She reflected about how much she had grown and matured throughout the past few years as she strolled across campus, her sandaled feet getting wet in the morning dew. She loved this time of day, just prior to 8 AM classes, gazing across the quad at the earliest risers whose coffee-infused arteries were just beginning to circulate enough energy to stir their weary souls from slumber. It was September, too early to witness a cool mist rising from the warm ground, but Sarah imagined what the scene would look like in two more months when fall began to creep into central Maryland.
She suddenly felt a pang of homesickness for Colorado and the enduring backdrop of The Rockies sheltering her from the rest of the flat earth. Those mountains had seemed like stalwart fortresses when she was younger, but now she saw them as obstacles she had conquered. They had never held her back from pursuing her dreams. Having climbed both literal and figurative mountains, now she felt like she could return, unencumbered, and embrace their protection. They were gates now, not fences.
She sighed thinking of how it had been nearly two years now since her eyes stared up, awestruck, at their snowy peaks, since she watched the purple mist gather in their valleys. It had been almost two years since she hiked up a rocky canyon and picnicked on the edge of a cliff. She never thought she’d be away from the mountains so long. My soul is aching for home, she finally admitted to herself. She pondered whether or not a trip was in order...maybe over the holidays. Is Owen old enough to ski? she considered thoughtfully as she made her way up the steps to her building.
Am I being ungrateful? she wondered. After all, my home is now here, in Maryland, with my beautiful children and devoted mother. She learned to appreciate things about this place, perks she’d never even realized were part of the package: proximity to the beach and major cities such as Washington DC, Philadelphia and even New York City. Everything was close by on the East coast. The weather was milder than in the mountains. She had even learned to love crab cakes.
She considered the painful memories she left in Colorado and even in New Mexico where she’d spent her first post-doc year. There were things she left unprocessed, packed away, all boxed up where she couldn’t access the memories. She had come to the East coast for a fresh start. And that’s what I’ve gotten, right? she asked herself.
Still, she longed to look up at those mountains and not feel a pang of regret or a sigh of discontent. Those rocks are my roots, my genesis. She didn’t want to have her Motherland tainted by the bad memories she associated with her last few years there. But you know what they say: you can never go home.
Sarah’s mental meandering was interrupted by a knock at the door. She saw the sweet young face of Emma Knightley, one of her favorite students and her most trustworthy research assistant. “Hey, Dr. Lynde,” she said brightly, “Can I talk to you a second?”
“Of course, Emma, please, come in!” Sarah greeted her warmly.
“It’s about my senior seminar research project,” Emma began, helping herself to a seat and tossing her bag on the floor next to Sarah’s desk. Sarah wasn’t used to students being so relaxed in her office, but Emma had spent a lot of time in that chair and considered Sarah to be her mentor. Sarah couldn’t help but remember her undergrad days hanging out and hanging on every word of her mentor Dr. Sharpe. It seemed fitting that she could now pay it forward with her own little protégé.
“Did you settle on a topic?” Sarah questioned.
“Well, actually yes. At least I think so,” Emma smiled. “I wanted to write something about the recent explosion of bisexuality. It’s all the rage now, girls in clubs showing off, walking around campus holding hands, making out in front of drooling guys. Like, what is the deal with that?”
“Interesting observation,” Sarah remarked, although she was well aware of the phenomenon. She was always very careful of keeping her private life and non-traditional beliefs under wraps. She would bet money that Emma would be shocked to know that her mentor, her beloved Dr. Lynde, identified as bisexual. “What else do you know about this trend?”
“Not much, really,” confessed Emma. “But I want to do some research, obviously. Get started on my literature review. I was thinking of making an appointment with the reference librarian we met with last year for our research methods class.”
“Wonderful idea,” Sarah encouraged her. “I think it sounds like a great topic, particularly if you can come up with some sort of observational tool or survey. Don’t forget that you’ll need enough time to get your methodology approved by the IRB, okay?”
Emma nodded. “I was thinking of gathering up some articles this weekend and coming back next week to show you what I found.”
It was hard not to beam with pride about a student this motivated and invested in her learning. “Perfect! See you soon then!” And she knew Emma would follow through. Sarah could always tell which students were going to follow through and which would drop the ball.
After Emma left, Sarah glanced down wistfully at her phone. It was as silent as death. Fuck it, she conceded. She thought about James walking into his classroom of ROTC students across campus, setting up for his lecture. She would have given almost anything to be a fly on that wall to see how he delivered his lecture and interacted with his students. She sent a simple text, hoping to create a spark of communication: It was nice seeing you on Saturday. Hope you have a good week :)
***
James’s answer came much later that afternoon, around 4 PM. I had a good time. Worked the rest of the weekend. This week is already sucking.
Sarah’s patience lost out to her impulse to text right back: Oh, why is that?
His response was immediate: Picked up some new duties. Victim of my own success.
Feeling slightly impulsive, she went for broke: I see. Well, you could come hang out with me on Friday night.
His reply: Sounds like a plan. Did you have a place in mind?
Sure. My house?
Sarah’s mind was racing, and that paled in comparison to what her heart was doing. Friday night, she thought, it’s only four days away...
***
Dinner was pleasant, but Sarah was distracted. She hadn’t been able to think of much else all week long. She had fallen behind in grading and also some committee work she needed to get done. She had also delayed confronting Abby about some disturbing things she’d found in her room while putting laundry away. But since she needed to shuffle the kids off to her mother’s house with as little drama and disruption as possible, a discussion would have to wait.
In addition to being distracted, she’d also felt restless all week. Maybe it was just her hormones surging as her body inched closer and closer to ovulation. Being a woman is such a challenge, Sarah recalled telling Rachel during their Tuesday afternoon lunch. Damn Eve! She ruined it for all womankind! Stupid bitch! Rachel had commiserated. They had both laughed, even harder because they were pretty sure the waiter had overheard them.
Then Rachel had encouraged her to be forward with James, to very directly tell him what she wanted. “Women suck at asking for what they need,” Rachel observed. Sarah aspired to be the type of woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go for it. She’d already been plotting how to approach James regarding her views on relationships.
Now that he was across from her and there was candlelight and soft music filling the room, she was almost ready to chicken out. She poured herself another glass of wine as she tried to gauge his interest in her.
I invited him for dinner, Sarah considered. What if he has no clue what he’s getting himself into? What if he has no idea what this is about? Of course, there was the kiss at the coffee shop...
Words picked a fine time to desert her. How do we get from the table to the bedroom? She’d have to figure out some way to lure him in there. She wished her Auto Pilot would kick in, but not only was it failing her, but the little voice she sometimes heard that sounded an awful lot like Rachel also seemed to be Missing in Action. I guess I’m on my own, she conceded as s
he pushed her chair back from the table and started to clear some of the dishes.
James was feeling relaxed after his second glass of wine. He was a little confused about the purpose of this visit and what Sarah’s intentions were, but who was he to question an invitation to a smart and beautiful woman’s house? He figured he would just go with it. So when she stood up from the table to clear the dishes, he followed suit. As he set the wine glasses down on the counter he realized he was close enough to smell her perfume. He could feel her emanating a radiant heat. Wondering what was under her lace-edged camisole and cardigan was starting to affect him in other places.
For the first time of the evening they were both silent. The conversation at dinner flowed freely with laughter, insight, and valid points and counterpoints. One moment James would make some profound statement, sounding brilliant and mature. Then the next minute he’d cast Sarah a boyish look, and she would remember that he hadn’t even seen his 30th birthday yet. She gave up hope she’d find a way to transition to the bedroom, so she decided not to say a word. She simply walked down the hallway and up the stairs. He followed. No discussion, no invitation, no words.
Sarah stood for a moment beside the bed and watched as James stepped through the threshold of her bedroom, taking in his surroundings, ever-observant. This is what she’d tried so hard to picture all week. He seemed to be thinking...okay, what comes next? She caught a glimpse of the candlelight flickering in his eyes, warm but inquisitive, studying her outline silhouetted against the wall across from the bed. This is the first time we've been alone together, she noted, wondering what was going through his mind.
There was a little more small talk, as if they’d taken a step backwards from their dinner conversation. It was not terribly awkward but...the question of who starts this? lingered in the space between their two bodies as they both sat on the bed, close but not touching. Why am I so nervous? she thought. I never get this nervous.
Finally he leaned toward her and she took a deep, expectant breath. God...it's been awhile since someone new has been in my bed. But all her thoughts melted away as soon as his lips found hers. Wow...his lips are so soft. She felt something electric race up her spine as her fingers ran through his buzzed hair and brushed the slight stubble appearing on his jawline. All those restless feelings she had harbored throughout the week disintegrated beneath his touch, his fingers delineating the outline of her hips, his mouth making a trail down her neck. The first-time awkwardness evaporated like steam.
She remained completely clothed...sweater, cami, jeans...feeling constricted as she realized how badly her flesh was burning to press against his. She lifted his shirt up and over his head, tossing it across the room. She unclasped her bra and freed her breasts of the three layers of fabric preventing their chests from making skin-to-skin contact. Her fingers traced his well-defined triceps as he began to lower himself onto her. She could feel the dampness in her panties as his body pressed against hers and his lips explored her flesh. I don't know how much longer I can wait to get those pants off you and free your cock, she thought, feeling his erection pressing against her pelvis even through their respective pants.
He watched her fingers work her button and zipper, sliding her jeans down her thighs, followed quickly by her panties, which as she suspected, were soaked with desire. She paused, letting his eyes absorb their first glimpse of her nude, her curves bathed in the candlelight. She climbed onto the bed toward him and took his face into her hands, kissing him deeply. Her hands began to wander, touching and stroking his well-developed arms and back, feeling the tight mounds of muscles under her fingertips, her scientific mind listing off the names she’d learned in her college anatomy class: deltoids, trapezius, latissimus dorsi.
She leaned over him, her long, wavy brown hair covering their faces like a veil, kissing his lips again, then his neck and down his chest and stomach to his thighs. She wanted to devour him completely, but she tried very hard to pace herself, to slow down and savor this perfect and gorgeous model of masculinity spread out before her.
He was like a masterpiece; Michelangelo’s David in the flesh. She’d nearly forgotten how wonderful it was to feast upon the supple flesh of a 20-something-year-old, especially flesh broken down and built back up by the U.S. Military. Damn. There is something to be said for bodies built by Uncle Sam, she mused as she glanced up at his face. She was gauging his response to the fact she’d nearly reached his manhood. His eyes burned into her with white hot intensity, stretching her lips into a wicked grin as she enjoyed having the desired effect on him.
She lingered over his thighs and the crevice between his legs and groin, letting him feel her hot breath against his skin. As patient as she wanted to be, she couldn’t ignore his swollen cock any longer, lifting its head to her, saluting her, needing her touch, needing attention. Her tongue circled his balls and licked up his shaft as a soft sigh escaped his lips. The sigh transitioned into a moan as her tongue spiraled the head of his cock. This is like unwrapping a present for me. I can’t wait to see how you respond.
She took his length into her mouth, sliding him deep into her throat and holding him there as she studied him with her dark eyes. His head tilted back, his eyes closed, lips moist and slightly parted. Mmmmm....I'm going to enjoy this as much as he will, Sarah thought as her hands and mouth began to work in concert, slowly at first and then gradually increasing the pace. She teased his rock hard cock until he could take no more and pulled her on top of him.
She kissed him again, straddling his thighs, her hot, moist mound radiating against his thigh. “It’s your turn now,” he decided, turning her over onto her back with his strong arms. Her eyes half-closed, she felt his lips on her breasts, teeth gently raking against her nipples, feeling them harden against his mouth.
James gasped when he reached Sarah’s sex, finding her dampness had spread to her inner thighs. “You’re so wet,” he whispered as his tongue slid up her labia, first one side, then the other sending a tingly shock throughout her body.
She could feel how hungry his mouth was as he eagerly lapped up all her juices. She was already close to climax, the kissing and touching alone having pushed all her buttons, and considering how long it had been. But once he slid one of his thick, tan fingers into her slit and worked his tongue on her clitoris at the perfect tempo, she knew for certain she was about to lose control. She could feel the tension mounting, her thighs clenching his head, her hands in his hair, her pelvis lifting toward his mouth. Suddenly she soared off the edge, trembling underneath his face as he savored every spasm against his lips.
She caught sight of a wide grin spreading across his face as he emerged from between her legs and slid up her body. “Kiss me,” she demanded, taking his face in her hands, her own scent filling her nose as she pressed her mouth against his again. Her hands stroked down his body to his firm backside. She could feel his hardness pressing against her leg. He repositioned as her hands grasped the muscular mounds of his posterior, moving his erection nearer to her pubic bone.
Oh my god...so close...my pussy is throbbing. “I need to feel you inside me, James.” Her desperation rendered her voice nearly inaudible, and her mind continued speaking without making a sound. I know you are feeling it too...letting the anticipation build is killing us both.
Finally, finally....it's time....her synapses were firing. James murmured, “Oh my god,” as he slowly worked his cock inside her, holding it there, adjusting to the feel of her walls clenching him tightly. Sarah sighed as he began to thrust into her ever so slowly. She grinded her hips against him in rhythm, her hands on his ass, feeling him reach her very depths, her legs wrapped around him. His lips found hers again, and she had to keep reminding herself...I can't believe we've never done this before...it feels so natural.
Sarah suddenly felt like she was observing the scene from above the bed, feeling all the physical sensations but processing the events in a different dimension. She was completely overwhelmed by this powerful sexual co
nnection, she couldn’t remember ever feeling this intensity the first time she was with someone. Her mind began to narrate the scene from her disembodied vantage: your cock stroking in and out of me, my back arching. You’ve taken me into your arms, holding me close to your chest...trying hard to hold back and make it last.
I love the sounds you’re making, the moans, the little phrases...’Oh fuck....oh god....’ just listening to you is going to make me come... You start to thrust into me harder and faster.... just...at...that....exact moment.... I'm falling over the edge... I’m coming...tensing... releasing....contracting....my pussy milking your cock, and then you must slow down...savor a bit more....feeling those last spasms gripping you, taking deep breaths as you keep control of each deliberate thrust.
She came down from her orgasmic high and her mind joined her body again in the present. She watched his face again, their eyes locked together. She mentally granted him permission, telling him with her eyes I want to see you come and at that precise moment he moaned, “Oh, god, Sarah...” She felt his body tense and his breath quicken. His cock throbbed and hardened inside her while she waited for his release. She watched the orgasm overtake him, holding him in its powerful spell. I absolutely love watching a man climax, she thought, knowing that I'm making it happen…giving it to him, a gift.
Afterwards, she lay in his arms, her hands caressing his chest, aware of the fact they were both breathless and speechless. Until finally James whispered, his voice soft and iridescent in their afterglow, "Is it normal for the first time with someone to feel so natural?"
She didn’t have to look at his eyes to know he was as in awe as she was. She sighed in response, continuing to stroke him, answering with her touch instead of her voice... The only sound she heard was her mind crying out: Oh....that was anything but normal... There’s never been a first time like that in the history of first times.
The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set) Page 4
