by Mason, V. F.
He captured my clit between his teeth, nipping on it before licking my core up and down, swiping all my wetness onto his tongue. Then he replaced his finger with his tongue, darting inside me, and I ground myself firmer against him, searching for the friction that he earlier denied me.
“Brochan, please.” I wasn't even sure what I begged for. I just knew I could combust any minute, but I wanted to experience it with him.
“You are so beautiful, Emerald,” he whispered against my skin. Then he slid back up, looming above me, and our mouths locked in a kiss until I heard foil tear. I let go of him while he rolled a condom on his length and then gently ran the tip of his cock over my core while his other hand kept him steady.
I could see tension and desire mixed on his face, so I circled his neck with my hands and rose up a little, whispering into his ear, “Make me yours, Brochan.” With a groan, he complied, entering me slowly. At first, there was only a slight sting when he pushed himself through my barrier. But then the burn registered as he went deeper, stretching me. I took a deep breath, not knowing what to expect next. “Brochan.” With my encouragement, he thrust all the way in. I cried out, dots of light blurring my vision from the discomfort, and he stilled, quickly giving me a kiss.
I relaxed a little with his touches; the attention he lavished on me with each touch told me how much he loved me and what we were sharing. I could feel it in every nip while he settled deep inside me, our bodies entwined together and my heart warm. It filled with so much love I wanted to shout about us from the rooftops.
And then something changed. He no longer brought me discomfort, but instead, I needed him to do something. “Move,” I told him, slightly rotating my hips.
He cursed. “I’m barely holding on here, love. Be very sure.”
Oh, I was sure. The earlier sting still stayed, but the fire in my veins demanded for him to move.
He slid back and then thrust forward, filling me with his cock, and we both groaned, my pussy wrapping around him instantly. His lips ended up on my breasts again, lavishing them with attention, his tongue swirling around my nipples and sucking them into his mouth while his hips slammed back and forth, shaking us on the bed.
Everything faded away, leaving only the two of us in this world while all-consuming pleasure surrounded us. My nails raked his back while my hips met each jerk, welcoming his length inside me, needing it to survive.
His mouth found mine again, the kiss so deep I couldn't breathe for a moment. Then his movements sped up, bringing me higher and higher to the brink of something… something I couldn’t reach, but desperately wanted to. “I burn, Brochan,” I rasped, arching my back so he could suck on my neck right above my pulse, which sent lightning to my clit only stoking the fire inside me higher. “You are everywhere, but it’s not enough.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.
The sounds of flesh slapping and raspy breaths filled the room, but I didn’t care. “No one else will have this but me, right?” he asked, biting on my collarbone right before slamming inside me with such power we shifted on the bed.
I shook my head, still in trance. “No one else.”
“Good girl. My girl.” His hand travelled between us, flicked my clit, and his thumb pressed on it right at the same time he gave me a harsh push, and that’s when it happened.
I finally reached the brink and fell from it, right into the land of such euphoria and pleasure I’d never experienced before.
He swallowed my cry with his mouth, and then with a few more thrusts, he found his own orgasm. Afterward, we both lay on the bed, locked in a tight embrace. “I love you,” I whispered against his neck, sighing contentedly.
Brochan gave me a peck on the lips and shifted to his side, bringing me closer and hiking my leg over his hips, our bodies still connected. “I love you too.” He threw a blanket over us, hiding us from anyone and everything while we enjoyed our little heaven.
While unbeknownst to me, my phone rang continuously while I was kissing Brochan passionately.
I didn’t know my parents had a search party going through the entire town, trying to locate my whereabouts.
If I knew back then that it would be our last meeting, I would have savored every second, every touch.
But life wasn’t that kind to me.
My life had ended before it had the chance to begin.
Island, United States
July 2019
Emerald
“Here are your waffles,” Eve says, placing the plate in front of me and tilting the teapot in her hand. “Your tea is probably cold. Want me to pour from the new one?”
Rubbing my arms, because goose bumps have spread on them from the AC running in the coffee shop, I nod and raise my cup. “Please. I’m not used to the AC blasting all over me,” I explain, and she chuckles, refilling my cup.
“Yeah, we locals prefer to be cold rather than hot. July is usually a bitch when it comes to heat, but it hits more in the second half of the month.”
“Oh,” I say, laughing inwardly at how casually she swears or drops various not-so-ladylike words around. “But you probably love it here.”
“The best place in the world,” she replies, and then someone calls from behind her.
“Eve, can I have some pancakes to go? Need to be at work in five. I can grab lunch for Tom too.”
“Sure.” She pats my shoulder and leaves the new pot, while taking the old one. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you.” Despite me being a stranger, warmth comes from her in spades toward me, and I’m not sure how to take it. Maybe she’s just way friendlier with tourists than, say, Micaden.
The minute he enters my mind, I huff in exasperation and dig into the waffle harshly, imagining it being his face. The freaking jerk has judged me without even knowing me, and that bothers me.
All this anger inside me is not good, and when I see him next time, I’m going to tell that prick what I think about him. I’m not some kind of doormat who will take his crap and ignore it; he has to know he can’t speak to me that way.
Even if he’s hot as hell and my body goes on high alert whenever my gaze lands on him.
Huffing in annoyance again, I munch on the waffle and moan as the taste fills my mouth. “Oh my God,” I murmur, taking another bite, because it’s impossible not to. It’s sweet, covered with strawberry syrup, and melts on your tongue. The fresh blueberries added on top make for a richer taste. The dough is so soft, cloud-like, and the deliciousness of all those ingredients combined creates one hell of a dish.
“You like it, I presume?” Eve teases, waving to the guy who runs outside, leaving only the two of us with Joe behind the counter in the coffee shop. Bakeries are usually busy till lunch, so this doesn’t surprise me.
“The best waffles I ever tried,” I say through my mouthful of food, and she laughs, turning in the direction of the counter as well, but then she pauses, asking, “Do you mind me joining you? I usually eat at the back, but—”
“Of course!” Giddiness fills me. I love meeting new people, and having a friend here will be amazing. The last thing I need is to be a loner around town who everyone avoids or considers strange.
She sits opposite me, and I see she has an omelet and I cringe, mortified I let it show in my face. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“You can’t stand eggs?” she asks and I nod. “No worries. I love them. I used to have a friend… she’d cook them for me every morning because I didn’t know how to do that.”
“You didn’t know how to cook?” I always thought people who owned restaurants or bakeries must really love to do it, because they have to be around food and do all the cooking. Coming up with new recipes is important too I imagine, so doing it without passion would be nerve-racking and annoying.
“Nope. I couldn’t even look at raw food. But my mom owned this place, and then she got sick so I had to learn.” A smile spreads on her lips as she sips her coffee. “My poor Tom. He had food poisoning three times during the learning stage.”
> “He must love you a lot.” Based on the comment thrown by the guy earlier about lunch, they are still together, so he didn’t run away.
Any guy who doesn’t run away after that is a keeper. “He does, and I love him too. We’ve been together for ten years now. We married three years ago.” She points at her finger, which has a beautiful, princess-cut diamond. “Proposed in the police station. He’s the sheriff.”
“How nice,” I say, but then frown. “How old are you?” Ten years is a long time to be with someone, but she looks around my age. Some can find their soulmates at seventeen?
“Twenty-eight.”
So my guess was correct. “I’ll be twenty-eight in a month,” I tell her, and she nods, as if it’s a given.
Then she continues to talk, and I listen, learning new stuff about the town and its citizens. She mentions new buildings and activities that became popular here, what happened to some guy named Duke who died a few years ago and used to be sheriff before Tom took his place. Then she explains other stuff about fishermen and various places that I have no clue about.
If one listens to our conversation, one might think I used to live here and my old friend is filling me in on the stuff I’ve missed. “So to conclude, the town is teeming, and life moves on.” She finishes, wiping her mouth with a tissue. “What have you been up to?”
Is it my turn now to share long stories about everyone and myself included? The way small town people build their relationships sure is fascinating to me; it’s like they have no filter and I’m one of their own. “I’m from New York. Born and raised there,” I start, but she chokes on her drink, cursing.
“Shit.” She cleans the little droplets from the table, clearing her throat. “Sorry.”
Weird. They never had New Yorkers here?
“I’m an artist and a teacher. I teach art to blind kids in school and showcase my work in galleries.” Her eyes widen at this, but I pay no attention to that. “I lost sixty percent of my vision when I was twenty-one. Thankfully, it got better for me with time, but not everyone is this lucky. So helping those who face similar challenges like me seemed like the best choice. I love all my kids.”
“Accident?” I shift uncomfortably, not liking this topic much due to hazy memories.
“Yes.” I decide not to elaborate, but thankfully she doesn’t expect it. “And lately I’m a writer I guess.” I have no idea why I mention this fact when I intended to keep it hidden.
This must pique her curiosity, because she rests her elbows on the table, questioning, “A book? Like a full-length story?”
“Sort of. I’ve had this love story in my head for months now and just had to write it.”
“Oh,” she says, and then asks carefully, although I don’t miss the worry in her tone, “What’s the story?”
“It’s about—” The loud ding of the doorbell sounds as new customers enter, and instantly my skin prickles when the familiar voice buzzes through the place.
“Eve, we need to talk.”
Panic crosses Eve’s face, but then her jaw drops when I mutter, “Him again!” I can’t believe of all places today, Micaden picked this one.
Is the universe intentionally putting us together?
“Why are you standing in the middle, dude? I’m about to drop this heavy fucking bo—” The man behind him stops abruptly when he spots me, shaking his head in disbelief, his eyes almost bulging from their sockets. “Emerald.”
As my name slips past his lips, the energy in the coffee shop changes. The tension rises quickly, and the hatred toward me shadowing both men can’t be missed.
Before Micaden and Eve have the chance to comment on the fact that he knows my name, I get up and dart toward Micaden. Poking his chest, I barely contain the fury that takes me by storm. “Do you go around telling people what an awful person I am?”
“Oh shit,” Eve exclaims, but I ignore it. Enough is enough! Every encounter with this man ends up in him lashing out at me, and now he even tells his friends about me, because what else explains the behavior of this dude?
“Okay, so you don’t like tourists, but it doesn’t give you the right to be rude to us. Or call me names. And stop gossiping about me as well.” I finish with one last poke, digging my finger in his hard abs, breathing heavily.
And that’s when I catch his drilling eyes gazing at me with so many emotions I can’t name. Everything ceases to exist as we are both left standing in the coffee shop, locked in a moment I can’t understand.
Something like déjà vu washes over me, flashing images of me standing like that a lot with him. As if us fighting or bickering was a normal occurrence.
Shaking my head from the visions, I take a deep breath when he wraps his hand around my finger and leans forward. “Twice you’ve touched me. If it happens again, be ready for the consequences.” Steel and dominance coat his tone, and I wince from his hold, his grip sending a little pain through my body. “Dislike is not a strong enough emotion to describe what I feel for you.” He pushes my finger away, takes the box from the man, and says to Eve, “I’m going to put the fish in the kitchen.”
“I’ll go with you,” the man replies, but his hate-filled silver eyes make no secret of how he feels about me either. “We’ll talk later, baby.” Even though he uses an endearment, there’s a warning in it.
Consequences?
What kind of consequences?
“I’m sorry for this. Tom is not usually this rude.” So that’s her husband. “He is best friends with Micaden,” she adds for some reason, and I nod. Friend or not, it doesn’t explain his behavior toward me.
I haven’t done anything wrong, yet I can’t shake the feeling of being smeared in dirt. Why does it bother me anyway? So two locals are complete asses.
But the hate in their eyes saddens me on a deeper level than I want to admit.
“It’s all right.” I drop a few dollar bills on the table. “Thank you for breakfast. It’s very good. I’m gonna go now,” I say, picking up my camera, but then she catches my hand, stilling me.
“Come back tomorrow. I can show you around town if you want,” she says, and some tension leaves me.
Even if her husband doesn’t like me, she clearly doesn’t share his prejudices. “I would love to.”
Relief crosses her face as she smiles. “Great. See you here tomorrow then.” She hugs me close, and familiar yet unfamiliar warmth surrounds me. Tears swirl in my eyes from the embrace, which confuses me even more.
I’m nothing but emotion and a confused mess in this town.
“I’m on your side, babe,” she whispers so low, but when I lean back, she just pats my cheek and trails after the men. I must have imagined her last words.
After all, this little problem doesn’t require choosing sides.
Micaden
Beauty.
A short word for what people value a lot.
I guess everyone has their own meaning, but I always associated it with her.
Rich fire-like locks that cascaded down her back in waves, glistening in the sun just begging me to touch them. Vivid green eyes that always held mischief and curiosity for the world around her.
Pale, freckled skin that easily displayed her every emotion or worry or desire, making it painfully clear what she wanted.
Curves that fit so nicely to my body, curves I could have forgotten myself in.
My own kind of mermaid.
And like her ancestors, she lured me into her trap, creating a web so strong I couldn’t resist her. And like every fisherman, I fell for it and lost my soul to her.
Life is not a fairytale though.
A lesson she’ll soon learn.
Chapter Ten
From the pages of the book…
“Oh my God,” I muttered while Brochan drove as fast as he could on the dark road without breaking speed limits on the way to Nona’s home. “They’re going to kill me.”
“You will explain to them you were with me, and it’s going to be okay.” Brochan t
ried to calm me down with his soothing voice, but all it did was anger me more.
“It won’t be all right, Brochan! They don’t even know I’m dating anyone, but when they do find out—” Only the seatbelt saved me from hitting my head on the dashboard when Brochan slammed on the brakes.
He squeezed the steering wheel so hard his tanned skin turned white, and he looked at me, hurt evident in every feature. “They don’t know about us?”
Oh, no. I didn’t watch my words in my panicked state and now the cat was out of the bag. “Brochan—”
“We’ve been dating for the last two months, and they call you every day. You told me they knew.”
“It’s just if I told them—”
Anger and fury came from him in waves as he pulled me closer so I couldn’t avoid his stare. “You give me excuses, but I need answers. Are you ashamed of being with me?”
“No, Brochan, no.” I tried to reassure him, palming his head and rubbing his cheeks with my fingers. “How can you say that after our night?”
Some of the tension left him, but his grip on me only tightened, as he spat, “Why then?”
“Because they would have done it sooner,” I shouted, failing to find the right answer to this. My reasoning might seem stupid to everyone, but no one knew them better than me.
Brochan would never be a perfect match for me in their eyes. “Done what?”
“Come here to ruin us.” I didn’t even have time to blink before he dragged me up, and I ended up straddling him with my arms circled around his neck.
“You think they have the power to ruin us?”
Tears streamed down my cheeks, as I replied, “I don’t know. I just know no one goes against their rules. And I love you, Brochan, but for them, you are—”
“Not worthy of their daughter,” he finished for me, and when I nodded, he wiped away my tears. “It’s all right. I’ll talk to your dad, and even if there is a shit storm… as long as I know you are with me forever, we can withstand it.” He slammed his mouth on mine, taking my tongue prisoner with his while he gave me a possessive kiss, which staked an invisible claim on me. “If you’re sure, nothing else matters.”
