By the Bay Ch. 06

Hey guys!

As promised, I am back! I've been working on By the Bay lately because it's the story that has inspired me the most. But not to worry, all you fans of Colorblind and Alex. Those stories aren't far from my mind, and I'm still brainstorming for ideas on how to continue/end them.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy the latest of BTB. Don't forget to rate and comment! Thank you very muchly for reading (:

Love,

L.

The rest of dinner passed without incident. Meera was silent and brooding as she usually was when upset, and Jay and Anita had no trouble filling the silence with little snippets of their lives.

Jay told her about his childhood, his brother and half-sister and the adventures they'd all had as children. He also told her of his second mother, Ruby, whom he adored beyond imagination. But when she asked of his birth mother, Anita could feel reluctance emanating from him. So she changed the subject.

She told him of the village she grew up in and of the nice people she knew. She talked about her previous jobs and how she'd loved or hated each one. And she also told him how she'd once thought she'd grow up to marry her uncle because it was conventional to. She laid out her story in front of him over dinner, painstakingly avoiding the subject of her mother.

It didn't escape their notice that they were both uncomfortable speaking of their mothers.

"I'm tired, ka. I think I'll go to bed."

Anita flushed guiltily at the sound of Meera's voice. In truth, she'd almost forgotten her sister had been at the table. Jay's presence had captured all her attention and she'd almost memorized every word that had slipped past his lips over dinner. She wanted to know everything about him, and then some more.

"Goodnight," she called to Meera as her sister disappeared into the kitchen. She turned back to Jay and found that his eyes were on her. Her gaze drifted to his lips, supple and inviting in the lamplight. She wanted to feel his lips on hers again in a kiss as unending as the one they'd shared on the beach that morning. Anita's hands began to tremble slightly at that thought. She wanted his scent to seep into her skin and into her memory. Shewanted, for once in her life. She wanted him.

Neither party said a word for a few tense seconds. They waited for a door to be shut, to know that Meera was out of the picture. She watched as the color of Jay's eyes changed – from a mild green to a dark, thick emerald. Anita didn't know if it was the cozy atmosphere or the wine he'd poured for her or the glitter in his eyes, but she felt something absolutely sinful curl in her tummy. She pressed a trembling hand over her abdomen just as she heard a soft click of the door in the distance.

He met her halfway. It was like a dam of desire had been unleashed, and lust flowed over them as they tried to get as close to each other as possible. Jay's lips slanted over hers repeatedly, his fingers threading into her hair. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and the slight stinging sensation drove him on.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her to the table, stepping between her legs with expert efficiency. When Anita felt his thighs brush against the inner flesh of hers, she gasped into his mouth leaned back from his embrace with uncertainty. Her hesitance lasted only for a second, however. Apprehension slipped her mind as his lips began trailing kisses over her cheek and jaw.

She felt feverish. Like her dress was too tight. She could feel Jay's hands on her waist, its warmth making her tremble ever so slightly. His kisses were quick, hot, exciting as they trailed down her neck and collar. Her fingers curled around his nape and her eyes closed. She lost herself to the feeling of someone wanting her in return.

When his teeth closed on her earlobe and nibbled tenderly, she couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips. It was like tiny pinpricks of pleasure spread from the point where he was biting her, all the way to her femininity. She felt so open for he was standing between her legs, but it made her feel wanton. Like a woman. She trembled for the hundredth time in five minutes and clung to him as he made her feel like she was about to come apart in his arms.

"You're trembling," he whispered in her ear, his voice ragged and hot.

"I know. It's your fault," she chastised. "Your hands..."

She wanted to scream for him to continue his caresses, to continue the magic he played upon her body. But he simply held her against his chest, and she felt his heartbeat slowing. There was a dull, empty throb at the apex of her thighs that she found peculiar and frustrating.

"We'll continue this in the bedroom."

With that, he lifted her into his arms and started for the stairs.

*

Well, it didn't turn out as romantically as he'd planned it. Before he was able to get her into his room, she remembered that the doors and windows weren't locked and that the dirty dishes were still on the table. So he had to let her go as she tidied the bloody house.

He groused about it for the first ten minutes, until he realized that he could still salvage the situation. In the bottom drawer of his writing desk were extra candles in case the oil lamps burned out in the middle of the night. If he remembered correctly, the candles were scented and were perfect for making the room cozy and romantic.

He placed the candles at strategic positions and lit them. The room took on a warm glow and the cinnamon and rose scents made it smell like their own little heaven. The gift he'd purchased for her lay on the dresser, glinting sapphire and gold in the candlelight. He couldn't wait for her to wear it for him. He knew she'd look spectacular in it.

After he'd set the room, he stood near the balcony, not knowing what to do with himself. He considered fussing with the bedsheets or heading downstairs to get them a bottle of wine to refuel the mood, but it all seemed so artificial as compared to the fire that lingered between them. With his past lovers, yes, there had been wooing, teasing and the façade of courtship, but with Anita, it was elemental. She wanted nothing but him. Not his money, not his title, just him. And their shared passion was the aggressor in their relationship.

A slight breeze rolled into the room, and he could see and hear the rustle of the palm trees in the distance. There was a full moon that night, and he jested with himself that the moon had to be the reason for the mad passion burning inside him. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe of the balcony, waiting for her appearance at the door.

It was a few more minutes before he heard her hesitant footsteps in the corridor, and another handful of seconds before she appeared in the doorway. She'd changed out of her maid's dress and now donned a plain blue cotton sari. In one hand, she held a bottle with gold liquid, and in the other, gripped the end of her sari tightly. Her eyes flickered to meet his, then shied away. If she were fair-skinned, he knew he would've seen a blush high on her cheeks.

He waited for her to speak.

"I didn't know what to wear," she said so softly that he had to strain to hear her.

Nothing would have been perfect,was what he wanted to say. But she was already feeling quite shy and he didn't want to exacerbate it.

"It doesn't matter," he told her as he pushed away from the doorframe. "You'd look beautiful dressed in anything."

He went over to the bed and sat on the edge.

"C'mere," he coaxed. She stepped forward hesitantly, until she was just within his reach.

"What's this you've brought me?" He gestured to the bottle in her hands.

She peeked at him from beneath her lashes, the deep blue of her eyes mesmerizing in the candlelight.

"The woman at the market gave it to me. I wasn't sure how to use it, but I thought you might know."

He took the bottle from her and popped the cork. "Neem oil," he said after a sniff.

"How did you know?" she asked as he set the bottle within reach on the bedside table.

"I've read about it in an article. It prevents conception."

He reached for her hands and pulled her between his legs. Her eyes met his as he laid her hands gently on his shoulder, turning his head to place a gentle kiss on her wrists. He could smell soap on her skin, mixing with her natural scent. It tempted him to take a fold of her skin between his teeth.

She gasped at the slight pain, but moved closer to him, trusting him to hurt her only to make her feel good. His emerald eyes cut into hers, the desire in them making her heart race beyond control. He ran his palms down her forearms, making goosebumps ripple as he made the ascent to her shoulders. When he touched the sensitive hollow at the base of her neck, she turned her head to the side with a shudder.

He let his fingers trace the contours of her cheeks, over her cheekbones, and then lower, to the tip of her chin. It was as though he was trying to memorize every line of her features. When he paused to cup her face in his fingers, she laid her hands over his before placing a kiss at the center of each palm.

He pulled her onto his lap, draping her arm around his neck for convenience. His lips sought hers, tender yet so filled with desire that Anita couldn't breathe for the first few seconds. His lips were so familiar to her now; the shape and feel of them and how they molded to hers were heavenly.

His fingers stole into her hair, tugging at the pins that kept the dark mass in place. He'd always longed to see her hair loose and flowing around her shoulders, but she'd always kept it tucked away in a tight bun. As he kissed her, he took the pins from her hair and let them fall to the floor. Without their captors, long tendrils of her hair unwound and spilled around the both of them like silk. Her hair, like her, smelled of soap and woman, and he was hard-pressed not to tear his mouth from hers and bury himself in her hair.

Anita was burning inside. His hands, even when they did not touch her, elicited a response from her body that was thick and hot. His fingers – dear gods, his fingers – in her hair was sending a languid ache streaming through her body. And yet again, there was a hollow ache between her thighs where thick, transparent liquid had pooled. She'd noticed it before whilst changing, and had wiped it off with distaste, wondering what in heavens that was. But now, she realized that it only happened when he touched her, so it had to be natural. Or so she hoped.

He leaned back onto the bed and took her with him. Her legs parted to straddle him and her hair blanketed the both of them. Her sari had risen over her breasts and her navel was exposed to him. Heat surged through his body at the sight of her exquisite skin and the ridiculously small indentation of her waist. He grasped her waist in one hand and rolled them over so that he would be able to look down upon her features while he loved her.

She was staring up at him with trust reflected in her shimmering sapphire eyes. Her lips were slightly swollen from their kisses, and she was simply irresistible to him. He captured her thick lower lips between his teeth and tugged before parting the seam of her lips and sliding his tongue against hers.

Her sweetness singed his tongue and he moaned deep in his throat. She shifted restlessly against him, especially when his palm came to tug on the sash of her sari. Her hands twined around his neck and she returned his kisses with all the desire she had in her body.

He tugged the material of her sari off her body, leaving her clad only in her blouse and petticoat. She would've covered herself if he hadn't already anticipated her move and captured her hands above her head before she could do so.

"You shouldn't hide yourself from me," he whispered against her lips. "You're too beautiful to hide."

She was still getting used to the fact that he found her beautiful, but hearing him say the words over and over again made her think that she might actually be beautiful. Leaning forward, she kissed his lips, those sensual lips that could say such beautiful things to her. So engrossed was she in the kiss that she hadn't felt his fingers move over the clasp of her blouse.

Her protests were silenced not by his lips, but by her own gasps of pleasure. His fingers glided across her nipples, flicking them until they were hard as little pebbles. Her skin quivered as sinful pleasure rippled through her, emanating from her breasts to her core. When he replaced his fingers with his mouth, she arched toward him, unable to keep her eyes off what he was doing to her breasts. She'd only seen babies suckle on their mother's bosom before, but she was sure that what Jay was doing was entirely different.

That wiry burst of pleasure in her intensified as he suckled her other nipple, leaving one breast moist and hard. Her fingers entwined themselves in his dark locks, anchoring his head to her breast, telling him never to stop. She could feel herself moving towards something, something big, but she didn't know what it was. It was a frightening feeling, but she couldn't seem to summon the desire to tell Jay to stop his ministrations.

His lips left her breast with a scrape of teeth and she nearly cried out from the intense pleasure that created. She felt him caressing her midsection, over her ribs, then her navel, until her reached for the ties of her petticoat.

The ribbon came undone, and he pulled the garment off her with a swift tug. At his urging, she slipped her blouse off, and finally she was completely bare to him.

Jay sat back to look his fill of her. She was even lovelier than he'd imagined. Even in his dreams, she hadn't looked this beautiful. Her torso was slender and her breasts were topped with dark, hard nipples. Her legs weren't long, but they were shapely, and she had the daintiest feet he'd ever seen on a woman.

He pressed a kiss to her lips and murmured, "One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace / Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent / The smiles that win, the tints that glow, / But tell of days in goodness spent,

/ A mind at peace with all below, /A heart whose love is innocent."

She cupped his face, pleasure humming in her body. "What does that mean?"

"It's a poem. By Lord Byron. 'She Walks in Beauty'. Looking at you made me recall it."

"That's – oh, dear gods." Before she could respond to him, his fingers breached the sanctity of her nether curls in search of the pearl hidden within them. Anita hadn't realized that she was so sensitive to a person's touch until Jay's middle finger found a hard button between her legs. She mewled as he stroked it, then dipped his finger into the moisture at her core and dragged it back to the bud.

Never had she known such fire. Her hips were moving of their own volition, lifting to his touch with an abandon that left her mindless. At that moment, she knew that if he stopped what he was doing, she would surly die. Desire had pooled at the pit of her stomach, and it demanded to be appeased. Anita sought some form of release that was yet within her reach.

Her breath caught on a sob as she felt Jay's lean finger enter her. She welcomed his invasion, for it helped ease the empty ache inside her a little. Pleasure tingled in tiny sparks as his finger moved inside her. She cried out in awe, need and longing.

"Jay..." she whimpered as a particularly pleasurable spasm wracked her core. She was afraid, and she wanted to tell him that. She didn't know what was happening to her body, and she needed his reassurance that... that... that...

Oh, he knew he was going to have scars all over his back in the morning, but he couldn't care less. Jay watched as Anita received her pleasure, hips arching into his hand, fingers digging into his back. Her sheath gripped him tightly as she ground her pleasure out on his fingers.

Sweat glimmered on her skin like glitter in the candlelight. Her eyes remained closed for several minutes, and he could feel the spasms besieging her body even as he withdrew from her. Tugging his clothes off, he reached for the neem oil that sat on the bedside table. He uncorked the bottle and poured a little of it onto his hand. Then, setting the bottle aside, he rubbed the oil onto his pulsing, sensitive shaft.

She was floating on a haze of pleasure. Nothing around her mattered but the languidness that filled her. Her eyelids felt heavy, but when she felt a tender kiss on her lips, she blinked them open.

He smiled at her, a self-indulgent, arrogant smile that made her heartbeat quicken from its post-coital state.

"I don't think I have to ask you if you enjoyed that," he said, pushing tendrils of hair away from her forehead.

"Maybe I didn't," she said with a coquettish smile. "Maybe it was all an act."

"Oh, really?" he asked with a challenge in his raised eyebrow. His fingers touched her swollen bud and she gasped. He laughed.

"There's more. Are you ready?"

She nodded, and he grasped her legs and settled more comfortably between her thighs. He pressed a deep, tender kiss to her lips. "This might hurt just a little."

She could feel him entering her, and he was wrong. It didn't hurt. She felt deliciously stretched, achy and trembly all over, but she didn't hurt. It did sound likehewas hurting, though. His breaths came out in short pants and he was very still above her.

"Are you all right?" she asked him, twining her hands around his neck.

Jay stared down at her in confusion. "Aren't I supposed to ask you that? Areyouall right?"

He looked like he'd run a hundred miles without pausing for breath. She replied quickly.

He leaned forward and kissed her thoroughly and deliciously. "You're a wonder," he breathed, and he began to move within her.

He was dead, that was a surety. Jay was sure he'd died and gone to heaven, for nothing in this world could've been more pleasurable that being inside Anita, her sheath wet and pulsing around him. He could feel small convulsions ripple along his cock as he moved faster within her, stroking a new kind of fire in Anita.

She'd actually thought she'd experienced all there was to loving, but she'd been so wrong. What Jay was doing to her – this was a different kind of pleasure. The kind that started inside her and made her bones feel like they'd melted. She felt like she was caught in a storm of pleasure as her head whirled, trying to keep up with the build-up of pleasure in her womb. Her legs rose, of their own volition, to wrap around his waist, and she clung to him as he stroked her with fire, within and without.

Tighter and tighter desire coiled until it became almost painful, and then she felt herself at that edge of bliss again. With a hard stroke, he pushed her off the edge, and she tumbled, headlong, into the abyss of mind-numbing pleasure.

He was right behind her, crying out with the force of his release, his deeper tone blending with the whimpers that escaped her body. It was as though all his energy had been expelled through his seed, and he found himself falling on top of her limp form, his body trying to cope with the inexplicable surge of pleasure he'd just experienced.

She lay pliant and satisfied, never wanting to return to her imperfect world again. The man lying with her was all she needed. She would have him and everything else did not matter.

When she opened her eyes, he was there, looking down at her, a tender smile on his lips as he relieved her of his weight. He pressed a kiss to her lips even though they were swollen and certainly didn't need any more. At that moment, a violent and possessive emotion swept through him, and all he wanted to do was keep her close and never let her go. She'd given him a gift no one else had offered him before, and he adored her for that.