Sugar on the Edge (21 page)

Savannah drives the Jeep a little uncertainly… timidly, and I’m convinced we’re going to get stuck in the soft sand as she maneuvers the vehicle onto the beach. We had borrowed Casey’s Jeep, and I was shocked to learn that she had been in her bedroom the entire time I was fucking Savannah, who was apparently not concerned with screaming the house down.

I smile as I watch the way she tentatively hits the gas, urging the Jeep along a path of tire tracks that had been laid before us. When we were in her bed together, her boldness came through. The second time we went at it, she surprised me by taking the lead, coaxing me back to life with her soft hands and equally soft lips on my skin. She pushed me onto my back, rose above me… settled down over me, and I was in heaven. She led the entire way and as I looked up at her while she pumped me to nirvana, I was amazed by the sexy confidence that shone in her eyes.

Yet, Savannah is still softy sweet and unassuming in other aspects of her life. When we were finished, and our heart rates came back under control, I suggested we go for that drive. She hesitantly asked me, “Can I take you to see the wild horses on Corolla?”

“Why so shy?” I asked her with a grin as I nipped at her lip and ran my hands over her breasts.

She moaned lightly and didn’t say anything.

I lifted my head and looked down at her. “Why wouldn’t I want to go see the wild horses with you?”

She shrugged and lowered her gaze. “I just figured maybe you had other things to do.”

Oh, sweet Savannah. She fucked me like there was no tomorrow, milking me dry while she gyrated with abandonment on top of me. She forced me to come, even though I tried to hold back so I could prolong the exquisite pleasure, and when she finished me off, she turned shy on me.

It was fucking adorable.

“Let’s go see your wild horses,” I told her and kissed her softly. “Then we’ll go eat lunch, then I’m going to take you back to my place, and I’m going to fuck you again… and again.”

She blushed prettily, and then we got dressed.

“You see the fencing that extends into the ocean?” She points out to the right as the Jeep lurches and groans over the quickening sand.

I look over to see thick, wooden logs—a foot in diameter—rising up vertically, extending out into the ocean. The waves crash against them, and I see the flash of metal rungs hung in between them to make a barrier through the water.

“It’s so the horses can’t leave this protected area,” she says and then points back over her shoulder to the road we just left. “There is cattle grating behind us. They won’t walk over it, so they keep contained to this part of the island.”

I’ll admit… I’m excited about seeing these horses that live on the beach, eat the wild sea oats, and drink puddled rainwater. She told me all about the little beauties as we got dressed, but I struggled to pay attention to what she was saying as she shimmed into her underwear. I had to restrain myself from tearing them off her and pushing my tongue between her legs again.

As we were leaving Savannah’s house, I noticed some framed photos on the wall in her living room. They were framed in whitewashed wood… four of them mounted side by side. They were of the exact horses we were on our way to see, and I had never seen anything more beautiful. The pictures were taken at sunrise, as the sun was halfway lifted from the depths of the Atlantic horizon. The sky was a beautiful pink and orange, with dusky blue clouds that hung low on the water’s edge. Four horses stood knee deep in waves that repetitively rolled onto the beach, three adults and a tiny foal. Three of the photos showcased all the horses, but the last photo was just of the baby horse as it frolicked in the surf. She caught it perfectly, kicking its spindly legs out behind its awkward body.

“Are these the Corolla horses?” I asked.

“Yeah. The herd is much larger though.”

“These are amazing,” I commented as I studied them. “Where did you get them?”

“Oh, I took those a few years ago. One of the lucky times I got to see the horses in the surf. That’s a rarity.”

I turned to look at her in disbelief. “You took these?”

I was astounded. The lighting was perfect, the angle and composition flawless. It was the type of work you’d see hung in an art gallery.

She just smiled at me shyly, and I said, “I want to buy these from you.”

She blinked at me once and said, “I’ll make you some prints and give them to you.”

Shaking my head, I insisted. “No… I want these. Exactly as they’re framed. How much?”

Savannah looked at me as if I was an oddity she had never beheld before. “I’ll give them to you,” she insisted.

“No, I’ll buy them.”

“Then you won’t get them,” she said and turned to walk out the door.

Gone was the shy woman of five minutes ago, and in her place was a woman in command.

Utterly fucking fascinating.

Savannah turns the Jeep to the left, onto hard-packed sand where we’re not in danger of getting stuck, heading north up the beach. It’s absolutely deserted, as she said it would be in the dead of winter, but several rows of tire tracks lets me know that other vehicles have been down this route today.

We drive for a few hundred yards and come up on a truck parked in the middle of the wide stretch of sand. I see a man and a woman, bundled up in winter gear, fishing in the surf. Savannah waves at them as we drive slowly past, and they wave back.

She keenly searches the distance in front of us, vainly seeking the elusive horses.

“I don’t come here that much, but it’s really hard to catch them on the beach. They mostly stay on the other side of the dunes, back among the houses over there,” she says as she points out. “We’ll definitely see some once we turn off.”

We drive for a while, not seeing a single horse, so Savannah makes a left hand turn through a break in the sand dunes. We lurch over some more loose sand before she hits a hard-packed dirt road that winds in and out of a small neighborhood of beach homes.

As we turn a corner, we see some of the horses… just a pair of them as they graze on the short grass yard of a red-stained house that sits on stilts.

Savannah puts the Jeep in park, and we watch them for a bit. They’re really small, and they look like they’d buckle underneath me if I tried to ride one. Not that I’d want to. I’m not overly fond of horses, having been nipped by one when I was little. They’re dark brown with long, shaggy hair and kind of cute.

“It’s against the law to approach or touch the horses, and you can’t feed them either.”

“Why’s that?” I ask as we watch another horse come from around the side of the house and join the other two.

“They’re diet is very specific. If you were to feed something to them that they weren’t used to, it could make them really sick. Plus, they can be dangerous. You don’t want one to take a bite out of you.”

Fuck yeah, I don’t want that.

After a few moments, Savannah puts the Jeep in drive, and we meander through the dirt streets of Corolla. Pushing further away from the ocean, there are fewer houses and the dirt roads wind among a thicket of trees that Savannah tells me consist of wild persimmon, yaupon, myrtle, and red cedar. The trees are shaped and molded by the ocean winds, creating thick canopies and heavy shade as we drive along. We see several more horses and spend a good hour just driving around and watching.

Finally, Savannah heads us back to the beach, which is the only way to make our way back to Highway 12. Unless you know how to drive a vehicle on the beach, you don’t come to Corolla.

When we make our way back over the dunes and onto the harder sand, the ocean is revealed before us and my breath catches in my throat. Right before us stand five horses on the edge of the water, the incoming waves lapping around their lower legs. Savannah immediate stops the Jeep and puts it in park.

“Come on,” she says as she jumps out of the vehicle. As I exit, I watch as she reaches in the back seat, grabbing her camera bag that she had tucked in there earlier.

We walk around to the front of the Jeep and I lean back against the front grill, watching as she pulls her camera out. She removes the lens cover with deft fingers, flips a button, and makes a few adjustments to the settings. Savannah then walks a few feet forward, still a good thirty yards from the horses, and drops to her knees in the cold sand.

Camera to her face, she silently shoots picture after picture, her form still and gentle. The horses meander north, wading in a bit further until the cold water rolls in just under their fat little stomachs that Savannah told me earlier were often swollen because they will sometimes drink the saltwater.

Every few minutes, Savannah stands, walks a few feet down the beach—away from me—and continues to take photos. I sit back against the front of the Jeep, still warm from the engine, and listen to it making ticking sounds.

She’s so fucking beautiful right now. Solely focused, enraptured with the beauty of the ponies walking through the frigid surf. The wind blows, lifting her dark hair all around, causing her to reach a delicate hand up to push at it time and again. I could watch her forever, I realize, and that thought causes my stomach to tighten in almost disbelief. Savannah is a pretty package, in some regards, like many of the other women I’ve used and then forgotten.

But she’s also more, and the more is something that pulls me to her. It’s her ever-changing seasons of personality, her bold moves and shy smiles. I want her desperately but,
For how long?
I ask myself.

Savannah finally rises from her last kneeling position, stretching the kinks from her back from holding said position for a long time. Turning to face me, she starts walking back. She has a well-satisfied smile on her face, and her eyes are sparkling as she gets closer.

With her camera in one hand, she walks straight up to me, never pausing in her stride, and my legs open up when she’s a foot away. She walks right in between them, lays her small hands on my chest, and stands on her tiptoes to kiss me.

Pulling away laughing, she asks, “Wasn’t that incredible?”

“Incredible,” I agree as I stare down at her, wanting more than anything to see that look on her face over and over again, from here to eternity.

Savannah lays asleep in my arms. Glancing at the clock beside my bed, I see it’s just short of ten o’clock at night. After our outing on the beach, I took Savannah out to lunch in Duck and then back to her little beach house, where I ordered her inside and told her to get a bag with few days of clothing.

She cocked her eyebrow at me in question.

“I have plans for you,” I told her simply.

“Like what?” she asked with a grin.

“They involve a bed, a couch, a bathroom counter, the back deck of my house, and probably the driver’s seat of my car. You’ll be occupied for a while.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yes, but I could use a break,” I told her, even as my mind calculated the hours I’d have to buckle down once I got my fill of her so I could get back to my writing.

“Well, I have work,” she said primly and didn’t move from the seat of the Jeep.

“Of course you do,” I said sarcastically. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t sleep at my house, right?”

“Oh, so we’ll sleep on the bed, the couch, the bathroom counter, the back deck of your house, and in the front seat of your Maserati?” she asked playfully.

“No,” I had told her. “We most definitely won’t be sleeping on any of those surfaces… except perhaps the bed.”

Savannah had scrambled out of the Jeep and within fifteen minutes, was back and crawling in my Maserati so we could go get started on my checklist of places I wanted to fuck her.

Leaning over her as she sleeps, I can make out the planes of her face in the moonlight coming through the windows of my bedroom. She’s naked with the sheet and comforter pulled up to her chin, her mouth slightly parted as she silently breathes. I bend down and rub my lips against hers. She sighs into my mouth, so I kiss her.

By the time my tongue slips inside, her arms are around my neck and she gives a sleepy moan. My hand goes between her legs, and I know she’s fully awake by the time my first finger is joined by another.

“Gavin,” she pants against my mouth.

It’s all the invitation I need. I pull the bed covers back, sliding my body down hers. Pushing her legs apart, I bring my mouth to her pussy, laving at her like a starved man and she’s the only food that will sustain. After she comes beautifully, I crawl back up her pliantly soft body and enter her with a single thrust, fucking loving the way she calls out my name when I hit her deep.