Ethans Fal (10 page)

“The soft lighting was warm, but I was on fire as he carefully peeled my T-shirt over my head. His fingertips skimmed my tummy, and my skin scorched from the contact. He popped the button on my jeans and dropped to his knees, pulling them down my legs as he went. I stepped out my pumps and pants. He sat back on his haunches and gazed up at me. His long lashes failing to hide his desire. I trembled. I mean I was shaking; legs, hands everything, and he looked so calm. He drew his button down shirt over his head and knelt up running his large hands up my thighs. He slipped his fingers under my panties at the back and grabbed a fistful of my arse cheek. Groaning and pulling me flush against his naked chest. I felt alive with lust and need. He inhaled deeply before standing and stripping naked. I was still in my bra and panties, and I remember feeling more exposed because he was confidently naked. He took my hand and placed it on his rock hard erection; the soft strength and heat surprised me and the size worried me. He told me that this feeling–squeezing my hand over his cock–it wasn’t love. I remember my heart breaking a little. He said this hunger, the desire we shared was lust and should never be confused with love. The feeling was merely our bodies telling us we ache with passion and fire, we crave release, and we should never deny this base and natural need. I swallowed the hurt, because I did feel the desire but I also felt so much more. I kept it inside with a deep breath because I wanted him so badly and I didn’t want to give him a reason to stop. Tears from a naïve virgin would probably do that.

He waited and it felt like an eternity when he moved my hand and placed it on his chest. I could feel the pounding of his heart, a strong staccato beat that mirrored mine. But
this
he said, the deep timbre of his voice sounded painful, raw. What I feel here can never be confused with lust; this is pure and absolute, this is love. His eyes dipped to mine and a rueful smile crept across his handsome face.

“Don’t get me wrong he said sex is still fun, but without love it’s just not as
much
fun. This made me laugh. His words stirred something so deep it scared me, but then he eased the gravity of my feelings and made me smile; he made me laugh and I loved him that little bit more for it.” I draw in a deep breath and a wave of sadness washes over me and I can feel its weight on my chest. My sorrow is interrupted by the gentle touch of Joan’s hand reaching out for mine with perfect timing. Her intuitive comfort squeezes me back to reality. “Do you think I was foolish to fall for him?”

“I think you were human.” Joan is quick to try and ease my mind, but at the time I fell for every word and I fell hard. “So what happened next?” Joan coaxes, and I chuckle.

“Always with the details; you’re utter filth you know that?”

She shakes her head and lets out a soft sigh, her smile lightly indulging my impertinence. She looks really young in the soft afternoon sun, and it occurs to me I don’t know how old she is.

“How old are you, Joan?” I blurt out.

“Finish the story and I might tell you.” She raises her brow in encouragement.

“It’s a deal. So Joan, you want to hear some more porn?” I close my eyes again. Oh God, his eyes. I don’t think I will ever be able to look in someone’s eyes again like I did his. He was so passionate, intense, and he could see into my soul. He was my counterpoint, and he worshiped me. Reverent and attentive. It was heavenly and that first time was no exception. If I’m honest, I had low expectations, not because of Cal but because not one of my friends had said they enjoyed their first time. They had told me it was uncomfortable and if I was unlucky painful. I wouldn’t come, but it would also be quick and that it does get better–practice makes perfect was certainly Helli’s mantra.

“But Cal was perfect. His first touch sent a tingle of searing tiny flames across my skin, and he deliberately caressed every inch of my body with delicate and sensual touches. I remember him chuckling and telling me to breathe when I held my breath at each new sensation. His hands skimmed my thighs, swept over my bottom, and up my back. He paused for a second only to unclip my bra before his hands threaded into my hair. He wound his hands into the loose curls and he gripped, pinched, and made me gasp. My constant battle was for more oxygen; he stole my breath. His lips firm and unyielding, he kissed his way down my neck, along my collar bone, and down my trembling body. I curled my toes and clenched my fists when the soft suction of his mouth pulled at the hard peak of my nipple. A strangled moan squeezed out of the back of my throat and it took every ounce of control to hold still. Even the slightest move I made, however involuntary, elicited a deep growl of disapproval. We were doing this one way:Cal’s way.

His mouth covered mine and I swear I could taste the sun; scorching hot. His tongue twisted and consumed me. I wanted everything he was giving me. I was greedy and I wanted more. He told me to be patient with a shaky deep voice that made me think he was struggling just as much as I was. Only my frustrated little groans didn’t hide my feelings so well. He walked me back to the bed and I sat with a bump when my knees hit the edge. He stood looking down at me, all hard, toned muscle and lust in his eyes. He definitely had fuck-me eyes. He knelt before me once more and hooked his hands into my panties, then eased them down my tightly closed legs. Once they were discarded, he used his hands to pull my thighs wide and wedge his much bigger body in between. He placed his thumb on my bottom lip and pushed it into my mouth. He told me to suck. My lips curled with pleasure at rumbling groan from deep in his chest. He drew in a deep steadying breath, and pulled his wet thumb out with a plop.

“His hand rested at the apex of my wide open legs, and I could feel the tension on my muscles as they fought the natural urge to close against the wanton desire to spread them as wide as humanly possible. His thumb slid along my core, and I shot back like I had been hit by lightning. He crawled up my now prone body, one hand finding its way back between my legs. ‘Oh, baby, you are so wet for me. We’ll save that mouth for better things I think’. I felt embarrassed that I was so ready. Was this normal? I suddenly wished I had asked Helli more qualifying questions because at this moment, I felt amazing. His touch was incredible, and I was wanton with lust and anticipation. His fingers traced my core with light swirling movements, gentle pressure building and teasing, and when he pushed one finger inside me, my gasp was in surprise and pleasure. The pain never happened. He worked a second finger inside and did this thing, not sure myself but the subtle angle and pressure from his thumb–just wow and fuck! My first orgasm hit me like a truck. I cried out a sharp yelp so loud, he actually stopped because he thought he’d hurt me. But he quickly smiled with self-satisfaction when he acknowledged the flush on my face and the uncontrollable panting.

“I couldn’t believe the difference his hands made on my orgasm. I just wouldn’t waste my time with masturbation, now I knew what I was missing. He slid down my body and I was instantly thrumming with the possibilities. His strong hands pushed against the tension in my legs, holding them wide. His breath was like fire on my sensitive folds. I remember sound catching in the back of my throat the moment his tongue touched me there, and feeling the vibration of his deep rumble, the sense of urgency with each eager swipe. Deep firm pressure, relentless and demanding, drawing every bit of pleasure screaming from my body, pushing me higher and higher, until I couldn’t…I just couldn’t do anything but fall. Blazing a trail of a million prickles from the base of my spine flaring out in a burst across my skin. Sweaty and exhausted, he held me until my breathing felt normal and my chest didn’t feel like it was going to explode.

“He kept his hand between my legs, moving his fingers languidly, in a continual sensual rhythm that brought me down gently but kept me burning. We lay facing each other, and with his free hand, he hitched my leg over his hip. I was open and he placed the head of his glistening cock at my entrance. He told me to keep my eyes open and I did. His eyes dipped to watch himself entering my body, but his focus was on me. It was all about me; inch by inch he moved so carefully into my body, I couldn’t help the tears that escaped, bursting lightly on my cheek. “Baby, you’re doing good…God you feel so good, but I’ll stop if it’s too much?” His concern was misplaced. He didn’t hurt me at all. The tears were just a flood of emotion but not from any pain. I loved him so much, I couldn’t keep it in, and I didn’t want to. ‘I love you, Cal, but don’t you dare stop.’ His brilliant, heart-melting smile was filled with relief and the tears were there again. I couldn’t love him any more.

I knew from the tension in his jaw and the concentration on his face, that he was holding back; each thrust a little deeper and a grunt of satisfaction from him but also a twitch of frustration. ‘One day, I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby, but right now I just want you to come around my cock…do you …ahhhhh! Fuck!’ he cried out, when my orgasm interrupted his filthy mouth–I didn’t feel remotely taken advantage of, by the way.” I turn on to my side and pitched up to a half sit up. Joan takes a deep breath, which makes me smile. “Too hot?” I grin, but at the same time any residual pleasure I might’ve taken from such a recall is surpassed by the ugly reality of Cal’s ultimate betrayal.

“You are a natural story teller, Ada, I will give you that.” She fans herself and sits up. She turns to face me. “But he was twenty one and you were just sixteen. It is difficult to see that someone wasn’t taken advantage of?” She raises her brow in sympathy. I nod with mock solemnness.

“You’re right. I did take advantage and often. Would you like another story? I can tell you about the time I took advantage of him in the car on the way to visit my parents, or the way I took advantage of him in the cinema at an afternoon showing of March of the Penguins, when he came down my throat to the narration of Morgan Freeman and yes, he did come in
that
voice.” I clap my hands excitedly.

“Thank you, Ada, I get the idea. You took frequent advantage of a much older man; shame on you.” She waggles her fingers in a lighthearted manner, but it stings.

“You know I wasn’t some naive little school girl. I never have been; I am smart and I knew exactly what I was doing right up until I didn’t. If anything I was too trusting, but I hope that isn’t a crime punishable with a life sentence in this place?”

“I know you are not stupid, Ada, far from it. I know you took your exams two years early and that your IQ is right up there with that of a Genius, but you are human and you craved something that Cal may have exploited.” She leaves the truth of this hanging for me, and as unpleasant as it is to hear, it is worse to feel its truth.

“He fed me pretty lies.” I stand and straighten myself. I walk back to my room. I don’t look back.

It’s coldest just before the dawn and in the summer time that is just after three thirty. With the breaking sun comes the bone shaking chills, and a gritty determination to try and get back to sleep. There is at least another four hours before anything is open, and I can try to warm myself. I pull the air dampened sleeping bag tight around my chin from the inside. One hand gripping the pepper spray, the other pinching the gap close around my neck. I shuffle my feet and close my eyes; restless sleep takes me but I do fall asleep. Waking a few hours later to the morning chorus of overfed seagulls too fat to even circle the sky. They gather and screech on the rocks and headland, but in the silence of the morning, their cries travel and poke at my tired raw nerves. There is a little warmth in the sunrise, but I’m too cold in my bones to feel its benefit. I decide to stretch my legs and try to walk some warmth into my muscles. I stuff my tiny pillow into my bag and roll it tightly in on itself. The tide is a long way out, and I walk to the part of the beach where the sand is compact but not sodden. I don’t need to add wetness to my already cold feet.

As early as it is, it isn’t unusual to see runners on the beach and this morning is no different. A dark spot on the far side of the rocks I call my bedroom, starts to make its way across the beach. I watch as whoever it is strips the large hooded top over their head and drops it onto the sand. Striding toward the waves, I stand transfixed. I’m not shocked because I know the sea will be freezing. It’s more that I recognise that cut chest and dark blond floppy hair. Ethan runs with long, strong strides straight into the gentle waves. He dives under the breaking surf and disappears. I welcome the sudden warmth that flashes through my body; my face heats, my toes tingle from the dissipating numbness, and I get a strange coiling sensation, which has more to do with the flashback of naked Ethan rather than morning swim Ethan. I watch him surface a little further out, but turn away when he starts to swim. I walk slowly back to the rocks. It’s a little early to call on Sky. It’s a little early to call on anybody and I regret leaving all my things in my locker. I don’t even have my book and Ethan has my phone.

I am going to have to get my phone back. Looking out I have to really squint to see the tell-tale splash of a lone swimmer in the calm swell. He is a tiny speck on the horizon and even if he is a really strong swimmer I think I have sufficient time to address the phone issue.