Rekindled

Todd could not touch enough places at once. One hand returned to the flesh of her ass and pulled her right cheek wide to allow him greater access, while his other hand slipped down her front to tickle the swollen clitoris at the front of her nether region.

Vanessa gasped. "Yes!" she cried, her limbs beginning to quiver. "Oh, god, yes!"

She worked her hips in-and-out, in-and-out in tight, skillful little circles, taking his strokes at different angles, increasing both of their pleasure. One arm wrapped around his neck, keeping her upright and keeping their connection, while her other hand slipped down the groove between their wet bodies and over his hand where it was attacking her mound, squeezing it encouragingly.

She whimpered when he removed that hand, her own fingers taking to rubbing her swollen little nub vigorously, her nails titillating his shaft as it stretched her sex, but he showed her why he removed it moments later when his pointer finger wiggled into her anus to the second knuckle.

Vanessa squealed, and in the next moment the pace quickened; they were now moving swiftly towards the ending. The churning of the jets and the splashing of the water could barely be heard above his grunts of exertion and her steadily rising squeals of pleasure.

"Oh, god," she wailed, the words coming fast and furious, and she screamed as she exploded, quaking violently, limbs wobbling, "so close, so close, don't stop, fuck me, fuck me, yes, yes, yes, fuck me! Fuck me! Yes! Yes Yes Yes Yes FFFUCCKK MMMEEE YYYEESSSESSS!"

Todd held her firmly by the hips, pulling his finger from her ass to get a better grip, and began to hammer into her with brutal force; he kept her climaxing for well over a minute, breasts jiggling, pussy twitching, ass quivering, eyes fluttering, until finally she returned to earth and slumped against him, collapsing into his arms, his cock still embedded within her.

She shuddered as another tremor of pleasure struck, then settled against him again. "How did you survive that?" she whispered wearily as she nuzzled his neck with her nose. She gave his still hard cock a squeeze with her vaginal muscles.

He grunted, then grinned. "You'll just have to work harder next time, I guess," he said, and she growled playfully at him.

"Just you wait, mister," she warned.

He stroked her semi-wet hair. "I can wait," he decided, and meant it: a beautiful wet woman in his arms was never something to shy away from, and Vanessa Dorsey was, to him, the most beautiful woman in the world.

Silence descended.

Into which, following, crept the first hint of melancholy in more than four days.

"Come with me," she whispered, so softly he wondered if she had actually spoken. She raised her head and met his gaze, bright brown eyes meeting gray, and said again, her eyes intent, her voice low and urgent, "Come with me."

It was a long moment before he answered. "Why?" he asked, simply.

Her eyes sparkled with so much life. "Because I fell in love with you two years ago," she told him, "and now, after just another taste of you, I'm right back in that place again, and falling hard. I don't want to lose us again."

He mustered himself. "Then don't," he said, with vigor. "Stay with me, here, in Los Angeles. Fly to your shoot in the Bahamas and come back to me here. We'll make it work."

Her composure wavered. "I fly to Milan from Nassau, then London, then New York, then Madrid. I won't stop moving for three months. It's . . . it's my career."

"Three months," he whispered, then added, louder, "I have deadlines, Vanessa, responsibilities. It's my career, too, and I've worked hard to get to where I am. It's not as glamorous as flying all over the world, but it's what I love. I can't leave now, just when I'm hitting my stride. How could I manage three months, when tomorrow is old news in my business."

Her eyes misted. "So what happens now?" she asked, laying her head against his chest. "My flight leaves tomorrow at noon. I have to be on it."

Todd said the words, and cringed a little more with each one. "We say goodbye," he told her, hating it, hating himself and the situation, "and promise ourselves we'll do a better job than last time."

It was several minutes before she stopped crying, and Todd weathered the storm as best he could, second-guessing himself, wondering, hoping she would change her mind, hoping the answers would easily come. He was on the verge of emotional overflow himself, but kept it in check, barely; she needed him to be strong in that moment, to say the sensible thing.

"I know," she said in a quiet voice after a time. "I know it won't work right now. We have different lives, different circles. We had our chance in college, and maybe, if things had been different then . . . but they're not. You can't drop everything and come away with me, no more than I can drop everything to stay. I know."

Still, her voice was breaking as she spoke, just as his heart was breaking to hear it.

"We won't lose touch, this time," he promised.

She did not respond, silence descending again, until she asked, whispering, "Are you happy we saw each other again?"

Todd put his hands on the side of her face and lifted it, bringing her eyes to meet his once more. Quietly, but fiercely, and with every measure of passion within himself, he told her, "I would never trade seeing you again, not for anything. This has been the best week of my life, and I take it gladly."

He leaned in and kissed her then, lightly, and as the moments passed with their lips connected, the energy between them suddenly began to mount until their mouths were frenzied and their tongues were dueling like a pair of lovesick teenagers.

She broke away then, also quite suddenly, and there was a smoldering fire in her bright brown eyes. "If we have only a short time left," she said fervently, "then I intend to use it. I hope you don't expect to sleep tonight. You're going to fuck me in every hole I have for as long as your dick stays hard, and my mouth will make sure it stays hard all night."

Todd felt his cock, which had never lost its hardness and was still buried inside the girl, twitch at the dirty words. By the dirty smile that came over her face, it was clear Vanessa felt it, too.

Todd grinned, pushing aside the sadness to focus on the sex. "I have plenty more in store for you, Miss Dorsey," he informed her. "Now flip that sweet ass over so I can take you from behind."

She lowered her eyes, but the dirty smile never wavered as she said submissively, "Yes, sir."

There would be more tears and more goodbyes in the morning, and promises of communication, although both knew it would be extremely difficult given their conflicting careers, but in that moment, in the bathtub, connected by bonds by physical and emotional, neither Todd nor Vanessa thought about such things as the latter rolled over and offered up her rump.

And so began the marathon session that would be, they knew, their final night together.

* * *

It had been one of the greatest nights of his life.

He had not gone out looking for adventure, but it had found him just the same, amazingly, excitingly, and absolutely unbelievably. He considered himself a nice guy, a little shy, a little safe by the standards of many women, and nights like last night just did not happen to men who possessed such characteristics.

If he had not lived it, he would never have believed it.

As usual, his headache was exceptional; alcohol almost always produced a hangover for him, which was unfortunate, although it also, he knew, had played a gigantic part in the events of the previous evening, the memories of which helped lessen the ache to a great degree.

He was standing in the kitchen, gulping down an entire bottle of water, when keys rattled the door to the apartment. He lowered his drink, waiting; he had not seen much of his roommate this week, and to be honest had not even known he was not in his bedroom.

He was instantly concerned when the door opened: the guy looked like absolute crap. His hair was disheveled, his clothes were a mess, and his eyes were puffy and red, almost like he'd been crying, which was crazy, of course, because guys like Todd did not cry, not ever. Maybe, he surmised, the guy had pulled an all-nighter, working late or some such thing.

Todd stopped just inside the door, stood motionless for a long moment, and took a deep breath, then looked around and with some surprise noticed him standing in the kitchen. "Ethan," his roommate said simply.

"Todd," Ethan replied. "Everything alright?"

Todd nodded, but there was little enthusiasm to it. It was clear everything was not alright, and Ethan was growing concerned, even to the point of excluding thoughts of what was waiting back in his bedroom.

Which, of course, would not be contained.

The door to his room opened and a woman emerged, a luscious blonde with a willowy figure, long succulent legs, and a pair of ripe, supple breasts. Ethan knew these things about her both from memory, but also because she was wearing nothing but her skimpy white panties. Her breasts and the rest of her body was on complete display, and she did not seem to mind.

"Hi," she chirped in a bubbly voice that was far too cheerful for the morning hours, looking at Todd as she crossed the room and joined Ethan in the kitchen. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled her face in his neck, cooing softly. "Missed you, baby. Come back to bed."

Despite this, Ethan was still concerned about his friend, who had gone white as a sheet and was still standing rigid and motionless by the door. "Todd," he called out.

Todd looked at him, those gray eyes churning with some sort of raw, unintelligible emotion. "I'm fine, Ethan," he said suddenly, hastily, "but I have to go. Don't worry, I'll call you later, I promise. I have to go."

And with that, his roommate spun on his heels and practically burst through the door, leaving Ethan and his beautiful blonde alone together in the kitchen.

The girl purred and spoke once more. "We miss you, baby," she cooed. "Come back to bed."

At which point the door to his room opened again and two more women emerged, one another beautiful blonde, the other a stunning raven-haired beauty, both of them naked as the days they were born, and absolutely gorgeous.

"We're getting lonely, you know," the raven-haired girl pouted.

The other blonde giggled. "And horny," she admitted.

Ethan sighed as a fresh smile crept over his face; these girls would be the death of him. They were, simply stated, insatiable, as evidenced as much by the rumpled sheets from the bedroom as by the hand of the blonde wrapped around him delving into his boxer shorts, wrapping its fingers around his rapidly swelling cock.

"Mmmm," she murmured as the girls descended like predators to prey. "He wants to play."

Ethan reached down and smacked the girl on the rump, making her squeal. Yes, he thought to himself with inward exultation and an outward smile, he did want to play, and the day was just beginning.

* * *

Sometimes, a man just likes to read the newspaper in peace, even a man whose life revolves around that same said paper, and so it was for Jonas Atwater on Sunday mornings, his only real day off.

Seated at his breakfast table, munching on eggs and bacon and watching with great pleasure his wife, ten years his junior and twenty years younger than he in appearance, scurry around the kitchen in little more than an over-sized tee-shirt. She was beautiful, the love of his life, and were she the ugliest, most repulsive woman on the planet, even then he knew he would still love her.

She was, simply stated, his light.

Which is why he was particularly displeased at the fact that his phone rang to interrupt such a moment, but ring it did and answer it he did, already prepping in his mind the string of curses he would levy upon the person who was calling, for there was almost no issue great enough to Jonas Atwater to necessitate breaking the happiness of his day off.

He never used them, however; he listened to the voice on the other end of the line and did not speak, and when the voice was done, Jonas Atwater did something that he would remember for the rest of his days.

"Do what you need to do," he said. "The paper has you covered." He listened for a few more moments, then added, "As long as you need. Good luck."

He noticed his wife watching him with a curious expression. "What was that about?" she wondered. "You hate calls on Sunday."

Jonas grinned. "Not calls like that, my dear," he told her. "Now bring that cute little butt over here and park it in my lap. I've got something sweet to give you."

His wife giggled and bashfully lowered her eyes, and in that moment Jonas knew he would get himself some hot weekend morning sex, which was always some of the best.

"Yes, dear," his wife said obediently.

Jonas, of course, was already hard.

* * *

She was recognizable to some degree, her face and body and image available in multiple ways in the public domain, and so when she traveled, she always wore large sunglasses to disguise her face, and often sometimes a low-hanging hat. She wore both on this particular morning, to hide her celebrity but also her obviously fatigued face, and more importantly her tear-streaked cheeks.

There were three others with her, her publicist, her manager, and an agency representative. The three had been trailing around after her all week, which meant they did have some small measure of knowledge about what was going on in her life, all three having met him. They were also, and she was exceedingly grateful for it, smart enough to leave well enough alone, and remained silent throughout the boarding process.

Once on the plane, Vanessa sank into her first class seat and dropped her head into her hands. It was official, she was leaving, and once again she was leaving what she knew would be deep and abiding love. She wondered why, but knew in her heart she was just too frightened by the prospect of forever to fight for it, despite wanting it desperately. She was too weak, she knew, and it cost her, twice, the best man she had ever known.

The tears began to flow once more.

"Don't cry, beautiful girl," a voice said softly from somewhere behind, and in that moment the whole being of Vanessa Dorsey froze, went motionless, at the familiarity heard in that sound.

Slowly, ever slowly, scarcely believing, scarcely hoping, she turned her head around to see just who it was sitting in the seat behind her, and when her eyes fell upon the smiling face of the man she loved, the smiling and handsome face of Todd Coulter, there burst from the depths of her heart an explosion of emotion unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

It was debilitating, and empowering, and she could not contain herself: she screamed with delight and vaulted over the seat, and into his arms, kissing his face and lips and chin, and everything and anything else she could find.

It was not until the smiling, somewhat embarrassed stewardess asked her to take her seat that she broke away from him, tears still streaming from her eyes, but now for an entirely different reason. She settled into the seat next to him, which was blessedly unoccupied, her arm still wrapped around his.

"How?" she asked him, simply and in a wavering voice.

He looked her right in the eyes, passion blazing in the churning gray pools. "That is not the right question," he told her, waiting.

Her heart lifted. "Why?" she whispered.

He smiled. "Because I love you," he said, and as her tears began to flow yet again, he leaned in to kiss her tenderly, tastefully, on the lips.

Which is exactly how they spent much of the subsequent seven hour flight to the Bahamas.

Epilogue: One Year Later

The Big Dog was prowling and the newsroom bustled, except for one particular spot.

The desk was empty, which was not an uncommon thing, and some of the more ornery employees were heard to complain about it from time to time, their jealousy seeping through. After all, his work was exemplary, his work ethic exceptional whether home or abroad, and his future in the business was bright; the news world was practically at his fingertips. So what if the kid's working arrangement was a little unorthodox; it was no sweat off the Big Dog's back, provided he got his work done and that work was top-notch.

Which, of course, it always was.

The desk was neat, everything in its place, with little adornment. In fact, the only personal item in view was a framed 8x10 photo on a stand in one corner, a professional headshot of a beautiful young woman with bright brown eyes and light milk chocolate skin.

The Big Dog grinned. "Lucky bastard," he muttered beneath his breath, shaking his head. Young, talented, and in love with a beautiful woman.

The world at his fingertips, as it were.

* * *

The sun beat down upon his body where he lay upon the sand, waiting for her to return.

He sighed contentedly; having traveled all over the world over the past year, he could easily say that Bora Bora was one of his favorite spots. It was their second trip to the island, but their first with a great deal of free time.

She left early that morning for a sunrise shoot and he spent the morning finishing up his latest article, which he forwarded on to his boss. It was just after noon when he found himself lounging in the sand, waiting eagerly and expectantly.

Thankfully, he did not wait long.

She came upon him from behind, her shadow falling upon him. He opened his eyes and smiled up at her, and marveled at the gorgeous sight of her white bikini-clad body, slender and buxom and altogether mouth-watering. He felt his board shorts twitch and wondered if she noticed.

By the devilishness of her grin, it was clear she had noticed. "Something's happen to see me," she purred, reaching back behind her head to pluck at the strings of her bikini top.

He chuckled. "It missed you," he told her.

The bikini top hit the sand, baring her exquisite breasts. She knelt beside him and tugged at his shorts, and he did not stop her. He knew exactly where this was going, and there was no way he was going to object.

She giggled. "It needs some attention, I think," she cooed, and lowered her head to take him into her mouth, suckling gently, and he sighed.

And after another long round of love-making on the beach and a playful dip in the ocean together, the two young lovers returned to the sand to lay with limbs entwined, tan lines be damned, each feeling acutely and wonderfully the presence of the other and the love that bonded them together, the glorious love that took so long to find.

And the brilliant sun continued to shine.

<<<End of Rekindled by Jack and Josephine Cutter. Future stories starring some or all of these characters might also be forthcoming based upon response and demand and characters featured herein may also be found in other works by the authors, published or forthcoming. Email feedback to the address in our profile.>>>