain what the fuck I did wrong last time.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Seafra.”

  He growls from his throat and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. Heat rushes through my veins.

  “Why didn’t you come, Eavan? Didn’t call?”

  “I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

  “No.” He holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping my face up to his and our lips meet like I’ve never left him. Like those four months that passed have never happened.

  I’m out of breath, weak, dying, rising to life back again. Excited and scared.

  “I can’t,” I whisper into his mouth, tears trickling down from my eyes.

  “Why? Tell me why?” His arms loosen the grip around me, but I still feel the hardness of his muscles against my body, his readiness to entrap me again at the slightest suspicion that I can wiggle out.

  “I can’t.” I catch a rapid breath.

  “Come on. Let’s have lunch together.”

  “No, please let me go.”

  “Lunch, Eavan, that’s all I’m asking for. Please, just this fucking lunch.”

  “I’m working.”

  He chuckles. “Really? Now?”

  “It’s a bit complicated. The owner of the flower shop—“

  “Yeah, yeah, I talked to her ten minutes ago. She’s giving you a day off. A very nice, helpful lady. She loves romantic stories, you know. And ours could be very romantic if you put more effort.”

  “What?” I turn to face him as his palms land on my cheeks. “What did you tell her? What did she tell you?” Panic strangles my throat, my heart pounding in my chest.

  Seafra removes his sunglasses and smirks at me. Pain courses through my heart at the sight of the exhaustion painted in a greyish tinge on his face.

  “Just imagine,” he starts. “I go for a walk to calm myself before the evening’s concert and see my girlfriend-to-be walking out of the flower shop. I want to rip her throat out, you know, but decide to act like a civilised individual would. I decide to be smart. I go inside the shop and talk to the old lady there then I go to the beach to catch my girlfriend-to-be and haul her to the nearest cafe so she can have lunch with me.” He nods several times. “Lunch, Eavan. Just this one fucking lunch.”

  “Okay,” I say and scramble to my feet.

  Seafra stands up and grabs my hand. His fingers entangle mine and squeeze them to the point of pain, but I don’t mine. I want to feel him and absorb him with my whole being.

  “Where are you staying?” I ask.

  “In a nice B&B,” he says with a slight tremble in his voice as we leave the beach and move along the pavement, passing the glass facade of the hotel and the playground. “I can be a normal being here. It’s a tiny village in the middle of nowhere and the people here don’t pay attention to us. Not to mention that we give concerts here as the ‘Broken Souls’ not ‘Red Asylum’.”

  “Never heard of the ‘Broken Souls’.”

  “You see. I can be anonymous here. I can catch a breath here. I’m not a fan of being famous, you know. I like to be anonymous. I like walking with my girlfriend and holding her hand, you know. Anonymously.”

  “Your girlfriend?”

  He brings my hand up to his lips and plants a kiss on my knuckles. “My girlfriend from now on.”

  “What if I don’t—“

  “Let’s have this lunch first, okay. Let’s talk, Eavan.”

  I want to talk to him, touch him, and give him more time. But I can’t.

  “So you have a nice cosy room with a window overlooking the beach?” I ask frivolously as a decision sprouts inside me, growing into absolute clarity.

  I’m shaky with emotions, drunk with happiness to see him again. Scared as hell.

  “Exactly.�
� He roams his eyes over my face like he wants to memorise every detail. “A small room with the walls sprinkled with damp, a single bed and a horrible bathroom.”

  “Are you very hungry? It’s only ten in the morning.”

  “No, not really. You?”

  “No, not really.”

  “So maybe we could go for a walk or something? Talk like normal people. Get to know each other better.” He squeezes my hand, causing me pain, as though he’s afraid that I could vanish.

  I don’t want him to feel like this.

  I want to give him joy, peace and certainty. My whole time.

  But I fucking can’t.

  “I want you to show me your horrible room,” I say in a dry voice.

  Seafra stops and gazes at me as though he’s completely stunned.

  I am for sure. I’m stunned by my own boldness, decisiveness and the absolute clarity of my needs.

  I want him. Here and now.

  “So are you going to show me your room or not?” I flash him a half smile.

  Darkness fills his eyes, violent like a bad storm tearing through an old forest. His hand squeezes mine and I hiss at the pain from his grip.

  It doesn’t matter. The yearning in his eyes matters.

  I raise my other hand and run my trembling fingers up and down his unshaven cheek. He rests his forehead against mine and we inhale one another, my hunger clashing with his, our bodies shivering, craving the slightest touch.

  His cheek slides down against mine and he nuzzles my hair with his nose, breathes me in and trails a line down the side of my neck with his fingers. His hand rises again and touches my face with more pressure as though he wants to ensure himself that I’m not a mirage. I feel his other hand sliding down my back and resting above my ass. He kisses my temple as my arms travel under his and I dig my fingers into his shoulders from behind. His mouth moves down to the corner of mine. He stops as his lips taste me, memorise me. I open my mouth wide and his tongue slides in, searches for mine as we’re clenched together in the agony of our yearning for each other. My skin prickles. My heart races. My body demands his.

  Our breaths unite. Our mouths wide, moving frantically. Our hands entangle.

  Then Seafra pulls back and starts walking. He’s dragging me behind him, picking up the pace so I start running, my breath heavy, and my heart dying in my chest.

  We squeeze through a metal gate then climb four cracked stairs and walk into a white building through a navy ornate door. Seafra drags me up a narrow stairwell and shoves me into his small room.

  I take a deep breath and his lips are on mine again.

  They crush, demand, possess.

  Chapter 6

  Seafra

  We should talk, but I can’t tear my mouth off hers. My whole anger centres on my lips taking possession of hers, on my impatient hands removing her cardigan and her t-shirt then undoing the braid made of her hair. I unhook her bra and toss it onto the floor. Her breasts wave as she steps back and gazes at me with her cheeks painted with the dark red colour of her shyness. My eyes absorb the fullness of her tits, the perfection of her areolas, and the whiteness of her skin. The sheer darkness of her amazing hair.

  She hugs herself as I remove my hoody and t-shirt, kneeling in front of her and unzipping her calf-length skirt. My mouth plants kisses on her hip, around her navel, and she shivers under my touch. I lower her skirt to her ankles and she steps out of it then flings her body to the side, pulling at the duvet thrown on my bed. Her back flashes in front of my eyes for a split second before she dives under the duvet. I freeze.

  There are scars on her lower back, burns probably and a few lines as though a knife was run across the skin of her upper back.

  I pull forward and sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Eavan?”

  She sits in bed, wrapping the duvet around her up to her neck. Sadness clouds her face and she drops her head.

  “I thought,” she murmurs. “You said... I thought...”

  “Don’t think. I want you. I want you badly. More than any other woman in my life. You’re beautiful, the whole of you. It’s just... What happened to you?”

  “I don’t want to talk. I want to fuck.”

  My hard dick pulses at her words, but the last remains of my rationality urge me to talk. “Eavan—“

  “No talking.”

  “Is this the reason why you disappeared last time?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. Just don’t lie to me.”

  “I don’t care about these scars as long as you don’t care about them.”

  “This is you. These scars are you, Eavan. I just want to know—“

  “You said... I don’t want to talk. I want to fuck.”

  “Okay. Let’s fuck then.” I lift myself and remove my jeans as my hard cock springs out.

  Eavan averts her eyes as I crawl under the duvet and pull her to me so we lie on our sides, facing each other.

  My fingers travel to her cheek and I trail a line down to her chin and along the side of her throat.

  “I missed you,” I say.

  It’s fucking true. I missed her every day. Every woman in my arms was Eavan. I fucked them but I saw only my moth queen.

  She flashes me a translucent smile as my lips search for hers and I feel like my heart is healing, like her touch is wiping away all the invisible dirt from me.

  I regret every woman I touched instead of Eavan. I regret my whole meaningless existence without Eavan. And I am going to hold her in my arms for longer. Much longer. Maybe even like life-long. A thrill rushes through my veins at that thought. We’ll be like Tony and Nicole. I’ll fucking tie her to me if I have to.

  This will be the new beginning. Me and her. Together. I want this more than anything else.

  My fingers move down to her breast and I circle her nipple. It hardens at my touch. Eavan sucks in a breath, her eyes wide, burning. Her body shivers.

  I slide my fingers under her panties, massaging her ass cheek, then rip the underwear off her.

  “Hey,” she explodes.

  “I will buy you another pair.”

  She chuckles then stiffens as I run my finger along her slit. It’s wet, but not soaking wet like I want it to be. Eavan definitely needs to relax more. I want to pleasure her, make this sex special and very memorable so it will tie her to me, and make her crave more of my touch.

  I tumble her on her back, moving atop her as my cock pokes into her inner thigh. The duvet slides down to the floor with a puff and Eavan jerks her hand to the side to catch it, but I take her wrist and put her palm on my cheek.

  It’s clear to me that she’s not very experienced in bed, but that only makes me madder about her.

  “Fold your legs and put your feet flat on the mattress, Eavan.” I stroke her breast as she follows my demand. “I’m clean, but if you want me to use a condom...”

  I am very strict about pulling a condom on while being with a woman as is Coyote. Hale is another story, but I’m not his nanny. If he dies of some infectious shit, I’ll attend his funeral and burn a few candles every year for him.

  It’s different with Eavan. I want to feel her without any barrier between us, the whole of her.

  “You want without?” she murmurs.

  “Yes, I want without.”

  “That’s okay, but I’m not on the pill.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  At first, I’m surprised but then my inner animal growls with excitement. It seems like nobody is fucking her. Good. She’s mine. This thought hits me like a hammer. Yes, she is mine. She’s been mine since the moment I saw her for the first time.

  It took me a while to realise that I was only hers, but now I’m on the right track. My needs and desires are absolutely clear to me, my goals established.

  “I can manage,” I say and cover her mouth with mine.

  Her slim arms wrap around my neck and she clings to me as though she�
�s seeking shelter in my arms. Very fucking pleasant. I want to be the safest shelter of the world for her and I fucking will be.

  I love the freshness of being with her, but hate the mystery radiating from her. It’s not intriguing any more. I want to take her every secret out of her head and learn them. But most of all I want to be with her, now and later.

  We kiss tenderly and I melt like a block of ice on a summer day. Our tongues stroke one another in a slow dance. I move my mouth down to her neck, biting lightly, caressing, and forcing sweet moans from her throat. My fingers stroke her breast and trail circles around her nipple as I rearrange my body. I run my tongue around both her nipples, then twist one of them and suck on the other.

  It’s so fucking slow with her and a bit clumsy, but I love it. I stroke a path down the side of her chest with my palm and touch her mound. She stiffens beneath me.

  “Eavan,” I murmur. “Just relax. I’ll be slow, I promise.”

  She sighs as I plant kisses on her tummy and push a finger into her hot pussy. Her body arches and she turns her face to the side, catching a rapid breath, her hands grabbing my head.

  Well, her nervousness is a bit challenging, but it’s sweet. I can manage. My thumb rubs against her clitoris as I gently finger her. Her thighs spread wider for me. Her arousal starts dripping from her pussy.

  “Relax,” I rasp and kiss a line up her inner thigh then sink my face between her folds and lick her clitoris.

  Her smell and taste fill my mind with euphoria. I want to devour her pussy, drink it, lick it. Kiss it. My mouth wraps around her clitoris and I suck it, pumping my finger in and out. I feel Eavan’s body swaying delicately, responding to my touch. Her hips push against my face and she sinks her fingers into my hair, pulling my wisps. I work her faster, licking her clitoris, whipping it with my tongue, sucking, pushing two fingers into her pussy. Her heels dig into the mattress and she arches her back. A loud moan escapes her mouth as her body trembles and her inner walls contract around my fingers. Now, I drink her juices as I would from a fountain. A sense of pride wafts through me that I can pleasure her.

  I pull my fingers out and move on top of her. My eyes meet the hazy glance of hers. She looks at me like she has just woken up from a pleasant dream, her cheeks pink like those of a porcelain doll. The most turning on image I’ve ever seen.