Castle in the Sand (5 page)

She was lost inside his kisses. She had
always been lost there. No one in her life had ever made her as
happy or as furious as Malcolm had, but no matter how angry she had
ever been, his kisses took it all away.

Angry? How could she ever have been angry
with him? What could he have done that was so bad? The thoughts
moved through her mind like lazy clouds drifting in a summer sky.
She wasn't angry with him. She had never been angry with him.

His cock grew against the front of his
trousers. Claire pressed herself against the bulge, the heat.
Sparkles of desire built in her. Malcolm's hands came around to cup
her ass and pull her closer against him.

The chair creaked and wobbled as they ground
against each other, dry humping. She left his mouth to allow him
access to her throat, where he nibbled and suckled and licked until
she thought she might go insane with wanting him.

"Put your mouth on me." She stripped off her
shirt with one quick motion and lifted her bare breasts to him.

Malcolm mouthed her nipples and suckled
gently on one of them. Claire moaned. His breath was hot on her
skin. She rocked her pelvis forward and back against his erection
while he flicked her tender nipples with his tongue.

She wore no panties beneath her sleep pants.
The soft flannel tugged and rubbed on her aching bud, adding to the
already torturous pleasure she was giving herself from Malcolm's
pants-enclosed cock. The pressure was good, but it wasn't enough.
She wanted his tongue there instead.

Claire lifted herself from his lap and sat up
on the table. Malcolm's tears had stopped. Now his eyes had grown
bright with desire. She wanted very badly to see his smile.

He stood and helped her tug off the sleep
pants and, without being asked, went back between her legs to lick
and suck her button. The kitchen table was hard and cold under her
back. Malcolm was hard and hot on her front.

Claire lifted her hips to his probing tongue.
He rolled his tongue on her clit, then slipped a finger inside her
and pressed upward. Her body jerked in response. Orgasmic
contractions rippled through her, but she didn't come. Not
quite.

"Make love to me," she told him and watched
through love-glazed eyes as he stripped off his shirt and
pants.

Unfettered by the trousers, his penis sprang
free. She sat up and scooted to the table's edge. Malcolm took his
cock in his hand and nudged the tip inside her. He wet himself with
her fluid and eased in an inch. Out. Back in, just a bit further.
Then out again, his clock glistening with her juices, before he
seated himself to the hilt.

They both moaned at the same time. Claire's
head dropped to his chest for a moment as she struggled to control
the waves of pleasure washing over her. She hooked her ankles
around the backs of his thighs as Malcolm began to move.

His first thrusts were slow and easy, like
the man himself. His cock stretched her. Claire looked down to
where their bodies joined. Her dark curls meshed with his lighter
ones. Her rose colored lips enfolded his similarly shaded penis.
The pink pearl of her clit stood at attention. Every thrust moved
the small button back and forth. The pink turned darker as her clit
engorged.

Claire put a fingertip to her clit and
pressed gently. It throbbed beneath her touch and her vagina
contracted around Malcolm's cock. She rubbed the smooth flesh in a
small, tight circle. It was enough to finish her off.

The sea rushed over her. Ecstasy engulfed
her. She couldn't see or hear or think. She could only feel.

It was over too soon. Good sex always
was.Malcolm helped her off the table, then looked ruefully at the
plate of eggs which had been smashed to the floor without either of
them noticing. "I'll get the broom."

She touched his arm until he turned to face
her. "Are you all right?"

He kissed her. "You love me?"

"You know I do."

His sigh was heavy but his grin light when he
replied, "Then I'm all right."

Still, his eyes were shadowed. His answer
didn't satisfy. Claire left him to clean up the mess and make more
breakfast while she showered.

What could have made him cry? Was he sick?
Was it something with his job? Or his family? The questions
wouldn't leave her as she fiddled with the faucet to set the water
temperature just right.

Claire and Malcolm had known each other since
their freshman year of college. They'd lived in the same dormitory.
They'd had the same friends. But it wasn't until the Fellowship had
all chipped in to buy this dilapidated beach house, Nonesuch, that
they'd fallen in love. Still, in the time they'd been together,
she'd never seen him upset enough to weep.

Claire stepped into the shower and tipped her
face to the spray. Warm water cascaded over her closed eyes. She
turned to let it pound on her back while she pondered.

If anything, she would have said Malcolm was
too lackadaisical to grieve for anything. He could be brooding,
even taciturn at times, but mostly he took life with all the
seriousness of the grasshopper who played. Too often she felt like
the ant in that fable. Working. Planning for the future. They
hadn't spoken of marriage, but she'd thought about it plenty. He'd
told her often enough he wasn't ready to settle down. Once, he'd
told her he wasn't even ready to be tied down...

Claire frowned and turned again to let the
water wash over her face. Malcolm didn't want to be tied down? When
had he said that? She could hear his voice saying those very words
inside her head, clear as daylight...but when had he said them?

Despite the hot water, her skin humped into
gooseflesh. Something was wrong here. Something was not right.

Some things change.

And some things don't.

Now she heard her own voice, echoing, but she
hadn't spoken aloud. Her eyes flew open and the water stung them.
Her hands flew up to wipe them and her elbow knocked the bottle of
shampoo over. It fell and splattered on the shower floor. The scent
of berries stung her nose. Nausea filled her throat.

The smell. It wasn't right either. It should
be citrus, not berries.

Claire opened her mouth to cry out and the
water filled it. Choked her. She gasped and the water entered her
lungs. She tried to cough, but couldn't breathe.

Strong hands pulled her from the shower. She
spat and spat again to clear the water and the smell of berries
from her lungs. Malcolm wrapped her in a towel and held her close
as she shivered and shuddered. He cradled her on the bathroom
floor. His hands smoothed away the tangled hair from her face, and
he whispered soothing words until her body ceased its
twitching.

"Claire, look at me."

She did. It was as though a film of plastic
wrap had been laid over her. She could see. She could hear. She
could even smell. But there seemed to be a barrier between her and
all of that. A wall she couldn't see.

"Claire!"

Malcolm's voice came from far away. Claire's
teeth chattered hard enough to bring blood to her tongue. It was
bitter. It tasted like darkness.

And then darkness was all she saw.

* * * *

"Wow, what a glorious day!" Claire stretched
and peered out the window to the glimpse of beach and ocean. "The
sun is shining. The sky is blue. Looks like there are some nice
waves out there today."

Malcolm scrubbed his face with his hands and
tugged at the hem of her T-shirt until she left the window and lay
back down beside him. "It's too early to be talking about riding
waves."

"It's too airrrly to be talking aboot riding
waves," she teased and snuggled closer. "Say it again."

"Early."

She giggled and ran her hand down his chest
to his belly. "I'll never get tired of hearing you talk."

"No?" He tilted his head to look at her. "Are
you sure about that?"

Her brow wrinkled. "Why? Do you want me to be
tired of you?"

"No. No," he repeated and kissed the top of
her head. "I don't want that."

Claire toyed with the drawstring of his
pants. "Is it too 'airly' for riding something else?"

At her suggestion, she felt his penis
twitch.

"Ah, no. I don't think so."

"I love you." Claire sat up and looked at him
seriously. "I know you don't like to hear it, but I had to say
it."

Malcolm's eyes looked as blue as the sky
outside. He bit his lip and took her hands. "Don't think that. I
want to hear you say it. Every day."

"Since when?" Claire sat back and pretended
to scoff, but his admission sent a thrill of pleasure through
her.

"It doesn't matter since when," he said so
seriously her smile faded. "It only matters that I do now."

"All right." She hesitated. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Claire. You don't even know
how much."

That was a bit too much for her, and she
moved back from him so far she almost fell off the bed. "Okay, who
abducted you and replaced your brain with someone else's?"

"No one."

"You're serious."

"You act like you're not happy to hear it."
Malcolm sat up against the headboard. His sand-brown hair stuck up
in wild spikes all over his head, and Claire restrained herself
from reaching out to smooth it.

Instead, she put her hands in her lap. "I'm
just a little surprised to hear it, that's all. I mean, c'mon. We
both know you--"

"That I know nothing," he interrupted firmly.
"Whatever happened before...I was a fool. An idiot. A
clabber-head."

"Clabber-head?" That earned a chuckle. "I
don't know if I'd go that far."

"I love you, Claire." He leaned forward to
kiss her breathless.

When she could breathe, she said, "I love
you, too, Malcolm."

"You said my name." He closed his eyes as
though he were all at once thoroughly relieved of a great pain.
"God, it's good to hear."

"Are you all right?" She feigned checking him
for fever.

He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. "Say
it again."

"You act like I've never said your name
before." She shook her head at his foolishness.

"Please."

The tables had turned. Feeling foolish, she
obliged. "Malcolm. Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm."

"Claire, what if I told you I'd dreamed I
lost you, and that I hadn't heard you say my name in a verra long
time."

"I'd say don't eat hot peppers before bed
again." She stroked his cheek. "Because that could never
happen."

For a moment, so brief she was uncertain it
happened at all, his eyes looked haunted. "I wish you were
right."

Uneasiness settled in her gut like a spoiled
meal. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

He shook his head. "Like to? No."

Suddenly, Claire didn't want to hear whatever
it was Malcolm had to say. She crawled over the bed and up his body
until she could rest her forehead on his. She lost herself in the
endless blue depths of his eyes.

"Let's not talk," she said.

"Fair enough." His voice had gone husky in
the way she recognized. It sent an answering thrill down her spine.
"No talking."

She brushed her lips on his, feather-soft.
His hands came up to toy with the ends of her hair. Claire nudged
Malcolm's chin with hers and deepened the kiss. She straddled his
waist. His hardening penis bumped her butt, and she wiggled until
it slipped toward her front.

Malcolm rolled them both over until he'd
settled between her legs. His mouth found her throat, her neck, and
the edges of her collarbone. He lifted her T-shirt over her head
and paused to gaze at her.

His palms came up and covered her bare
breasts. Her nipples stiffened. He put his mouth to the left one
while his fingers tweaked the right and then switched places.

Claire arched under this touch.
"Malcolm..."

"Yes, Claire."

But there was no more to be said, just to say
his name, as he'd asked her to. Claire said it again, his name,
like a charm, a password, a talisman, to keep her safe from some
distant threat she sensed but could not see.

In the movies, clothes always seemed to
simply melt away, as though by magic. In real life, it was usually
more complicated. The tie of Malcolm's pants knotted and they
couldn't undo it. Claire's pants got hooked around her ankle and
refused to budge. Malcolm's T-shirt tore when Claire tugged it over
his head, and that final snafu in their attempts at getting naked
sent them both into peals of laughter.

"Ah, it's good to hear your laugh,
Claire."

He made it sound like she hadn't laughed in a
long time. "No talking, remember?"

He laughed again, a little less heartily.
"All right."

He slipped inside her with a sigh, then
closed his eyes and rested on his arms for a moment before he began
to move. She loved seeing him this way, lost in the pleasure her
body gave him. She loved being able to look at his body as they
made love.