Rolling in the Deep

He imagined what might have happened if he'd run after her, catching her around the waist from behind before she reached the stairs. Pulling her down to the soft sand, he'd tear the little white dress from her body. She'd struggle a bit at first, because he caught her unawares, but she soon quiet as she looked up at him. He'd look at her nakedness, his fingers running down her torso, across her dark nipples, her lean stomach, settling in the fine hair between her legs. She'd gasp and arch her back, leaning further into his hand. Trip would then move down between her lean thighs and explore her womanhood. He'd part her lips with the fingers of one hand as he watched her become wet for him. The scent of her would waft up to him, and it would be all he could do to refrain from slamming his face into her. But it would be more pleasurable to tease her a little, first. Make her beg him for release. So he'd slip one index finger inside her, feeling her muscles clamp down on him as she softly groaned. His slickened fingertip would then move up to the hood surrounding her hard, very pink clitoris. She'd be panting now, her pelvis jerking forward as he rubbed the sensitive tip. Then and only then would he lean forward, his eyes on her, to run his tongue up and down her slit. The sweet and salty taste of her would fill his senses. Her hands would clasp the back of his head, pressing him into her...

"Ahhhh -- fuck!" Trip shouted, his eyes closed, as he came. It seemed to go on for ages, as jet after jet hit the marble tiles of the shower wall. His heart was pounding as he tried to slow his breathing down. He reached out and turned down the water temperature, enjoying the feeling as the spray turned cool against his overheated skin. He'd sleep well tonight.

Saturday, 5:45AM

Camy was swimming in the dark. The cool water ran over her bare skin as she languidly did the backstroke. The moonlight gave her wet body a pearlescent glow. She heard a disturbance. She saw the back of his head as he sliced through the water, heading straight toward her. Light gleamed on the taut muscles of his shoulders and back. Strong legs kicked below the surface, causing no splash at all. His movements were unnaturally smooth and graceful, like some kind of sea creature. His hands reached out and caught her by the ankles. He parted her legs. She gasped in surprise and alarm. Camy was floating on her back; suspended, unable to move. He still hadn't lifted his head. How did he hold his breath for so long? He kept moving toward her, past her calves, her knees, her thighs, his body mostly submerged. She saw his head move closer, closer to the place between her legs. She knew he was looking at her nakedness from underwater. Then all she felt was his mouth on her. She shouted into the night sky as his tongue snaked into her. It was long and thick, undulating deep inside her, tickling her G spot as his lips clamped over her clit. He was humming into her, his tongue now stroking in and out of her pussy, which was now completely drenched. Tension and heat pooled inside her, her wet folds pulsating faster and faster, building and building until she exploded. The orgasm reverberated again and again, spreading out from her core to her outer lips, thighs and abdomen. Her body jerked forward and she found herself screaming out loud as light burst forth around her.

Camy sat up in bed, panting. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as the climax finally slowed. It was pre-dawn. The gray light was seeping in from under the drapes. Looking around the strange room nervously for a moment, Camy finally remembered where she was. She fell back on the opulent pillows, her body coated with a fine sheen of sweat. She was panting, her heart pounding in her chest. Another fucking hot sex dream, and this one was awesome. She laughed, exhilarated as she brought her knees together and curled to her side. Drifting in the afterglow, still trembling with little aftershocks, she wondered who he was: the man from her dream...

She tried to fall back to sleep, but her body was too stimulated. Jumping out of bed, she opened the curtains and looked out at the early morning over the water. Run, she thought. She needed to run on the beach.

Fifteen minutes later, she was on the deck in her running clothes, stretching her quads. She decided to run barefoot. The dew was still covering everything with fat, glistening drops that sparkled in the pinkish-gray light. The air was cool and fresh. Camy still had enough endorphins raging through her body that she was excited about physical exercise.

She traversed the path and ran lightly down the stairs, crossing the sand to the point where it was wet. Camy set off, running up the beach on the hard-packed sand just above the reach of the surf. Her ponytail was swinging rhythmically behind her as she found her pace. It was slower going on the beach and the lack of resistance made the workout surprisingly tough. She'd gone about a mile and a half up the beach when it became too hot. Stopping to pull off her hoodie and tie it around her waist, Camy paused to watch the dawn breaking over the water.

Crimson and hot pink spread upward from the horizon. As she watched, the Sound changed from dark gray to pale aqua, tipped with gold. Overcome by it, Camy sat down on the beach, because she didn't quite trust her legs to support her. Bringing her hands up to her face, which had become hot and very moist, she was surprised to realize that tears were streaming down her cheeks. She looked at her wet fingers, mystified by how emotional she'd been since arriving here.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something hurtling toward her on the beach. She turned, raising her arms defensively just a fraction of a second before she was knocked over into the sand. Too startled even to scream, she brought her arms up to protect her face only to realize that she was being sloppily licked by a big, friendly dog.

"Oh my god! Hi baby -- hey! Okay, big guy. Nice to meet you too!" She crooned to him as he lathed his big tongue and sandy wet nose across her face. His paws were on her chest, effectively pinning her down. Camy started laughing as she grappled with the lovable giant.

"Barnaby! Down, boy! Right now! Come! You know better!" Camy heard the deep baritone voice vibrating as it approached, which made her realize he was running. The dog immediately moved off of her and ran back toward the voice.

"I'm so very sorry -- I don't even know how to apologize. He NEVER does this. Are you alright?! You're not hurt, are you?" He sounded horrified. As he reached Camy, he realized that she was laughing and the frown lines and concern seemed to dissipate somewhat.

Trip dropped to his knees as Camy raised herself back into a sitting position. He caught her shoulders to help her sit up, looking her over quickly with keen, deep blue eyes. As his eyes reached her face, his right hand gently cupped her jaw, lifting her face so he could discern how she looked. Camy, still laughing but now feeling a little foolish, rushed to reassure him. She didn't want Barnaby to get into trouble.

"No - please, I'm fine. Really. He's a sweet dog. He just doesn't know his own strength. Honestly -- I'm okay. Just... sandy...." She laughed again and looked directly up at him. Their eyes locked and she felt a strange sensation -- like something had clicked into place. They froze like that for a few lingering moments. He still had his hand on her face. It felt so good. They were both breathing a little too hard. Camy could hear the blood roaring in her ears over the sound of the surf.

Barnaby barked excitedly, breaking the spell. They pulled quickly away from each other as if they'd been burned. He dropped his hand and sat back on his haunches for a second as she pushed a stray hair away from her eyes. The absurdity of the situation suddenly hit Camy hard, and she started to laugh again. Trip found himself responding to her easy sense of humor, and after the briefest of hesitations, he laughed along with her.

"Uh, hi. I'm Trip." He reached out his right hand, a crooked smile on his handsome face.

She shook the sand out of her right hand, wiping it on her thigh before putting it into his and grasping it firmly. His eyes had followed the movement of her hand, their color darkening just a tad.

"I'm Camy. Lovely to meet you." Not releasing her hand, he had sprung to his feet in a clean athletic move and helped to pull her to her feet.

"Here, let me help you up." He said, his eyes sparkling flirtatiously. As she stood, she suddenly felt shy and needed to break eye contact, so she leaned around and began to brush the sand off of her backside and legs. Trip gently brushed the sand from her shoulders and back. She found the warmth of his strong hands to be electrifying. Her checks blushed vividly and she murmured her thanks.

Barnaby pushed his way in between them, shoving his head against Camy's hip.

"And this, I take it, is Barnaby." She said. Leaning down slightly she fondled the dog's floppy ears. The dog made a happy grunting noise, his tail wagging rapidly and poised as if to jump up again.

"Down!" Trip commanded, but his voice almost broke into a laugh. Looking back at Camy he confirm: "Yes, that is, indeed, Barnaby. My best and only truly loyal friend." Trip's eyebrows shot up in surprise after this last statement. He had not meant to say that and was shocked at himself. Camy just laughed.

"I know what you mean. Wouldn't it be nice if people were so straightforward and uncomplicated?" She glanced back down at the dog, giving Trip a moment to recover, but then when she looked back up at him, her head was set at a slight angle and her eyes were more thoughtful.

"Exactly." He responded softly. Trip liked the way her mouth looked when she smiled. He suddenly wanted badly to taste those generous lips. She was a lot prettier than he'd imagined, and not at all brittle, for a city girl. Her large eyes were so dark brown they looked almost black, but he noted that when the sun shone directly on her face, there were flecks of amber in the irises. She had naturally dark and thick brows and lashes, so even without makeup, as she was now, she was very beautiful. There was an almost Slavic angularity to her nose and cheekbones. She was altogether really exotic. A true Selkie, if ever there was one. He couldn't tell how old she was -- she could have been in her thirties or even older. But she carried herself with poise and maturity, so he guessed she was nearing forty. Much more age-appropriate than most of his women, he mused.

With a tiny guilty shock, he realized she was saying something.

"... how long have you had him?" Trip blinked, trying to catch up.

"Sorry -- Ah! How long have I had Barns?" He looked up the beach, as if trying to remember, in order to pull himself together. "Two years... he's still got a lot of puppy in him."

"What a sweetie." She was saying to the dog, patting his rump.

"Are you staying down in the cottage, then?" He asked almost abruptly. Camy didn't seem surprised.

"Yes -- I arrived last night. I saw you guys playing fetch on the beach around sunset yesterday, actually." She confessed. "Are you staying in the big Victorian?"

"Yeah -- my parents' place. My grandparents built it for my dad as a wedding present. So they could all summer together. But honestly, I prefer their original cottage. How are you and your friend enjoying it?" Camy was looking at him in surprise.

"Wait -- your family owns both houses? Ah! That makes sense, actually. The architecture is so similar and they are the only two on this side of the highway. But I thought the owner was a woman -- was it Molly? My friend Amanda spoke with her when making the arrangements."

"Yeah, Molly is my sister." Trip offered that up lest Camy think he was married. "Where is your friend Amanda now -- still asleep?"

"Oh -- no. Uh, Amanda had a work thing pop up and couldn't come. So it's just me." He looked sharply at Camy, a slow smile spread across his face.

"So... you're all on your own." He said it with a tinge of admiration in his voice. Camy laughed. He realized that he loved the sound of her laugh. It was deep and sexy. He couldn't help responding to it.

"Yep. How luxurious is that?!" She paused, and then asked: "Who else is in that big house with you?" The answer really mattered to her, she realized.

"Yeah, good point. No one. I'm alone too, if you don't count the mutt, here." They both looked down at the good-natured hound, as he looked back adoringly.

"Well you have to count Barnaby, obviously..." She shrugged, scratching the dog's head. Trip had been reaching down to pet the dog as well, and their hands met. They pulled away from one another, straightening. Their eyes met and the silence began to stretch into something more poignant.

Searching around for something to say, Camy looked out at the horizon, which was glowing a bright red-pink. "Wow -- look at the light. It really is beautiful here -- I don't think I've seen the sunrise that color before..." Trip turned to look in the same direction.

"Sailors take warning..." He quoted.

"Sorry?" She looked at him inquiringly. The strange light from the dawn gave him a surreal beauty. Her heart lurched in her chest. Camy was glad the light was pink -- because she hoped he wouldn't realize how flushed her cheeks were becoming.

"Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight. It's an old saying. A red sky like this at dawn often means a storm is coming." He looked at her as he finished speaking, again struck by her natural loveliness and unaffected sexiness.

Trip let his eyes wander over her pretty face and the full, well-formed mouth that he wanted to simply devour, down her throat --where a pulse was thrumming at the base, and he took in the luscious cleavage created by the V-neck of her top. Her breasts rode high on her chest and he could see a faint outline of her nipples against the high tech fabric of the sports bra. Her body was delicious, but there was something more than that. He felt strange when he looked at this woman, as if something significant were happening. As if meeting her, like this, might have some kind of meaning.

"Is there?" She asked. His eyes shot back to hers -- he stared at her for a moment, confused. As if she heard his thoughts. But then almost as quickly he realized she was asking him if a storm was coming, per the old wives' tale.

"Actually, yes, probably. They said there is a hurricane rolling up the Coast, and we might get the outer edge of the rains and winds. Maybe tonight, they said, depending upon the pressure systems."

"Oh -- I didn't know that. Should I be worried?"

"Here on the Sound side, we usually don't take much of a beating. But it would be a good idea to watch the forecasts in case things develop..."

They had started walking back down the beach, naturally falling into step. Every once in a while, Trip's right hand brushed the back of Camy's left as their arms swung loosely between them.

They continued to make small talk, much of it about the weather and the dog, as they walked south. But they both became aware of an undercurrent running between them, below the polite banter. As they drew even with Trip's house, their pace slowed until they finally stopped walking completely.

They were standing at the water's edge, allowing the tide to roll over their feet as they talked. Camy stole glances over at Trip when he wasn't looking. God, he was handsome, she thought. He had on a very old and worn-looking polo shirt in a faded navy blue. It brought out the remarkable dark blue of his eyes. She found herself looking at the way it hung off his muscular shoulders. It was loose at the waist, drawing her attention to his narrow hips. When the wind caught the hem, it lifted the shirt showing a hard, flat tanned stomach beneath above the low waistband of his well-worn, beat-up jeans. His biceps, forearms and hands were large and sinewy, without looking contrived. His tan looked perpetual but genuine -- a real sailor's tan. It gave his face a rather rugged appearance, which tempered the natural classical beauty, keeping him from looking "pretty". It also made his perfect teeth look stunningly white whenever he flashed one of his crooked smiles at her. Camy felt her mouth go dry and had to force herself to keep looking away.

His hair was slightly too long and a bit unruly, which would be considered quite fashionable, but in his case it did not seem to be consciously styled that way. Perhaps it would have been medium brown, if he didn't spend so much time outdoors -- but it was very sun-bleached in places, so he looked as if he had dark blond hair. His eyebrows and eyelashes were much darker. She'd once heard the expression "blue eyes put in with dirty fingers" -- and that seemed to suit him perfectly. Camy found herself wondering how old he was. She guessed that he was roughly her age.

She became aware that he'd stopped talking, and was looking at her as if waiting for her to speak. Blushing furiously, she had no choice but to admit that she hadn't heard whatever it was he'd just said.

"I'm so sorry -- did you say something? My mind wandered off..."

He smiled into her eyes, his own gaze narrowing as he tried to read her face. It only caused her to blush more. Finally, he said: "I asked if you wanted to come inside for coffee, Camy..."

She felt a flood of wetness between her legs when he spoke her name, which made her catch her lower lip between her teeth. Her reaction must have somehow showed on her face, because she saw his eyes darken, his nostrils flare a little and his posture change very subtly. She swallowed quickly and forced a polite smile, accepting with a bit of a stammer.

He stepped toward her. She had to stop herself from taking a step backward. He was just slightly too close for ordinary conversation. Camy could barely breathe. Trip brought his hand up, taking her elbow. The heat from his palm seemed to sear through her. His eyes scanned hers with an almost predatory aspect.

"Cool. Right this way..." His voice had dropped a register. She could feel it vibrate deep in her abdomen, and lower.

As he walked her across the sand, toward the stately house, he let his hand slide down her forearm and clasp her hand, his fingers lacing through hers. A current of electricity shot up her arm, and Camy felt her nipples hardening through her sports bra. She could scarcely believe that they were holding hands. It felt so incredibly intimate. It would never have occurred to her that hand-to-hand touch could feel so wildly erotic. Trip casually grazed his thumb across her palm, as if unaware he was doing it. Her lips parted but she forced herself to breathe evenly and not gasp audibly. He had to know what he was doing, she thought. Nervous flutters were rolling around her tummy. She couldn't remember the last time she was this turned on. It was exhilarating. She never felt more alive.

Trip was glad his old jeans were loose fitting because he was getting hard. Imagine -- hard from just a conversation! There was a growing heat between them that Trip knew was mutual. When he asked her if she wanted coffee, he realized that she was staring at him, lost in thought, but had not heard a word he'd said. She blushed adorably when he caught her. Trip repeated the question, lingering over her name.

Her reaction was so sexy, it was all he could do to not yank her to him and force his tongue down her throat. Her pupils dilated and she scraped her teeth across her lip, shifting nervously. It was as if he'd actually touched her. Taking a few steps forward, he leaned close. She smelled wonderful and he could see her trembling a little as her head tipped back ever so slightly so she could look up at him. He took her arm and turned her toward the house, hoping she wouldn't see his erection. Her skin felt like silk. He was aware that she was submitting to his control, and it turned him on even more.