A Fine Cast of Characters - J. Dane Tyler [46]
I took her hand, and she pulled me along, her movements urgent, her grip desperate.
“Hurry. Before the sun comes up. Before the day breaks. Hurry.”
I hurried and didn’t ask why. I hurried, my heart pounding like the world would end if I didn’t. We raced, ran like chased animals, hand-in-hand, legs pumping over sand, then rocks, to the lighthouse standing vigil over the sea. She ran and didn’t speak, and her feet pranced over the terrain light, sure and true, familiar with the path, certain of the way. I followed without knowing why, without knowing where. We darted up the rocks and away from the lighthouse keeper’s residence, down a carved niche in the crags lined by stairs, to a door in the lighthouse foundation. She turned the knob, knew it would open, and it did. She never let go of my hand, never turned back to look at me. She led me into a dark passage in the lighthouse bowels, and down again, farther, until we were below sea level, out of sight and deep inside the rocks, where the lighthouse foundation kept the ocean’s pounding, throbbing, seeking, probing waters away.
Breathless, we panted, chests heaving close together, the two of us faint outlines in the gloom. I felt her breath on my cheek, like a sea mist breeze, her hand still in mine. It was chilled, as chilled as the water in the cove, but I took it in both of mine, and it warmed. Her fingers held mine hard, as if she feared I’d leave, disappear, if she let go. And when her lips touched mine it was like kissing the surf. She was cold when I embraced her, cold as the ocean, cold as the currents beyond the beach. So cold I caught my breath, but I held her and she warmed so quickly, and her lips were so soft, so sweet and tender, so hungry and longing. She kissed me and pulled my senses from me and we fell into each other, fell together the way the white foam rushes back to the waves, and we meshed and merged and became one like swells from the open water crashing to the beach, to wash it and pummel it and embrace it all at once. We were like that—crashing and pummeling and joining and different but one.
She was more beautiful than the sea, more beautiful than the moonlight that drizzled lovingly over her, more beautiful than the music she danced to. She was more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen, before or since.
And I was hopelessly lost to her then.
Chapter 2
We made love for hours. The tiny cubbyhole she took me to had a bed pushed against one wall and a rustic, crude nightstand, an ancient oval braided rug and a sink in one corner. A ragged curtain covered an alcove that served as a closet in the distant past.
She astounded me. I spent myself on her and she reciprocated, both of us collapsing, panting and sweating and groaning. When I thought I couldn’t respond to her anymore she found new ways—probing, sucking, kissing, caressing, kneading, licking. We went for each other again, raw and untamed, like wild animals frothing and screaming. I pounded her and the pleasure was so intense it burned the tip of me, the shaft, a clenching in my loins pulsing and throbbing as I exploded in her again and again. The guttural shouts were torn from me and her carnal screams joined them while she convulsed and spasmed on me in her climax, a cacophony of ecstasy and flesh. My muscles cramped and I fell on her, explored, felt the surface of her like a blind man, memorized her terrain. I kissed soft, on every part of her I could reach, and she tasted of saline, smelled of a coastal flower. I gently sank my teeth into her tender flesh and a moment later she was ready again, taking me to new sexual places I’d never known before and may never visit again. No orifice was off limits, no position untried; she did things to me I didn’t know could be done, showed me things I never knew existed. Finally we slept,