Back Where We Belong (A Second Chances New Adult Romance)

by Hart, Alana

  We lean against the rock. There's no one on the beach. It's like our own private space. The sky is pitch black. A few stars are out, but there's no moon.

  “What do you want to do with your life?” he asks.

  “I don't know yet. I'll see after college. Something in business, I guess.”

  “Isn't there anything you'd really like to do?”

  I think for a moment. Does he mean I should want to be a doctor or a lawyer or something specific like that? I don't have the grades for anything like that. My mother would have loved it though if I had.

  “There's nothing really. When I was fourteen, I wanted to paint. My art teacher used to tell me I had a gift. But Mom said I could dabble with art stuff in my spare time. She wanted me to go to college and wouldn't hear of anything else. So art school was out.”

  I almost forgot about that. Everyone I know is going to college and so am I.

  “You should paint here, while you're on vacation,” he says. “There are some awesome views, or I'll model for you.” He puts his hand behind his head and strikes a pose. I laugh.

  “Seriously though,” he says, “if that's what you want to do, why not?”

  He has a point. I have no paints or anything here, but I could get a sketch pad and draw.

  “What about you?” He's looking at my mouth again and it's making me nervous.

  “I have serious ambitions,” he says.

  I wonder if he means with me right there on the beach for a moment from the way he's looking at me, and my heart starts thudding again. But I don't say it's time to go home or anything. I don't want to go home.

  “With your uncle?” I remember he's going to Chicago.

  “That's just a start. I'm going to make a million before I'm thirty, no, more than that, a billion.”

  “And how will you do that?” I'm sure he's joking.

  “Hard work. Going for it. Believing I can,” he says with such intensity, I almost believe him as much as he seems to believe it himself. But I was just in his car. That's some ambition for a guy with those wheels.

  “When you make it, I might have some art for you to buy.”

  “Sold,” he says, and kisses me again so there's no more talking, no more thinking, no more doing anything but losing myself in him.

  CHAPTER 6

  LUKE

  I know Madison doesn't believe me when I say I'm going to make it. I can't blame her. Because who else would believe it either? I even got in with the wrong crowd and fucked up school when I was fifteen and had to repeat the tenth grade. But it makes me want to show Madison she's wrong. I want to show everyone they are wrong about me.

  I haven't just been wasting my time waiting tables and screwing women. I've been making plans. I've been reading. Yes, actual books. Not the kind you get in school. Business books. Books about those who made it the hard way and came out successful in the end, and I know anything those guys can do, I can do, too, if I work hard and create the breaks for myself, just like the guys in those books.

  But I don't want to think about that right now because I'm sitting on the beach after midnight with Madison, and I'm kissing her and she's responding, but not in the way that chicks normally react by grabbing my cock and moaning. I can tell just by the way her lips match the pressure from mine, the way they open, inviting me in.

  I can't help my hands roaming over her body. They seem to have a mind of their own, my hands. They don't care I might frighten her off.

  I want to touch her...everywhere. I have my hands inside her t-shirt at the back. I can feel her skin, warm and smooth, the elastic fastening of her bra across her back, the little bumps of her spine. She doesn't pull my hands away or anything. I can feel her tense a little against me, but she doesn't stop me.

  She makes a little noise as I kiss her, not quite a moan, but I take it as encouragement and undo her bra. She gasps a little, but she carries on kissing me as my hands find their way to her breasts, soft and inviting, small yet somehow exactly right on her. Her nipples are hard protruding little peaks that I want to suck.

  CHAPTER 7

  MADISON

  I was scared to walk along the beach with Luke. I was worried what he would expect me to do. Now I'm with him and he has his hands on me, inside my t-shirt, touching my breasts, and I'm more scared of myself than I am of him because I want to let him do so much more and we're out here on the beach. It's late, but anyone could come by. I know that, but I don't stop him. I don't stop him when he pushes up my t-shirt and takes one of my nipples in his hot mouth and sucks.

  I don't want him to stop. I want to stay here forever by the ocean on the hard sand, lying against this rock, and let him take me in his mouth like that, his tongue worrying my nipples, pinching them between his lips, biting them gently.

  I know I should stop him. I should be quiet in case anyone is out there approaching our part of the beach, even though it's late, but I can't help it. I hear moaning and I know it's me and I think I hear Luke whisper “beautiful” as he works me with his mouth, but I can't be sure. I'm not sure of anything anymore.

  He unfastens the top button of my jeans and his hand is in my panties. I know I'm wet. I know he can tell how turned on I am. I'm ashamed, but I don't stop him. I want his fingers there on me, feeling my soft wet folds. And I'm touching him, inside his t-shirt, feeling his hard body beneath my fingers, the smattering of hair on his chest, the ripples of his stomach muscles. Oh god, as he explores me I want to reach down and touch his cock. I feel him through his jeans. He's hard.

  “Madison, you're going to kill me.” He pulls away.

  What have I done? Did I go too far? He thinks I'm a slut. I want to cry, but he holds me and pulls down my t-shirt and kisses my hair. And I don't think it's that at all, but something is not right.

  “Not here,” he says. “Soon. But not here.”

  CHAPTER 8

  LUKE

  What the fuck am I doing? She would have let me take her right there on the beach. I know she would, and I stopped it? Because I thought she might regret it later? What? Am I fucking crazy? Madison is really screwing with my head. Or I'm getting screwy in the head. Probably both.

  She looks hurt at first. I have to reassure her. I do want her. I want her a lot. Just not there on the beach, and it occurs to me, it's not just because she might regret it. It's because I want the first time with her to be special. And I've been there with too many other girls. Not that beach, but other beaches. It's never that great. I know that. The sand gets fucking everywhere. Girls think it's romantic, but it's not. Not in the end. It's fucking uncomfortable.

  So I hold her and kiss her gently and take her home. It's not far to walk along the beach, but it takes a while because I have to keep stopping to kiss her, and the way she responds makes me want to kick myself for not taking things further because I swear my cock is going to burst, or my balls, or both by the time we arrive at her house.

  “How are we going to get you back inside?” I wonder if she's thought about that.

  “Like this,” she says, her eyes twinkling, and she takes a key out of her pocket.

  I laugh and promise to call her the next day. And I mean it, I will call. I never say that to other girls. I don't make promises if I don't know I'm going to keep them. With other girls, I might call them, I might not, depending on my mood. But I know I'm going to call Madison.

  She goes in and I'm left standing there, wondering what happened to me, knowing I can't wait to see her again. I've got a screw loose for fucking sure.

  CHAPTER 9

  MADISON

  I know guys always say they'll call and then they don't, but somehow I believe Luke. I don't doubt he'll call. And he does. Just like he said he would. He's wrangled the day off and we're going on a picnic.

  I don't even have to clear it with my parents. Dad has had to go back to the city for some work crisis or other. Typical! Even when he's supposed to be on vacation.

  I heard Mom raging about it this morning when I wa
s in bed still half asleep, thoughts of Luke and his kisses running through my head, making me smile even with the screaming match going on downstairs. The sheets are gritty with sand where I fell into bed last night.

  Mom has gone out now as well. I heard the door slam after her. She didn't say where she was going or when she'd be back. As if I care.

  Luke picks me up at eleven. I'm starting to really like his car. He's right. Mrs. Murgatroyd has got oodles of personality along with the rust.

  “Nice dress.” He smiles and kisses me on the cheek.

  I don't wear dresses very often, but I like this one. It's soft blue, cotton with little thin straps and buttons all down the front. I'm already imagining Luke undoing those buttons. When I've worn it before I've never had a thing like that on my mind. It's just been a dress. And I've never worried about the kind of panties I would wear under it or cared that the straps were so thin it was better without a bra. I just wore it. Now it will be the dress that Luke liked, maybe the one Luke took off. I don't know. The thought excites me, makes me shift a little on the front seat of his car.

  He takes my hand and squeezes it. “I thought we'd go out to Butterfly Ridge.”

  “I like it there.”

  “You been there much before?”

  “Once.”

  “There are a few different trails. I'm going to show you the one I like best.”

  I hope I'll be okay in my sandals whatever he has in mind.

  “I wouldn't have guessed you were into hiking,” I say.

  “Oh I like a good hike.” He grins. “But I usually go alone. Sometimes I need to get away when things are crazy at home, you know.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say. “They had another row this morning because Dad had to go back to the city for some reason or other. Mom was livid.”

  He squeezes my hand again. I decide I'm going to forget Mom and Dad and their stupid rows. I don't know why I brought it up anyway. It's such a lovely day and I don't want to spoil it.

  “You want some music?” he asks.

  “Yeah, alright.”

  “You might have to sing then. This top-of-the-range vehicle only has a radio and the local station is crap.”

  I laugh. “I think we'll do without the music then. I'm tone deaf. You would have to cover your ears.”

  “Oh no, I thought you were going to serenade me at least, in payment for the great picnic I brought.”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Oh well, a smile and a kiss will do,” he says, and we laugh.

  It's not far to Butterfly Ridge. We're there in twenty minutes. He gets the cooler out of the trunk and a picnic rug. There are a few marked paths, but he takes my hand and leads me into the forest after about fifteen minutes following one of the well-worn trails.

  There aren't many people about. It's hot and I'm thirsty. Maybe it's not such a good day for a walk—it's more like the perfect day for lying on the beach with a cool drink. My sandals are okay for the path but I stumble a few times in the forest and Luke takes my hand. It's cooler in there but after about ten minutes or so we come to a clearing in the trees by a little stream.

  “My favorite place,” he says. “I've never been here with anyone else.”

  “It's beautiful,” I say, because it is.

  I help him lay the picnic rug out on the ground under the shade of the biggest tree.

  “It's a copper beech,” he says. “I had one of those tree spotting books when I was a kid. And animal spotting. I can tell the difference between a hedgehog and a skunk at fifty paces.”

  We laugh and sit down side by side on the blanket under the copper beech. He puts his arm around me and I lean against him.

  “You want some water?” He reaches into the cooler and hands me a bottle.

  We're both thirsty.

  He kisses me and I feel his lips, cool from the water. I've been waiting for this—being alone with him, the intoxicating scent of him, his soft lips, his kiss, his hard body against mine. Is he going to say “Not now, not here” again? I don't want him to say that. I don't want him to say anything like that.

  There's no breeze where we are sitting, but the leaves rustle gently above us as he lays me down on the picnic rug and undoes the buttons on the bodice of my dress slowly one by one, looking into my eyes as if challenging me to stop him. I'm not going to. I want his hands on me. He pulls the dress open exposing me to the soft summer air.

  “Beautiful,” he says, as clearly as anything this time, so I know what he's said, and he bends his head and takes my nipple into his mouth.

  As I feel him licking, sucking, biting gently, I'm arching my back to his lips, as if offering myself to him. I am shameless. I can't help it. I want his mouth on me. I want more.

  Sometimes he stops to kiss me on the lips, searching deep kisses, until I can hardly bear to release his mouth, kisses that leave me aching with need. Sometimes he pauses in kissing my mouth or my breasts to undo another button until the dress is fully open at the front. He plants light kisses on my stomach, kisses that leave me breathless, and he kisses every inch in a line down my body until he's at my panties, burying his nose in them. I gasp. I know I am wet. Then he pulls them off, and I am lying naked on my dress under the copper beech. I don’t know where to look. I know I’m blushing. He can’t take his eyes off me. I want to grab my dress and put it back on to protect myself from his gaze but I don’t.

  “I wanted to see you lying there like that,” he says. “Before we came here. I wanted to see you here exactly like this.”

  He looks down at me and traces a finger from my lips down my body right down to the cleft between my legs, teasing me there until I am writhing beneath his fingers and I can't help a moan escaping my lips. Then I feel his mouth on me there, licking, sucking, pinching with his lips. Seeing his dark head working between my thighs, hearing my own heavy breathing makes me feel so wanton. I look at the canopy of leaves and the blue sky beyond and I can hardly believe I am doing this, that Luke is kissing me there, sucking me there. And then I can't think at all as he takes me over the edge and beyond, my limbs shuddering beneath him.

  He lifts me up and out of the straps of my dress then and pulls me to him so I'm kneeling one leg on either side of his. He holds me round the waist and kisses me deeply, and I taste myself on him. It's strange, salty. I feel so vulnerable, naked on top of him while he is dressed, sitting with my legs splayed completely open to him where he sucked me and made me come. But he looks into my eyes and holds my gaze, and I feel powerful too. I reach for the buttons on his shirt and undo them and take it off and then I pull his white t-shirt over his head too. Pressed against him, I feel the hard planes of his chest against my bare body, warm and almost reassuring, calming the turmoil in my head for a second. Then I reach for the button on his jeans, brushing past his hard length, and he gives a sharp intake of breath.

  “Careful,” he says, “or you will be the end of me.” But he smiles as if confident he can handle anything I do.

  He lays me down again on the rug beside my abandoned dress and takes off the rest of his clothes. I've never been with a naked man. I want to reach out and touch him, his hard body, his cock, but I don't dare. I'm so sensitive right now. It's as if I feel every fiber of the rough picnic rug against my back. I grasp the soft blue cloth of my dress in my fingers, like an anchor to something familiar.

  I know this is it. I want it, yet I fear it. Anticipation sends shivers down my spine.

  I can feel the heat of his body before he pulls me to him on the rug. He kisses me, our hands everywhere, grasping as if hungry for flesh. I feel his hard length against me. How will it feel to have him inside me?

  He stops for a moment, fishes for a foil packet from his abandoned jeans and tears it open with his teeth.

  My heart lurches as fear and excitement pool in my belly. My insides clench.

  CHAPTER 10

  LUKE

  I feel Madison shivering a bit against me. I'm such a dumbass not think of it befo
re. She's just eighteen, but eighteen like innocent eighteen, not like the jail bait hanging out around the Shack, old before their time and best avoided. Women a few years older than me who have been around the block a bit are safer. They know the score too. They taught me all I know.

  “You haven't done this before, have you?” I say.

  She shakes her head.

  Shit! What have I gotten myself into? Course she hasn't done it before.

  “I'll be gentle,” I say. Fuck! I'm a bona fide fucking cliché here. Shut up Luke. I should just let her go now, but I can't. We're naked for Christ's sake, and I want her. But this is going to be one helluva thing to get out of. She's not just some stupid girl who only wants to fuck a guy she’s met on vacation, any guy who looks okay. I'm her first.

  But even telling myself I hate that she's a virgin, I know it's not true. I don't feel like that. I'm pleased she is all mine and that no one has been there before me.

  She looks up at me but her eyelids close a moment as I enter her. I feel her flinch and hear her sharp little breath of pain just as I push through into her warm, wet center. I ease gently further into her. So tight! And she opens her eyes again and smiles at me. She's okay. I think I've been holding my breath until then.

  I smile back at her.

  “Okay?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says. “Okay, now.”

  I don't pummel and pound her, ramming my cock into her like there's no tomorrow as I usually would, not caring whether they like it rough and hard or not. Most of them do. I go deep and slow, allowing her to get used to the sensation. She seems to like it if the sounds coming out of her mouth are anything to go by.

  Who knew deep and slow could be this good? It's as if I'm feeling every inch of her inside instead of just getting off.

  CHAPTER 11