by Tia Siren
“Plus, I’m the real deal,” he says, looking relieved that his size matches up. “And what’s that they always say… it’s not the motion of the ocean…”
“It is the motion of the ocean,” I tell him. “Not the size of the boat.”
“Oh yeah,” he says, “Silly me.”
“But you’ve got both.”
I can’t believe that just a little while ago I was remembering phrases my mom used to tell me, sadly. Now I’m laughing about phrases with Patrick. I’m sure that one day I can talk to him about everything that happened with my mom, my feelings about her passing, and even all of her wise sayings. I’ve never been able to open up with anyone about that kind of stuff before, not even Maisy.
But now, we have different things to attend to.
“Let me see how this sucker works,” he says, scooping me up and then laying me down on the couch. “You know, ever since I saw you in that towel—or, honestly, long before that—I’ve been wanting to do this.”
“You’ve been wanting to stick a vibrating dildo inside me?” I ask.
“Yes, and anything else I can think of to do to you,” he answers. “But honestly, I meant I couldn’t wait to throw you down and spread your legs wide open.”
And he does hold my legs all the way open. Then he turns on the vibrator and holds it up against my clit.
“Oh, my God,” I say, as electric currents shoot through my clit and up to the rest of my body. “Why does it feel so much better when you do it?”
“I don’t know,” he answers. “Maybe because you’re in love with me?”
“I sure am,” I say, looking into his blue eyes.
He looks down as he inserts the vibrator into my pussy, while rubbing my clit at the same time.
“Am I doing it right?” he asks.
“You’re doing it more than right.”
I close my eyes as it hums inside me and he works it in and out.
“Oh, my God,” I tell him, “I’m coming. You’re making me come.”
“I think BOB’s making you come,” he says. “But I’m happy to take the credit.”
“You’re definitely helping,” I try to say, but I’m breathless, gasping for air as my juices flow out onto the vibrator and his hand. It really does feel better when he does it.
“And now I owe you something,” I tell him, when my orgasm is over.
“Oh that’s right,” he says coyly, “You do.”
I get down on my hands and knees on the floor so that I’m ready to take his cock into my mouth. I nibble the head and then lick my way up his shaft. Then he pushes it all the way down my throat, until I’m nearly gagging, but I let him keep going.
“That’s my girl,” he says, shoving it even further into me. “Take this cock into your mouth. It was just filling your pussy all the way up and now it’s filling your mouth all the way up.”
I love how he talks dirty to me. And he’s right, my entire mouth is full of his cock, just like my pussy was.
He reaches down and plays with my nipples while I suck his cock. I cup my hand around his balls and squeeze gently.
“That’s right,” he says. “Play with my balls while I play with your gorgeous tits. I love how big and round they are now.”
I suck his cock faster and harder, loving that he loves my body. I’d put on some weight during these last few stressful months of working long hours and not having time to cook, but he seems to like me even better that way.
He pulls my hair and fucks my mouth. I do my best to deep throat him and I must be doing a good job because he starts groaning.
“You’re going to make me come soon,” he says, as his cock gets even bigger in my mouth.
“Come in my mouth,” I try to say, but instead I gag on his cock.
“Hold on a second,” he says, and turns around to the coffee table to get my vibrator. “I don’t want to be done until I make you come again.”
He reaches down and puts it back into my pussy as I continue to suck his cock. The vibration makes my pussy start to pulse at the same time that his cock begins to throb and pulse in my mouth.
I move my hips back and forth, fucking the vibrator as he fucks my mouth. It’s the most amazing sensation I’ve ever felt.
“I’m coming,” I practically yell, holding onto the coffee table as my body shakes with the pleasure of the orgasm.
“Me too,” he says, as he shoots his come into my mouth.
There’s so much of it, even though he just came when we were having sex. I do my best to lap it all up, but some of it dribbles down my chin.
“That’s so hot,” he says, moving his cock around on my face, catching all the come I missed and then using the head of his cock to put it back into my mouth.
He spoon-feeds me like this until I’ve swallowed every bit of his come. It’s an old trick we used to do in high school and I love that he still remembers it.
“Come lay down with me on the couch,” he says, and I eagerly follow him.
This couch isn’t as comfortable as the one back in my New York apartment, but it’s better because Patrick is on it. And this time I can fall asleep peacefully, knowing I don’t have to worry about Jack Schneider or even a late night phone call from a sheriff in my hometown. Because now I’m with him, and he’s my boyfriend once again, and all is right in Washburn and in the world.
Epilogue: Patrick
Kelia and I walk hand and hand along the beach. I’ve brought her to Ocean City so we can enjoy our old stomping ground while it’s still warm enough. And perhaps for another big reason.
We’ve spent all day on the beach and it was a lovely, warm day. But now the sun is setting and it’s getting chilly. She’s wearing my sweatshirt and I take her hand and put it, along with mine, in one of the pockets, because it’s starting to feel cold.
As we reach the area that has a path leading back up to the beach house we used to rent, I stop. Soon, we’ll go inside where our friends, and Kelia’s sister Maisy, await us, just like in the good old days. As a sheriff, I can’t smoke a joint any more but we can enjoy some good old-fashioned—and completely legal, unlike when we used to drink it in high school—beer. We’ll play cards or watch a movie and make dinner. But first, I have important business to attend to.
I feel as nervous as when I knocked on the door to her aunt’s house. But it’s now or never, and I’m not going to let time beat us to anything ever again.
I take a deep breath and get down on one knee.
“Did you find another seashell?” Kelia asks, since we were hunting them on the beach while we walked.
“Something like that,” I tell her.
And out of my other pocket, the one with the seashells, I pull a ring, and hold it up to her.
“Oh, my God, Patrick!” she gasps, before I can say a word.
“Shhhh,” I tell her, with a wink. It’s my turn to talk. “Kelia Thomas, you’ve been the love of my life since we were practically kids. Not a day’s gone by that I haven’t thought of you. I’m so glad you’re back in my life. I know we said we’d wait a while to make things more serious, but I can’t waste any more time. Please do me the honor of becoming my wife. Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” she says, jumping up and down.
I pick her up and swing her around. Then I grab her hand and start running towards the ocean.
“Wait!” she says.
I’m afraid she’s going to say it’s too cold; the waves will be like ice cubes. But I should have known that my Kelia is more fun and spontaneous than that. She was just worried about more practical matters.
“The ring!” she calls out.
“Oh yeah,” I tell her, shaking my head. “How could I forget?”
I put the glistening diamond on her finger and she holds it up to the sun.
“It’s gorgeous!”
“Just remember that the next time BOB says he can get you a big fat rock if you dump me for him,” I joke.
“I definitely don’t need him anym
ore,” she says.
I’m glad to hear that, even though I figured that was the case. We’ve been together nearly every night, so I figured the logical next step was to propose.
As we run into the water, the waves crash over us and I think about how crazy unpredictable life can be. One minute, I think the love of my life is gone for good. The next minute, I have to investigate her for murder. And the next, she’s answering the door in a towel and the rest is a very much better version of ancient history than we started off with.
And the next—I think, as we’re in the water, with the ocean, and the sky, and our love for each other, and all the time in the world, all to ourselves—she’s wrapping her legs around me and making me hard. I guess there’s a first time for everything, and this is my first time to have sex in the ocean with the love of my life.
Epilogue: Kelia
Patrick laughs as I suggestively wrap my legs around him, but I know he wants to fuck me in the ocean. His hand tears at my swimsuit, pulling it to the side.
I’m glad we’re back in Ocean City, and surprisingly glad I moved back to Washburn. I never thought I was a true small town girl, but anywhere with Patrick feels like the rightful home for me. I was glad to get out of New York City, although Jack pitched a fit worthy of a two-year-old’s temper tantrum.
He couldn’t believe I was giving up my chance at a court of appeals oral argument—and a chance to have really bad sex with him again, which of course I’d never think of doing now, even if I had been into it in the first place, which I so hadn’t. I knew I’d be glad to leave the firm after all of that, but what I didn’t know was how much I’d like practicing law as a solo, small town practitioner.
Every day seemed to bring a new townsperson—and a new, intriguing case—into the doors of Crusts, Cross-stitch, and Counselor at Law. As a bonus, they could carry a freshly made baked good and/or a handmade craft out the door, while I set to work on learning how I could help them with their legal matter.
Their cases were very different than the ones I had encountered at my old law firm, and some people would say not as exciting. But I would beg to differ. If there was one thing my new job wasn’t, it was boring. Since I knew very little about the areas of law they needed my help with, I was always learning something new. And that kept me on my toes.
Not to mention the fact that I was solely in charge of their case from beginning to end and I got all the credit when things went well—or all the blame if they went badly. If any of their cases ever make it to appeal, I’ll be the one to handle oral argument, and I won’t have to sleep with anyone against my will in order to do it.
Patrick sways me around, doing a little slow dance in the waves as we kiss. I love my handsome, strong, smart sheriff, and I send a special “thank you” up to my Aunt Belinda for putting us together. I’m sad that she’s gone, but I know from the letter she left Charles that she had found love before she died, just as I had re-found it again with Patrick. Except, I don’t think it had ever left. We both were waiting for just the right opportunity to find it.
After questioning Mabel Hershey, Patrick didn’t think things added up, so he arrested her and charges are pending. The local gossip around Washburn is that she tells everyone who comes to visit her that she killed for love and would do it again, but, I know better than to listen to such rumors.
For his part, Charles met with me and told me he loved my aunt and was glad I had found her killer. He expressed remorse for ever getting caught up with “crazy Mabel,” and told me that although my aunt had given her blessing for him to hook up with her at a swingers’ party—I didn’t even want to ask what all that might entail—he regretted it.
I could understand regret and guilt too well. I told him not to worry, that it was obvious my aunt loved him too and that he had given her some great last days.
Now, my focus turns to Patrick because he’s taking his cock out of his swim trunks and it’s finding me under the water. I’m on the Pill so we don’t need to use a condom anymore. His cock sinks into my pussy and feels amazing.
I grip his back as my body shakes with the waves as well as with the rhythm of his cock pumping in and out of me. He holds onto my ass as he thrusts in and out.
“This feels so good,” I tell him, leaning back and letting my hair swing into the water as he fucks me.
“I love when your hair is wet, like when I came to your aunt’s door,” he says. “And I love that it’s brown too.”
I laugh. Patrick always loved my brunette hair but when I was in my rebellious, leaving-everything-behind stage, I had dyed it blonde. That was the last shade he had ever seen me in, so it’s another silly reason—out of many, many reasons, that I’m glad we reunited. And even though I thought I wanted to wait before making things serious, I love that Patrick could only wait two months to propose to me. I have to admit, I was starting to get antsy myself.
He looks down at my pussy in the water and rubs my clit.
“Looks like your hair isn’t the only thing that’s wet,” he says.
“Yeah, the whole ocean is,” I joke, as I straighten up to watch his naked cock go in and out of me.
“I love you,” he whispers into my ear, but as the waves crash even harder on us, he says it louder, to make sure I’ve heard him. “I love you, Kelia.”
I’d heard him fine the first time, but I love hearing him say it as much as possible. Too much time passed without me getting to hear him say it. Even though that was of my doing, I welcome any chance to hear it again.
“I love you too, Patrick. I’m so excited to be your wife.”
“Should we get married in New York City or Washburn?” he asks.
I think about saying “Chicago” because for some reason I think of my mom. But then I have a better thought.
“How about right here in Ocean City?” I ask him. “Maisy and I can take a trip to Chicago beforehand, to shop for a wedding dress, and I’ll stop by my mom’s gravesite to tell her the good news. I’ll also tell Aunt Belinda when I’m back in Washburn, of course. I have to thank her for putting me back in touch with you.”
“I’m sure it was all part of some grand scheme of hers,” he says.
He’s kidding, but I know that if she was here to see us now, she would probably take credit for the re-match-making. That’s what good businesswomen do.
Patrick gets harder inside me and I clench my pussy around his cock.
“Pat, I feel so good,” I tell him. “You’re going to make me come.”
“Come for me,” he says, thrusting in and out, harder and faster, nearly matching the rhythm of the waves. “Come for me, my fiancée.”
“I’m coming for you,” I tell him, and I can feel him pulse and then his come shoots into my pussy. “I’m coming in your naked pussy in the ocean, because you’re going to be my wife and I can always have you any time, any place, any way I want to.”
“That’s right,” I gasp, feeling out of breath and utterly exhilarated. “We’re never going to be apart again, and I’ll make sure of it this time.”
“Good,” he says, as he sets me down on the sand and we start straightening our swimsuits out so we can get back to our friends and Maisy who are waiting for us to return.
I can’t wait to tell them our good news. And I can’t wait to start life as the wife of my ex-boyfriend turned boyfriend again turned husband. This was one second chance I’ll never regret taking. And by the way he tugs on my hand to get me out of the waves and inside to get warm, dry off, and announce our engagement to everyone, I can tell that Patrick will never regret taking a second chance with me, either.
Save Me
Kira Blakely
1
Morgan
The ruined toes of my Timberland boots scrape for a stable foothold. I glare through a dripping web of emerald foliage.
“Hello? Hello? Help!” I cry for anyone who can hear me. I’m plastered to a steep slope of soft dirt and, over my shoulder, I see a long fall into a shallow ravin
e. It won’t be shallow much longer.
I’ve got a good grip on an exposed tree root. Even though everything is soaking wet, the tree is probably here to stay. If I fall wearing this awkward, heavy hiking backpack, I’m not sure how badly I’ll be hurt… so I yell up into the trees, praying that someone nearby can hear me. Is there anyone nearby?
I’m such an idiot. I’m about to be a dead idiot.
First, clouds the color of pigeon feathers gathered overhead. Then the air changed, thickening out of nowhere, bringing the scent of soil and wet rock beneath my nose. I mistook the moment as exhilarating and didn’t even think about finding cover. Then leaves rustled with foreboding gusts of wind, and fat drops of rain pelted the trail. Everything went white with the mist of rainfall. I quickened my pace and the world came out from under me. Literally.
The tree root was a lucky grab. Sticks and stones scraped over my face and body. I’m covered in a thick crust of mud now. The odds of someone being within earshot of my call are low. I know that.
I’m really just yelling out of some misguided, pathetic hope. Surely not me. This is not how I’m supposed to end.
On the other hand, I suppose it is poetic justice that the woman who made her fortune writing books about Blackridge Mountain will now probably die there herself.
“Hello? Hello!” I yell into this fog of pouring rain wrapped around the forest.
I should’ve been hunting for shelter, but I never broke pace. All I could think about was the campsite and how I needed to reach the Diamond Lake campground by nightfall, or I’d be stuck hiking in the dark. But where will I be stuck now?
Then the impossible happens: the tree begins to shift.
“No, no!” I yell at the tree. “No, no, no, no, no!” This isn’t possible. It’s a tree, and I’m just a 130-pound woman… but it’s a young tree, and I’m wearing a twenty-pound backpack and five-pound boots, too. One shoulder strap is ripped, so I let my other arm hang for one second and the backpack topples, end over end, into the muddy water below. I watch as my sleeping bag floats away.
