Waves of Desire
Authors: Lori Ann Mitchell
Waves of Desire
By
Lori Ann Mitchell
Waves of Desire\
Lori Ann Mitchell
Copyright© 2015 by Lori Ann Michell.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
Contact information: [email protected]
Don't miss the previous books in the series:
Sage
Sage lay on her belly still quivering from her latest climax, drenched in sweat as the sun beat down outside Derek’s bedroom window. It glistened on her skin, arms splayed out, useless and limp like the rest of her body. Derek straddled her damp thighs, wedged firmly, deeply inside as he ground gently in and out of her slick, fragrant slit.
His hands gripped her waist on either side, holding her in place even as her thickly throbbing clit ground against the damp sheets beneath her, her firm, stiff nipples rasping with each long, gliding thrust.
Incense burned and, somewhere, softly, reggae played as the gentle ocean breeze rustled the curtains and slid across their naked bodies. They’d been at it for over an hour, blissful and slow, sticky and wet, the perfect dessert after another long afternoon in the surf.
Half-empty beers sat on the nightstand by the bed, long since warm, Sage’s eyes half-lidded and useless as her body thrummed and hummed as she felt another wave of blistering heat swell from between her legs and out through the rest of her body. Derek was hard and long and deep inside her, sweat dripping from his skin onto her writhing back, soft sighs of pleasure spilling warm and musky across her damp shoulders where her hair clung to her fiery skin.
Her fingers clenched the soft white sheets, clinging tightly as he slid in and out of her with a slick, sultry sound that was nothing if not intoxicating. His cock was fiery and firm, hard and drizzled with her juices as she moaned softly, steadily, as she had been since her first orgasm.
Her head was turned to one side, peering foggily at his spare surfboard in the corner, red with yellow stripes, the top pebbly with coated-on surf wax. It swam in and out of focus with the rhythm of his thrusts, slow and tender, deep and loving, teasing her from the brink of satisfaction toward the edge of ecstasy yet again.
After what felt like hours, he began to quicken his pace, not hard or fast but more persistent, more forceful, more steady and hot and stiff. She could feel his whole body humming, like a livewire, shaking from the steady work he’d been doing, kneeling with a thigh trembling on either side of her wet, dewy ass.
“Baby,” he said, voice hoarse and low after the steady grinding and moaning and panting. “Oh, Jesus… baby!”
At last he slid from her, eager and stiff as his veiny cock slithered between the sweaty crack of her own trembling ass. In no time, he throbbed and spurt a rain shower across her trembling back, splatters that stretched all the way to her shoulders and landed with the force of youth and anticipation.
Groaning with pleasure, he milked himself onto the curve of her ass, making her smile to picture him there, boyishly taking aim at each cheek in turn. When at last he was drained, body and soul, he sighed and sank beside her, sticky skin against sticky skin.
Instinctively, they turned to face each other, hungry for more than just sex now, but the warm, loving afterglow that sex brought them, like a gift within a gift.
“How can it still be this good?” he murmured, drowsily, between peppering her with soft, breathless kisses.
She slapped him playfully. “You were expecting me to somehow quit jumping your bones every chance I got?” she teased him, snuggling closer to feel his arms slide around her.
“No, I just… never thought it could be this good, that’s all.”
“It’s always better when love is in the mix, Derek.”
He chuckled, pulled her close, kissed her long, wet and hard and then released her, turning to lie on his belly as she remained, propped on her side, admiring the white, hairless curve of his young, flawless ass.
She was tempted to reach out and caress it but, knowing him, Derek would only take that as an invitation to engage in another hour-long sex freak marathon and, frankly, she just didn’t have it in her after the latest one.
Instead she was content to lie there, looking at him, as sleep began to overtake them both, heavy and damp. And then, suddenly, the doorbell began ringing downstairs. They both leapt, like teenagers caught in the act.
“The hell?” Derek murmured, turning to face her but making no move to leave. “No one ever uses the doorbell.”
“Probably a salesperson,” she sighed, turning over and dragging the sheets atop her sweaty skin as it began to cool at last. “They’ll go away soon enough.”
But they didn’t. If anything, they amped up the volume, ringing the bell between knocking on the door, then knocking on the door between ringing the bell. “Derek,” she murmured, dragging a damp pillow over her head. “Make it go away.”
“I’m naked!” he protested as she peeked out at him.
“Me too and, technically, it’s
your
house!”
He chuckled, smacking her bare butt and rising to slip back into his baggies and tank top from the beach. She heard him pad across the bedroom floor, out into the hallway and down the stairs, footsteps heavy with weariness. And then, a muffled grunt of… What? Surprise? Shock? Something changed in the air, from silliness or inconvenience to genuine surprise – and not the good kind.
She was already sitting up, reaching for her clothes, when she heard a strange hitch to his voice as he said, “Dana?”
Derek
“Dana?”
Derek stood, transfixed by the ghost from his
very
distant past. “Derek?” she said, looking waifish, almost ghostly in a cheap slip dress and too-high heels. Her auburn hair lay limp and lifeless, surrounding her pale, wan face. She wore too much makeup, as if she might be going for a job interview.
A little boy clung to her thigh, about waist high, with red hair and a soft spray of freckles across his cute pug nose. “How… how have you been?” he said, awkwardly inching the door shut behind him and gently guiding them toward the cluster of Adirondack chairs grouped on the front porch. They had been Sage’s idea; weathered and worn, each with a cute little throw pillow designed with scenes of sea and sand. Between them was a small roughhewn table featuring a small wire birdhouse with a candle inside. Beside it was a small blue bottle they’d found on the beach. Sage had cleaned it up and polished it off and now whenever they came back from the ocean across the street, they made sure to pick a wild dandelion to slip inside.
“Sit, sit,” he told them, watching as Dana nodded to the boy, who sat obediently, legs hanging off, in the big chair on one side of the table as she sank into the other one.
“You look great,” she said, and he blushed, trying to picture her as the tight little cheerleader he’d slept with that one night under the bleachers so very long ago. It had been just before he got his first acceptance letter from his publisher, Surfside Press, and he’d left school shortly after to pursue his writing goals. They hadn’t seen each other since.
Back then she’d been comely and ripe, a luscious redhead with soft, pale breasts and a shaved mound that had shown glossy and wet beneath the full harvest moon. Now she seemed a shell of herself, as if she’d aged two years for each year they’d been apart.
“You too,” he gushed. “What’s it been, four years?”
Dana peered over at the kid, sitting quietly, eyes hooded and dull. “Almost five,” she said, looking back at Derek.
He felt bad that she hadn’t introduced the boy and so he knelt in front of him, tapping the kid’s knee gently so as not to alarm him. He’d always liked kids and enjoyed putting on his regular surf camps to help them grow and learn. “Hey buddy,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Derek. What’s your name?”
“Tell him, Archie,” Dana said, a new tone to her voice. It was sharp, almost scolding, and Derek and the boy – Archie – both winced at the same time. “Tell your father your name!”
Derek stood, abruptly, momentarily ignoring the boy. His eyes turned to Dana who peered up at him, reclining now, legs crossed, wriggling one foot as her green eyes bored into his. “W-w-what?” he asked, leaning back against the weathered porch railing to steady himself.
“You weren’t the only one to drop out senior year, ‘D’,” she said, using her affectionate nickname for him. Suddenly, it sounded bitter on her tongue. “After our little rendezvous beneath the bleachers that night, I had a hard time waddling around the halls so Principal McClaren decided to offer me an honorary degree and let me study from home for the rest of the year. Little Archie came along just before graduation and, well…”
Her voice trailed off as Derek’s heart hammered. “Why… why didn’t you ever say anything before?” he blurted.
She shrugged, like it was no big deal that he’d fathered a child and only learned about it four years later. “You were busy with your writing, then that first book tour, and then another new book and, well… you didn’t seem like the most stable father in the world.”
He clucked a tongue. “Coming from a chick who kept a guy’s son a secret from him all this time?”
Her nostrils flared, but she remained composed, as if perhaps this was a scenario she’d played out in her head a dozen times before, and probably had. “Yeah, well… maybe we both made some mistakes along the way. But, I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“You sure are,” he huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “Why now?”
She shrugged. “I got laid off from my job, Derek. I need help raising my son.” She turned from the little boy, still silent, to Derek. “I need help raising
our
son.”
Derek’s chest tightened. He’d always feared something like this might happen. His life had been so flawless and carefree so far and, though he’d been faithful to Sage – except for that one little incident – his life before then had been a steady procession of bed hopping and surf bunny screwing that could fill a whole book on its own.
He’d lost count of how many chicks he’d slept with over the years, but always feared that one day, inevitably, one or more of them might show up on his doorstep with a little tyke in tow.
But Dana? He hadn’t thought about her in years, literally. Not because he was callous, but… that night beneath the bleachers had been a one-time thing. She rarely gave Derek or any other surfers the time of day in school, preferring to stay tight with her clique of cheerleader girlfriends and jock boyfriends. She’d had a steady string of them that year and, when the latest dumped her after a big football game, Derek had just happened to be there, at the right place, at the right time.
Now here she was, looking pale and washed out, as if the years hadn’t been too kind to her since she’d left school. “I have a few grand in savings,” he said, downplaying the full amount, to say nothing of his investments, including the very house they were sitting in.
She clucked a tongue. “I don’t mean just financial support, D, I mean… help. Cooking, cleaning, bathing, clothes, food, watching him while I try to get work, it’s… it’s time you step up.”
He nodded, hardly realizing he’d started pacing until he found himself turning to face her from a few steps away. “I would have stepped up already,” he said. “If I’d had any idea I needed to.”
She softened, slightly, rising from her chair and approaching him. “I know that, baby,” she said, gripping his forearm. She smelled like cheap perfume and desperation but, close up like this, her hand warm on his arm, he remembered the easy sexiness she’d oozed back in school, could see the smokiness and hunger in her soft green eyes and felt an old familiar urge throb deep within his loins.
“I didn’t want to bother you with this,” she said, lightly running her hands up and down his arm. “I tried to keep you out of it, but… we need you now, you know?”
He nodded, feeling her breath warm on his own. She had inched closer and, partly out of guilt, partly out of shock, partly out of reminiscence, he’d allowed her to. Then, a faint click and the sudden whoosh of the front door opening. He looked up, startled, to see Sage in the doorway, a tray of refreshments in her hand.
“Derek,” she said pointedly through a fixed smile. “Won’t you introduce me to our…
guests
?”