A Traveler's Tale

Ewan Morgaint stepped inside the crowded seaside inn. He found he didn’t mind the noise quite so much as he might have done; he was just thrilled to be out of that bloody car. Spending two weeks of his winter holiday on a driving tour in the north of England now seemed not quite as adventurous as he had thought. It had been a nightmare of dank motels and amazingly bad roadside dining. He had begun wondering if it were possible to transplant an ill-treated stomach with a stainless steel one.

The smells in this restaurant appeared promising, though. The scent of some creamy kind of chowder mingled with the crisp appeal of frying fish. He tried not to get his hopes up as the hostess showed him to a tiny table in front of the wide main window. The view was spectacular. The dark, forbidding ocean slammed into the gray shore, leaving behind only a pale froth of foam to caress the hurt the waves might have done. He was captivated, and a little unnerved, so Ewan was startled when the hostess appeared again and touched his shoulder.

She smiled. “We’re rather full at the moment, and you have an extra seat,” she said in a vaguely apologetic tone. “Would you mind sharing? A young woman has just come in.”

Ewan shook his head. “I’d enjoy the company.”

The hostess strolled to the waiting area, and returned followed by a woman with a fall of auburn hair so vibrant she made the rest of the room pale by comparison. She was stunning, like an alabaster statue come to life. He felt himself harden in appreciation and shifted in his chair. What the hell, he thought as they reached him. He stood and offered the gorgeous creature his hand.

“Ewan Morgaint,” he said with a warm smile. He watched as she quickly scanned over him with crisp green eyes before taking his hand.

A glimmer of a smile curved her full mouth. “Rachel Wallis,” she replied in a tone like rum poured over velvet. His balls tightened at the sudden aural sensation. He had always been an aural kind of man, and her voice, he knew, could slowly drive him insane.

They sat, and the hostess vanished into the crowd. Ewan watched her as she peered out the frosty pane into the ocean. The cool midday light filtering through the clouds did wonderful things to her dark auburn hair, made her sharp green eyes soften. The light reflecting off her milk-coloured cable knit sweater made her skin look like smoothest marble. His palms itched to skim over the lush curves she kept beneath the wool. Ewan caught himself fantasizing about doing the most wonderful things with her mouth, that full lower lip: catching it between his teeth, breathing in that fabulous vanilla scent of her, burying his tongue deep inside her, drinking at her, wrapping her ankles around his back and burying the rest of himself as deeply as he could go inside the rest of her until she screamed his name, clawed his back, pulled as hard at him as her did at her, rode her slow and firm, grinding into her body, her hot, wet body, making her back arch---

She looked at him, met his eyes. She raised a thin brow. Rachel grinned, baring her sharp white teeth. He narrowed his eyes. Surely she couldn’t know what he’d been thinking. Couldn’t possibly.

He frowned, then opened his mouth. “You couldn’t possibly know what I was thinking.”

She shrugged. “I was thinking something to do with teeth.”

It was all he could do to keep himself from groaning at the image her words conjured inside his fevered imagination. The waiter arrived, just in time to save his pride. Menus were handed out, and the waiter stood back.

Ewan cleared his throat, and asked what the special was.

“Oysters,” was the reply.

Rachel grinned at him. “Have some,” she said in a deep, amused tone.

He raised his brows at her. “Is that a promise?”

Her eyes narrowed. “God, yes,” she said with feeling.

His breath caught painfully in his chest.

“Shall I give you a moment to decide?” the waiter asked, grinning.

Ewan nodded, and the man drifted away. He took a breath, watching Rachel. Then he leaned forward. He took her hand and pulled it closer. “I…” he began. He shook his head and kissed her inner wrist, nibbled at it lightly. When he looked up, her eyes had darkened with desire. It almost unmanned him.

“Morgaint,” she said softly.

He shook his head again, then bit lightly at her wrist. “Ewan.” He drew his tongue slowly along her rapidly racing pulse. The quiet whimper from across the table did wonderful things to his blood.

“Ewan,” she said softly. “I have forty minutes before I have to get back to work.”

He looked up. Her brilliant green eyes were almost completely black now, and burning. He drew a ragged breath. “Forty minutes is a hell of a long time.”

She stared back at him for a long moment. Ewan felt remarkably like holding his breath, as he waited for her response. The tidal waves of blood slamming in his ears drowned out all the heated noise of the restaurant. Everything else was a mere wash of dull colour compared to the gorgeous woman across the table from him.

He stood, pulling his jacket and buttoning it. He took her hand as she came around the table. In the foyer, he helped her on with her long brown suede, pulled on his own knee length topcoat, and they stepped outside into the cold.

Ewan took a deep, bracing breath of frozen air. He grinned at her. “Fancy a stroll on the beach?”

She smiled up at him. “Promise you’ll keep me warm?”

Laughing, he wrapped his arm around her back, catching hold of her side. They made it halfway down the crunching gray sand, then ducked behind a large, broken stone to hide from the wind. She turned her back to the rock and looked up at him, brought a hand to his chest. He stepped closer. He ran a finger down her throat, delighting in watching her eyes close. He lowered his head, slid his tongue along her full, fabulous lower lip, caught it in his teeth. She unbuttoned his jacket to slide her hands inside and around his back to pull him closer. He followed her lead, pulling open her coat, rubbing his chest against hers. He felt the heat of her breasts against him, even through her sweater, and the sensation pushed him over. He broke, taking her mouth almost violently, pressing her back against the jagged rock with his body. She whimpered. Ewan thought she was taking offense at his sudden burst of near brutality, but she pulled at his back, opened her mouth wider to take him further inside. She sucked at his tongue, came up on her toes to be closer to his mouth. He was unable to bite back a groan, driven wild by her eagerness.

Ewan picked her up, dragged her up his body, parting her thighs with his knee. He moved in between, nestled himself at the apex of her thighs, and left her there, resting the weight of her body centered on the strength of his hips pressing her up and back against the stone. She whimpered again, making his blood burn. Rachel parted her knees even further, bringing her feet on the rock, bracing them and drawing them up, allowing him to get closer to her center. He took her hint, shoving, grinding against her, creating the most delicious friction in the well of her thighs.

He took to drawing on her tongue, thrusting his into the hot depths of her mouth in time with his rocking pushes into her welcoming softness. She nipped at him with her teeth, sucking him deeper, and fought when he pulled away. Ewan slid his hands up under sweater, ran them up the silky inferno of her body to cup her breasts through her bra. He found the catch in the center and unhooked it, took her naked flesh in his palms. As he squeezed, she wrapped her ankles around his waist, curled her fingers on his back, clawing him.

Ewan knew a sudden need to take her there that he felt powerless to deny. To have her on that cold, rocky beach, make her come for him, to bring her over with his tongue, to tunnel inside her with his cock until they could hear her scream her climax in London. But no, he wouldn’t take her here. Not with his body. He wanted her tonight, all of her tonight. He’d talk her into getting the day off tomorrow and spend the time tasting and biting every inch of her, bending her fiery body into every athletic position he could devise. Then, only then would he shove himself into her, come deep, impossibly deep inside as she arched and bucked under him.

He groaned into her mouth, the erotic images burning into his brain. He slid his hands from her breasts, down her body, to the catches of her brown slacks. he pulled one. The next. The third. She drew at his tongue, tightened her locked ankles around his back. He could feel the heat radiating from her, centered over his cock, scorching him, searing his lead pipe erection, begging his body to drive into hers.

Fifth catch, and they were undone. He pulled his mouth from hers, looked deep into her dark, narrowed eyes. They were both panting by the time he slipped his broad, long fingered hand inside. His breath caught as her head fell back, her eyes closing. He dipped further inside, thrusting his hand deeply between the tight, form fitting slacks and her slick, dew misted skin. His searching fingers encountered curls, and he dropped his face into her throat, kissing, licking, biting the sweet flesh he found there. Rachel tore his own shirt upward, untucking it, and moved her hands over his bare flesh. He thrust upward, bowing her body back so he could gain access to that fountain of her heat. His free hand cupped her ass and pulled her forward. His center finger slipped easily between her curls. He groaned into her shoulder. She was so wet, so slick for him, so bloody hot he felt perilously close to bursting, He pushed his cock against her, pressing himself hard into the back of his burrowing hand. He cupped her, feeling the shudder rocket from his body into hers.

Ewan raised his head, kissed her again, deeply, before pulling away. He brought his mouth to her ear, sank his teeth into the lobe. “Come for me, darling,” he murmured, his voice dark and husky. He found her entrance, nudged with his fingers and shoved inside. He slid the length of his center finger upward, further upward until he felt close to melting from the volcanic force of her heat. His body’s instant reaction was to thrust hard up and against her in reflex, a basic overpowering drive to bury himself to the hilt.

His teeth firmly clenched on the shoulder of her sweater, he began to thrust his finger, sliding out and pressing back inside that deliciously tight, burning sheath. He rocked his crotch against her at the same time, fitting the bulge of his cock into the furrow made by his bent finger. He edged his thumb along her slick channel until he found her clit. Ewan flicked it with his nail, then circled, teasing it in time with his strokes into the welcoming hollow of her moist flesh. He moved back to her ear. “I want to feel you come around me,” he said raggedly.

He kissed her again, the triple sensations of thrusting against and into her heat creating a symphony of vicious pleasurable pain in his balls. He’d never considered force a viable option until that moment. His body made up its own mind, bucking harder, faster, pounding her back upon the stone as if he wanted to hammer her into it.

She leaned her head back, pulling away from his mouth, dragging his lip through her teeth. “Ewan,” she said huskily. “Please. I want you. Not this way.” She wrapped her hand around his wrist, trying to stop him. “Ewan, please.”

With considerable effort, he managed to slow, stop his body’s instincts. He looked at her. “Here?” he asked raggedly. “Like this?”

She nodded, pale and vivid, surrounded by a halo of radiant auburn hair. “God, yes. There’s never been anywhere better.”

He tore at his belt, stepping back from her, She took the opportunity to pull off her coat and draw her sweater over her head. She tossed it onto the sand, her bra on top of it, and pulled to coat back on in defense of the wind curling around the stone. She caught her heels, one against the other, taking off her dress heels, then tugged the brown slacks down. She stepped back into her heels, making Ewan’s breath stop at the sheer eroticism of the vision: the lushly curved woman wearing nothing but a long suede coat, heels and a shimmer of noonday sun in her dark auburn hair.

Rachel reached for him, unbuttoned his shirt. He leaned into her, slipped his hands down the smooth, hot length of her body. He knelt then, took the tip of one creamy breast in his mouth, sucked deeply at it. She whimpered at the pleasure, a sound rapidly beginning to shatter his fragile control, making his blood boil with the anticipation of driving into her body. He bit lightly, pulled at the other, then went further down, breathing in the heat of her sex. He cupped his hands about her ass and pulled her hips forward, nuzzling deeply into her soft auburn curls. He could hear her stop breathing. She was so wet, so slick and boiling, he was amazingly certain he hardened further. He reached with his tongue, parting her lips with his thumbs, touched her lightly with the wet tip. She gasped. He took her nub into his mouth, and he could feel her, taste her coming against his mouth.

He broke, his control shattering into a billion shards. He surged up, standing, picking her up, shoving her back, taking her mouth with the brutality of a pirate, pulling her body up even as he slammed it back against the rock. He thrust up, bearing her body on the length of his rigid cock, shoving, tunneling his way upward until he was more deeply inside than he had ever been. Her body instinctively seized around him, squeezing him tight, and he came with a soul-wrenching groan, deep inside her slick, burning channel.

He dropped his head to her shoulder, exhausted by the most incredible, full body orgasm of his life. He couldn’t have moved if he tried.

Rachel drew up her legs, bringing her ankles to lock behind his back, high on his waist. Ewan felt all the blood in his head rush to fill his balls near to bursting, as hard or harder than he had been before. He cupped her ass in his hands, feeling her nails in his back, her nipples like diamonds scratching his chest, her breath by his ear, the drowning smell of vanilla and sex annihilating his mind. And he moved, starting slow and rocking, thrusting, grinding against her. Moving faster, driving, pushing into her. He kissed her again, his tongue almost to her throat, while she groaned and sucked on him, drawing him deeper. He became violent, brutal, slamming into her, fucking her hard now, until her lush body went rigid, clenching his cock like a fist. She bit his tongue and he tasted blood, knew her nails were digging furrows in his back, but oh god she was coming; again and again he could feel her tense and vibrate around him, squeezing and pulling harder at his cock. He slammed, thrust as hard as he could into her, her inner muscles flexing, milking him dry, sucking his soul from his body. He held her there, balanced between his hips and the rock, his strength draining into her as his last thrust took him, bursting like a volcano into her own heat.

She stroked his hair for the longest time, holding him cradled to her shoulder. Ewan was halfway to being asleep before he became aware of the cold. He slipped from her, holding Rachel by the waist until she adjusted to standing by herself. He zipped up and knelt, retrieving her clothes for her.

They walked back to the restaurant; he accompanied her back to her car. They stood by the door for a moment, curiously silent. Then, suddenly, she grinned up at him.

“I get off work at four,” she said, her hand on his chest. “I know a motel in town that has fantastic oysters.”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss her. As far as Ewan was concerned, the rest of England could wait.