Castle in the Sand Read online

"I love you." She touched her finger to his lips. "It'll be all right."

  Then, because she didn't know what else to do, she kissed him. He met her lips with an urgency that unnerved her at first, but as his tongue quested inside her mouth, Claire's anxiety vanished. Malcolm's mouth on hers felt too delicious. She was swept up again in her love for him. In her lust for him. She'd never loved anyone more in her life, or wanted another man so much. His smile, his touch, the sound of his voice was enough to have her wet and ready. Now she discovered his tears could have the same affect.

  Claire moved around in front of him until she could sit on his lap. She put her hands on either side of his head as she kissed him. Her fingers played in his soft, sand-colored curls. Delicately, she traced the rims of his ears, down to the soft lobes and the cool metal of the tiny gold hoop he wore in one of them. She passed her fingers down his jaw to his chin, beneath their kisses, then further down the smooth passage of his throat to his collarbone. She slipped her hands inside the open collar of his shirt then up again, to the back of his neck. All the while, kissing.

  She was lost inside his kisses. She had always been lost there. No one in her life had ever made her as happy or as furious as Malcolm had, but no matter how angry she had ever been, his kisses took it all away.

  Angry? How could she ever have been angry with him? What could he have done that was so bad? The thoughts moved through her mind like lazy clouds drifting in a summer sky. She wasn't angry with him. She had never been angry with him.

  His cock grew against the front of his trousers. Claire pressed herself against the bulge, the heat. Sparkles of desire built in her. Malcolm's hands came around to cup her ass and pull her closer against him.

  The chair creaked and wobbled as they ground against each other, dry humping. She left his mouth to allow him access to her throat, where he nibbled and suckled and licked until she thought she might go insane with wanting him.

  "Put your mouth on me." She stripped off her shirt with one quick motion and lifted her bare breasts to him.

  Malcolm mouthed her nipples and suckled gently on one of them. Claire moaned. His breath was hot on her skin. She rocked her pelvis forward and back against his erection while he flicked her tender nipples with his tongue.

  She wore no panties beneath her sleep pants. The soft flannel tugged and rubbed on her aching bud, adding to the already torturous pleasure she was giving herself from Malcolm's pants-enclosed cock. The pressure was good, but it wasn't enough. She wanted his tongue there instead.

  Claire lifted herself from his lap and sat up on the table. Malcolm's tears had stopped. Now his eyes had grown bright with desire. She wanted very badly to see his smile.

  He stood and helped her tug off the sleep pants and, without being asked, went back between her legs to lick and suck her button. The kitchen table was hard and cold under her back. Malcolm was hard and hot on her front.

  Claire lifted her hips to his probing tongue. He rolled his tongue on her clit, then slipped a finger inside her and pressed upward. Her body jerked in response. Orgasmic contractions rippled through her, but she didn't come. Not quite.

  "Make love to me," she told him and watched through love-glazed eyes as he stripped off his shirt and pants.

  Unfettered by the trousers, his penis sprang free. She sat up and scooted to the table's edge. Malcolm took his cock in his hand and nudged the tip inside her. He wet himself with her fluid and eased in an inch. Out. Back in, just a bit further. Then out again, his clock glistening with her juices, before he seated himself to the hilt.

  They both moaned at the same time. Claire's head dropped to his chest for a moment as she struggled to control the waves of pleasure washing over her. She hooked her ankles around the backs of his thighs as Malcolm began to move.

  His first thrusts were slow and easy, like the man himself. His cock stretched her. Claire looked down to where their bodies joined. Her dark curls meshed with his lighter ones. Her rose colored lips enfolded his similarly shaded penis. The pink pearl of her clit stood at attention. Every thrust moved the small button back and forth. The pink turned darker as her clit engorged.

  Claire put a fingertip to her clit and pressed gently. It throbbed beneath her touch and her vagina contracted around Malcolm's cock. She rubbed the smooth flesh in a small, tight circle. It was enough to finish her off.

  The sea rushed over her. Ecstasy engulfed her. She couldn't see or hear or think. She could only feel.

  It was over too soon. Good sex always was.Malcolm helped her off the table, then looked ruefully at the plate of eggs which had been smashed to the floor without either of them noticing. "I'll get the broom."

  She touched his arm until he turned to face her. "Are you all right?"

  He kissed her. "You love me?"

  "You know I do."

  His sigh was heavy but his grin light when he replied, "Then I'm all right."

  Still, his eyes were shadowed. His answer didn't satisfy. Claire left him to clean up the mess and make more breakfast while she showered.

  What could have made him cry? Was he sick? Was it something with his job? Or his family? The questions wouldn't leave her as she fiddled with the faucet to set the water temperature just right.

  Claire and Malcolm had known each other since their freshman year of college. They'd lived in the same dormitory. They'd had the same friends. But it wasn't until the Fellowship had all chipped in to buy this dilapidated beach house, Nonesuch, that they'd fallen in love. Still, in the time they'd been together, she'd never seen him upset enough to weep.

  Claire stepped into the shower and tipped her face to the spray. Warm water cascaded over her closed eyes. She turned to let it pound on her back while she pondered.

  If anything, she would have said Malcolm was too lackadaisical to grieve for anything. He could be brooding, even taciturn at times, but mostly he took life with all the seriousness of the grasshopper who played. Too often she felt like the ant in that fable. Working. Planning for the future. They hadn't spoken of marriage, but she'd thought about it plenty. He'd told her often enough he wasn't ready to settle down. Once, he'd told her he wasn't even ready to be tied down...

  Claire frowned and turned again to let the water wash over her face. Malcolm didn't want to be tied down? When had he said that? She could hear his voice saying those very words inside her head, clear as daylight...but when had he said them?

  Despite the hot water, her skin humped into gooseflesh. Something was wrong here. Something was not right.

  Some things change.

  And some things don't.

  Now she heard her own voice, echoing, but she hadn't spoken aloud. Her eyes flew open and the water stung them. Her hands flew up to wipe them and her elbow knocked the bottle of shampoo over. It fell and splattered on the shower floor. The scent of berries stung her nose. Nausea filled her throat.

  The smell. It wasn't right either. It should be citrus, not berries.

  Claire opened her mouth to cry out and the water filled it. Choked her. She gasped and the water entered her lungs. She tried to cough, but couldn't breathe.

  Strong hands pulled her from the shower. She spat and spat again to clear the water and the smell of berries from her lungs. Malcolm wrapped her in a towel and held her close as she shivered and shuddered. He cradled her on the bathroom floor. His hands smoothed away the tangled hair from her face, and he whispered soothing words until her body ceased its twitching.

  "Claire, look at me."

  She did. It was as though a film of plastic wrap had been laid over her. She could see. She could hear. She could even smell. But there seemed to be a barrier between her and all of that. A wall she couldn't see.

  "Claire!"

  Malcolm's voice came from far away. Claire's teeth chattered hard enough to bring blood to her tongue. It was bitter. It tasted like darkness.

  And then darkness was all she saw.

  * * * *

  "Wow, what a glorious day!" Claire stretched and