Passions in the North Country (Siren Publishing Classic) (15 page)

Jenny imagined looking up at him, their eyes locking. Without a word she wrapped her soft, smooth hand around his pulsating member, slowly tracing her fingers from the base to the tip. Devon groaned and tossed his head back and forth, his breath shallow. She told him to look at her, and he did. Then she joined hands with him and slowly lowered her mouth onto his big, hot cock. Devon moaned loudly and stared at her in wonder, unable to believe that anything could look or feel so wonderful. Jenny had him in her control and she knew every fiber of his strength was concentrated in his cock pleasure pole. Looking him in the eye, she bobbed up and down on it, licking the head and swirling her tongue over his impressive tool. After a short time, no longer than a minute, Devon looked on the verge of a powerful orgasm.

In her fantasy she then stood up and took him by the hand, leading him to the bed. She instructed him to lay down, which he did, his cock still on the verge of a powerful eruption. Jenny saw herself naked in her fantasy and she knelt beside him, lifting one leg over his chest and presenting her hot, wet pussy to the hungry man. He did not need any instructions. Within seconds he was lapping at her hot lips, thrusting his tongue in and licking her clit with just enough pressure to drive her to madness. Jenny started to move, rotating her hips as he performed the uninhibited love kissing. Soon she was sitting upright, his face between her legs and his cock literally pulsating.

Then she rolled off him and onto her back. Devon was on her in seconds, driving his hot, horny cock deep into her waiting pussy. Jenny’s eyes started to roll back into her head as she furiously masturbated, rapidly thrusting fingers into her cavern in an attempt to simulate Devon’s penis. She started to rock and shake, moaning wildly like an animal, and building to the summit. She visualized very clearly, as if watching a movie, Devon pumping her and preparing to unleash a huge amount of cream deep into her velvet cavern. All of a sudden, like a roulette ball falling into a slot, she felt the beginnings of a massive, mind-blowing orgasm.

“Fuck me, Devon!” she whispered, shoving fingers into herself so fast they were a blur. “Do it!”

Then it happened. There was a momentary lapse when she seemed to be suspended in space, then her senses exploded into the most intense climax of her life. She rocked and jerked her body, panting, moaning, muttering. She straightened out her legs, curled her toes, and her eyes rolled back into her head. The orgasm was not only the most powerful of her life, it lasted the longest. Pleasurable sensations continued to surge long after the initial blast, and she felt a delicious numb glow in her nether regions. Even minutes after it was over, Jenny still felt like she was coming. She had a contented smile on her face and continued to caress her slippery, hot lips.

“Wow,” she muttered, laying down flat like a marathoner who has just fallen at the finish line.

She felt guilty at lying there in Devon’s sweater, especially after doing what she had just done, but she did not take it off. She liked the feeling too much. It was as if they had just satisfied themselves together and were now embracing, kissing, and loving each other in mutual, self-satisfied pleasure. She rubbed her bare legs together, moaning and still feeling a wondrous, fabulous release of tension.

Then the door to the Captain’s room opened downstairs. She froze on the bed, her body unable to move. Steps sounded on the stairs and Devon walked into the Captain’s room.

“Jenny?” Devon said.

“Yes,” she stammered, still trying to regain her equilibrium.

“Did I leave my sweater in there?”

“Wait, I’ll check,” she said, quickly taking it off and sitting naked on the bed. “Yes, it’s here.”

“Can I come in and get it.”

“No, wait. I’ll give it to you.” She walked to the door. “Turn your head. I’m getting changed and I don’t have anything on.” She paused. “Have you turned away?”

“Yes,” he said weakly, passions raging.

Jenny opened the door and popped her head around. “Reach back,” she said, holding only her arm and the sweater into the Captain’s room.

Devon reached back and took the sweater. “I’d better go now.”

“Wait,” she said, closing the door.

“Why?”

“I want to ask you something.”

“Go ahead,” he answered tentatively.

“Tell me more about the Captain and Maria. I find it fascinating.”

“All right,” he said, accepting the invitation. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Could you be a touch more specific?”

She laughed. “Tell me a little more of the history.”

“All right.” He cleared his throat. “I did research and found out that Captain Williams bought the land here and started the hotel, but it was only tiny at first. He added to it over time and built what you see today. He was a skilled captain from the eastern United States, but at that time he fished off the coast of Nova Scotia. Because of that, he would sometimes come into Newbridge for supplies or to avoid storms. Everything was going along normally until he met a beautiful French-Canadian woman named Maria D’Entremont. The rest is history.”

“Go on!” she insisted.

Devon seemed amused by her interest. “Maria was a poor girl, a farmer’s daughter, who lived in a place called Acadia, somewhere around what is now Pubnico. On her eighteenth birthday, she was given two options, either marry a rich old man named Zachariah who was known for beating his servants and carousing, or enter a convent.”

“I think I would have chosen to be a nun, too.”

He laughed. “In those days, women had few career choices. But Maria was a romantic at heart and used to live in a world of romantic dreams. No way could she imagine spending her life with a cranky and mean old bastard, so she became a nun. That was a commitment she did not take lightly, and because of it she could now only dream of romance for the rest of her life.

“The first two years she lived in the convent over at Deep Harbor, not far from White Sands Beach. Because she was somewhat educated, the task of teaching the local children fell to her. Every day she would rise early, instruct her wards in reading and writing, then retire to the convent. Eventually, an orphanage was opened in Newbridge and the Mother Superior sent her to help in the town. That’s when she first saw the Captain. He was a handsome, strapping sailor and she was the beautiful woman. In a way, they were both inaccessible. He was married, was known for loving only the sea, and she was married to God.”

“It’s fascinating that they ended up living here, side by side, for all those years.”

“That’s for sure.”

“We’ll never know what they were thinking, will we?”

He did not respond.

“Will we?” Jenny persisted.

“Well, actually, I do know what they were thinking.”

She squinted. “How?” she asked skeptically.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Sure I can.”

“Promise?”

“Promise what?”

“Promise me you’ll keep this secret, silly girl?” Devon said, cutely drawing her into his private world.

She laughed at him, full of innocent joy.

“You can tell no one, Jenny. Not ever.”

“All right,” she agreed, excited by the exchange, “I promise.”

“When I was renovating this room, I found a secret compartment under the boards under the Captain’s bed. It held his journal, and it was, how shall I say, very private.”

“Oh?”

“I read the first ten pages, even though I felt terrible in doing it, like I was grave robbing or something.” He paused. “And it was very, very vivid.”

“Were they having sex?” Jenny asked in a half whisper.

“I found a reference to her diary and the place where she kept it,” Devon said, “so I went looking and it was exactly where he said it would be. She hid her diary in the wall. I read her diary, too.”

“Well, were they?” Jenny asked breathlessly.

“They were writing each other very lurid stories,” he said.

“Stories?”

“Fantasies,” Devon said. “They would write erotic stories and pass them back and forth. Many of them would have made a sailor blush.”

“You’re kidding,” Jenny whispered, her jaw dropping.

“No, I’m not,” he said.

“How lurid?”

“Let me put it this way. If you had to describe them with a single letter, that letter would be
X
, times ten. Hot, hot, hot—if you know what I mean.”

“Wow.”

“Wild sex,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe it, Jenny. And as raunchy as his stories were, hers were even more intense. She could write pages upon pages of hard-core sex.”

Jenny was flabbergasted. “Do you think they were actually doing it?”

“Doing what?’

Jenny was irritated with his question. “Making the beast with two backs,” she said.

“Intercourse, or any kind of sex?” he qualified.

“Real sex,” she said.

“That’s the funny part. They lived side by side all those years, only an unlocked door separating them, and they passed these ribald stories back and forth, but they never actually physically touched. They were celibate, except in their thoughts. It was a very odd relationship. There was nothing she wanted to do more than to join with him in lovemaking—that was clear in her diaries—but she never did. She ached for him, Jenny. Year after year she ached to feel fulfilled, to please the man she loved, but they never touched.” He paused. “And because she became a nun at such a young age, she never knew any man in that way.”

“Really?” Jenny asked. “She was a virgin?”

“A life totally devoid of sex, a celibate life lived by a passionate and sexually charged woman. You can imagine the conflict.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m sure you could have cut the sexual tension in these rooms with a knife.”

“I’m sure the man on this side of the door felt aching desires to make love with the woman on your side of the door.”

“Think so?”

“I know so.”

“Hmm,” Jenny mumbled, caught up in the spirit of the intrigue.

“What?”

“If there are spirits—do you believe in spirits, Devon?”

“Sure I do.”

“If there are spirits, maybe she is still wandering, unsatisfied.”

“Probably,” he said, “she is still wandering these grounds, possibly even your room, and she’s looking for someone to fulfill the act that she could not.”

“Looking for someone? Me?”

“It’s possible.”

“All right,” Jenny said, “let’s say it is possible. Maybe Maria is looking for me to do what she could never do, but the Captain no longer exists. The relationship can never be consummated.”

“Maybe the Captain does exist,” Devon said, “but only in the way Maria exists—a spirit. Maybe he’s looking for a man to do what he couldn’t, just as Maria is looking for a woman to be her vessel. Maybe neither of them can rest until their surrogates complete the act.”

“Interesting theory,” Jenny noted, “but we’re only speculating, of course.”

“Of course,” he said.

“Not now,” Jenny said, “but sometime can you tell me more about what they wrote. I want to know everything. How they lived, how they felt—everything.”

“We can talk about it sometime if you wish…if we’re alone.”

“Agreed,” she said, a playful but enigmatic look in her eyes.

Jenny was a gypsy on the Russian steppes, a dark-eyed beauty, a woman with big lusts and her eyes on one man. Devon was a Roman soldier, strong and true, big of cock and lust, and his eyes were on one woman. In his mind she was spectacularly complex, a world to be explored and appreciated for a lifetime, but she also looked like candy. He pictured her in pink shorts, pink socks, no top. He would peel off her wrapper and lick her anywhere, marveling in the texture and the delicious taste, then beg her to bring it back if she moved away. She would torture, torment, hold it close to his face. He was sick with lust, mad beyond measure, and she held the prize, the smooth softness, the wondrous smells, the beauty of curves and fullness.

“And we won’t be embarrassed,” she insisted. “This is history.”

“Are you sure?” he cautioned.

“Uninhibited,” she said, her voice weak. “I don’t want you to hold anything back. I don’t like that.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“I’m a big girl, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed,” he admitted.

She liked the way he said it. In a strange kind of way, it was as if they were in a confession box, hidden from each other by a thin door. They could be open without fully committing, a kind of safety valve.

“I know the first line of the Captain’s diary,” Devon said in a meaningful way. “I’ll tell you what it says, then you decide if you want to hear more.”

She swallowed hard. “Shoot.”

“The very first line of the Captain’s two thousand page diary is, ‘Maria, I want to fuck you so badly I can taste it.’” He waited for several seconds. “I leave it up to you if this is the last we ever mention the diaries.”

Jenny paused for close to thirty seconds. “Maria has a diary, too?”

“She has four, each two thousand pages long.”

“You’re kidding,” Jenny said, greatly surprised.

“I don’t think it’s all that unusual.”

Jenny suddenly felt deliriously happy. Her life was fun again and her blossom was opening. She needed to feel sexy, to feel free. Here she felt intensely and joyously free. She was naked, leaning against a door behind which stood the man she wanted to screw more than any man she had ever met or fantasized about. Life was unknown, but the potential was unlimited.

“Eight thousand pages!” Jenny said. “Come on, Devon. That’s like
War and Peace
times five. Was her life that exciting?”

“You’re missing the point, my dear.”

Jenny smiled at the affectionate term. “Oh? Explain it, honey.”

He chuckled and she knew he liked her informality. “Well, let’s look at it. They lived side by side for decades. There was no television, no radio, no cars to take to nonexistent malls. What else was there to do? For Maria writing was one of her great joys, and she detailed her life in minute detail.”

“How much did you read?”