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Summer at the Sea Ch. 01

By: tmitrue



The train rolled to a stop at the depot; the brakes lurching every car forward as it halted at the platform. Rose braced herself in her seat for the impending stop while her little brother stood to his feet and flew forward three feet, earning him a quick scolding from their mother. 

"Rose, honey, put your hat on," her mother said, as she perfectly positioned a wide-brimmed hat on top of her head of short, dark curls. Instead, Rose opted for the red kerchief she had tucked away in her purse the previous day. 

"Rose..." she sighed as the young woman knotted the red cloth at her chin. It matched the red in her lips and the rosiness in her cheeks perfectly. Her long, dark curls spilled out from underneath, blanketing her shoulders and tumbling down her back. The family may have spent the past day on a train headed for the coast, but she looked as fresh as the flower that was her namesake. 

The patriarch of the family appeared in the doorway of the train car -- Rose's father, Robert, an extremely wealthy man in his 40s who had managed to save his family from the depression that had crippled the country. He was a quiet man, however he was anything but modest when it came to flaunting the wealth of his family. They spent their winters in the city and with the first sign of warm, summery weather they headed to the Atlantic coast where they spent the warm months living like royalty and attending parties until school called them back to a slightly more modest lifestyle. 

This summer would be different though, at least for Rose. She had finished school the previous fall and when the city did not provide any suitable, noteworthy bachelors for her to date, the coast was the next logical step. 

"Rose," her father said, stopping her before she followed her mother and brother out to the train. She turned to him and his face immediately softened into a smile and he kissed her softly on the forehead. "I don't care what your mother thinks in regards to your dress and style."

She smiled. Her mother had been of the opinion that she was unable to find a suitable bachelor because she was too "old fashioned". She didn't wear her hair in a fashionable bob, nor did she care about what she put on in the morning. She made sure to look presentable in the evening and at parties, but as far as she was concerned, there was no reason to make herself look special. 

"Today is a day just like any other," she said with a smile to her father. 

"And someone will love you for that," he said, ushering her through the door and down to the platform. 

**

"Dinner!" someone called from down the stairs. 

"Race you," Rose said, meeting the eye of her ten year old brother as he peeked out from the door of his own room across the hall. She may have been eighteen years old, but most of the time, especially during the summer, she didn't feel like she was. She was still treated like a child by her mother, and her brother did not have very many friends of his own. Many times, she was left to watch him, play with him. Her "adult time" was spent at parties and soirees where she was usually the youngest person in the room. 

She and her brother fought their way into the dining room, the two of them giggling and laughing as if they were both ten years old. 

"Rose!" her mother cried out loudly. Rose looked around the dining table, the smile on her face disappeared and her posture improved instantly. Her mother and father were both already seated, but there were two other people at the table who were complete strangers. Two men, sitting across from one another at the far side of the table smiled weakly in the direction of Rose and her brother. 

"Mr. Anderson, Mr. Dupont," her father said softly. "My daughter, Rose." He paused, allowing Rose to acknowledge the two men. "And my son, Robert."

Rose took her seat next to the younger of the two men. She knew that her parents had the intention of introducing her to eligible men, but the man sitting on the other side of the table seemed far too old for her. She supposed that he was handsome with his blue-green eyes and dark hair, but he had to have been her father's age -- at least. She couldn't find very much to desire in the man sitting next to her though. At least he looked closer to her age, but he was very thin with spindly arms and fingers. His hair was flat and blonde and his eyes lacked any spark. 

"John Anderson," he said to her, catching her sideways glances in his direction. 

"Pleased to meet you," she said quietly, hoping that the slight questioning inflection at the end of the statement didn't arouse suspicion. 

"I will be working with Mr. Anderson and Mr. Dupont while we are out here," her father said, catching onto Rose's thoughts of what the men were doing at their dinner table. 

"Mr. Dupont lives in the estate next door," her mother said as she swirled a spoon around in her bowl of soup. 

"James," the man across the table said quietly. "My name is James." He fully directed the statement towards Rose. She smiled and nodded, trying to place the accent in his voice. It wasn't anything she had heard before. Slightly English, perhaps, but with an unfamiliar twang underneath.

"John here just finished school," her father said proudly. Rose inwardly rolled her eyes. As much as she loved an educated man, she couldn't help but hate every single recent graduate she had come across lately. So pretentious! 

"Mr. Dupont," Rose said defiantly, turning her attention across the table. "May I ask where you are from?" 

"Rose..." her mother hissed quietly. 

"New Orleans," he said proudly. 

"Except James has been practicing in London for the past, how many years has it been?" her father asked.

"Seven," he replied. Immediately, Rose tried to place him in her mind. She tried to figure out if she had seen him in the past, seven years ago...she could barely remember things from three years ago, she was trying hard to remember the summer she turned eleven. 

"Have you always lived next door?" Rose asked. 

"Rose!" her mother exclaimed under her breath while nodding to the man sitting next to her. The man Rose supposed she was supposed to be directing her questions to. 

James laughed softly, "No. This is my first year in the area."

"You'll love it," Rose gushed without thinking twice. James smiled. 

"I'm sure I will."

**

Before the crash, Rose loved going to the parties that seemed to happen nightly during the month of July. Though most of her family's friends, neighbors and colleagues had evaded the worst of the worst, attendance was certainly sparser than it had been when Rose was younger. Friends that she had made as a teenager no longer spent their summers at the sea and she craved the attention of someone -- anyone -- who wasn't her parents or little brother. 

Tonight was no different. Rose wondered how she was supposed to meet eligible bachelors when there weren't any in attendance. She felt that she had made her intentions perfectly clear their first night at the estate. She had no interest in Mr. Anderson or anyone like Mr. Anderson. Spindly men who thought their education was the golden ticket to marriage and had nothing else to offer could dream of young women like her -- she knew she deserved better. Someone more handsome, someone a bit more established in their life and in society. 

She wandered around the party, glass of champagne in one hand and a glittery clutch in the other. Her mother had given her a dress specifically for this party. A sparkling pink, knee-length dress that plunged at the chest and easily swung around her hips with each step she took. It was a perfect dress for the evening, but Rose felt that it was completely wasted. She hadn't had a single conversation the entire time that she had been there. The only words she had spoken were polite pleasantries to the people she passed. She had been at the party for two hours and she had yet to enjoy herself. She was certain her parents had already drunk themselves into a stupor and were likely carousing with friends somewhere by the beach. 

Rose sighed. She would simply head home if she had a way back. Normally at these parties, she would run off somewhere with a friend or two and stow away in an unused room until morning. The year before, she had met a boy -- two years younger than she was -- the two of them locked themselves into a guest bedroom and kissed for half the night. The two of them had fallen asleep sometime around four or five in the morning and with only an hour of sleep, Rose awoke in the first light of morning and found someone downstairs to bring her home. 

There wouldn't be any of that this year. Tiring of the loud jazz music pounding in her head, she quickly retreated to the first floor balcony. A quiet escape and a location where she could let the buzz of champagne wear off.

She climbed on the gothic stone guardrail, sat and let her legs swing over the side. She looked down; not too much of a distance between her feet and the ground -- five or six feet, maybe -- she still didn't want to risk falling. 

"It's not worth jumping," she heard a voice say behind her. She swung her head around to see a tall, dark silhouette standing in the doorway, slowly walking to where she sat. 

"I doubt it would do too much harm," she argued. "A broken wrist, maybe." 

"You have beautiful wrists," the figure said, "it'd be a shame to break one." 

The dark figure sat down next to Rose and in the ambient light from inside, she could see the familiar features of the man who she'd eaten dinner with a week earlier. 

"Mr. Dupont," she said with a smile. "Where did you come from?"

"Where did you come from, Miss Owen?" he asked in return. 

"A faraway city," she replied, "and more recently, the bar." She held up her glass and took a too-long drink of the champagne. 

"I didn't realize you were going to be here," he said, taking her empty glass from her and setting it aside. She narrowed her eyes, studying his features. He had a mischievous, boyish grin and sparkling green-blue eyes. His facial features were damn near perfect -- chiseled jaw and chin -- and he had dazzling white teeth when he actually smiled. 

"Why did you have dinner with us last week?" she asked, quickly changing the subject, she knew. 

"I was discussing some business with Robert, er, your father," he replied. 

"Oh," she said with a slight nod. "Did he...mention me?"

"Not particularly," he replied. "Should he have?"

Rose shook her head and stared ahead into the vast blackness of the night. 

"He mentioned that you had finished school," he continued. "Said that your friends were few and far between these days." She shrugged. "Mentioned Mr. Anderson coming by and that he wanted to introduce the two of you. Thought you might like him." 

"I'm sure," she laughed.

"You didn't?" he asked.

She laughed again, "Hardly."

"He's nice enough," James said, "harmless guy. Extremely smart..."

Rose cut him off, "Have you been sent on his behalf?"

"No," it was James' turn to laugh. 

"Did my mother tell you to come for me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. 

"No," he replied quietly. 

"So you just...were drawn here?" 

He sat quietly for a minute, folded and unfolded his hands in his lap before he finally spoke up. "I saw a beautiful woman in a sparkling pink dress walk out onto this balcony. How was I supposed to know it was you?" 

She couldn't help but blush at the confession and she was happy that the dark of night covered her embarrassment. 

"Beautiful?" she asked shyly.

"You're not like the rest of them," he replied. "You're..."

"Old fashioned?" she finished. "That's what my mom always says."

"Your mother," he chuckled. Her mother, a woman of a slightly more appropriate age for his interests. 

"I can't count the number of times she's told me to cut my hair," she said, rolling her eyes slightly. 

"Why would you ever cut your hair?" he asked, and without thinking he ran his fingers through the curls cascading down her back. Her heart lurched in her chest as the tips of his fingers brushed against the skin between her shoulder blades. 

"I..." she stammered, choking over her words when his hand didn't return to his lap. "That's what I tell her." 

"How old are you?" he asked, his hand hovering over the middle of her back. 

"Eighteen," she replied, trying to gather her thoughts. Her mind had gone completely blank with the simplest touch of his hand. "Just...my birthday...a couple weeks ago." 

He nodded, and twisted a curl around his index finger as he inched closer to her. She smelled like roses and the sea and champagne.

"How old are you?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer -- afraid to face the age difference that separated the two of them. 

"Forty," he replied quietly. Twenty two years separated the two of them. Twenty two. He was old enough to be her father. Her father was also forty. 

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the jazz music playing inside and the soft rolling of waves lapping against the rocky beach. It was Rose who finally broke the silence.

"Can you get me out of here?"

James was surprised by the question, but didn't hesitate in answering, "Of course. Where do you want to go?"

She wanted to go home, but at the same time, she wanted to relive her experience from the previous year. She wanted to sneak away with him and stow away in an unoccupied room and kiss him until the sun came up. 

"Do you live alone?" she asked, surprising herself with the forwardness of the question. 

"Of course," he replied. She swung her legs around to the other side of the balcony and stood up. 

"Let's go then," she said, holding her hand out to James.

**

"Do you want anything?" James asked as he watched Rose practically tiptoe around his office. 

"No," she replied as she gingerly ran her finger along the spine of a book on one of the many bookshelves. 

"You don't mind if I..." he held up a bottle of whisky and she shook her head. "What will you tell your parents?" he asked before taking a drink from a crystal glass of amber liquid. 

She shrugged, "They don't usually ask questions." 

"What if they do?" he stepped around his desk, his eyes devouring every inch of her curves. He wondered how and why she hadn't been snatched up by a wealthy young man closer to her age. She was practically perfect. He wanted her silky, pale skin against his own. He wanted to run his hand along the curve of her hip and trace the insides of her thighs with his fingertips. Her bright red lips made his heart skip and the bright spark hiding in her dark blue eyes stirred him right down to the soul. 

"If they do..." she turned towards him and within seconds, he had expertly placed his drink on a shelf high above her head and had her cornered between his body and the bookcase. His deftness surprised her, took her breath away, and she stood, her shoulders pressed squarely against a shelf while her chest visibly moved up and down with each breath she took. 

"I can lie," she breathed, tilting her face towards him, her eyes glittering as she stared him down. 

He wrapped his arm tightly around her trim waist and pulled her against his own. He stared her in the eyes for a quick second, searching for any nervousness or fear -- something to tell him that he was doing something stupid and crazy -- but if anything she was only egging him on. She practically glowed against the dark wood of the bookcase and the dusty books that sat on them. She grinned -- a small, knowing smile and he kissed her hard. She eagerly returned his kiss, her bottom lip sitting flush against his, her tongue almost immediately slipping past his lips. She felt dizzy, felt like she was losing her footing and clasped a hand firmly against the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His hand trailed from her waist and he found his hands and fingers tangled in her dark, curly hair.

He pulled away, breathless. He wanted to continue -- she wanted to continue -- but something about her made him nervous. She was clearly a woman, capable of making her own decisions and deciding what she wanted. However, at the same time, she was still very much a girl and possibly capable of getting him in a lot of unnecessary trouble. 

Her eyes searched his and when she tried to kiss him again by standing on her tip toes, he pulled away, his fingers barely touched her waist and he tried to ignore the smell of her surrounding him and filling the office. 

Before she could ask him what the problem was or what she had done wrong, he spoke up, "How many...how many have you been with?"

"How many men?" she asked. He nodded. "I've kissed lots of boys." She smiled. "You're by far the best." 

He held his hand up for her to stop and grabbed his glass of whiskey from the bookcase. 

"I didn't mean..." he stumbled over his words and took a drink from his glass. His gaze narrowing in on her breasts -- her perfect, perfect breasts. They stood round, at attention, practically begging for him to reach out and cup them in the palms of his large hands...

"Oh," she said quietly, her mouth forming a perfect little 'o'. "You mean..." he nodded and her cheeks turned bright pink. He knew immediately from the response what the answer to the question was. 

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head and turning his gaze from her -- unable to handle the way she unintentionally teased him and flaunted her beauty. "You shouldn't...not me..."

"Why not?" she asked as she grabbed his hand and pulled her towards him. He set his glass down again and ran the back of his hand gingerly against her cheek and jaw. She smiled and took a tentative step closer to him. 

"Don't worry about me," she said quietly, taking another step forward, nearly stepping on his foot. 

"You could be my daughter," he argued.

"You don't have a daughter," she said, inching upwards on her toes, her nose nearly grazing his jaw. She inhaled sharply, taking in his scent -- a slight hint of cologne mixed with sweat and alcohol. "You are..." she very lightly brushed her full lips against his neck. "All..." the tip of her tongue teased his earlobe. "Alone." She breathed the last word in his ear for full effect and nipped at the tender spot just below his ear. 

He stumbled backward and fell into the chair at his desk. She tumbled on top of him, her legs spilling into his lap. She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him hotly on the mouth. She hardly knew what she was doing -- she'd never done anything beyond kissing a boy. She knew certain things from some of her more adventurous female friends, but she knew nothing firsthand. 

James' hands roamed her hips and her waist at first, but when her kisses become deeper, he found it hard to contain himself. His hands began to roam upwards and it wasn't long at all until he had one of her breasts in his hand. He nearly pulled himself away when her lips stilled against his, but the ever-so-slight shift of her hips towards his egged him on. He slipped his fingers under the silky fabric of her dress and ran his fingertips over her nipples. She gasped immediately at the touch and he buried his head into the crook of her neck. He nipped and licked against the tender skin of her neck and shoulders. She gasped softly after each nip and her hips gyrated against his every time he brushed his fingers against her nipples. 

He had been with plenty of women -- some in his hometown of New Orelans, some in Europe, most recently he had even hooked up with an actress in New York -- none of them compared to Rose. He was growing sleepy with each passing minute, but he didn't want to miss a single moment with her. He could feel his erection pressing him to go further, pressing him to get closer to her. He wanted her with him, he wanted her naked. His hands stilled against her breasts and she gave him a puzzled look. 


Summer at the Sea Ch. 01



"Come on," he said, pushing her off of his lap and standing with her. He kissed her on the forehead -- a gesture that was all too familiar for her. 

"I'm sorry," she said. 

"For what?" he asked. 

"You want me to leave," she replied sadly. He had to laugh. 

"No," he said, kissing her on the lips this time. "I need to do this right if this is what I'm going to do." 

He took her hand and led her up a back staircase into his bedroom. It was smaller than she would have imagined it being. The bed was large, but it was no larger than the size of her bedroom back at her family's estate. 

She stood at the foot of the bed, silently critiquing the work of art that hung over the head of the bed. James approached her from behind and expertly eased the straps of Rose's dress from her shoulders. The dress dropped to the floor and pooled around her feet. Her mind raced. She had planned a night of kissing and now she stood totally exposed with her back to a man twice her age. His strong hands snaked around her waist; his right hand made a path along her stomach to her breasts, his left hand plunged towards her feet, the tips of his fingers just barely underneath the hem of her underwear. 

"James," she choked. His hands stilled, daring not to go any further. She turned in his arms to face him and planted a kiss softly against the cleft in his chin. He searched her face for clues as to what she would say next. Her head dropped slowly, her gaze turning towards her toes and the pool of sparkles and pink that lay on the floor. 

"I'm not ready," she whispered. "I'm sorry."



Summer at the Sea Ch. 02



James sat in Robert's home office, feeling downright awkward. It had been a week since he'd seen Rose at the start-of-summer party and he'd taken her back to his home. Her father had no idea what had happened, but James was certain if he so much as said her name that he would reveal everything. He'd seen his daughter naked, he'd touched her bare skin, he'd kissed her cool, soft...he stopped himself before he could do or say something regretful. 

"James," Robert said. "Did hear what I just said?"

"I'm sorry, Robert," James shook his head, "Come again, please?"

"I asked if you wanted to stay for dinner," Robert repeated himself, "My sister and her husband are here with my niece and one of her friends. I've heard good things about him."

James chuckled, "Why would you care about the friend?" Robert shot him a knowing look which immediately stopped all thoughts going through James' mind. Of course, Rose was still looking for a suitable boyfriend – or more – and he was being given an offer to sit through the awkwardness. To turn down the offer would simply be rude, though. After all, what did he have waiting for him back at home? An empty home, a silent gardener and cook. Frankly, the awkwardness and company seemed like a slightly better bargain. 

"Sure," he said quickly before he was able to retract his response. 

**

"Mr. Dupont," Rose said, startled as she walked into the dining room for dinner. Her eyes grew wide and her cheeks shaded pink – a little more so than they had been before she entered the room. She scanned the rest of the room, her aunt, uncle and cousin were there and a man, roughly her age, sitting across from James. She cursed inwardly, wondering how much more awkward the evening could get. Already, she could practically feel James' eyes on her, savoring every step she took towards the table. She almost wished she could throw a rude gesture over to him or shout obscenities in his direction. She didn't even particularly know why she was angry with him. Perhaps because he hadn't even attempted to contact her over the course of the previous week or perhaps it was because he had brought her home immediately after she had stopped him in the bedroom after the party. 

"Hello," she said, walking right up to the young man at the table. "I'm Rose." She didn't particularly care for introductions – especially formal ones – not tonight, at least. 

"Paul," the man said, holding out his hand. Rose evaded the handshake and plopped down in the chair next to him. 

"So Paul," she shot a glance across the table towards James. "How old are you?"

"Rose," her father lightly scolded. 

"I need to know, don't I?" she asked. "Paul?"

"Twenty six," he replied. She nodded thoughtfully. 

"Do you make a lot of money?" she asked. 

"Rose!" her mother and father scolded, harsher this time. Her aunt dropped a soup spoon and she could have sworn that she heard James chuckle from across the table. 

Paul stammered for a minute, nodding, although a bit unsure of himself and the answer he was supposed to give her. 

"Unimportant, I guess," she shrugged. "If you're here, you must be good enough for me." 

**

Paul twirled Rose around on the dance floor, her short skirt flaring out around her thighs. She tantalized him in a way no other girl or woman ever had. She had promised him absolutely nothing except a dance or two during the Fourth of July party they were attending, but that was all he needed. His skin felt hot against hers and when her fingertips touched the back of his neck, he felt as if his feet left the floor. 

Rose didn't care for him too much. He was nice enough, handsome enough, he was fun, she supposed. He was a good dancer, even though he may have twirled her a little too often and made her a bit dizzy in a way that she didn't particularly like. He spun her back into his arms and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, silently pleading that he wouldn't do it again – at least not right away. His arm wrapped around her waist and he held her close, their chests and hips touching. She allowed herself to rest her chin against his shoulder and she stared off into the distance. She admired the swirling colors of party dresses spread out over the room and she made a mental note to stop drinking the champagne. She slowly blinked, allowing her eyes to rest at a close for a few moments as they turned. When she opened her eyes, she nearly jumped backward, out of Paul's arms. She hoped he didn't feel the sharp twitch in her thigh and she pulled away from her dance partner just as the music slowed to a stop. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, searching her eyes, hoping he hadn't offended her somehow. 

She smiled sweetly, a smile that made him and every other warm-blooded man in the room weak in the knees. "Nothing, nothing." But she wasn't telling the truth. If she had told the truth, she would have admitted that she'd seen James standing in a dark doorway, crystal glass in his hand, staring at her as she and Paul danced. It hadn't been a frightening or malicious stare, it was a look that she'd seen in the weeks before, in his office. The way he consumed her with his eyes – now she felt weak in the knees. 

"One more dance then?" Paul asked with a smile, not waiting for a response before wrapping an arm around her waist. 

"May I?" a deep, familiar voice asked from behind Rose. She turned and felt dizzy as she stared up into James' eyes. 

"Yes," she breathed, not waiting for a response from Paul. She twisted herself away from his arm and took James' hand in hers. 

"What do you think?" James asked, nodding towards Paul as he made his way towards the bar on the other side of the room. She felt her mind blank for a moment as his fingers danced up her spine and a finger teased the lower layers of her hair. 

She cocked her head in response and clasped her hand over his shoulder. She stood on her toes and brought her lips so close to his ear that he wondered if her tongue would flick across his earlobe. 

"I can't get you off my mind," she whispered. She tilted her head very slightly, allowing a stray curl to brush against his jaw. He grasped his fingers around the red silk of her dress and drove his palm into her hips, pulling her into his own. She quickly scanned the room – her parents were no where to be seen, nor were any other members of her family. Very slightly, she brushed her cheek against his and pulled away, staring into his eyes as if she was daring him to do something crazy. 

"What do you want?" he whispered. She scanned the room once more, making sure no one's eyes were on them. She had been working up courage for two weeks and now that she was in his arms again, she felt like she was losing control.

Very slightly, not to arouse any suspicion, she made a circular motion with her hips into his. She could already feel his arousal through the thin fabric of her dress. She wanted to make him want her. She wanted to make him regret not letting her spend the night with him. She wanted to make sure he knew that she was ready for him. 

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and took a step away from her, loosening his grip around her waist. For a fleeting second, Rose thought that she had lost her chance, but when her eyes met his, she saw the same fire she had seen when they kissed. He was all hers. 

"Come with me," he said quickly. He took her hand and broke into a quick walk, quickly crossing the room with Rose in tow. 

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly. 

"Upstairs," he replied. "I know this place well."

"How?" she asked as the two of them rounded the staircase and started to ascend. 

"Old friends," he replied quickly. 

They rounded a second set of stairs and quickly ducked into a large bedroom with a large window overlooking the sea. 

"Will anyone come up here?" she asked nervously, closing the door behind them. 

"I can't imagine," he replied, quickly stepping back to the door and turning the lock. She smiled and threw her arms around his neck. 

"Thank you," she whispered, planting a firm kiss against his chin. 

"For what?" he asked, brushing hair from her face, tucking her curly locks behind an ear. 

"Whisking me away from there," she replied, she planted another kiss at the corner of his mouth, leaving a very slight, red lip print there.

"Do you dislike Paul?" he asked, kissing her temple. 

"He's fine, a perfectly nice man," she replied, tickling the back of his neck. "He's just..." she kissed him softly on the lips. "Not you." 

He was flattered – more than flattered, actually – he wouldn't have dreamed of making such an impression on such a sweet, young girl. He kissed her again with a little more force and when he pulled away, he slowly dropped down to his knees, his hands trailing behind making invisible paths in the red silk of her dress. 

"What are you..." Rose began, about to drop to the floor herself, but James stopped her before her knees even bent. He buried his face against the silk at her hips and inhaled deeply, memorizing her scent. He wondered if she smelled of roses on purpose or if it was just – ironically – her natural scent. She smelled so earthy, so perfect, if he hadn't already considered himself utterly doomed beforehand, he certainly did now. 

He placed his large hands on either side of her hips, his fingers and palms stretching all the way to her back, covering the expanse. He kneaded the skin, muscle and bone in his hands and sighed loudly against her abdomen. She smiled and allowed her hands to tangle in his dark hair.

Slowly, he began to gather the silk of the dress in his hands, inching her skirt up slowly and savoring every new glance of bare, snowy white skin that lay beneath. He stopped inches away from the top of her thighs. He could feel her pulse racing through his fingertips and took note of her shallow, excited breaths – her stomach quickly rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. 

"Nervous?" he asked, looking up at her. She looked back down, her lower lip trapped underneath her teeth, her chin trembling slightly and bravely nodded. 

He nodded, "I'll stop if you tell me to stop." He wanted to believe himself, but he wasn't sure if it was a promise he could actually keep. 

She nodded again and felt her legs tremble as one of his hands dropped down the side of her leg. His long fingers curled around the back of her thigh effortlessly. He traced a path down to her knee where he kissed the soft skin just above her kneecap. He trailed his hand up – just slightly – and kissed the inside of her thigh. Slowly, his hand trailed to the very top of her thigh, the tips of his fingers only millimeters away from the soft hair covering her most intimate and unexplored regions and he stopped. He turned his gaze upwards again and smiled slightly. Her eyes were closed, her breath was quick, her mouth was very slightly opened. For a brief second he wished he wasn't on his knees so he could kiss her again. His finger twitched, barely touching the outer folds of her labia and he smiled again. 

She opened her eyes and looked down to the man kneeling at her feet and breathed, "You're teasing me." 

"No," he whispered as he dragged his index finger backwards along the soft, damp slit between her legs. 

"You are too," she gasped, his finger pausing at her entrance as he squeezed the soft roundness of her ass in the rest of his hand. 

"Perhaps a little," he said softly. He allowed his index finger to move back and forth again. "But that's only because I don't know what you want."

"I don't know either," she gasped as he flicked the tip of his finger against her clit. 

"I think you liked that." She nodded. "What else do you like?" 

He pushed soft hair and skin aside and inched his face closer towards her warm center. He took a deep breath, savoring her scent again and without warning flicked the tip of his tongue over her clit – teasing himself with her taste as much as he was teasing her. 

"Ahhh!" she gasped, her hips bucking very slightly. 

"More of that?" he grinned. She nodded again and he pressed his tongue against her, delighting in the salty sweetness that assaulted his taste buds and her body's reaction to the touch. Her hips swiveled above him, which he quickly stilled with a firm hand against her back. He licked her again, longer and slower this time. This time, she moaned softly and wavered slightly. 

He pulled his lips away and pushed her down into the soft bed behind them. At first she lay flat on her back, but curiosity got the best of her and she pushed herself into a seated position. 

"What do you want?" he asked, resting his chin on the top of her thigh. She shrugged again and he shook his head. "Not a proper answer." He flicked his tongue against her clit and she gasped. 

"More," she breathed. 

"More of that?" he teased. He flicked his tongue again and raked his fingers across the tops of her thighs. "Has anyone touched you before?"

She shook her head, "Never." 

"Closer your eyes." 

She closed her eyes and dared to peek when she felt his hands leave her legs. His tongue quickly darted into her folds immediately after and he dragged it around in circles, moving effortlessly around the tiny little nub until her hands were a tangled mess in his hair and her nails were digging into the back of his head. 

Daring himself to go further, with his finger he mopped up some of his saliva and the wetness that was flowing free from her and effortlessly sought out her entrance. Without any warning, except a slight pause of his tongue, he thrust his finger inside her. She gasped and jumped all at once, but did not urge him to stop or move away from his hand. Instead, she welcomed the somewhat unexpected invasion and urged James on. 

Rose writhed back and forth, her hips swaying across the top of the bed as she guided James' hands and tongues to just the right places – places, quite frankly, she hadn't even known existed until just this moment. His finger insistently pushed inside of her, deeper and deeper until she cried out a little. He'd withdraw slightly and force his way back inside. 

She was wet, James couldn't believe it. He knew how to please a woman and he would be the first to freely admit such a thing, but this...he couldn't figure out if it was because it was her first time or if it was because she was with him or maybe he had just become accustomed to wooing women who were already well-experienced. Whatever it was, she was turning him on more than he could handle. He wanted to be rough with her. He wanted to hold her down, throw all of his weight onto her legs to keep her from moving, he wanted to completely have his way with her. His chivalrous nature got in the way, though. As much as he wanted to completely fuck her senseless – whether it be with his fingers or his cock – he couldn't bring himself to do it. 

He slowly eased a second finger into her pussy and he sucked hard on her clit. The loud cry that escaped her lips followed by the quivering around his fingers told him that he had gone too far. He let up on his intensity and allowed her to ride out her orgasm gently. He didn't remove his fingers from her until her shaking had stopped. 

"I'm sorry," she finally breathed, her breath not completely having returned to normal. 

"For what?" he asked, pulling the skirt over her hips for the sake of her modesty. 

"I don't...I've never..." she replied, sitting up on her elbows. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. He placed his chin between her breasts and stared up into her face. 

"Totally normal," he said. 

"And the cry..." she said, quickly covering her mouth. 

"Totally normal," he repeated.

"You don't think..." she said nervously, her eyes quickly scanning over to the door of the room. She lowered her voice to a whisper, "What if someone heard?" Her cheeks turned bright red.

"I'm sure you're the last person anyone is expecting it to come from," he said with a mischievous smile. She nodded, only slightly reassured. He kissed her softly on the lips and she instinctively ran her tongue along her bottom lip. 

"Do you like the way you taste?" he said, suggestively raising his eyebrow. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip again and nodded thoughtfully. Daringly, he brought his fingers to her lips and she smiled. She happily took his fingers into her mouth and greedily wrapped her tongue around his fingertips, savoring the taste of her own arousal. 

He moaned, imagining what her lips and tongue could do to his cock. But before he had any chance to translate his thoughts into actions there was a sudden knock at the door of the bedroom.

Rose squeaked and covered her mouth, her eyes panicked. James sprang to his feet and quickly scanned the room. 

"Oh my god!" Rose hissed frantically. 

"Don't worry," he whispered. He quickly sprinted to the closet and threw open the doors. "In here." 

"Me??" she whispered. 

"You have more to lose than I do," he whispered back. "Go!" 

"But..." she stammered. 

"Go!" he insisted, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her towards the doors. The closet was virtually empty with the exception of a few beach items and summery dresses. She ducked between a couple of dresses and sat on the floor with a bit of resignation. 

"I'll be back for you," he said quietly. With that, he closed the doors, leaving Rose in the dark. She could only hear muffled bits of the conversation going on at the door of the bedroom because the closet doors were so thick and heavy. She leaned her head against the wall, her heart pounded loudly and she still felt lightheaded from her release. She closed her eyes and wrapped a nearby towel around her shoulders and slowly drifted off to sleep. 

**

She woke up wrapped in a towel, her hair a complete mess and faint, orange-yellow light casting lines over her face. She slowly sat up, gathering her bearings and threw open the closet doors. 

"James?" she called softly, cautiously scanning the room. There was no one to be seen and the sun was rising over the ocean outside. 

Rose pulled herself up and made her way out of the room, down the hall, down the stairs and outside. There were only a few cars to be seen, none of them belonged to James. She spotted a car starting up not too far down the driveway and ran to it before the driver took off. 

"Excuse me!" she called towards the open window before the driver could step on the gas. She stopped cold in her tracks when Paul stuck his head out from the driver's window. 

"Rose?" he balked in surprise. "I thought you went home at ten o'clock last night!"

She blushed slightly and shook her head, looking down at her bare feet – she couldn't even remember where she'd thrown her shoes. 

"Come on," he said, waving her towards the car. "I'll get you home."



Summer at the Sea Ch. 03



Rose stared out at the sea stretching for miles in front of her. She closed her eyes as the warm, summer breeze wafted through her hair. 

"Lemonade," a voice said from behind her. She opened her eyes and happily took the tall glass of lemonade from Paul. 

"Thank you," she said graciously as he sank into a seated position next to her on the small pier. 

"You're beautiful," he said softly, "have I told you that already?"

"Several times," she replied. "Thank you." She set her lemonade down and wrapped her red kerchief around her head, securing her hair from the Atlantic breeze. She then pulled off her shoes and set them next to her on the dock and let her feet dangle over the edge, precariously close to the lapping water. 

"I have some bad news," Paul said suddenly, his voice lowering.

"Oh?" Rose asked, turning her attention fully towards him. She wasn't crazy about receiving bad news lately -- not that there had been a lot of it thrown at her. However, it had been nearly a week since the party and she hadn't seen or heard a single thing from James. Her feelings were conflicted -- she didn't know whether she should feel angry, sad or relieved. Mostly, she was angry and hurt. He had promised her the night of the Fourth that he would come back for her, but he had let her fall asleep in a closet -- a closet! -- and like a puff of smoke, he was gone from her life once again. Paul helped her avoid an embarrassing situation at home and in front of family friends, she felt like she owed him something. Although her lips remained sealed as to the reason she had been leaving the party alone at six in the morning on the fifth of July, he hadn't pressed her for any details and assumed the best. The past couple of days she was actually starting to grow fond of him and with no persistence at all, she had agreed to let him take her into town for a date. 

"I have to go back to the city for a week or so," he said. "I'll be cooped up there for a while." He delivered the news as if he was leaving the country. 

Rose smiled, relieved, "That's not bad news." 

"I don't want to miss a second with you," he said, taking her hand into his. She smiled weakly. He was so sweet, but he was missing something that she couldn't even begin to put her finger on. He simply didn't make her feel the same way that James did when she was with him and she desperately wished that he did. 

"A week is hardly a long time," she said.

"But you're so beautiful and you go to so many parties," he worried, "if I'm not around, who knows who might snatch you up?" 

She smiled earnestly this time, knowing that there was only one other man who he could possibly be worried about -- a man who arrived at the most inopportune times and disappeared as mysteriously as he had come. 

"I'll fend them off," she whispered. She leaned in close to Paul and kissed him softly on the cheek. She lingered for a moment, hoping he would aggressively turn his lips towards hers and kiss her for real, but he remained still. 

"You aren't like most girls," he said thoughtfully after she had pulled away. 

"My curse to bear," she muttered under her breath. She turned her gaze to the horizon once again and the two of them sat silently for a few moments. She sighed, feeling frustrated by Paul's lack of forwardness, and decided to make her move. Slowly, she moved her hand across the dock and gently rest her hand against his thigh. She could feel his eyes on her before she even glanced over in his direction. Slowly, she moved her hand further up his leg until her hand was nearly grazing the crease his pants made from sitting. 

"Rose," he said, slowly and in a hushed voice. She turned to him quickly, a devilish smile on her face and she pressed her finger against his lips. 

"Go with it," she said as she leaned in and kissed him aggressively, the way she wished he would kiss her. She could tell he was startled by her actions and he was nothing like James when it came to kissing -- he reminded her of all the boys she had kissed in the past, inexperienced and uncertain. 

"There might be..." he managed to say before Rose nibbled at his bottom lip, quieting him, "...people!"

She pulled away, she wanted to kiss him again, but the frantic look in his eyes told her not to. She sighed with resignation and turned back towards the ocean. 

**

Rose furrowed her brow before opening her eyes. Something or someone was blocking the sun and she did not appreciate it. Thinking it was her little brother, Robert, she swung her hand in the direction of the shadow and was startled into opening her eyes when her arm hit a strong, muscular body instead of her little brother's small and twiggy frame. 

"Long time no see," James said, smiling as he took a seat next to Rose. 

Her eyes grew wide and she bit her tongue before she had the chance to curse at him. Instead she asked, "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry about the Fourth of July," he said in a hushed voice, carefully eyeing the gardener not too far away. "I was pulled away by my friend's wife and they closed off the top floor where you were in the bedroom and I had to leave for the city first thing the next morning..."

"Did you forget about me?" Rose balked. 

"No!" James exclaimed. "I thought about you all night, but I couldn't get back up to the bedroom and..."

"I slept in that closet all night!" she hissed. "I waited for you and I had to catch a ride home with Paul! Which wasn't awkward at all..."

"That boy you were dancing with?" he asked, and Rose could have sworn that she caught a tone of jealousy in his voice. 

"Yes, the boy that I was dancing with who doesn't forget me in a closet and who doesn't disappear for a week!" 

"I'm sorry!" he persisted. "I was just..."

"You couldn't send me a note? Nothing?" she stood up, angrily and grabbed her towel from the chair she'd been reclined in. 

"Rose," he said, "hear me out." 

"No," she said quickly. Then without thinking, "I'm with Paul. I've chosen Paul. You can go back to your small estate and be lonely now. I'm through with this." And with that, she ran back up to her family's house and retreated to her bedroom. 

**

There was a quiet knock on James' door, so quiet that he wouldn't have even heard it had he not been sitting in the next room reading. He went to open the door and was more than a little surprised when he opened the door to see a wet Rose standing on his doorstep. He looked around, briefly wondered when it had started raining and quickly pulled Rose inside. 

"Sorry," she muttered, "can I get a towel?"

"When did it start raining?" he asked, turning for the bathroom off his living room. 

"Just after I left," she replied. 

He quickly returned to the foyer, towel in hand and gave it to Rose. She thanked him and began rubbing down her arms and clothes. James took in the sight of her standing there. Her hair was a mess, her wet curls giving her the appearance that someone had just thrown a bucket of water in her face. Her fingers were red from the cold of the rain and her flowered sundress hung limp around her legs. 

"You need to change," he said without thinking twice. A small pool of water was forming around her feet and she looked up at him with the saddest look he could remember ever seeing. 

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her lower lip trembling, a precursor to the tears that would follow seconds later. 

James quickly closed the gap between the two of them and enveloped Rose in his arms. She cried silently against his chest but refused to wrap her arms around him. 

"It's my fault," he said quietly, running his hand through her wet hair. "I know I should have come to get you, I know I should have spoken to you before this morning..." He pushed on her shoulders to get a good look at her. He smiled weakly and she returned the same, weak smile. He kissed her once on the forehead, then the tip of her nose and finally he softly pressed his lips against hers. 

"I don't want to love you," she said meekly. 

He smiled, "That would certainly make things easier, wouldn't it?" She bit her lip and nodded. "Come on, you'll get sick if you leave that wet dress on." 

He led her upstairs to his room and immediately went to his drawers to procure something for her to wear in place of the dress she'd come in. 

"I don't want to be a bother," she said, still standing in the open doorway.

"You're no bother," he said as he pulled a pair of pajama bottoms from the top drawer. 

"I really just came to say that I was sorry," she insisted, even though she was already slipping herself out of her wet shoes. 

"At least stay to warm up," he said as he rooted deeper in the drawer. "You must be hungry, too, have you eaten?"

She shook her head 'no', even though he wasn't looking in her direction, "My mother went out. Father went to the city for a couple of days. Robert and I were on our own."

"So what is Robert doing?" he asked, briefly wondering how their conversation had quickly turned so mundane. 

"He's at a friend's," she replied. "I guess." 

James pulled a cotton shirt from another drawer and folded it on top of the pajama pants. 

"Come in," he said, beckoning Rose into the room. She met him in the middle of the room and took the dry clothes from him and quickly averted her gaze from him. "What will happen when your mother arrives home and you're not there?"

Rose shrugged, "She'll assume I'm out." She met his gaze again, "Which I am." 

He nodded and turned his attention to her hair again. It was drying somewhat, making her appear even more disheveled -- not that it bothered him. 

"Do you want a bath?" he asked, nodding to his adjoined bathroom. 

"I..." she stammered at first. "Sure." 

**

There was a knock on the door and she wasn't sure why it startled her so much, but it did. She skillfully maneuvered bubbles around her breasts and sunk into the bath water before giving him the go-ahead to come in. 

"Are you enjoying yourself?" James asked coyly, sticking his head in through the door. Rose smiled and nodded. He could deny it all he wanted when he pictured her as a sexual creature, but looking at her smiling in the bathtub, he couldn't deny how young she really was. She had been in the bath for a long time, her skin was glowing and her face was framed in bubbles from the bath. He took a step into the bathroom and studied his own reflection in the mirror. He was an attractive man for forty, but he couldn't ignore the tired look in his eyes or the crows feet that framed them and every morning he woke up, he swore that he spotted a new silvery hair on the top of his head. 

Rose shifted and folded her arms over the edge of the bathtub, resting her chin against the cool porcelain that encircled her. She admired his appearance just as much as he had admired hers. Though his back was to her, she could see the definition of his muscled shoulders and buttocks through his clothing. He moved just so and she caught a glimpse of his visage in the mirror. She admired his square jaw and the stubbled shadow that spread from cheek to cheek. She caught his eyes with her own and felt a warm jolt run through her entire body. 

"It's not polite to stare," he teased, his back still facing towards her. 

"I could say the same to you," she shot back at him. She retreated to her previous, reclined position in the tub and as she did so, he caught a glimpse of her breasts. He quickly wondered if he had enough self control to keep her from noticing his erection. 

"The water's still warm," she said, swirling her hands around on the surface. If she was making any attempt to hide her nudity, she was failing miserably now. 

"No one likes a cold bath," he argued. 

"Do you..." she cocked her head slightly. "You care to join me?" 

He practically felt the color drain from his face. He nodded dumbly before saying, "Are you sure?"

This time she nodded and gestured him over to the tub with the curling of her finger. 

"I..." he stuttered. "Yes." 

"Come on," she nodded him over and he stumbled over to the tub as if he was attached to an invisible rope attached to her finger. 

He slipped out of his socks first and hung them over a nearby rack. Next, he unbuckled his belt and discarded it on the floor. Rose smiled and pulled herself into a standing position and grabbed his hand. His head quickly turned to her and this time he felt himself blush. He tried not to stare at her body, but he couldn't help himself. Her breasts were perfect, round and her nipples were dark pink and erect from the cool air in the room. He traced the curve of her waist and hips with his eyes and quickly scanned over the dark triangle of hair between her legs. 

"Rose Owen..." he breathed, "you are...you're going to destroy me." She balanced herself on his shoulders and placed a firm but chaste kiss on his lips before her fingers nimbly moved to his shirt. She quickly undid each of the buttons on his shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders. He shimmied his way out of it and kicked it aside across the bathroom floor. She smiled and traced her finger down the sparse line of hair on his chest, down to his navel and stopped at the button on his pants. She grinned, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to expect. She met his gaze and he gently pushed down on her shoulders, signaling her to get back into the warm water of the tub. Somewhat reluctantly, she lowered herself down into the water and he turned his back to her. 

He didn't know why he felt somewhat embarrassed. He had done this so many times in the past, so many different women. He deftly undid his pants and slid them down his legs and kicked them aside with his shirt. He swore he heard Rose giggle, very slightly, from behind him. He wasn't sure what the reason was, but he inwardly thanked the gesture because it allowed his erection to subside slightly. 

"Move forward a bit," he directed. He looked over his shoulder and she eagerly moved forward in the tub, giving him room to join her. He turned and slowly, carefully, he lowered himself into the warm water behind her. 

She laughed softly once more and once he was fully in the bathtub with her, she closed in on the space between the two of them. She slipped between his legs and reclined against his chest. She felt his arousal firm against her tailbone, but thought nothing of it as his arms enveloped her and he rest his hands against her stomach. 

"When was the last time you were in the bath with a man?" he teased. She tilted her head back to his shoulder and rest there for a moment before turning her face to his neck.

"Never," she whispered, her lips brushing up against his neck with each syllable. He turned his head slightly, as much as he could with her head on his shoulder and brushed his lips against her eyelids, an ear, her cheek and the corner of her mouth. He slid his hand up over her stomach, cupped her breast gently and curled his fingers around her silky, wet hair. 

She kissed and gently nibbled at his neck, his collarbone, his ear. With each little gesture, she felt his cock respond against her back. If she bit his neck a little too hard he inhaled or exhaled sharply and when she flicked her tongue against his earlobe, she swore she heard him groan a little. 

"Why do you love me?" he asked softly. She sat forward, turned her head over her shoulder and gave him a puzzled look. 

"Who said anything about love?" she asked. 

"You did," he replied. "Earlier."

She smiled and turned in the water. Her hips and legs bobbed to the surface and she pulled herself chest-to-chest with James and kissed him on the lips, teased him a little with the tip of her tongue and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. 

"I don't know," she said quietly. "You're experienced." 

"I'm sure there are plenty more experienced men out in the world," he said with a smile. 

"You're devastatingly handsome," she said, tracing her finger along his jaw. 

"Again," he said, "many men fit that description." 

"You make me feel..." she stopped and thought for a moment. "Indescribable." 

"Even though I can be a total jackass," he said. 

"Especially because you can be a total jackass," she said. "And although it fits in with everything I've just said, you're an incredible lover."

"We haven't even made love," he said. 

"No..." she said thoughtfully. "But I imagine you will be." At this, she kissed him again, but instead of wrapping her hands around his neck and lacing her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, she reached down between the two of them and gingerly wrapped her fingers around his cock. Her teeth biting into his lips, he groaned earnestly this time. It startled Rose and she removed her hand and pulled away from the kiss. 

"No, no," he sighed, pulling her into him again. "It was good." She tentatively put her hand against the top of his thigh. "It was good." 

Slowly, but surely, she wrapped her hand around his cock again and nervously tightened her grip. He furrowed his brow and bit his bottom lip. It was such a small gesture, anyone else and he would have been demanding more, but for her, he was willing to go as slow as she needed. 

She giggled nervously and unwrapped her hand again, "I'm sorry. I don't...what do I do?" 

He sighed and cupped her hand in his own and wrapped her hand around him once more, "Don't be afraid of it." She smiled and tightened her grip a little, he tightened his own grip around her hand, forcing her to squeeze a little harder. "Now move your hand up and down." He guided her hand with his own until she was making quick, fluid motions on her own. He pulled his hand away and let her work alone. He leaned back against the porcelain and savored every sensation of her hand. He held her breasts against his hands and when she made a move that he especially loved, he gently pinched at her nipples. She twisted and writhed against his legs with each touch. If he pinched hard enough, her hips bucked towards his and she moaned softly as her pelvis brushed against his. 

It was extremely rare that he was able to get off from the touch of a hand alone. It had happened in the past, but it was normally reserved to occasions where he rubbed one out himself or was with an exceptionally skilled masseuse. In hardly any time at all though, he started to feel the familiar tightness in the pit of his stomach and he knew that it wouldn't be long. He wondered if he should stop her, save his release for her mouth, or better yet, her pussy. Before he could take the thought any further though, his climax surged through his entire body and he came without any effort at all with a loud, guttural moan. 

Rose stopped immediately and the space between them widened. 

"I'm...I'm sorry," she said quickly. 

He laughed without thinking twice and shook his head, "No, no, don't be." 

"I..." she stopped. "Is that supposed to happen?" 

He splashed some water over his face and nodded, "Absolutely."



Summer at the Sea Ch. 04



"...Rose here is spending so much time out of the house this summer I'm left to wonder what she's up to half the time." 

Rose snapped out of her daydream and turned her attention to her mother and the other three ladies sitting around the patio table. 

"What?" Rose asked innocently as she looked to each of the faces turned towards her. 

"Well, what are you doing?" one of the larger women asked as she took another cookie from the tray in the middle of the table. 

Rose narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment. Obviously, she couldn't tell the truth, but she didn't want to tell a lie that would sneak back up on her either. 

"I go to town," she said cooly, "I met a boy."

"In town?" another woman asked speculatively. 

"No, no, no," her mother said with a smile. "She's become acquainted with Paul Rhodes." 

There was a collective "ooh" from the rest of the women sitting at the table and her mother nodded proudly. Rose shrugged and turned her attention back to the house in the distance on the next point over – James' estate. 

"I tried to interest him in my daughter, Rebecca, but he had no interest," the larger woman said. 

"That's because Rebecca is a zit-faced fourteen year old," Rose said without thinking twice. Every woman at the table, including her mother, gasped and Rose's attention snapped back to the table. 

"Oh," she covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers. "I'm sorry." She shook her head and began to stand. "I'll excuse myself now." She didn't wait for any objections before walking away from the table and removing the hat her mother made her wear outside. She carelessly threw the hat over the side of the patio and retreated inside. Tea parties. She'd grown tired of those at the age of seven. 

**

"Where have you been?" James asked, pulling Rose into his arms. "I thought you were coming an hour ago."

She pressed her lips insistently against his and slipped her tongue against his lips before pulling away to answer his question.

"Tea party," she said breathlessly, having ridden her bike as fast as she could from her home to get to him. 

"I thought you bailed on me," he said, kissing her twice. She ran her hand along his cheek and smiled sadly. "What? What is that look?"

"I do have to bail on you," she said sadly. 

"Why for?"

"Paul."

"Paul?"

"He's returning later this afternoon and he wants to see me and take me out," she explained.

"Let me come with," he insisted. 

Rose laughed, "Are you serious? You want to chaperone? My parents don't even do that."

"I don't want to," he said, "but I will. To be with you." 

She quickly shook her head, "No. Please, no! He's young and insecure." 

"All the more reason to come along." 

"How so?" she laughed again. "To make him more nervous? To make him jealous? To do something we both will regret? No."

"Then come see me again tonight," he begged, "afterwards." 

"We'll see," she said. "I don't know how late we'll be out." James opened his mouth to speak, but Rose quickly pressed her hand against his lips. "Don't say anything. If I come, I come." 

**

"Did you get into trouble while I was gone?" Paul teased as he opened the door of his automobile for Rose. 

She smiled, "Come on. What kind of trouble could I get myself into?" 

He shot her a sideways glance and she giggled – they both knew perfectly well what sort of trouble a daring girl like herself could get into. 

"I sat around waiting for you, of course," she lied. "Oh Paul, when will Paul return?"

"I'm sure."

She leaned across the expanse of the front seat and pressed the palm of her hand into his thigh. He was warm and his legs were lean and muscular. Suddenly, surprising herself, she wanted to kiss him. 

"Don't take me home just yet," she said. 

"But it's already ten o'clock," he argued. 

"Let's go to the beach." 

Paul pulled along an empty stretch of road and before he'd even turned off the engine, Rose had jumped out of the vehicle and was running through the sand towards the water's edge. 

"I want to go swimming!" she cried towards the sea. 

"It's dark!" he argued from the road. 

"Come on!" she called back to him. He looked left and right down the road – there was no traffic and he was nearly certain there would be no traffic. He shrugged, throwing his judgement aside and followed her to the water's edge. 

"I don't think it's safe," he said, taking her hand in his. 

"Don't you ever take any risks?" she asked, inwardly asking herself why she bothered to take so many. 

"Of course," he replied, though he knew that he hardly took any. Asking Rose out was the biggest personal risk that he'd taken in months. 

"Throw your logic aside," she said, leaning in close to him. She ran a hand through his wavy hair and stared into his eyes. For a moment, she completely forgot about James and the fact that he'd wanted to be with her for the evening. 

He shook his head as if he was clearing his mind and without warning, he tightly wrapped his arms around Rose and kissed her fiercely on the lips. Had he not had his arms around her waist, she would have jumped backwards in surprise. Her lips were still, initially, but within seconds, she welcomed his kiss and returned it with fervor. His kiss was so different in comparison to the kisses that they'd shared the previous week – he was passionate, insistent and suddenly, in no time at all, he had made her completely weak in the knees. 

"Wow," she breathed, searching his eyes with her own when he pulled away. 

"That's much more enjoyable," he thought out loud, his hands still hovering at her waist. 

"Absolutely," she said under her breath. She tore her gaze away from his and looked out to the ocean. "Come on." She pulled away from his grasp and took a few steps into the surf. 

"Rose..." he said, the worry in his voice coming back.

"Come on," she said, taking another step into the water. 

"You're going to catch a cold," he reasoned. "Your clothes are going to get wet." 

"Well," she said with a devilish smile on her face. "There's an easy way to avoid that." Her fingers blindly searched for the buttons on her dress and effortlessly, one-by-one, she undid each closure and in the blink of an eye, she lifted the dress over her head and tossed it to Paul's feet. 

He stood stunned on the shore, staring at Rose standing in the thigh-deep surf in nothing but her undergarments. He blinked twice and after she flashed him a dazzling white smile, she dove under the water. 

"Rose!" he yelled. "Rose!" 

She surfaced immediately and yelped from the cold and laughed out loud on account of the risk she'd just taken. 

"Come on," he said. "Come out."

"No!" she retorted. "You come in!"

"I'm not crazy," he said. "Come on! Come out! I don't want anything to happen to you." 

"What's going to happen?" she argued. "Minnows are going to nibble me to death?" She kicked the surface of the water in Paul's direction, the splash falling short of his toes. 

"No, but..." 

"Come on!" she cut him off. "How many times are you invited to join in a nighttime swim in the ocean?"

"Never," he replied, "but I think that's because it's generally a bad idea." 

She sighed and trudged out of the water, "Where's your sense of adventure?"

His gaze abandoned her face for a moment and he caught a quick glimpse of her nipples through her thin, white bra. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and held his hand out to her. 

"Come on," he said. "I'll take you home." 

**

"He's very kind," Rose argued.

"He's going to ask you to marry him," James countered. 

Rose rolled over onto her stomach and propped her chin on top of James' bare chest. "He's not brave enough."

"Brave enough for what? To ask you? Or to actually follow through?" He laced his fingers through her hair and trailed his fingers down her back, following the pattern of roses in the thin cotton. 

"He can't handle me," she whispered, softly blowing against the smattering of hair over his chest. 

"I don't think anyone can," he teased. He dipped the tips of his fingers underneath the elastic of her panties and quickly withdrew his hand and traced another line up her back. 

"You can," she said. "Why don't you beat him to the punch?"

James laughed out loud and shook his head, "Right."

"What?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "You could."

"Sure, I can see it now," he said. "'Mr. Owen, I would like to request your daughter's hand in marriage...what's that? Oh yes, I do realize that I am your associate and your age...'."

"What's so crazy about that?" Rose insisted. "The only reason this is so unrealistic for you is because you have your mind so set against it."

"I don't..." he sighed, "What would I offer you?"

"Everything," she replied. Her eyes met his and she nodded firmly. "Everything." 

They lay in stilled silence for a moment before James spoke up again. 

"I was married once," he said. 

"You were not," she argued. He had never mentioned a wife before this moment. 

He nodded, "Ten years ago. She was sixteen. She left me two years after we were married. She fell in love with someone her own age."

"Is that what you're worried about?" she asked. "That I'll leave for someone my age?"

He nodded thoughtfully in response. 

"We can't control our feelings, James," she said before kissing him softly in the corner of his mouth. "I want everything that you have to offer..."

"You're already running around with someone else," he finally confessed, "what am I supposed to think?"

"I'm not 'running around' with anyone," she said, "and if I am, I'm 'running around' on Paul." He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed her hand against his lips before he could say another word. "No one knows what I'm doing with you. Not my parents, not Paul, not even the few friends that are around this summer. No one. Everyone knows about Paul. My parents, you, my parents friends."

"What do you tell them each night you sneak out to see me?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. 

"They don't know," she muttered under her breath. 

"What?"

"No one knows!" she cried loudly. "I sneak out! I sneak out, just so I can spend another night next to you. And what do you do? You ask me questions about Paul, you kiss me and treat me like a little girl." She stared hard at him. "I don't want to be a little girl."

"What do you want?" he asked, a little intimidated by the fire he saw in her eyes. 

"I want to be your equal," she replied. "I want to be your lover." She emphasized the word "lover" for added effect. She lowered her voice and narrowed her eyes, "I don't want to be Paul's wife." His eyes widened and his hand stilled against her back. 

"Has he asked you?" he asked.

"Not yet," she replied quietly. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is that you're as timid as he is. You kiss me with all the passion that you have, but when it comes to going any further you hesitate. You pretend to fall asleep or you shoo me out your door."

"Well what do you want me to do?" he asked. "Take your..." he cut himself off before he could go any further. 

"Come on," she begged as she slipped her hand below the sheet covering the two of them. She ran her hand over his groin and kissed the cleft in his chin. 

He had considered it dozens, if not hundreds, of times in passing moments during the day, when he was with her and when she was no where nearby. He dreamt about fucking her in every position that he could dream up, but when it came to actually performing, she was right. He was terrified of scaring her away, being too rough or simply not measuring up to the standards he could only imagine she was formulating in her mind. 

"I can't," he murmured. 

"Why not?" she asked. She draped her leg over his and ran her knee along the inside of his thigh. 

"I can't be your first," he replied. 

"Why? I'm supposed to save it? Protect it like a deep, dark secret?" she asked. "That's bullshit." 

He couldn't help but chuckle in regards to her sentiments, "No, but..."

"But what?" she interrupted. "If I'd lied and told you a couple weeks ago that I was experienced in all of this, you wouldn't have given it a second thought. We would have done it right there and then." He nodded thoughtfully. "Come on James..." she rubbed her hand over his groin again and brought her lips to his ear. "I want you to be the first."

He instantly grew hard from the words that she'd uttered and the way that she'd said them with her breath hot against his jaw. He turned his head to hers and kissed her. He closed his eyes tightly to seal the words and the moment in his mind. His hands desperately roamed the expanse of her back and when she slipped her tongue past his, he mustered up the courage to slip a hand beneath her panties and trace the line between her buttocks with the tips of his finger. He pulled her as close as he could and she slipped a knee over his own and began to subtly grind against the top of his thigh.

She broke her lips away from his and slowly began her descent. She ran the tip of her tongue down the length of his neck, planted a small kiss on his collarbone, lightly swept her fingernails across his chest and circled a nipple with her lips. He expected her to stop there and kiss him on the lips again, but she went lower. She buried her nose against his stomach and hooked her fingers around the waist of his underpants and pulled them down. His cock sprang free from the cotton and she wrapped her hand tightly around the shaft. 

"Rose, you don't have to..." he reassured, planning to offer a different suggestion before his voice was caught in his throat as she cautiously ran her tongue along the circumference of the head. She smiled deviously and all he managed to say was a soft, "Oh fuck..." before he trailed off and she took him entirely into her mouth. 

"You really don't..." she made a noise in the back of her throat – as if she was protesting to his own protests – and he bucked his hips, sending his cock deep into her mouth. He wound his fingers tightly around the curls in her hair and held her head firmly in his hands, guiding her mouth further and further down his shaft until she simply couldn't take anymore without choking. He felt her gag and loosened his grip slightly. Her head bobbed up and she coughed and sputtered. 

"I'm sorry, I get..." she took him into her mouth again, her tongue swirling around the shaft as she took him in more and more. He gasped and breathed, "...carried away." His grip tightened again and he thrust his hips against her face two more times. He thought he felt her gag again, but she didn't move or sputter at all. He groaned loudly and as he did so, Rose dug her fingers deep into the flesh of his upper thighs. 

"Oh..." he chanted, "Fuck, oh fuck..." He thrust himself into her mouth over and over again until he started to feel himself losing control. He quickly stopped and stilled her head in his hands as he did so. 

Rose lifted her face, her lips and cheeks bright red, her eyes slightly watery and gave James a perplexed look.

"You want me to stop?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. 

James tilted his head back, resting it on the pillows behind him and sighed loudly, "I would love you to finish. But if you want this to happen tonight..."

"I do," she said, without waiting for him to finish. He nodded and rose into a seated position after taking another deep breath. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and looked her squarely in the eyes. His balls were aching, wanting and expecting a release. He was afraid that once he was actually inside Rose, he wasn't going to last for long. 

"I don't want to hurt you," he said quietly. "If you need me to stop. Tell me to stop." She nodded eagerly. A tiny tear escaped from the corner of her eye and she quickly swiped it away. "Did I already hurt you?" He worried that maybe he had taken it too far with the blow job and that he should have simply let her go at her own pace. 

"No," she shook her head for added emphasis. "I'm fine." 

He nodded, feeling more or less satisfied with her answer and pulled her tightly into his arms. He kissed her cheeks, her ear, her neck and when his lips trailed over to her shoulder, he hooked his fingers around the hem of her undershirt and quickly lifted it up over her head. He took her breasts into his hands and rolled each nippled between his thumb and index fingers. She made a small noise when he pinched a little too hard, but otherwise she was silent. 

He softly pushed her back into the pillows behind her and he trailed his lips across her belly and nipped at a soft spot of skin right below her navel. He pushed her underwear down to her ankles and his fingers quickly buried themselves between her legs.  

She gasped when he slipped his fingers over and around her clit and he silently thanked her for already being so aroused. He slipped a finger inside of her and she responded eagerly with a sigh and a quiet moan. If she responded this way to a finger, he thought, he wondered how she would respond to his cock. The only other virgin that he'd been with had been his young, teenage wife so many years ago. And she had responded so negatively that it had taken him a full six months he had been able to take his time and finish inside of her. 

He slowly dragged his tongue over her clit a few times to make certain she was ready. With each circle, her hips would jump and she would laugh softly. He had hoped that pleasing her a little longer would settle a bit of his own arousal and make the painful jolt in the pit of his stomach go away, but it was no use. Each little jump she made, he only grew more desperate and hungry for her. 

He stopped, rose to his knees and lay next to Rose for a moment. He tucked a few stray curls behind her ears and kissed her softly. 

"You're sure?" he asked. "This isn't something you can just take back."

She nodded and affirmed, "I'm sure." 

He nodded and slipped a knee between hers and slowly pulled her legs apart. He ran a hand from her knee up to her pussy and traced the outline of her vulva. She closed her eyes and smiled. James removed his hand and slowly brought his other knee to rest between her legs. She spread her legs apart further and made a small noise of discomfort that he had remembered from his past. 

He brushed more hair from her face and kissed her softly, "It'll get more comfortable..." She nodded. "Bend your knees a little." She did as he said and he wrapped his hands around her hips. He repeated to himself over and over not to simply push inside with one violent motion – like he'd grown so accustomed to. He positioned the head of his cock at her wet entrance and pushed gently. Almost immediately, her hips jumped backwards, away from him. Her eyes sprang open and she looked up at him with fear in her face. 

"It's okay," he said softly, his hand gliding over her breast as he positioned himself against her again. But once again, the moment he pushed himself into her, her hips jumped away and her breath quickened in nervousness. 

"Rose..." he said, caressing her lower belly with the palm of his hand. He dipped a finger between her legs and brushed against her clit playfully. She smiled and slowly inched her hips towards him once more. 

"I'm sorry," she said in a voice that was almost a whisper. "I'm ready."

James nodded and positioned himself against her once more. He held her hips tightly – so tight he worried his fingerprints might leave bruises – and slowly pushed his way into her. She tried to jump away a fourth time, but he held her firmly in place. She whimpered as he buried the head of his cock inside of her. She tried to jump away again, but he held her tight. Entering her was an agonizingly slow process, but inch by inch, he worked his way inside. 

"James..." she whimpered as he watched her take his cock into her tight pussy. "James..." her shoulders twisted as she tried to break free from his grip, but he wouldn't let go. "It hurts..." 




Summer at the Sea Ch. 04



"Shhh," he said as she took another inch of him. "It's okay..."

"But..."

"Almost there..." he groaned as she closed in around him and she cried out loudly when he sank the very last inch of his cock inside her. 

"James..." she squeaked. Her legs were still on either side of his hips, her back was arched and he was certain if he let go of her hips, she would leap away from him and run out the door. 

"Shhh," he murmured again. He let a hand stray from her and he softly ran the palm of his hand across her forehead.

"It hurts," she whispered, her breath quick from the fear of what would happen next. 

"I know," he said, nodding. "You'll get used to it." 

She shook her head and a couple of tears fell from the corners of her eyes. He waited a moment before moving slightly. He pulled out an inch or two and then pushed himself all the way back in. She groaned softly.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

"Painful," she replied, closing her eyes tightly. He smiled, so far she was faring better than his previous virgin had. She had, literally, screamed out in pain and violently twisted away from his grasp. 

"Think beyond the pain," he said quietly as he withdrew himself slowly and then pushed himself inside again – a little quicker this time. This time, he groaned as his balls brushed against the bottom of her ass. 

She winced and shifted her hips before croaking, "Full."

"Full?" he verified. 

She nodded, "I feel very full." 

"Does it feel good? At all?" he thrust again, a little harder yet. She cried out loudly and shook her head. "Not even a little?" He rolled his hips and she moaned – a true, pleasure-filled moan. He smiled. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she breathed as she shook her head. He breathed a sigh of relief and thrust again, and again, and again. Each time, he pulled out a little further, and dove back inside a little harder. Each time, she cried out.

When he'd started, her cries were loud and pained, but as he progressed, her cries turned to moans and her legs began to loosen. 

She wrapped a leg around the back of his and wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist and thrust in and out of her as gently as he could. She barely moved, herself, mostly staying still in order to avoid the pain that would come from more movement. He tried to shift her into a different position each time he pulled away from her. He tried to move a leg and when she didn't move, he thrust. He bent over and kissed her softly – she barely returned the kiss and he thrust again. He pinched her nipple, hoping to receive some hip-twisting or a back arch in return, but she lay still and cried out in pleasure and pain as he thrust once more. 

He silently thanked himself for not refusing the blow job she had given him and before he could stop himself, he was imagining his cock hitting the back of her throat and he slammed his hips against hers and came in a sudden, violent spurt. She cried out in pain once again and recoiled from his grasp. 

His head buzzed and his ears rang. He lay face-down in the bed, breathing hard for several moments before rolling over and grasping for Rose who lay curled in a fetal position – back to him – on the other side of the mattress.

"Rose...Rose..." he wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled her onto her back. Tears were falling freely down her pink cheeks and he felt a hot pang of guilt slice through his chest. 

"It hurt..." she sobbed. He kissed her earnestly on the lips and ran his hand down her side. He buried his hand between her legs and she quickly jerked away from the touch. 

"I'm not going to do anything..." he said, pulling his hand away from her and examining his fingers. There was the faintest residue of blood in the cuticles of his fingers and once again, he pulled her close to him and enveloped her with his own body. 

"It'll be better next time," he promised in a whisper. "Next time."



Summer at the Sea Ch. 05



Paul effortlessly twirled Rose around. They would take two steps, she would place her hands on his shoulders and he would lift her up off her feet, almost throwing her into the air, and she would land soundly on her feet and they would do the steps all over again. She was dizzy, she was laughing, she...froze. 

She landed on the floor with a crash and the music in the room stopped, as if the band was playing just for her. There were a few loud gasps followed by a flurry of feet plodding in her direction. 

"Rose!" she heard Paul exclaim. "Rose! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" 

For a moment, she felt weightless as someone scooped her up into their arms and carried her away from the brightly lit room. Somewhere in the distance she heard someone say something about her and the music started up again – dull, eerie and distant. 

**

"She's okay!" a voice called from the other side of the room. She stirred and opened her eyes slowly, the candlelight on the table next to her was too piercing for her to handle at the moment. She shielded her face from the warm glow and rolled onto her side. Her hips were aching, she had a piercing pain in her wrist when she moved and the back of her head thudded and throbbed. 

A weightiness surrounded her and she heard someone say, "Give her some air."

"Rose..." it was the voice of her mother. "Rose, can you hear me?"

"Of course she can hear you," she heard her father say. She shooed her hand in the direction she heard her mother's voice. She didn't want to deal with her right now. 

"I'm fine," Rose mumbled, her tongue tripping over the simple words. 

"She hit her head pretty hard," the strange voice said, somewhere in the directions she'd heard her father's voice. "Everything seems fine." 

"I'm fi-i-ine," Rose said, a little louder this time. "My head is..." her words trailed off. 

"She may have sprained her wrist, so we'll keep that immobilized for the next few days, let me know if there's any swelling..." 

"Nothing's wrong with me," she said, her eyes still closed. She shook her head back and forth and immediately groaned in pain when the thudding in the front of her head started up again. 

"What should we do?" her mother asked softly. 

"Let her rest," the voice replied. "If anything happens, let me know. I'll come back in the morning." 

**

Rose sat on a large stone that overlooked the ocean. She looked down at her arm, her hand and wrist were bandaged up tightly and the side of her pinky finger was black and blue. She was convinced she'd broken her finger, but the doctor told her otherwise – it was just a bruise. Her gaze traveled down to her leg and she frowned at the floor burn that had spread across the side of her calf. She couldn't remember what had happened. Her parents told her that Paul had skillfully tossed her into the air during a complicated dance move and she landed wrong. She had no choice but to believe them. 

"Rose?" she heard Paul's timid voice behind her. She turned her head towards him and before he could say anything further, she saw his voice catch and his face twist in regret. 

"My fault," she said, holding her bandaged arm up to see. 

"Oh Rose, I'm so, so sorry," he said, rushing to her side and kneeling next to her. She shook her head and pulled her arm into her lap. 

"What happened?" she whispered, gingerly stroking her black and blue finger. 

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head, "the song was almost over and I threw you up in the air and you just...froze." 

"The doctor said I hit my head really hard," she said, reaching back and gingerly rubbing at the sore spot at the base of her skull. 

"You did," he said, nodding, unwilling to meet her gaze. "I thought you were out cold." 

"I don't remember anything," she said. 

"That's what your father said," he said. 

"You've been talking with my father?" she asked, trying to meet his eyes. 

"I'm always talking with him," he replied dumbly. 

"About what?" 

"You." 

Her heart jumped and she suddenly felt a familiar pounding sensation in the back of her head. She buried her head in her hands and folded her arms over her knees. Silently, she bit into the hem of her dress and breathed heavily, waiting for the moment to pass and the pounding in her head to subside. 

"Rose..." he murmured cautiously, "should I fetch...?"

"No," she said quickly, not looking up. "I'm fine." She took a deep breath, raised her head and trained her gaze on the horizon. 

"Good. I have a question for you, Rose," he said. His voice was swimming with nervousness and her heart pounded so loud it was all she could hear. 

"Please," she panicked, not turning her gaze to him. 

"I've spoken with your father..." 

"No, no, no," she muttered under her breath, "not now, please..."

He trailed on like a broken recording and Rose tuned him out, not hearing a word he said. Suddenly, he went silent and she dared herself to turn her head to him. 

"Marry me?" he asked, though his request was more of a question and his face was filled with uncertainty and worry. Immediately, she burst into tears and buried her head back in her knees. The pounding in the back of her head returned swiftly and her face burned with embarrassment and shame. 

"Rose, please..." he trailed off again and when she finally raised her head and turned her attention back to him, he had placed an open ring box at her feet. Tears fell freely down her cheeks and she could tell just by glancing at him that he was wracked with concern. She shook her head, but gingerly lifted the ring in it's box and carefully examined the diamonds and sapphires that studded the ring. 

"I've only known you a couple of weeks," she said quietly, running her finger over the largest rock. 

"And in those couple of weeks I know that you're the one for me," Paul explained. "You're the only one that I want. I dream about you at night and you're all I think about all waking hours of the day. Please Rose, please do me this honor." 

She turned her head away, closed the box and handed it back over to him. "I can't honor you..."

He pushed the box back into her hands and softly kissed her knuckles. "But...I want you!" 

She shook her head again, more tears streaming down her red cheeks, but didn't refuse the ring. She muttered his name so sadly that he felt he had no choice but to throw his arm tightly around her shoulders. 

"Your father and I have been talking..."

"I know, I know."

"We...he thinks this is best." 

She nodded and tentatively opened the box again. The diamonds and sapphires sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight and she wondered for a moment whether or not James would choose such a ring for her. 

"The blue in the sapphires matches the blue in your eyes," Paul remarked. 

She nodded and reluctantly took the ring from it's box and slipped it over her finger. 

"Is that a yes?" he asked nervously.

"I don't have any other choice," she whispered under her breath. 

"Pardon?"

"Yes."

**

James noticed the bandaged arm and was about to ask what was wrong when he saw the unmistakable glint of a precious stone on Rose's hand. 

"Rose..." he didn't even have to say another word before she burst into tears right in the middle of the entryway to his home. He quickly closed in on the space between the two of them and embraced her tightly in his arms. 

"I feel so awful and my head hurts and my arm hurts and my heart hurts," she cried against his chest. "He came up to me when I was trying to sort my thoughts and he just kept pushing the damn ring into my hand and..." she stopped and raised her eyes to his, "I don't think I had any other choice." 

James shook his head and took her left hand. He enveloped her hand in his own and kissed her softly and slowly on her forehead. 

"I don't want him," she whispered and she pressed her wet cheek against James' warm chest. 

"I know," he said quietly. He slowly ran his hand up and down her back, trying to comfort her as best he could while she stood there crying. He wanted to say something – anything – of reassurance, but the truth was, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. The large diamond ring was like a dagger in his chest and he wasn't sure if he should be mad at Paul, Rose's father or Rose herself for saying yes. 

"I never dreamed he would ask me so soon," she said, her voice muffled as she spoke into his chest. "I had hoped that you would ask me or... I don't know!" 

He stood silently for a minute, his thoughts racing through his mind and boldly said, "What if I don't want to marry?"

Abruptly, Rose stopped crying and looked into James' face as if he had two heads. He shook his head and wordlessly moved his mouth trying to take back what he'd just said or figure out a way to fix it.

"You want to be alone for the rest of your life?" she asked, incredulously. 

"No, no," he replied, "I just...there's a way around this. For you."

She immediately scoffed and looked off to the side of the room, "My mother has already started suggesting china patterns and my father and Paul have already started discussing where we're going to live and what sort of future I'm going to have." 

"That means nothing," he said, "what matters is you have a say in all this, too. You get to choose when your wedding is, you can't let your fiance, or your family for that matter, control you." 

She gave him a curious, sideways glance, "Go on."

"There's nothing saying you can't call it all off..." he said.

"But at what cost to me?" she asked. "To you?"

He pursed his lips together and shrugged, "As far as anyone knows, we're simply casual acquaintances." 

"And me?"

"You're in a defenseless state right now," he argued. "Look at you, your arm is bandaged, your head is sore, from what I heard, you had quite a tumble the other day. No one's saying that you can't feign confusion for the events that have unfolded." 

**

She knocked softly on the door of her father's study. 

"Come in," she heard from the other side of the door. She took a deep breath and slowly swung the door open. "Rose, my beautiful Rose..." 

"Hi Papa," she said in her sweetest, most demure voice. 

"What can I do for you?" he asked, turning over the book on his desk. 

"It's about Paul..." she replied quietly. 

"What about him?" 

"And me," she finished. 

"Is something wrong?"

She shook her head, stopped, then nodded thoughtfully, all while nervously twirling the engagement ring on her finger. 

"Rosie," he said softly, "I want nothing but the utmost happiness for my eldest and only daughter. What's the matter?"

"I think I made a mistake," she said. 

Her father nervously cleared his throat, "Mistake?"

"My head..." she winced a little as she touched her fingers to the still-tender spot at the back of her head. "I haven't been thinking clearly and..." she pulled the ring off her finger and flipped it back and forth between her thumb and index fingers. 

"Are you...what are you doing?" he asked.

"I've known him for such a short time, Papa," she said. "And he's a nice boy but...I don't know him well enough. I certainly can't promise him anything right now. Especially not something as serious as this."

"Did he do something to offend you?"

"No, no, nothing of the sort. I just...I can't." 

Her father sighed and slowly stood, "Sleep on it." 

She shook her head and lowered her gaze to her feet.

"I'll talk to Paul in the morning," he said. "But I suggest you do the same as well." 

**

Paul retreated to the city after Rose returned his engagement ring. She didn't flat-out tell him that she wasn't able to marry him, but she did say that she wasn't ready yet and needed more time before she could make such a life-altering decision. She wished that he had taken her news better than he did, though. He snatched the ring from her hand and stormed off in the other direction. She briefly considered going after him, but ultimately decided that it would send the wrong message, so she held her ground. 

"That was the last I saw him," she said directing her gaze towards the sky above.

"Does that upset you?" James asked. 

She shook her head and laughed softly, "No, but..." she thought for a moment, "It was such a nice ring."

"I'm amazed someone as young as him would be able to afford such a jewel," he said quietly, he leaned in close to Rose and tickled the tendrils of hair that hung around her ear. "I can't promise you anything..." 

She turned to him, her eyes wide with curiosity and he kissed her softly on the lips. 

"Present?" she whispered.

He smiled and reached into his pocket. "Don't get excited, I'm not proposing marriage to you." He placed a small, velvet box in her hands and nodded, urging her to open it. 

"Are you sure?" she asked with a sly smile. "Father has been especially quiet to me since I spoke with Paul." 

"I'm sure," he said, kissing the tip of her nose. "Open it." 

She opened the box slowly and nearly squealed with glee when she saw the unmistakable sparkle of a diamond from within. 

"You're absolutely sure?" she asked, the excitement in her voice building.

"I'm absolutely positive," he replied. "Wear it on your right hand so you don't raise any suspicions." 

"What will I tell my family when they ask about it?" she asked, carefully removing the ring from the box and slipping it over the ring finger on her right hand. 

He leaned close once again and kissed her softly on her tender neck below her ear, "Simple. Don't wear it around your family." 

Her mind went fuzzy and for a moment she forgot about the party she'd just retreated from and the music she could hear from the other side of the expansive garden. The ring on her finger sparkled and glittered in the moonlight and it was an incredibly beautiful ring – even more beautiful and elaborate than the one she'd received from Paul just a couple of days before – embellished with rubies the same color as Rose's lips and a diamond as big around as the tip of her finger. She wondered briefly, if this was the ring that James gave to her as a gift, what would an engagement ring from him look like? Immediately, she began thinking about engagements and marriage again and her head leveled back to reality. She couldn't wait for James forever. Eventually Paul or her parents or anyone would get suspicious. 

"James..."

As if he could read her mind, he immediately silenced her, pressing his lips firmly against hers. She tried to push him away, but his arm around her waist and his hand at the back of her neck were too strong for her to pull away from. She mumbled his name against his lips and he pulled away swiftly, his eyes filled with an emotion that she had rarely seen in him before – anger. 

"Maybe the gift was a bad idea," he snapped, grabbing the empty ring box next to her. 

"James, I just..." 

He didn't say another word before turning around and retreating to the other side of the garden. 

**

There was a soft knock at James' bedroom door. However, he'd heard the soft padding of her feet along the hallway before he'd heard her knuckles softly rapping away outside. 

"Come in."

Rose slowly entered the room and quickly shut the door behind her. She stayed put in front of the door, her head low, her gaze pointed to her toes. James couldn't lie, she looked radiant standing on the other side of the room. The ring he'd just given her seemed to catch every light source in the room and twinkled at her hip. 

"I'm sorry," she said softly, shrugging her shoulders. 

He shook his head, "Come here." 

They hadn't had a single romantic encounter since the night he took her virginity. They had seen one another briefly, in passing moments, but after her dance accident, her parents had kept a close eye on her and she had been unable to sneak away from her family's home. Tonight had been the first night in a week that she'd been on her own – out and alone with nowhere to be or to go. It was kismet that the night just happened to be the garden party James had been planning since the spring. 

"I didn't think you would be up here, honestly," she said, crossing the room. "I thought you would still be downstairs somewhere entertaining your guests." 

"I'm not a young man anymore," he said, "I need my rest." 

She nodded, "So do I." She took a seat next to him on his massive bed, slipped off her shoes and tucked one of her feet underneath her. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked. She looked down at her arm – she'd removed the bandage around her sprained wrist, but her finger was still swollen and bruised and her leg was still slightly red from the floor burn. 

"Broken," she replied in a whisper. 

"It'll get better," he said, softly running his thumb over her bruised finger. 

She looked up at him with a stray tear in the corner of her eye and said, "I don't mean physically." 

His breath caught in his throat and he nodded in understanding. After all, in only two days, she had rejected an offer of marriage and had been more or less rejected by the man she really wanted – James himself. 

"I don't know what to do," she said as the stray tear dropped down her cheek into her lap. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. She didn't fight him, nor did she return the gesture. 

"Thank you for the ring," she mumbled. He smiled and kissed the top of her head, unwilling to let her go just yet. 

His heart jumped when he suddenly realized the tap-tapping against his chest was not his heartbeat, but her fingers dancing in a line down his shirt – undoing each of the buttons on his shirt as she went along. 

"Rose..." he mumbled with some uncertainty as her fingers reached the very bottom button of his shirt. 

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, as her fingers fumbled over the top button on his pants. 

"It's okay," he said, running his hand over her back.

"I won't push you anymore," she said. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly realized that he had nothing to say except things she wouldn't want to hear. He closed his mouth and allowed her to proceed to the zipper which she pulled down so slowly he nearly swatted her hand away and did it himself. 

"I've been thinking about you constantly," she said in a low voice, all of her focus narrowed in on the prize he held for her below his waist. "I just..." her hand stilled, "I need to hear you say it." 

He swallowed a lump in his throat and croaked, "Say what?" 

"That you love me." 

He looked down to her watery eyes and the ring on her finger. He bit his lip and slowly shook his head. He didn't even know why. He didn't know why he couldn't say it, he knew that he felt it and he knew that the gift he'd given her was the greatest material indication that he could give her. He opened his mouth to say the words, but as quickly as he did that, he pursed his lips together once again. More tears welled up in her eyes and she tore her hand away from the opening of his pants. 

"Take your ring," she said, twisting the jewelry off her finger. She stood up defiantly and slipped her shoes back on. 

"Rose..." he said softly, but insistently. 

"You think I'm a fool," she said, tossing the ring into the middle of the bed. She lowered her voice and hissed, "I can't believe I let you take my...my..." she couldn't finish the sentence. Tears dripped from her eyelashes and she quickly ran from the bedroom back out to the dwindling party in the garden.



Summer at the Sea Ch. 06



Two Years Later

James felt a mix of emotions as he glanced out the window to the sidewalk and saw her standing there, hand-in-hand with the man her own age, the man she had ultimately chosen. He couldn't blame her, it wasn't as if he had seen her after the night of his own garden party. He had intended to make amends with her, consult her father regarding engagement, and propose to her like she wanted. However, when he went to visit three days later, she, her brother and mother had all recently left and her father was on his way out. He had a last-minute, temporary assignment in Paris and would take the family there with him – they had already left. 

He wanted to leap out of the car right in the middle of traffic, call out her name, but the ring around her finger he could see from where he sat told him not to and after all, he was only a block away from his destination. He found it ironic that he was on his way to have a lunch meeting with someone who wanted to send him to Paris for work and here he was, watching the young woman he lost to Paris walking along the other side of the street. 

The car zipped through a traffic light and as quickly as she had left his life, she was out of his line of sight. His driver stopped outside of a restaurant on the next corner and James wrinkled his nose at the dilapidated quality of the outside. 

"I hear they serve wonderful lunches," his driver said coolly, sensing James' immediate distaste. 

"I hope so," James replied. "On the plus side, I'm not paying." 

He stepped out of the car and headed into the small restaurant. The inside wasn't much more to look at than the outside. It was small and dark with only a few dingy windows in the corners. A delightful aroma wafted from the kitchen, however, and the few people dining were better dressed than he was. 

"James!" a voice from a far table exclaimed. James met eyes with a man on the other side of the restaurant and nodded in his direction. He quickly joined him at the table and took a seat across from him. 

"Are you expecting someone else?" James asked, noticing the two other empty seats at the table. 

"Oh, yes," the Parisian associate replied. "I hope you don't mind. I asked Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes to attend since this assignment falls into their hands as well." 

"Mr and Mrs..." James trailed off, turning his gaze towards the door as his associate did as well. James' heart leaped into his throat and he felt as if a boulder had dropped into the pit of his stomach as he saw Paul and Rose walk through the door of the restaurant. 

"Ah, yes," his associate said with a smile, "here they are!" 

James quickly turned away from the door and rubbed his temples over and over again, trying to hear anything except the thud-thud-thud of blood rushing through his ears. 

"...Mr. Dupont," he heard his name and he hoped that it was just the first time it had been said. 

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head and lifting his head. "Trying to decide what to have for lunch."

"Oh," the associate said with a smile, "I hope no one minds, but I already took the liberty of placing an order for the table. Mrs. Rhodes, is that all right with you?" 

Rose nodded dumbly, her gaze fixated on James, "Fine, thank you." 

"I assume that you all have had the pleasure of meeting one another already," the associate said, oblivious to Rose's undivided attention. 

"Actually..." Paul said, turning to James, "I don't believe we have met."

James silently cleared his throat and stood to his feet, his knees wobbling slightly as he did so, "James Dupont." 

Paul smiled, still oblivious and introduced Rose before introducing himself. James felt his heart stop as Paul introduced Rose as his wife and noticed her pale cheeks red with embarrassment as he withdrew a seat for her next to James. 

**

"I don't want to go," Rose said, standing with James at his car as she waited for Paul to emerge from the restaurant. "I lived in Paris once, I have no desire to do so again."

"It's not set in stone," James offered, a mild consolation as far as Rose was concerned. Paul had already been talking about it as if they were going to live there for the rest of their lives. 

"I'm nervous about traveling to France right now," she said, wringing a handkerchief in her hands. "I don't want to go to Europe at all." 

"Why didn't you contact me?" James said in a hushed voice, changing the subject quickly. 

"Contact you?" she asked. "About what?"

"You just...left," he replied. 

"I didn't have any other choice," she replied. 

"You had plenty of choices," James snapped. 

She shook her head, "Paul is wonderful. He treats me well, he's kind, he's a wonderful provider."

"He's not me." 

"What did you expect me to do?" she asked. "Wait around for you? Hope that you'd have a change of heart? Hope that you wrapped the idea of you and me forever around that thick head of yours?" 

"I loved you!" he exclaimed, a little too loudly. Rose's eyes widened and she swore her heart stopped for a second. She shook her head and turned towards the door. 

"Too little too late," she hissed as Paul came through the door of the restaurant. 

**

Rose lay back as Paul entered her slowly. She wrapped her legs around his, which he quickly kicked away. She dug her fingertips into his shoulders which he shrugged off with annoyance. 

"Nice, Rose," he breathed. "Nicely." 

She sighed and gently wrapped her arms around his neck. One year of marriage and she had yet to be excited about sex. She never told her husband about her first time with James and he never questioned it. The night of their wedding, he had made love to her as if she had been a virgin and he assumed that she was from the very light spotting of blood left from her menses. Since their wedding night, he had yet to make love to her in the way that she wanted. She had tried to initiate rougher sex – many, many times. She would duck under the covers and tease him with her mouth and just when he started to grow hard, he would push her away and arouse himself on his own before climbing on top of her. She'd tried climbing on top of him once or twice and each time she was met with the same response from her husband – a frustrated sigh and a stomp-stomp-stomp off to the bathroom where she'd hear the water run for two minutes and an exasperated sigh before he opened the door and rejoined her in bed. 

He finished quicker than usual, and casually slipped out and away from his wife. She lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling – not a single hair on her head displaced or a drop of sweat along her hairline. Without fail, every single time Paul finished he either rolled onto his side or retreated to the bathroom and Rose would think about her first and only time with James. At the time, it had been painful, uncomfortable and a little frightening. He had finished quickly, something she was thankful for at the time, but there was a sweetness to it in her memory. He had wanted her so badly that he held onto her as tightly as he could, actually leaving slightly reddened welts from his fingers in her hips that lingered until the next day. She wished time and time again that she'd had the opportunity to relive the experience, to sleep with him again. She was devoted to Paul as much as she could be but he always left her wishing for more – wishing for James. 

"I was speaking with Mr. Dupont this afternoon," Paul called from the bathroom. How ironic, they were both thinking about James at the same moment. "He doesn't think going to Paris is a good idea at the time, given the state of European affairs." 

Rose smiled slightly, nodding to no one in particular as she stared at the ceiling. 

"I still think it's best that we go though," he popped his head out from around the bathroom door and her smile immediately disappeared. 

"I don't want to," she said softly. 

"What's that, precious?" he asked, pulling a pair of pajama bottoms up to his waist. 

"I don't want to go," she replied. "I think Mr. Dupont is right." 

"You weren't speaking with him," he said. "And I think I know what's best for the two of us." 

She turned on her side and gave her husband a pleading look and shook her head. 

"Rosie..." he said softly. "Don't you want to go back? Relive the early days of our engagement?" 

She shook her head again and sat up in hopes it would add extra emphasis, "I'm happy here. I want to stay here." 

"Here? The middle of Manhattan?" he asked, pulling the curtain over the window closed. 

"Well..." she replied, not wanting to admit she didn't love Manhattan either. "I don't want to leave America." She wrapped her arms around her knees and her eyes lit up as she asked, "Wouldn't you love to live on the coast?"

"In our vacation cottage?" he asked, chuckling at the idea. 

"Yes!" she replied excitedly. 

"What would I do for work?" he asked. "What would you do with all of your time?"

"You could commute," she reasoned.

"Every day?"

"Well...probably not." The trip from their cottage to Manhattan was a rather long one, a couple of hours in the very best of conditions. "You could stay here in the city during the week and come to the coast on the weekends." 

He crossed the room and sighed heavily, "I don't know, Rose." He kissed her platonically on the forehead and she frowned. "Keep Paris in mind. Just in case." 

**

Rose reclined on the veranda, wearing nothing but her two-piece swim suit and a pair of bright red sunglasses. Her eyes were closed, her face tilted towards the midday sun and like a cloud passing overhead, the warm rays from above were blocked. 

"Paul, you said you were leaving an hour ago," she said, shooing away the blockage with an arm. 

"I think he did, I saw the car leave forty five minutes ago."

Rose snapped open her eyes and lowered her sunglasses in disbelief. Standing before her, like a ghost from summer's past, was James. 

"James," she breathed, sitting up slightly. "What are you..." she frantically looked around her surroundings to make sure no one was nearby. 

"Paul said some things," he said, taking a seat in the reclining lawn chair next to Rose.

"Things?"

"You talked him out of going to Paris, for one," he said.

"And..."

"You convinced him to take up residence in your summer cottage, which, by the way, is hardly a cottage," he finished.

"I know," she said with a grin. "It's bigger than our apartment in Manhattan." 

Her use of the word "our" felt like a hot knife in his chest, but he quickly shook it off. This was her life now, he was the outsider and had been all along. 

"This still doesn't explain what you're doing here," she said. 

"The vacant house down the road isn't vacant anymore," he said with a wry smile. 

"You didn't," she said, not amused. 

"I didn't mean to offend you," he said quickly, taking her hand in his. She quickly pulled away from his touch and looked at him as if he'd just delivered her awful news. 

"What...why...?" her eyes narrowed and her forehead furrowed in confusion and anger. 

"I'm sorry, Rose," he said, "it's just that ever since you left two years ago I haven't been able to think of anyone else..."

"I'm married!" 

"And I have a hard time believing that you are happy in that marriage," he said quickly before he could convince himself not to say it.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because he's living in Manhattan five days out of the week while you're out here on the coast all by yourself," he reasoned. His mind trailed for a moment and now it was his turn to narrow his eyes. "You don't...there isn't someone else, is there?"

She laughed out loud, even though she felt like punching him in the arm, "Of course not!" 

"All the more reason for me to purchase that home," he said. 

"Why? So you can keep an eye on me?" she asked. "Make sure I don't do anything bad?" 

"You're still young," he replied.

"And you're just getting older," she snapped back, though he hardly looked any older than he had the last time that she'd seen him. His face was slightly more defined than she'd remembered and there were a few more gray hairs around his ears, but other than that, he was like a snapshot frozen in time. She, on the other hand, had lost some of the girlish roundness in her face and had lost weight after living in Paris and readying herself for her wedding. She looked more mature, and as far as she was concerned, she acted more mature. 

"Come have dinner with me, at least," he said with finality. "An old friend of mine is staying with me for the week and I figured that you could at least use some company what with Paul gone for the next few days." 

Her eyes narrowed and then softened as she tried to pick out an ulterior motive in her mind. She was sure he had plenty, but he was right, she wasn't used to being alone and although she and Paul had discussed her solitude during the week, she hadn't quite fully come to terms with it. 

"Fine," she said finally. "What time shall I be there?"

**

A woman answered the door when Rose arrived at James' home. It was a modest home that overlooked nothing in particular – unlike her own which had an ocean view from the bedroom window. 

"Hello," the woman said, ushering Rose into the door. "You must be Rose. I'm Lilly, James' cousin." She had a sharp southern twang in her voice, Rose noticed that immediately. She had dark, dark hair and silky tanned skin. She didn't look a day over thirty and her deep green eyes sparkled mischievously. 

"She's not my cousin," James said, peering around the doorframe to the dining room off the entryway. "She likes to say that because it makes it sound like she actually has a reason for being here." He playfully poked Lilly in the shoulder which made her giggle loudly. Rose felt a pang of jealousy on account of their playfulness and she wasn't even entirely sure why. 

"I'm..."

"Oh, don't listen to him," Lilly said quickly, ushering Rose into the living room. "We're practically cousins. I was raised alongside him down in ol' New Orleans." 

"But you must be at least twelve years younger than him," Rose said, trying to pinpoint her age. 

Lilly laughed loudly and wrapped an arm around Rose's shoulders, "My dear, your flattering words will get you to China and back." 

**

Rose and James watched Lilly sway and dance around the patio to the faint sound of a classical record playing inside the living room. 

"She's beautiful," Rose said softly, her head swimming from the amount of wine she'd consumed with their dinner. James nodded in agreement as he slowly puffed at a cigar Lilly had chided him into smoking. Rose giggled softly as Lilly bowed to her invisible partner, then lifted her hands as if there was someone in her arms. 

"With just a touch of Creole crazy," James said with a smile as he blew rings of smoke into the air. 

"How exactly do you know each other?" Rose asked. 

"Grew up together," he replied. "Like she said. Her mother worked for my family, practically raised me as well. She's a few years younger than me – five or six – and we just...grew up together. She and her mother lived upstairs and..." he took another puff from his cigar but didn't continue.

"And what?" 

"She was my first love," he finished. Lilly looked over in their direction and James nodded to her as she flitted along. 

"And now?" Rose asked. 

"She started selling herself when she was about fourteen, after I left to attend college," he explained. "We'd done a little of this and a little of that before then, before I left. Her mother was getting older and my parents really didn't have any work for her around the house; after all, her mother's job had mostly been looking after and caring for me. They needed money and she..." he looked in her direction again, her dark hair danced against her back in the breeze and her eyes glittered every time she looked towards light. "Well, look at her. She's beautiful." Rose nodded in agreement. "It certainly wasn't glamorous work, but she made enough money to support herself and her mother." 

"Does she still..."

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head. "When I found out, maybe too late, I was already through with college, I made sure the two of them had a place to live in New Orleans and sent them money every month." 

Rose's eyes widened in surprise and she cracked a small smile on account of his charity. 

"Her mother died a few months ago," he said. "She's been trying to find a footing somewhere – anywhere – and she called me up a week ago saying she was thinking about heading to New York." 

Rose bit her lip and asked, "Is she really just here for the week?"

James smiled and shrugged, "She's welcome here for as long as she wants to stay." 

"Does she know about me?" Rose asked quietly. James nodded silently in reply. "Does she know everything?" He nodded again, silently. 

"Jimmy," Lilly said, waltzing over to where he and Rose sat. "I think we should give Mrs. Rhodes a show, don't you?"

"I don't know, Lilly," he said, though he was already placing his burning cigar into an ashtray. 

"Let her know what she's missing here," Lilly said with a grin, winking in Rose's direction. James rose to his feet and wrapped his arm around Lilly's waist. Rose felt her face burn for reasons she couldn't even justify. She'd danced with James once – only once – and as she watched him effortlessly twirl Lilly around on the patio, she suddenly wished she was the one in his arms and that she could be eighteen all over again so she could do things differently.

**

Rose slowly opened her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. She didn't remember falling asleep, but then again, she didn't remember much after the three of them retreated indoors to escape the mosquitoes. She remembered another bottle of wine and more music, a little bit more dancing and then... She listened closely and swore she heard a female voice on the other side of the wall. Her breathing was almost silent so she could hear what was going on in the next room. She clearly heard Lilly's voice but it didn't really sound like Lilly. Her voice was then quickly punctuated by a noise she knew all too well – a noise that haunted her dreams and sometimes kept her from sleep. There was a faint, "Mmm...yes..." that was followed by a faint knocking noise. Immediately, Rose knew what was going on. She climbed out of bed, nearly doubling over from the pounding sensation in her head from all the wine she'd consumed earlier in the evening. 

She left her room and the moment she entered the hallway, the noises grew louder. The door to James' bedroom was slightly ajar and the very faint glow of candlelight spilled out into the hallway. 

"Yes...yes..." she heard from Lilly, followed by another couple of knocks from the wooden bedpost against the wall. Rose listened to James groan loudly and instantly, she felt herself grow weak in the knees, remembering that groan from years past.

There was a muffled "oomf" followed by, "Did you hear something?" from James. Rose flattened herself against the wall and held her breath, waiting for their rhythm to pick up once more. She heard Lilly murmur something in French and the gentle rocking of the bed continued. 

Rose silently tiptoed to the opening of the door and carefully peered into the dimly lit room. Like a bronze goddess, Lilly blocked the flame of the candle and light framed her perfect, slender silhouette. Her legs straddled James' hips, one hand was firm against his chest and the other was clasped around her breast as she slowly shifted her hips forward and back against his. James lay flat, his face hidden by a pillow that had shifted from the head of the bed. His back was slightly arched and both of his hands held firm to the perfectly round spheres of Lilly's ass. His hips shifted against hers in a staccato motion with each shift that she made against him. 




Summer at the Sea Ch. 06



Rose cocked her head slightly, watching the erotic dance that lay before her. She was surprised that she felt more arousal than jealousy and as she watched James' hand travel up Lilly's back and tangle in her hair, she felt a desperation in the pit of her stomach that she had long forgotten. Suddenly, it felt like it had only been a day since she last felt the cool night breeze on her bare skin and the light tickle of his hand in her own, curly hair. 

She found herself moving her hand along the top of her thigh, slowly hiking up the skirt of her dress as she moved. With her other hand, she mimicked Lilly and wrapped her fingers around the clothed flesh of her breast. James moaned again and she felt her head throb and the space between her legs surge with desire. Her fingers delicately danced along the edge of her underwear and she wondered if she would be able to remain anonymous as she stood in the frame of the door. She was certain that the smallest whimper or the faintest moan would give her away. 

Silently, her fingers slipped underneath the hem and she slowly ran her fingers along the wet crease of her vulva. With the faintest movement, she shifted her hips in time with Lilly and imagined that she, herself, was riding James' cock and not the other way around. 

Lilly's voice turned low, guttural and she cried out a few words Rose didn't understand. Rose felt another surge of wetness between her legs and she curled her fingers tightly around the doorjamb to keep from crying out herself. The ghostly sensations of James' cock in her came flooding back into her mind. She plunged two of her own fingers deep inside of her in an attempt to feel the fullness she had felt the night she'd lost her virginity to him, but it was no use. The sensation was a distant memory, having been replaced with the feeling of Paul's insecurity and embarrassment every time since that she'd made love to a man. 

Lilly cried out again, her movements faster, harsher. Rose moved her fingers faster, unable to keep up with the pace of the couple in the bedroom. She began to circle her clit with her thumb and without thinking twice, she moaned softly. The movement in the bedroom came to a sudden, abrupt halt and again, Rose held her breath and quickly stepped to the other side of the door frame, out of sight from the inside of the room. 

"Cherie?" Lilly asked. 

"Shh..." James replied. 

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" Lilly asked. 

"I heard something," James whispered in reply. 

Lilly laughed softly, "No, no, no. C'est moi. It's me." 

"I swear..."

"It was probably just a mouse." 

"No, I heard..." there was a pause. "It sounded like Rose." 

Lilly laughed again, a little louder this time. "It wasn't Rose. See? I'll prove it. Rose! Cherie Rose!" 

Rose closed her eyes tightly and held her breath more, her heart pounding in her chest and ears. 

"She's not there. C'est une souris," she said, punctuating "souris" with little, squeaking, mouse noises. 

James laughed softly and resumed his hip gyrations. Lilly yelped as he forcefully pushed his way deep inside of her once again and she made a giggly growling sound in reply. Their rhythm quickly resumed but Rose was not daring enough to stick around for the ending. Silently, she tiptoed back to the room she had awoken in minutes earlier and crawled back into the bed, her heart pounding away from the excitement of nearly being caught and the rekindled desire to be with James.



Summer at the Sea Ch. 07



A note to my readers: I'm very sorry that this story sat neglected for so long and I'm going to try and remedy that in the next few weeks and see if I can't work out a proper ending. I had this chapter nearly finished for a LONG time and due to some (very) negative feedback, I figured it wasn't worth going any further. Many thanks to the few people who, in the past few months, have left me very kind feedback asking me to finish. I'll try my best to do just that for you. 

*

"I heard you in the hall the other night," Lilly whispered in Rose's direction as she placed her glass of lemonade back on the patio table. 

Rose froze, startled, her own glass between the table and her lips. "Heard...me?"

Lilly smiled, "Don't act so innocent. I saw your shadow and heard the floor creak underneath your foot." 

She didn't seem angry -- if anything, she was amused. Rose felt her face flush red and she calmly placed her glass back on the table top. She shook her head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lilly continued to smile her amused smile and this time she shook her head. 

"I swear," Rose breathed, her eyes darting towards the sliding glass door at the far end of the patio. She could see Paul rummaging through a kitchen cupboard -- no doubt finding a snack before he headed back to the city. 

Lilly followed Rose's gaze and nodded knowingly. 

"He still loves you," Lilly said quietly before lowering her voice into the faintest whisper before saying, "And I know you do too." 

**

Rose and James sat silent as Lilly slowly plodded up the stairs to her bedroom. Rose could feel James' gaze on her -- just dying to ask her something. She felt the dinner had been an elaborate plot on Lilly's behalf to get the two of them alone together. Lilly hadn't even waited for dessert before making an excuse about being tired and exhausted from the sun. Just like that, she was gone from the table and the room. 

"Are you tired as well?" James asked, finally breaking the silence. 

Rose's gaze shot in his direction and she shook her head, "Why would I be?"

"You spent a lot of time with her out in the sun today," he said quietly, "I just...assumed." 

"No," she replied. "Not at all, actually." 

The two of them fell into an awkward silence again and just when Rose was about to excuse herself from the table to return home, James spoke up.

"Are you...happy?"

"Now?"

"In general." 

She feigned a smile and nodded, "Of course. That's a silly question." 

"Are you?" 

She folded her hands in her lap and lowered her gaze once more. "I don't think so." 

"Why not?" he asked. 

"He...Paul..." she replied slowly, carefully. "He means well. He's a wonderful provider which is obvious from our home; it simply is..." she met his eyes and smiled weakly. "He's not you." 

**

Rose gladly took another glass of wine and took in half the glass with one, long gulp. James had lost track of how many glasses he had fed her, himself having consumed a fair amount of scotch. Her face and lips were bright red, her eyes were a little watery but full of a girlish spark he remembered from a few years back. Clearly, most of her inhibitions were gone; she giggled loudly, playfully hit him on the knee and shoulder whenever she had the chance and she was reclined on his sofa in such a way that her dress was hiked up around her thighs giving him a perfect view of the top of her lacy stockings and garters. 

"Seriously," he said, taking her glass of wine so she wouldn't spill. "Can I ask you a serious question?"

"Oh James," she said, pushing against his knee with her toes. "Of course you can. Ask me anything! Anything!" 

"It's personal," he said with a smile, leaning in close to her and allowing the back of his hand to graze against her stockinged knee. 

"How personal?" she teased, narrowing her eyes and grinning wildly. 

"It's about..." he played along and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Sex." 

Her smile quickly faded and she curled her legs close to the rest of her body. "What about sex?" 

He chose his next words carefully, "How often?"

"Every time I see him," she said quietly. 

"Today?" 

"This morning. Right when I was waking up."

"Yesterday?" 

"First thing he arrived." 

He touched the top of her foot, but she recoiled from his touch. He furrowed his brow imperceptibly and cocked his head slightly, suddenly feeling more of a psychiatrist than a friend. 

"Do you..." he didn't know if he should ask, but with a quick sip of his scotch, he summoned up the courage and continued, "Do you like it?" 

She met his gaze and shook her head slowly. He handed her wine back to her and she quickly downed the remainder of the liquid in the glass and stretched her legs forward again, draping her calves over his thighs and reclining further into the cushions. He resisted the urge to follow the seam along the back of her stockings and tried to avert his gaze from the silky, pink fabric he could just barely see between her legs. 

"Is it..." he nearly choked on his words, "It's not my fault, is it?" 

She shrugged, "Not in so many ways. He just...Paul, dear Paul, he doesn't have any passion." 

James breathed a sigh of relief, if it was passion she wanted, he could most certainly provide passion. 

"God knows I try," she continued. "I try and I try and...you know, he has this preconceived notion of what a woman -- no, a wife -- should be. I should be perfect and, well, I guess I just shouldn't enjoy sex." 

"What?" 

"I don't know, James. He pushes me away every chance he gets. Sex is on his watch, on his schedule. I'm just...there." 

"What do you..."

"I want things," she continued, as if he wasn't even there. She began impatiently rubbing her legs back and forth across his lap. "I try to initiate certain moves and he won't even give me a chance." 

"What sort of moves?"

"Simple things," she replied. "Sometimes I'd like to be on top of him. Sometimes I'd rather he not roll me over onto my back. I just want to be a little...wild." 

James smiled and nodded. He leaned forward to set his empty glass on the table and as he did so, Rose's foot moved lightly over his groin. He responded immediately to the -- likely accidental -- touch and quickly folded his arms over her legs and buried his hands between his knees. 

"I just have a feeling," she said, reclining a bit more, her skirt hiking up her legs just a little more, "that you wouldn't be so kind." 

He quickly turned his head in her direction and his eyes widened. She laughed at his surprised expression and he saw the light in her eyes again. He loosened up himself and tickled her feet lightly, egging her on. 

She shrieked loudly and started giggling wildly. She twisted and turned, with each movement she inched closer towards him. She laughed, begging him to stop (but silently hoping in her own mind that he wouldn't), his hands quickly went from her feet to her waist and even moreso, she was laughing and before she -- or he -- knew it, she was practically in his lap. His arousal was insistent and both of their breaths came in quick, labored gasps. 

"I love you," he said without thinking twice. Her heart jumped and she smiled slightly, the three little words she had waited two years to hear were finally laid out. She curled her fingers around the hair at the back of his neck and sighed deeply. 

"I don't think I'm legally allowed to say it back," she joked. 

"I don't think you're legally allowed to do anything that you're thinking of doing," he said quietly, his eyes heavy from the touch of her fingers against the back of his neck -- a touch he had missed and craved for too long. 

She opened her mouth to say something in return but instead, she leaned forward and pressed her lips hungrily against his. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and returned the kiss with as much passion as she had given him. Not caring what could or would happen next, he slipped his tongue against her own and pressed his hips against hers, prodding her with his bulging erection. 

"Whatever you want," he said with a sigh as her lips trailed down his neck and she grasped and pulled at each of the buttons on his shirt, pushing the fabric aside. She bit at his earlobes and raked her fingers against his bare chest as he continued to press his hips into hers over and over again.

"Touch me," she breathed. "Please, just touch me." 

Without missing a beat, he kneaded the palms of his hands over her breasts. She responded by kissing him on the mouth again, running her tongue against his bottom lip every time his finger grazed her nipples. 

"Why did you marry him?" he asked, a hand diving between her legs and frantically pushing aside the silky fabric of her underwear. 

"I don't know," she cried, louder than she had planned to as James quickly buried a finger inside of her. She groaned at his touch and gasped out loud as he slipped a second finger inside. She pressed her lips against his again and she couldn't help but notice the small laugh that escaped from his throat as she did so. 

She quickly moved her hips back and forth twice, grinding her pelvis against his hand and asked, "What?" 

"You're just..." he smiled and shook his head. He curled his fingers and she cried his name loudly as stars blurred her vision. Her hands quickly made way for his trousers and she deftly undid the buttons and zipper and reached beneath the fabric to find her prize. 

"Here?" he asked, stilling his hands. 

"Why not?" she asked, looking around. He shook his head, the last time they had been together she had been unexperienced and scared. Now she was experienced, hungry, desperate even. 

"Lilly?" he replied as she wrapped her hand around his cock and started to slide out of his lap and down to the floor. 

"I think Lilly's the least of our concerns," she said as she lowered her mouth to his member and slowly began to run her tongue along the length of the shaft. 

James groaned and croaked out a slow "fuck" as she took him into her mouth. This time, he would let her take her time, he wouldn't press her head down into his hips like he had the first time she'd given him head. 

"Mmm...god," he groaned as he felt the tip hit the back of her throat. He marveled at how her tiny mouth was able to take such a large cock in one swoop. She tried to go further, but she was stopped abruptly by a gag and she quickly lifted her head to avoid the surge of consumed wine that was inevitable if she went any further. 

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Too much wine." She smiled and giggled slightly before lowering her mouth to him once again and swirling her tongue around the head and making her way back down once again. 

"Does he let you do this?" he asked as he wrapped his fingers in and around her curly black hair. 

"Mm mm," she replied, shaking her head slightly as she did. 

"Why?" he tilted his head back and closed his eyes tightly and she ran the palm of her hand over his balls. 

She simply shrugged in response. 

"Can I tell him how good you are at it?" he joked. She quickly bobbed her head up and met his gaze. 

"Absolutely not," she said, her eyes wide. 

"Of course not," he said, running his hand around her neck and against her cheek. "I was only kidding." 

"Oh, of course." 

"Come here," he said, curling his finger, beckoning her close. 

"And leave this?" she asked with a smile.

"Just come here," he replied, pulling at her wrists. She complied and stood to her feet and hovered over him. He stared up into her face and smiled before pulling her down into his lap. 

"What?" she asked. 

"Can I please," he replied, "please, fuck you?" 

She laughed in spite of the forwardness of the question and pressed her lips against his. Her entire body ached for him, but she couldn't immediately ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach reminding her of Paul. She looked down at her wedding ring and bit her bottom lip nervously. She knew she'd already broken just about every vow they'd made on their wedding day, but going the final step seemed so dangerous.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, trying to ignore the hesitation in her reply.

"What will happen?" she asked. "You know...afterward?" 

"Anything you want," he replied, having faced such a conundrum in the past. He had participated in the affairs of married women in the past -- not many, but there had been a few women he'd met on a chance encounter only to find out moments before they actually did the deed that they were married. 

"What do I tell Paul?" she asked. 

"Nothing," he replied, kissing her and placing her hand back on his cock to keep his arousal from dying. 

"I've thought about this a thousand times," she said quietly, squeezing him slightly and shifting her hips into a more comfortable position. 

"It's not like it hasn't happened before," he said. 

"It was different then," she pointed out. 

He nodded, "Of course. ...But I can give you what you want." 

She smiled and nodded herself. 

"How about..." he placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled, "we go upstairs and if you change your mind by the time we get to my bedroom, I will take you home." 

She nodded thoughtfully, "And if I don't change my mind?" She twirled her wedding ring around her finger. 

He bit her lower lip and made a low noise in the back of his throat. She giggled in response and slipped the ring off of her finger.