Out Of Control
An original short story copyright 2009 Morgan Ashbury
THE SOUND OF surf awakened her.
Constant, rhythmic, it burrowed beneath her conscious mind, then rooted up through it, into it, bringing her awake. The surf seemed to be whispering to her, one word, over and over: remember.
Her head felt muzzy, as if she’d had too much to drink the night before. No pain, just a strange haze. She sat up, slowly, every muscle in her body protesting the move. Opening her eyes, she blinked against the sight of morning sunlight on water.
What the hell am I doing on a beach?
A breeze swept off the water, a fresh-air pick-me-up that felt like a bit of heaven. She inhaled deeply, then froze. She could smell salt water. She wasn’t just on a beach, she was on an ocean beach!
Panic set in, a sense of terror like she’d never felt. A sound to her left drew her attention. A man walked toward her, carrying two mugs. He seemed familiar, vaguely. Flashes of him smiling, dancing with her, offering her a drink, all played through her mind in just seconds. Focusing, she tried to get a grip of her thoughts, tried desperately to follow the advice of the waves and remember.
Her name was Alexis; the man approaching her was Blake. And she’d met him last night at a disco.
In far-from-the-ocean Toronto, Canada
She said nothing as he handed her the mug. Sniffing, she recognized the beverage as coffee. Sipping, she noted that it tasted good—he’d fixed it the way she liked. How had he known?
There was a definite smirk on his face as he watched her watching him. He reached out, took the cup from her, took a sip of it himself. Handing it back, he said, “I prefer mine black. But that should assure you that it’s safe to drink.”
“That you would think to reassure me tells me that I should have cause to doubt.”
His laughter was rich and did interesting things to her belly. Another flash washed through her, and she could see the two of them, their lips locked, their tongues stroking and dancing together as their flesh met, as her naked breasts nuzzled against his bare chest. She felt her face heat. Alexis knew she was no prude, but she also knew she’d never given herself to a man she didn’t know well.
Or hadn’t, she supposed, before last night.
“Drink up, darling. We need to vacate this very public beach before the surfing crowds arrive. Plus, I need to check my e-mails. I imagine you need a shower, too. Having sex on a beach tends to leave uncomfortable reminders.”
“We had sex on the beach?”
“I’m crushed you don’t remember.”
Alexis could only stare at him. She didn’t even know his last name! She certainly had no recollections of what had happened after meeting him the night before. When she continued to just stare at him, he shrugged.
“Yes, we had sex on the beach. And in the back of a cab. And on my jet as we soared above the earth.”
“Where the hell are we?”
Alexis knew she looked like a gaping fish, but she didn’t care. She’d just found out she was half a world away from home.
Now all she needed to know was why this man she barely knew had brought her to Lisbon.
He took her to a villa that was beautiful, lavish, perched on a cliff above the ocean. As soon as they’d arrived, one of the villa’s staff had needed to speak with him. She walked straight forward, through the luxuriously appointed sitting room, to the open portico beyond. There, standing on the finest marble, with white Doric columns supporting the roof over the patio that seemed to surround the building, Alexis had the sense that she had somehow stepped out of time. Was she living a modern day wonderland tale? Had she somehow fallen down a rabbit hole and ended up far from home?
“Come, you can freshen up if you like.”
She hadn’t heard Blake approach. She was swamped with a sense of disconnect. As if everything was happening around her and she was outside, looking in.
She followed him up a wide, curving staircase, and down a hall. He paused at a closed door, opened it, and stepped back. Alexis entered, her eyes taking in everything in the enormous room. There, on a padded bench at the foot of the bed, were her suitcases. The bed looked rumpled, as if busy lovers had left it after a night of amorous endeavors. The room had a decidedly masculine look, and she understood it was Blake’s bedroom she was standing in.
“You’ll want to shower?”
He’d come up behind her, his voice deep and intimate. Then he had his hands on the zipper of her dress. In moments the garment was pooled at her feet on the floor. Alexis hadn’t realized until that very moment that she’d been nude beneath the cotton sheath.
He pressed against her as his hands cupped her breasts from behind. Her mind didn’t know what to think about this man, or his advances. But her body seemed to know his touch. Her nipples peaked and moisture gathered between her thighs.
“You haven’t remembered yet, have you?”
The bare whisper tickled her ear, sent shivers down the curve of her back and across her belly.
“No.” She couldn’t remember, and even though she knew she should protest, move away from him, she found herself curiously unable to do so.
“Perhaps, then, as warm water rains down on you, as you feel my soapy hands across your breasts and between your legs, you’ll remember. Perhaps as I slide into you, as I thrust in and out again and again, you’ll remember. Let’s find out, shall we?”
Alexis felt his grip, firm on her arms, as he walked her toward the en suite bath.
The water was soft, hot, igniting a fire of lust along every centimeter of her flesh. She couldn’t recall ever showering with a man before. She knew she’d never experienced such erotic pleasure as having Blake’s hands take possession of her.
Strong and sure, they bathed every part of her. Fingers that were long and questing and knowledgeable stroked between her legs, teased her, slipped inside her. She groaned, aroused and needing more, needing everything. A masculine chuckle in her ear told her satisfaction would not soon be hers.
She seemed to be out of control where Blake was concerned, relinquishing herself to his touch, his mastery. He pressed forward on her back, and she bent over for him. He nudged her legs, and she obliged by opening them wider. When he stroked a finger up and down the crack of her ass, she moaned in pleasure. When he pressed one finger against the tiny rosette of her bottom she whimpered.
She could do nothing but obey, moving back to do his bidding, her entire body shivering with the unprecedented invasion.
“You’ll have me there before this day is over,” he promised, and Alexis knew he spoke only the truth.
She was boneless by the time he rinsed and then dried her. He’d teased her beyond measure, her entire body quivered with the need for release. He carried her to his bed, laid her flat on the crisp white sheet. Understanding flitted through her mind that while they’d showered, someone had been in the bedroom, changing the linens. She didn’t care. All she cared about was this man, what he had made her feel, and what she knew he was about to do to her.
“What do you want, darling?”
“You. I want you.”
His laughter was nearly mocking as he trailed his hand down her body. He pinched her nipples, and she groaned. He petted her pussy and she moaned.
“What do you want me to do? Tell me. Tell me now.”
How could she refuse him? It didn’t matter that she was completely out of control. Only one thing mattered.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Alexis had never felt so exposed in her entire life. Blake knelt on the bed, his body bronzed and bare, and his cock hard and glorious as it pointed to the ceiling. He’d rolled on a sheath, one of those transparent and incredibly thin ones that did nothing to take away from the power of what was to come. He’d lifted her legs, one in each hand, and had spread them wide. He simply knelt there, his gaze riveted on her exposed sex.
“Are you ready for me? I’m going to fuck you, long and hard and deep. You may beg me to stop, but darling, I won’t. Because however much you beg, I’ll know that deep down, you really want me to keep fucking you.”
And then she sighed as he leaned into her, as she felt the heat and the strength and the girth of him begin to penetrate her. Slowly, inch by inch, he slid into her. It was wonderful, hot and rapturous. She lifted her hips to take more, she flexed her inner muscles to squeeze him, keep him seated within her. She felt full and complete, and she wanted it never to end.
He released her legs, scooped his hands under her bottom to bring her closer, then closer still. He thrust his hips, hard and fast as he moved in and out in a relentless rhythm. He nibbled on her neck, tickled her ear with his tongue, and whispered, “Remember.”
Her orgasm erupted, a thrilling, all-consuming explosion of sensations and emotions, stiffening her nipples and curling her toes, and as the waves washed over and through her, she remembered.
“Happy Birthday dear Alexis, Happy Birthday to you!”
“Come on big sister, make a wish and blow out the candles.”
“What do you think she’ll wish for? Something exciting?”
“Exciting? Alexis? Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll likely be something boring and sensible, as always.”
But she was sick of boring and sensible. She wanted wild and wanton. She wanted to dare to go alone to a disco, to meet a tall dark and handsome stranger, a man whose eyes would be hot and whose manner enigmatic. He had to be rich and compelling, a risk taker. She wanted him to fall in love with her on sight, to scoop her up and take her on a wild and thrilling adventure, to someplace exotic, like Portugal. And she wanted him to hold her, take her, and never let her go.
Inhaling deeply, her fingers crossed, Alexis made her wish, then blew out the candles covering her cake.
©2012 Morgan Ashbury. All rights reserved. Site design by Atomec Productions