Sandcastles (Final Scene)

Julianna and Gerard finally get to touch…

Julianna nearly wilted in relief. The man could kiss. She’d fantasized about what his lips could do, how they might taste, if he knew what to do with his tongue besides drive her crazy with little commands and orders. Fantasy no more.
     They’d rushed up to his house and as soon as they were up the stairs and entered his living room, he’d embraced her.
     His mouth fit beautifully over hers as his tongue explored and probed and, holy Jesus, within seconds she knew she’d let this man do anything to her tonight.
     He finally released his kiss and he straightened her. My God, she’d slumped into his arms. “So that was a bit more than the chaste embrace I’d planned.”
     “I want more.” Did she really just say that? “I mean…”
     He chuckled, a low rumbly, warm sound that did nothing—nothing—to tamp down her rising lust for this guy. This British silver fox. This 100% manly… Get a hold of yourself, girl.
     He arched an eyebrow. “What would be too much?” One side of his lips lifted in mischief.
     “Oh, really? You and I are going to need to talk about limits, young lady.”
     “Do I need them?” Her mouth was just acting on its own now.
     “You most certainly do.” He eyed her. “But, tell you what, I start to do anything you don’t like, just say … hmmm … sandstorm.”
     Well, didn’t that just sober herself right up from the lust cocktail she’d been drinking from. A tiny laugh burst from her throat. “Sandstorm?”
     “Nasty things, sandstorms. It’s not something you ever want to get caught in.”
     “I can only imagine. Okay, then. Sandstorm.”
     He released her and the break from his skin sent a rousing chill through her limbs. She didn’t like being separated from him. A long, huffy breath left her throat.
     He ran his thumb across her cheek. “Patience. Now, let me see you.” He backed up and plopped himself into the chair in the corner of his living room.
     “Here I am.” She lifted her arms and let them drop to her side.
     “That dress is beautiful.”
     “Thank you.”
     “It would look better on the floor. Take it off.” He settled his hands on the armrest and his eyes nearly pierced her skin with their intense glow.
     She swallowed down a rising panic that this man wanted to see her nude. What had she expected, however? They’d dry hump like teenagers? Getting naked was part of the whole sex deal.
     “Dress.” His voice grew steel.
     Oh, my. She shimmied out of the garment and let it puddle at her feet. She refused to cross her arms. She shouldn’t be ashamed, even though that emotion was exactly what rose up. Her skin pinked up enough to match the fading sunset outside.
     He adjusted himself in his pants. “White lace. Nice.”
     She’d hoped he’d have been pleased her by choice because it was her only choice when it came to anything sexy—a white bra with little scallops across the top of the bra and matching panties with lace adorning the sides. When did pleasing this man become so important? By the size of the bulge pressing against his khaki pants, it worked, however.
     She’d wondered about his cock. Large? Thick? Circumcised? How would it feel inside her? From the size of his package, she wasn’t going to be disappointed no matter what.
     “Now the bra and panties.”
     Oh, God. Seriously? She hesitated. “Um…”
     “Feel like a sandstorm is coming?”
     “Could we get under the blankets first?”
     He slowly shook his head, his smile firmly in place. “There is not a single thing I’m looking at right now that I don’t want to gaze at for hours. Trust me. You’re beautiful and you’re only going to get better looking—especially when I see your mouth drop open in your first orgasm.”
     First? Did he say first? Why hadn’t she insisted they drink some wine first? This man was unabashed, so comfortable sitting there ordering her to take off clothes and get nude, and so sure he was going to be pleased…well, it made no sense.
     Except it sort of did.
     She’d once been on a diet where she wasn’t allowed to eat fruit for six months. Once released from that wholly disastrous attempt to shed a few pounds, the first thing she went for was a banana. She’d nearly orgasmed after the first bite. So, maybe that’s what this would be like. Neither of them had been with another human being for so long—another late-night confession they’d both made to one another—that any physical intimacy would be like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt going at one another in that secret spy movie. Total, complete combustible…
     “Julianna. You’re doing that thing again, love.”
     She was letting her mind run roughshod over the whole encounter as usual. “Overthinking is kind of what I do.”
     His smile dropped and he steepled his hands. Then he … waited.
     She shed her panties and bra and his smile returned. His gaze ran over her slowly, deliberately. “Now. Do you want to do this? I mean we could build another sandcastle instead.”
     She shook her head vigorously. “You promised me a wide definition of a hug.”
     His head tipped back in a roar. He then rose from his chair, closed the distance between them, and had her up and in his arms so fast, her breath caught. His strength astounded her. An indescribable desire took over, and the thrumming between her legs rose to a fever pitch.
     His bedroom was on the same floor as the living room and kitchen. Within seconds he laid her across his bed, the mattress so solid it barely moved. Her bare skin touched a soft comforter, nothing like the scratching fabric of bedspreads in most rentals. He most definitely lived here. She could tell from the few details she drank in since entering. Teak wood furniture, glass coffee table, leather chair where he’d ordered her to shed clothes.
     He stood there, gazing down at her for another insufferable minute. Please some divine source make him get naked, too. New desperation crested inside her. She whimpered—an honest-to-God mewl – at the thought, he might not show as much of his body as she now offered.
     The goddesses on high must have heard her because he went to work finally unbuttoning his shirt. He laid it over a chair. He toed off his shoes and dropped his pants. Each step took an interminable amount of time. Maybe she should have done a striptease like he was clearly doing for her.
     Once his briefs had joined his pants on the floor, her eyes locked on his cock. Oh, my. She was not going to be disappointed at all.
     He moved closer, his bobbing erection growing closer. When his knee dented the mattress as he mounted the bed, her brain shut down. Yep, gone blessedly blank, with the exception of one word—sandstorm, just in case. He attacked her mouth with his, and she lost all sense of herself thanks to his hands, his lips, his tongue.
     With slow, deliberate caresses, he proceeded to drive her made by touching every part of her body except where she wanted. Only until he was inside her would they close the distance that had lain between them for too long.
     She grasped his shoulders, captured him with her legs and squirmed up and down over his cock. “Please.”
      “Is this what you want?” He grasped her ass and yanked her closer so he pressed against her clit. He moved back and forth, which would have been a pure torment if it hadn’t felt so damned awesome.
     She was on the verge of releasing when he pulled back, split her thighs further with his rough hands and entered her, moaning softly in her ear. Her heart swelled at the sound. She wasn’t alone in her need. God, how she wanted him to slam himself into her over and over again. Instead, he stilled.
     “Feel me,” he said. “Be sure.”
     Sure? She’d never been so sure about anything, ever. Being with him was perfect.
     She pitched her hips forward in answer—and he responded. Her head fell further backward and as he fucked her – slowly, quickly, hard, soft, and all the ways she’d imagined over the last two weeks. And, he’d been right. Her mouth did drop open, and way more than once.
     Finally spent, he lifted himself off her body, rolling to his back and taking her with him. As they lay in the dark in total silence except for the whoosh of the air conditioning in the house, his hand ran lazy circles over his arms as she lay on his chest.
     “Well,” he finally said. “I’m glad the weather co-operated.”
     “No sandstorms.”
     She couldn’t imagine there ever would be one. She could stay here forever. At the rate of the pandemic that continued to rage outside, that could become fact. Her mind then flipped right back into automatic pilot mode.
     What if Gerard was the last man she ever slept with? Ate dinner with? Built sandcastles with? Did she mind?
     She twisted so she could see his eyes. “What if we can never leave? Never be able to go out and see people?”
     He rolled to his side, sending her down to the mattress. They lay there for a long minute gazing into one another’s eyes.
     He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Do we care to see anyone else?”
     No, she didn’t and she let herself dissolve into the magic of their evening once more. Sure this time of just having each other would likely be temporary but for once she didn’t mind not knowing when it would end.
     Maybe it took a pandemic to find out what she wanted all along. A man who believed she was beautiful — in advance of shedding clothes.     
     “I don’t need to see anyone else,” she whispered.
     “Well, then, we’ve just gotten started.”     


I hope you enjoyed this original, quarantine serial, Sandcastles.

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