The Lake

“Hey,” he said, coming forward. “Let me open that for you.”

“Thanks. Nice to have a man around. To open things, and…”

“Oh, yeah? And what else, may I ask?”

“Oh, to open things and just be around the house, I guess.”

They took their wine through to the living room.

Lingering by the glass wall, Leigh told him, “As for my story—if you must know, there’s not much more to say. I got knocked up. I wasn’t the first. Won’t be the last. Girls do it all the time. I wasn’t in love with the guy, so there was no question of him being involved…He died anyway.”

Mace stayed silent. They crossed over to the sofa. He took her glass and set it down on the low table.

Then he moved in against her. Their lips met…Pressing close, she could feel his hard-on, bulking up, growing big inside his jeans.

“Perhaps we should take the wine into the bedroom,” he whispered. “Relax a little, take in some TV, and…” He bent down, his mouth finding hers, his tongue edging in, hard, searching.

He felt her flinch away slightly.

“Sorry, Leigh. Only if you want to, of course.”

“Mace, you know I want to. Just a little worried about Deana, is all. She went out after dinner. With Warren, her new boyfriend. They should be back soon. She said maybe an hour or so.”

He eased away from her, searching her face. “Hey. She shouldn’t worry you like this. Y’know? Maybe I should have a word—”

“No, please don’t,” Leigh cut in with a short laugh. “Warren’s okay. Really. He’s mature and very sensible. Deana’s perfectly safe with him.”

“She still shouldn’t do this. Not so soon after Nelson an’ all.”

“Really, Mace. Everything’ll be fine. Honestly. I feel it right here.” Leigh touched her heart. The silk robe she’d changed into earlier gaped open, showing the soft curve of her left breast.

Mace grinned. “Do that again and I warn you, I won’t be responsible for my actions!”

“That’s my Mace. Mmmm. You’re so masterful at times.”

She stood up, took his hand, and pulled him toward the bedroom.

“Er, the wine?”

“What wine?” she said with a sly smile. “We’ll enjoy that later!”

She went ahead of him into the dark bedroom, her robe sliding to the floor.

He picked it up, tossed it over the bedrail. “Come here, you crazy woman. Come to Poppa.” He grabbed her by the waist and flung her on the bed. She reached out to switch on the bedside lamp, but his hand closed over hers.

“No,” he murmured. “We don’t need light. We got hands. We got touch. Ve-erry sexy, so they tell me…and a guaranteed turn-on!”

“Okay. Okay. Just give it to me, Mace. Hard and long.”

He looked down. Her face was a pale blur, pleading.

“Am I hearing this right? You saying ‘give it to me.’ Any way. Any how?”

“Sure. Why not? Just do it, Mace.” With trembling fingers, she began struggling with his jeans. Unzipping them, pulling them down. She reached out, felt his coarse curly hair, shuddered, and curled her hands around his shaft. Sighing and moaning a little, she breathed, “My God, Mace. Give it to me.”

She was panting now.

Pulling him to her.

Wanting him.

Whichever way he cared…She shrugged down under him, feeling his weight straddling her, leaning over, his hair falling forward. In the dark, their eyes met and held…She grabbed his penis with both hands. Close up, it was huge. Engorged. She rammed it into her mouth. Hard.

He pulled away…“No,” he said softly. “Not that way. The way you want it.”

She gave in, straightened out, and he lay on top, covering her face with kisses, tracing his tongue gently over her mouth, her neck, then slipping down to her breasts.

He cradled them in his hands, caressing them. He went down again. Taking small quick licks, his tongue playing around her nipples, feeling them go rigid. She wriggled beneath him, pressing onto his shaft, feeling the moist warmth rising…He went in deeper and deeper…She rose to meet him.

Moaning, panting, she rammed herself onto him. He responded, pressing deep, shafting her with long, hurting strokes. He came quickly, flooding her with hot, releasing bursts. Finally, he pulled away. Moving off her. Falling back on the bed, breathing hard, his body slick with sweat.

She lay there, staring into the darkness, still panting softly. At last, her breath evened out. She felt full, satisfied. Complete.

A clicking sound came from the hallway.

They tensed, holding their breath.

A light clatter of heels on the clay tiles.

Deana.

Home.

Leigh breathed a sigh of relief.

Mace turned his head, smiling into the darkness.

Leigh’s face was a soft white smudge in the gloom.

A gray light crept in from the window, playing across the bed. Trembling shadows from the trees outside shifted around, touching the walls, the ceiling.

“Deana’s home,” she whispered, finding his hand. He took hers in his and squeezed it. “Okay. I give in,” he whispered back. She turned on her side, facing him, curving in to his body. Feeling the sweat, slick and warm on their skin.

Mmmm, she thought, smiling softly, everything is just so perfect! Her eyelids began to droop. She felt spent, happy, relaxed.