Authors: Elissa Abbot
“I don’t think your leg will allow it, or I’d be happy to
oblige. What else?”
She shook her head.
Your turn.
“I’ve tried just about everything I’ve wanted to.”
And there’s nothing you want to repeat? Nothing you want
to share with me?
“When you put it that way…” He stepped closer, his
masculinity overshadowing her where she sat on the bed. Her core throbbed with
wanting, with anticipation. “Let’s get those shorts off you, shall we? Then
I’ll decide what to have for lunch.”
Eva understood him instinctively, if she didn’t know
precisely what he planned. His eyes darkened and he inhaled deeply as he eased
the shorts off her hips and down her legs. He nudged her whole leg sideways,
opening her to his gaze. She felt the heat of it on her lower lips, on her
swollen and sensitive clit. “God, Eva. You’re already flooded with cream. Now,
to find the perfect accompaniment.” He turned and strode into the kitchen,
calling over his shoulder, “Take your shirt off, close your eyes and lie back,”
as he grabbed a peach from the bowl of fruit on the counter. As she pulled the
t-shirt over her head, she listened for hints of his plans, but heard nothing.
She lay back and waited, occasional shivers running the length of her body.
“Are your eyes closed?”
Eva could tell from Stone’s voice that he was coming toward
the bed. She nodded her response to his question and felt her heart speed up.
Just the anticipation of whatever he had planned had her sweating and moisture
gathering between her legs. She heard nothing, felt no movement around her, though
she knew he was there—the room felt different when he was gone, emptier and now
it seemed about to burst with his presence. She just didn’t know where he was.
She was about to open her eyes and look for him when something sticky and wet
slid between her open lips—a slice of peach, cool against her tongue. Just as
she was going to suck it in, Stone pulled it most of the way out, teased her
lips with it, then slid it in again. And out again. Eva felt her nipples
pucker, felt her back arch, felt her vagina clench and weep, seeking something
to grasp. In and out, in and out, in the rhythm of sex, five times before he
let her take it all the way into her mouth and let the juice burst within her.
Then another slice circled each nipple, the chill of the
fruit further hardening them and the juice leaving a trail for Stone to clean
up with his tongue and mouth. The sticky path led him down her body, over her
softly rounded belly and into her pubic hair. He moved just fast enough, with
just enough licks and kisses and sucks to keep her aroused and wanting,
teetering on the edge of anticipation. As he nuzzled her curls, the peach slice
continued its journey, slipping easily between her labia. Eva gasped at the
brush of peach fuzz across her clit, at how Stone swirled the fruit through her
juices, finding nerve endings she never knew she had.
She shuddered and half-bucked, needing just a little more to
push her into climax. Stone pulled the peach away.
Please…
But instead of continuing, Stone moved back up her body and
held the fruit to her lips. “Taste it.”
She tasted her own juices coating the peach, a mingling of
erotic flavors, layers of sweetness and texture. Her body had warmed it and she
could tell from the heat of the fruit just how hot Stone was making her, just
how wet. She tried to take a bite, but Stone pulled it back. “You licked all
the cream off. Let me get you some more.” And again he nestled the fruit
between her lower lips, dipped it this time into her clutching vagina. Her
inner muscles tried to grasp it, pull it into her, needing to be filled, but
Stone held it, turning it inside her, scooping out her cream with it. This time
when he brought it to her mouth, he let her take it from him and he smiled when
her breathing turned ragged as she ate the hot, sweet fruit.
“Taste good?” he asked.
Yessss.
“I’ll have to try it, then, won’t I? Maybe I’ll let it soak
in the cream this time.”
Another peach slice—this one bigger than the last two, Eva
could tell—followed the last one, caressing her labia and clit before filling
her. Her body sucked it in and this time Stone let it go. Eva jerked and gave
what would have been a deep moan. Stone lifted her good leg, lay down
perpendicular to her, his face at her pussy and lowered her leg over his
shoulder. Then, holding her labia apart, he licked, long swipes from bottom to
top, short, quick little laps at her clit, hard sucks.
“God, Eva. You taste as good as you smell.”
Then his mouth found her opening and he lapped at it,
sucked, thrust with his tongue, sucked again, retrieving the peach and as he
moved it inside her, a finger found her clit. Eva went up in flames, jets of
pleasure filled every inch of her, muscles spasming in time with her orgasm.
Then Stone pulled the peach from her with his teeth and aftershocks chased each
other through her body. He groaned, closing his eyes as he sucked the peach
into his mouth.
He extracted himself from between her thighs and came up to
kiss her, peach and her own juices still glistening on his lips and chin. Her
tongue explored his lips, skated across his tongue, plumbed his mouth. He
tasted like fruit and her and beneath it all, like Stone. It was addictive and
only with a gasp of protest did she let him pull away. He smiled at her.
“You were right—it’s delicious. I’ll never be able to eat a
peach again without thinking of you,” he said softly.
She felt her own smile grow as quickly as her lazy,
contented body could manage. She ran a hand down his chest toward the bulge in
his jeans.
Your turn.
But he shook his head. “I don’t respond well…“
It’s that control thing again, isn’t it?
Stone chuckled and leaned down to kiss her.
You promised I could touch you.
She cajoled, needing
to feel him somehow, if not the way she ultimately wanted to.
Didn’t you say
this morning that I make you want to give up some of that control?
Eva tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it up so she could at
least feel the warmth of his skin under her fingers. He stiffened as her thumb
and forefinger toyed with the button of his jeans. She glanced up at his face
just in time to see his jaw clench.
“Eva.” His voice was low and tight and if she didn’t know
better, she’d say it held a trace of fear.
This really bothers you, doesn’t it?
She was
flabbergasted by his response, bewildered and disappointed. She wanted to
return the pleasure he’d given her, wanted to explore his body the way he’d
explored hers, but he was pulling away from her now.
Did something happen to
make you react this way?
He shook his head. “Not to me.”
Let me guess—you can’t talk about it.
Stone grimaced. “Talking is part of the problem. Sexual
release loosens men’s lips. Secrets are spoken.”
You don’t trust yourself? I’m not going to grill you or
make you tell me all your secrets, as if that were even possible. I just want
to do for you what you did for me. Besides, if you don’t respond well, then
there will be no release, so you don’t have anything to worry about.
A smile quirked the corners of his lips.
You promised I could touch you, Stone. I need to touch
you.
* * * * *
At the moment, the only thing Stone wanted more than to let
Eva touch him was to sink his cock into her slick, hot pussy. But indulging
that desire would hurt her—not to mention the fact that they had no protection.
She still watched him, waiting for him to answer her. He could never remember a
woman begging to touch him. They would beg
him
to touch
them
and
he would, because he liked the feel of a woman, her warmth and softness and
pleasured responses. He realized now, though, that every other woman he’d ever
touched was frigid compared to Eva, hard and unresponsive. Compared to Eva’s
shuddering moans in his mind, her beseeching gasps, her cries and whimpers, all
those other women had been silent.
And, even stronger than his desire to fuck her, was a need
to make her happy—to make the rest of their time together as perfect as he
could make it. And if that meant giving her control of his body, of
him
,
then that’s what he would do. He moved back within her reach with a nod,
shuddered as her warm hands delved under his shirt, exploring his stomach and
chest, lingering over his belly button and nipples, tracing the lines of his
muscles.
Take it off.
Eva’s voice trembled in his mind, giving
away her nervousness at telling him what to do, her worry that he would back
away again when faced with doing her bidding. But he obeyed, stripping off the
t-shirt and tossing it to the chair.
You’ll have to help me.
It took a heartbeat for him to speak words he never dreamed
he’d say. “You’re in control. Tell me what to do.”
I want to sit up, against the wall.
Stone helped her move, repositioning her leg so it would be
out of the way and putting a pillow between her back and the wall. Almost
before she was situated, she was reaching for the button of his jeans.
These,
too. Off. You’ve seen and touched all of me. Now it’s my turn.
He heard her suck in a breath when she realized he wasn’t
wearing anything under his jeans, when she saw his cock jutting out at her.
Then her hands were all over him as he knelt on the bed and sat on his heels,
up and down his thighs, gripping his ass, smoothing over his hips and up his
back and down his chest. So smooth, so tender, so full of something he could
not identify, something so heartbreakingly pure he had to fight not to tear
himself away from her so she wouldn’t be corrupted by the contact with his
sullied being.
He felt himself grow impossibly longer, firmer. She saw it
too—little echoes of her wonder chased her waves of pleasure around his mind.
Then she gripped his cock with one hand, eliciting a moan from him. As he
watched, he saw an idea bloom on her face. She reached for her pussy, coated
her hands in the wetness he had drawn from her moments before, then gripped him
again, her hands wet and warm and sliding smoothly up and down. Stone thought
he might go up in flames, thought he might break his jaw, he was clenching it
so tightly with the effort it took to simultaneously not lose control and to
let her have it.
“Eva!” His voice sounded strangled to his own ears. She
glanced up at him and tugged on his cock, pulling him upright. Then her tongue
flicked across the tip, licked up the pre-cum seeping out and he gave another
hoarse moan. He braced his hands against the wall over Eva’s head to keep
himself steady.
Her mouth on him was torture—warm, soft, welcome torture. If
this ceding of control to Eva was his penance for a lifetime of
self-protection, then he would gladly pay it. She bobbed her head up and down,
her lips keeping the vacuum around him sealed, one hand working the length of
him she couldn’t take in, the fingernails of her other hand digging into his
ass. His hips started bucking against her, showing her the pace he liked and
she matched it. When her tongue swirled around his head and down, he stopped
breathing. Everything in him pulled taut.
“Eva, if you don’t want me to come in your mouth, stop now.”
She sped up and he burst with a shout, felt his cum fill
her, felt her throat working to swallow and he pulled himself away for fear of
choking her. Semen still spurted, landing on her breasts and belly, mingling
with the peach he’d painted her with.
Stone collapsed next to her, fought to catch his breath,
watched her watching him, felt her satisfaction and pleasure that she’d brought
him to climax.
Now, tell me all your secrets.
He gave a soundless gasp that from another man would have
been a laugh and shook his head. He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. After
a few minutes to recover, he rose from the bed and got them each a glass of
water, then filled the basin they’d used for Eva’s bath that morning with warm
water and brought it over to the bed. With a soft cloth, he cleaned her of his
seed, her own cum and peach. When he reached her pussy with the cloth, she
gasped and shivered and he toyed with the idea of getting her off again, then
discarded it. She’d want to do the same for him and he would be able to neither
refuse her nor survive the experience.
Instead, he kissed his way up her abdomen, ending at her
mouth and gave her a long, lingering kiss. “Thank you,” he said softly.
Only then did he notice that the fog-shrouded windows were
now completely dark and the only light in the cabin came from the propane
lanterns. They had spent all afternoon pleasing each other.
Stone woke Eva with breakfast in bed the next morning, a
small bouquet of wildflowers in a glass accompanying the omelet, home fries and
sliced peaches. She flushed at the memory of the things Stone had done with
peaches the day before and of the taste of peach mingled with her own juices.
Stone must have known her thoughts, because he smiled and leaned in to take her
mouth and she could taste peach on him, too. She sucked his bottom lip into her
mouth and nipped and licked, relishing the taste. And she felt something like a
cementing of their connection, a permanence, a sureness that they would always
be together, somehow. Stone felt it too for he broke away and took a step back
from her. He hid his real reaction, though, his face the mask it had been two
days ago.
“Eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” he said softly.
Eva heard the words he didn’t speak just as clearly, “It’s impossible,
remember, this is just a fling, nothing more. There is no future for us, there
is no together.”
Eva pretended she hadn’t noticed, knew that he was right,
that there was no future together for them. She tried to shake off that
momentous feeling, found she couldn’t and so shoved it to the back of her mind,
focusing instead on breakfast.
You’ve already eaten. Why didn’t you wake me?
“You needed the sleep. Your body’s using a lot of energy for
healing.”
Thank you for the flowers.
One of the benefits of her
way of communicating was that she could talk with her mouth full and she ate
quickly, hungrier than she had been for days.
“I noticed them during my morning jog. The fog has lifted.”
So I’ll be able to find my way to the outhouse this
morning.
Stone smiled, but the smile was as weak as her attempt at
humor.
Why are we like this?
“Like what?”
So moody—like a teenager with PMS, constantly advancing
and retreating. Eager to be together one moment, then wanting distance the
next. Snappish and bitchy for no apparent reason.
“Because we’re attracted to each other but trying to avoid
becoming attached. Because this connection between us is both undeniable and
impossible. Because you make me feel and think things I never thought I would
feel or think and that makes me pull away. And you know I’ll pull away, so to
avoid hurt you try to pull away first.”
Have you ever thought of becoming a therapist?
“I’d make a terrible therapist. I’d tell people what was
wrong with them and expect them to fix it themselves.”
So fix it.
Stone smiled genuinely this time and chuckled. “I don’t
think there’s a way to fix this except to get you home and safe.”
Without you.
Stone suddenly stiffened, held up his hand for silence and
cocked his head. Then Eva heard it, a small plane coming closer and flying low.
Hope and disappointment rose up in her simultaneously at the thought that this
might be a rescue plane, sent to look for her.
Stone move swiftly to the steamer chest and with one motion,
pulled out a shoulder holster. He shrugged into it, checked the gun it
held—just like on TV, Eva thought, her heart suddenly pounding with something
other than hope and disappointment—and moved to the window.
Stone?
He didn’t answer. She’d known that he wasn’t really a
consultant, he’d told her that people were after him, but she wasn’t sure how
much she’d really believed him. The possibility that he was paranoid or
otherwise mentally ill hadn’t occurred to her before. It did now.
Stone, it’s just a plane. What’s going on?
He glanced at her and ran a hand down his face as if unhappy
to be reminded of her presence. “Get dressed. I don’t know what’s going to
happen, but you have to do everything I tell you to, when I tell you to.
Understand?”
She nodded a yes, but thought
No.
Even so, she
started to move, setting aside the remains of her breakfast and reaching for
her clothes. His tension infected her, mutating into fear. Stone saw it and
though his face didn’t soften, his tone did.
“That plane is the same one flown by Carter, the guy who
flies in my supplies every two weeks. He’s off schedule and that’s not like
him. It worries me.”
Maybe someone realized I was gone and he’s helping
search.
“Maybe. I’ve never known him to fly search and rescue
before. If that’s it, he’ll probably land so he can ask me if I’ve seen you.”
Where would he land around here?
“The lake. It’s a float plane. We have a signal set up. If
it’s him, the plane will tip its wings before landing.” Stone stepped outside,
presumably so he could watch the plane come in and look for the signal. Eva
heard it coming down, a mechanical buzzing from the propellers, then a splash and
Stone was back inside.
“Can you put any weight on your leg at all?” He asked,
intent, demanding and Eva knew that the pilot hadn’t given the correct signal.
Some, maybe. Why?
“I need you to be ready to run. Get over to the far wall.”
He turned away from her, returning to the chest and Eva could only stare at
him. He straightened and turned, another gun in one hand and extra clips in his
other. “Now, Eva.”
She shook herself and grabbed her crutches, pulling herself
to her feet. Stone moved back to the window, holding himself flat against the
wall and looking sideways out toward the lake.
Tell me what’s going on.
She tested her leg,
gradually increasing the amount of weight on it until it throbbed with
pain—which didn’t take very long. If she was going to risk further injury she
had to know.
The truth, Stone.
“Until two months ago, I worked for the US government as an
intelligence agent. I discovered that others in the agency were enriching
themselves illegally, selling secrets, other things.” His voice hardened as he
spoke and he seemed to almost choke on the “other things”. He went on. “When
they learned that I knew, they came after me. I’ve been hiding here, waiting
for their arrest. They seem to have found me first.” He held the second gun
out, grip toward her. “Take this. It’s loaded. The safety is off, so be
careful. Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire. Pull
the hammer back and squeeze to shoot.”
She took the revolver automatically, surprised at its weight
and coldness in her hand. It was all a dream. The gun didn’t really exist, she
was certain. The plane outside was a search plane, if it was even real. She
only barely heard his instructions for using it.
Are you sure it’s them?
“Yes. Here they come.”
What are we going to do?
“Go out the back. When they’re inside the cabin, we run like
hell for the plane.” Stone crossed the room to her. “Use your crutches as long
as you can, but lose them if they’re holding you back too much. I’d rather have
you alive with a bad leg than dead.”
Eva swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat and
nodded.
Lead the way.
He moved to the far wall and pushed the chest about four
feet to the side, revealing a low, wide door. He unlatched it at each bottom
corner and lifted up. “Slip out as quietly as possible, then move to the side,
toward the lake. Stay up against the wall. I’ll come right behind you.”
Eva lowered herself awkwardly to the floor and peered out,
making sure no one had come around the outside. Then she slid out on her butt,
pushing with one leg and dragging the other. She bit her lip against the
flaring pain, blinked back the tears that pricked at her eyes. She hadn’t seen
anyone yet, just heard the plane fly in and land. She was risking her leg and
maybe her life on Stone’s word, a man she barely knew and who was as likely to
be a paranoid schizophrenic who’d just gone off his meds as a former
intelligence officer. She looked at him and he caught her eyes. For once, she
could read his expression, it pleaded for her to trust him, urged her to hurry
and grimaced at her pain. She could almost hear him say, “We’ll get through
this.”
As soon as she cleared the opening to sit against the side
of the cabin, Stone rolled out swiftly and let the door drop. Eva heard the two
latches click back into place. Then Stone pulled a lighter from his pocket, lit
a bit of something sticking out from the wall and urged her to move toward the
corner of the building. Sliding sideways on homemade crutches was not an easy
task, even without the added need for silence. Stone led and she could see him
flinch every time she made a sound, scraping along the wall or letting a breath
hiss out between her clenched teeth.
When they reached the end of the wall, Stone stopped and
peered around the corner, then turned to her. He pushed down in the air with
his hands and mouthed, “Wait.” Eva nodded and watched him slip around the
corner. He crept to the single high window in the wall—the one over the sink,
with the view out to the lake—and peered through. She looked away from the
house and saw the float plane resting gently on the water, parallel to the
pebbly beach. If they could get to the plane, they’d be okay. They could get
away. She didn’t know if she could make it that far—especially if she had to
run. Like Stone had said, though—better alive with a bad leg than dead. She
looked back toward him just in time to see him drop into a crouch against the
wall.
He looked over at her and their eyes locked for a moment.
Then he signaled with a hand toward the plane. “Go.” He didn’t say it out loud,
but Eva heard it anyway. She went, moving as quickly and as quietly as her
crutches would allow.
A shout—not Stone’s voice—and a banging door made her break
into a searing, painful run, her crutches abandoned, her leg exploding with
each step. Then a series of short pops, more shouts and she’d reached the
water. She looked for Stone, didn’t see him, tried to turn and her leg buckled.
She fell with a splash. She wanted to scream. Needed to scream, to expel her
fear and pain in a rush of sound. But of course nothing came. More pops came
from the direction of the cabin and this time she managed to turn.
Stone was on the ground, half lying, half sitting, his gun
pointed at a falling man then swiveling to aim at a second man just emerging
from around a corner of the building. He, too, was pointing a gun. At Stone.
The two men stared at each other, like in an Old West showdown, both knowing
that as soon as one of them fired, so would the other and neither of them would
miss. Not thinking, barely even noticing, Eva raised the gun Stone had given
her. Because it was all a dream, none of it real, her hand was steady, her mind
clear. She squeezed, heard and smelled the shot, felt her arm jerk at the
recoil.
She missed. But the shot distracted the bad guy long enough
for Stone to get off a shot and the other man spun at the impact and fell. Only
when Stone pushed himself up, one hand pressed to his abdomen, did Eva see the
spreading red across his shirt, the paleness of his face. He stumbled, staggered
up again for a few paces, stumbled, over and over as he made for the plane. Eva
couldn’t breathe, watching him. Her chest ached for him. Then a movement caught
her eye—one of the men Stone had shot wasn’t dead, was struggling to get up,
groping for his gun and Eva realized they weren’t safe. It wasn’t nearly over.
She tore her eyes away from Stone’s painfully slow progress
and dragged herself up onto the nearest pontoon and from there into the plane.
Her leg was useless, but it had at least gone numb for the moment and she
wrestled herself into the pilot’s seat.
The preflight checklist ran through her head and she started
checking gauges and switches, locating them on the unfamiliar panel. She hoped
takeoff and landing weren’t too different from a regular plane.
Hurry hurry hurry hurry hurry
. She tried to will
Stone to stay upright, to reach the plane before the bad guy found his gun and
could take another shot. A moment later, the plane rocked as Stone pulled
himself into the craft. With the flip of a switch, she got the propellers
going.
“Go.” She could barely hear his voice, but it was enough.
She steered the plane around until she was aiming down the length of the lake,
accelerated and, when she’d built up enough speed, lifted off the water. The plane
felt heavier than she was used to and she held her breath as they just cleared
a tall stand of pines. She looked back and through the window saw the cabin go
up in flames. Stone fell into the seat next to her, a wad of cloth clutched to
his side.
“You can fly.” Eva heard wonder in his voice.
Dad taught me. Which way is the nearest airport?
“South. About 30 miles.” Then his head fell back, his eyes
closed and his breathing grew shallow.
Eva’s leg was coming back to life, the pain spearing through
her whole body and she fought to keep her focus on flying the plane. Thirty
miles wasn’t very far. She could get them thirty miles before passing out. She
just needed more precise directions.
Stone.
She got no response. Eva looked over at her
lover and mouthed a curse. He was still breathing, but he looked halfway to
death. Her heart started beating a panicky rhythm.
Stone, wake up. Stone,
don’t leave me. Stone!
He stirred, blinked, looked at her, his brows knit, face
paler than ever.
I need you to operate the radio. I don’t know where I’m
going or how to land this thing. Please.
Confusion clouded his face for a moment, then it cleared and
he nodded, reaching for the radio.
It was the strangest flight Eva had ever made, Stone’s
voice, usually so resonant, now flat and full of pain, conversing with the
controller at the airport who fed her headings, asked questions, offered
guidance. She would respond to Stone in her head and he would relay her
responses back to the controller.