A Forbidden Storm (6 page)

She rubbed her husband’s chest while he kissed her neck.
 
Jessica fought against the recollection of her encounter with Martin.
 
She concentrated on her body and on her husband’s touch but the unwanted memory whispered to her and pulled her out of the moment.
 
Joel let his hands wander down to her ass.
 
She leaned up to bite him on the lip and he pulled away, surprised.
 
He chuckled, nervously, “careful there, Tiger,” before kissing her again.
 
His touch was light and tentative.

She took his hand and put it in her hair.
 
“Pull it,” she said and his eyes widened.
 
Joel tugged her head back and she moaned.
 
She wanted him to be rough –to take her forcefully.

After a moment, Joel let go of her hair and rubbed the curve of her shoulder.
 
Jessica hissed in frustration.
 
She shut her eyes and saw Martin.
 
She remembered his strength as he pulled her to him.
 
The memory of his touch was a parasite burrowing up from her subconscious.

“Get on top, Joel.”
 
Jess rolled onto her back and pulled her husband towards her.
 
When he was slow to react, she slid his boxers down over his thighs.
 
He slipped them off and she pulled him onto her.
 
“I need you to fuck me.”
 
She snaked her fingers down his stomach to grasp his manhood.

Jessica was used to having to slow her eager husband down in bed, so she was shocked to find her hand alight upon his limp penis.
 
She broke the kiss, bewildered.
 
Joel looked shocked.
 
“I don’t know,” he answered her unspoken question.
 
“It’s been a really long day.
 
I’m just a little worn out, I think.
 
In the morning.
 
In the morning we can…” He bent and kissed her.
 
It was a kiss to placate, whisper soft.
 
Jess crawled out from under him into the seclusion of the bathroom.

She was up first the next morning.
 
Last night’s disappointment hung over her like a cloud, and the old insecurities seemed to find new footing inside her skull.

Jessica quietly slipped on her bikini –her newfound source of confidence.
 
Who would have believed that?
 
She threw a towel over her shoulder, grabbed the sunscreen, and scribbled a note to her husband.

Joel,

Meet me on the beach.
 
We’ll have breakfast.

Love,

J

She was no William Shakespeare.

Jess lay claim to a lawn chair, closed her eyes, and began to absorb the morning sunshine.
 
The Caribbean sun had not yet reached inferno status and she roasted at a pleasant slow cooker-like pace.

“Damn, you really fill out a bikini.”
 
Jessica opened her eyes and tilted up her sunglasses.
 
Martin was grinning at her and she felt an unwelcome flutter in her gut.

“Martin, I don’t want to talk.
 
Leave me alone.”

“Look, I was just paying a compliment.
 
I didn’t mean to piss you off.
 
Is this about bringing Joel home late?
 
Not my fault Jessica,” Martin shrugged.
 
He acted like everything was so minor.
 
Had he not kissed her, felt her breasts, tried to take her into his bed?

“I just want to be alone, okay?”

“Okay, okay.
 
You do look fine though, seriously.”
 
Jessica beamed at the compliment then scolded herself for beaming.

She let herself watch him as he walked away.
 
It was the first time she had seen Martin in a bathing suit and he was stunning -tanned and oiled.
 
His athletic form was fit for a magazine cover or a sculpture and she admired the strong lines of the muscles running up his v-shaped back.
 
He wore blue surfer shorts, loose in the leg but tight in the rear, and Jess bit her cheek, drawing blood, as she watched his behind under the fabric.
 
Martin looked back and spotted her watching his departure.
 
His cocky smile was both arousing and infuriating.

Jessica came to a realization; Martin Timmons was the unattainable boy she’d admired in High School.
 
He was athletic, attractive, popular and charismatic.
 
He married a perfect girl, and had wealth, self-assurance and status.
 
Martin must have had a dozen unpopular girls pining for him during his teen years.
 
How many girls thought of him at night and wrote his name in in elaborate script in the back of their diaries?
 
Was she still that silly teen?
 
Had she not evolved past the point of ridiculous crushes on unattainable lovers?

Ch8

“Yes Jessica.
 
I’ll see a doctor as soon as we get home.
 
I don’t know what to tell you.
 
Can you fucking lay off?”
 
Joel was as furious as she had ever seen him.
 
She wanted to hold his hand, to tell him it would be alright and that she still loved him, but he wanted distance.

“Okay, baby.
 
We’re not going to obsess about this.”
 
She touched his hand and slid in beside him on the sofa.
 
“Let’s just enjoy our time together.”

“You’re crowding me.”
 
Joel’s glare was all anger.

Jessica left him alone in the room.
 
She headed for the beach where she removed her sandals to feel the wet sand on her feet.
 
A few straggling beachgoers remained as the sun began to set.
 
Jessica found a chair and watched the red clouds turn to black in the western sky.

She wanted to be back with her husband, to hold him, but he would have none of it.
 
Their bungalow had become depressing and devoid of oxygen.
 
Jess needed air to breathe and she needed to give Joel space.
 
She had told him a dozen times that he would be okay and that he would always be the man for her, but he only heard the fear behind her assurances.

She sat at the bar, counting pretzels and reliving her week –trying to makes sense out of what had happened to her and Joel.
 
That first night, when he returned from fishing, he would have been tired.
 
There had been hours on a small boat, baking in the sun, and being beaten by the ocean.
 
It had been late by the time they went to bed. It was understandable.

The next day, after dinner, Jessica had slipped into her sexiest outfit.
 
She crawled into her husband’s lap and began a slow seduction.
 
She hadn’t meant to cry when she found him unable to perform.
 
Was she piling undue pressure on him?
 
It’s just, Jessica thought, we’ve never had a problem before.

She fingered the rim of the glass, drank, and then returned to her pretzels.
 
Where was she?
 
Forty?
 
Forty-one?
 
She bit into a pretzel and began counting from one.

There had been three more attempts in the next three days.
 
Three nervous
fumblings
punctuated by fear more than romance or lust.
  
Each time she tried to coax some measure of firmness from him, applying all her feminine guile to the task.
 
The failures were humiliating for both husband and wife.

Her biggest worry was that Joel’s problem portended a more serious health issue.
 
She spent the day trying to convince him to visit the hospital, but he refused.
 
Joel scowled and said he was fine.
 
Fine, except for that one thing, of course.
 
Her husband had retreated in shame to a secluded place –locked himself in a box without doors or windows, a ‘do not open’ sign nailed to the side.
 
Joel was embarrassed and frightened and Jessica couldn’t help him.
 
All she could do was drink.

Jessica wondered if she was being punished.
 
Could God be revenging her for her dalliance with Martin Timmons?
 
But what sort of creator would punish her by torturing her innocent husband?
 
No, it was more likely that a microscopic demon resided in the island water supply – a snarling devil that could have both rewired Jessica’s sense of propriety and
replumbed
Joel’s nether regions.
 
When they returned home, she told herself, Joel would see his doctor and the cruel mischief would be left behind.

---

Even before she saw or heard him sit beside her, Jess could feel Martin’s approach.
 
The look she gave him was one of mild annoyance and disinterest, but she had little hope of shooing him away.
 
Just a week ago she would have been thrilled to be seated next to her attractive older neighbor, but now Jessica wanted to be left alone.

“I still like that dress” Martin said.
 
She was wearing the sun dress that he had complimented Jess’s first day in Antigua.

She shrugged him off; took another drink.

“You’re not talking to me?”

“Not in a conversation mood.
 
You’re going to have to do your talking elsewhere, Martin.”
 
She was curt and irritated.

“Look, you don’t need to be hostile.
 
I’m your friend.
 
I know things have gotten awkward between us, but I am your friend, Jessica.”

“Awkward?” she laughed.
 
“My friend?
 
That’s not what I’d call it, Martin.
 
Do you always hit on married women? Touch them?
 
Kiss them?

“No.
 
Just you.”
 
His look was serious.
 
“You never asked me not to.”

“Look, you should leave.”
 
Jessica turned back towards her pretzels.
 
A buzzing inside her head told her to count them.

Martin waved the waiter over.
 
“Get her another drink.”
  
He looked back to Jessica.
 
“Look Jess, I am your friend, whether or not you think I am.
 
You can talk to me.”

“Martin, I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she said.
 
“I don’t want to talk.
 
Really I don’t.”

He ignored her.
 
“Where’s Joel?”

“He wants to be alone.”
 
When the waiter returned she took a sip of wine, thought better of it, and then pushed the glass away.
 
She wasn’t about to get drunk tonight.

“Alone?
 
If I were him, I’d never leave you alone, Jessica.
 
He needs his head examined.
 
He should see a doctor.”

The word ‘doctor’ triggered something inside her.
 
She swallowed and tried not to cry, but was only partly successful.
 
Martin grabbed a bar napkin and dabbed her cheek.
 
He put his arms around her and she buried her face in his t-shirt.

He held her for several minutes without speaking.
 
Jessica leaned against him.
 
She could smell him and feel his chest move as he breathed.
 
His arms were wrapped around her; warm, masculine and solid.
 
When she lifted her head from his upper body he looked at her, concerned.
 
She kissed him.

It was Martin’s turn to be surprised.
 
His look of concern turned to one of confusion.
 
“Jessica, just a second ago you were saying…”
 
She kissed him again.

Ch9

They kissed for several minutes.
 
Jessica had a powerful need to do something irrational –something to release the pressure that had been building for a week.
 
As they kissed she felt the tight knot of tension easing up.
 
He touched her breast and she squirmed closer, and whimpered.
 
She ran her hand up his back and felt the muscles she had admired on the beach.
 
His body was dense and strong and he made her feel small and feminine.
 
When the kiss broke she leaned into him panting, her mouth resting on his collarbone.

The waiter was standing at their table, looking down.
 
“Shall I close the check?”
 
The implication was clear: this is not appropriate behavior; you should leave.
 
Martin threw down a fifty and took Jessica by the hand.

He led her through the Caribbean night towards the sounds of the surf.
 
She strained to see in the near darkness but he guided her forward with surprising confidence.
 
The gentle tropical wind had been replaced by a building squall and she rubbed her arms to stay warm as they walked.

They followed a path to the more expensive suites that lined the beach.
 
Jessica gave little thought to where they were going, but inertia carried her after him.
 
 
She felt the cool rocks on her bare feet and remembered that she had left her shoes beside the table at the bar.
 
She turned to go back and he took her by the hand.
 
“We’re almost there.”

Martin opened the door and left her standing alone in the pitch black entranceway.
 
The smell of the place was of expensive perfume and it combined with the scent of the Caribbean to create a heady combination.
 
Jessica leaned against the door frame to find her bearings; she suddenly felt less than sturdy on her feet.

She could hear him moving inside the cottage which felt much larger than the room she shared with Joel.
 
The flare of a lit match burned across the room and she blinked towards the doorway to the bedroom where a soft glow now lit the way.
 
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
 
The sound of the latch was loud and startling.

At the entrance to the bedroom Jessica again found the doorframe and watched Martin light several more candles.
 
She looked at the shiny red bed sheets and realized the gravity of what she was about to do.
 
You forgot your shoes, Jessica.
 
Remember your comfortable shoes?
 
She decided to turn and flee until she heard Martin.
 
“Come here, Jessica.”
 
His voice was commanding and she obeyed.

He guided her hands to his belt and she fumbled with the clasp.
 
After she unbuttoned his shorts he pulled his shirt over his head.
 
The sight of Martin in the candlelight was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
 
Jessica placed her hands on Martin’s shoulders and felt the width of his torso and the firmness of his body.
 
She reached out and brushed her fingers over his chest then leaned in to kiss him again.

Their kiss was hard and passionate.
 
Jessica could feel his weight pressing into her; pushing her past her center of gravity.
 
Martin held her up as he continued the kiss, relentless and animalistic.
 
She could feel her lips stinging as they were mashed against the front of her teeth.
 
Jessica felt herself falling and she reached out to cushion the landing but it was only Martin sitting her at the edge of the bed.

Martin grasped the sun dress and began to pull it off her.
 
Jess was startled by the jagged sound of stitches tearing at a seam and she instinctively lifter her hips to allow the garment to be drawn over her head.

Martin stepped back and appraised her body.
 
She felt vulnerable in bra and underwear and he eyed her hungrily.
 
“You’re beautiful, Jessica.”
 
He licked his lips in anticipation and she trembled under his all-seeing gaze.

Martin shucked his boxer shorts and his semi-hard cock was right in front of her.
 
He took her hand and placed it under his shaft.
 
She was surprised by his dimension as she held him.
 
His member was warm and heavy and she wondered if he was too big for her. Martin smiled down at her astonished expression.
 
He was proud of himself.
 
You cocky asshole.

Martin watched her staring and smiled.
 
He was the picture of conceit and she realized that he was used to this reaction.
 
Martin got off on being watched.
 
How many women have sat here before, she wondered, and admired this man’s beautiful body and marvelous appendage?

He guided the head of his near-hard cock to her lips and she leaned forward to taste him.
 
Jessica kissed the head of his dick.
 
For the second time Jess was astonished as the size of Martin’s endowment became apparent.
 
Son-of-a-bitch, Christ
 
almighty.

Martin let his fingers tangle in her hair as she tasted his prodigious member.
 
His smile was smug.
 
She hated the arrogance even as her body responded to him.
 
Jessica thought of her husband for the first time since the kiss at the bar.
 
I’m supposed to be with Joel.
 
But the feeling was fleeting and she continued to service the object of her lust.

He toyed with her hair as he slowly fucked her mouth.
 
Her arousal was building even though she worried about Martin’s pleasure and her own inexperience.
 
He eased his big cock out of her mouth and lifted her by her elbow to encourage her to stand.
 
He turned her body so that her back was to him, and ran his finger along the bumps of her spine until he felt the clasp on her brassiere.
 
The heat from his touch lingered long after his finger had moved along.
 
Martin unhooked the clasp and eased the straps over her shoulders kissing her there after his fingers had had passed.
 
She blushed as she turned back to him, her arms over her breasts.

“Now is not the time to be bashful, Jessica.”
 
The soulful light from the candles danced to an unheard jazz tune.

She stood there shyly until he took her wrist and twisted it behind her back.
 
She let out a groan, more emotion than pain.
 
“This is what you like, isn’t it?” he said.
 
She nodded.

He pushed her back on the bed trapping her arm behind her.
 
Martin was being forceful now and Jessica’ lust ramped up further.
 
He slipped his fingers into her panties and found her wet pussy.
 
Bursts of white light entered the periphery of her vision -a signal from the sky warning of an impending storm.
 
She struggled to free her arm and when she did she grabbed his neck to kiss him.

The kiss was furious and hungry.
 
She began to whimper and groan as Martin massaged her
mons
with his palm.
 
She could hear the moisture from her arousal as he pushed a finger inside.
 
She
spasmed
and wrapped her hands around his neck to steady herself.

Martin lifted himself to his knees.
 
He grabbed the sides of her underwear and slid them violently down her legs while he moved to the floor by her feet.
 
Martin crouched forward and licked her bare inner thigh and Jessica writhed on the bed.
 
He kissed her wetness.
 
Her breathing faltered and became shallow.

He put the heel of his hand just below her navel and slowly drew it down to her pussy while softly dragging his tongue up from the bottom of her opening.
 
With an anguishing slowness, his tongue completed its journey at her clitoris.
 
He explored her there –tasting her and conducting her response.

Martin pushed Jessica to the precipice of orgasm before slowing to a meander, leaving her dangling at the edge.
 
He reveled in her predicament before taking her to the brink once again, tantalizing her with the nearness of relief.
 
She wrapped her leg under his shoulder, surprising herself with her own flexibility, trying to force him down onto her pussy, but he lifted his head from between her legs, grinning and enjoying the tease.
 
“Say please, Jessica.”

She gasped for breath as she watched Martin admiring his handiwork.
 
Arrogant bastard.
 
She begged him to let her climax.

Martin pushed a finger inside her followed by a second soon after.
 
He tongued the swollen lips of her sex before his lips
recentered
on her clit.
 
He suckled there while she writhed in ecstasy.
 
Jessica groaned and ripped at the cool sheets and she wrapped her legs around him pulling him in tighter.
 
The room lost focus and a wave of disorientation enveloped her until she lay panting, sweating and in search of her bearings.

The sounds of the ocean outside seemed amplified to Jessica, as if a storm was bearing down on their little island hut.
 
She pictured a wooden ship being broken on the shallows –one hundred helpless sailors terrified and adrift.
 
The storm clouds cracked, the surface of the water shook, and Martin stood between her legs, grabbing her ankles and pulling her bottom to the edge of the bed.
 
He rubbed the head of his cock at the entrance of her pussy and she felt a new storm gathering on the horizon.
 
He entered her slowly and she pushed against his chest.
 
Jessica heard a voice crying out –a sailor lost in the swell- but then she recognized her own voice.
 
He pushed deeper.

When Martin was fully sheathed inside her he paused, luxuriating in the feel of her cunt.
 
It was Jessica who began to move under him, softly swaying –a lifeboat bobbing calm and controlled.
 
Martin stroked into her slowly.
 
He drew the length of his shaft free of her pussy until only the head of his penis remained joined to her.
 
Then, after an agonizing pause, he pushed inside again.
 
Each inch triggered a thousand tiny lightning flashes to illuminate the approaching storm and the building sea.

Jessica grabbed at him, imploring him to fuck her harder.
 
He smiled, pulled back, and thrust into her violently.
 
The sea shuddered under the fury of the gale.

Martin was rough and unforgiving and Jessica felt herself lose control under him.
 
His fingers dug into her flesh and she felt the pain from his grip radiate outwards and become something else –electricity.
 
She cried out and wrapped her legs around his hard body, straining against him.

Their sex was a hurricane.
 
Jessica reveled in the feeling of Martin inside her and she marveled in the power of their coupling.
 
The wind sometimes weakened and Jessica breathed great gulps of air to steady herself against the inevitable seas which always returned furious and powerful.
 
Finally she reached a crescendo.
 
Her legs slipped off his body and she threw her head back, mouth agape.
 
His eyes looked through her as he pushed.
 
He pressed his pubic bone into her and held himself there while his cock throbbed and his body trembled.
 
Jessica felt the storm’s full fury and she began to drown.
 
The power of the tempest was magnificent and irresistible.

Jessica lay on her side breathless.
 
Her legs were drawn up and she clutched her knees, chilled in the cool room.
 
Martin lay down behind her and gently ran his fingers along her side, and over the swelling of her breast.
 
He molded his body against her back and kissed her neck as his fingers read the braille script of her skin.

Jessica felt the knotty fingers of reality begin to pull back the shroud she was hiding beneath.
 
She knew that regret, guilt and uncertainty waited with the dawn and she wanted to hide from life for just a short while longer.
 
She buried her face in the silk bedding.