The storm was gathering pace. My window panorama showed the trees thrashing about, trying to cling on to the steep cliffs that dropped sharply to the ocean. The cliff-top house creaked and shuddered around me in the gale, 400 feet above a small bay that was being relentlessly pounded by wave after wave of angry, dark-grey water. Just yesterday, I had picked my way carefully down the cliff trail and stood on the tiny beach, looking out at the calm waters of the Pacific, waiting for the sun to set. In that moment, it had felt like the entire world was behind me, shored up by the sheer strength of the cliffs and all that lay in front was a sea of molten gold and a sky that demanded I stand and appreciate.
As I had stood watching the sun's relentless descent, I'd finally admitted to myself why I was here. I had been convincing enough that everyone else had believed I wanted a week's break to work on my latest book. The solitude of the cliff house was ideal for an author needing to escape the city and clear her mind. Just one week, I had claimed. I'll return with the makings of another bestseller. I just need some privacy. I had fooled them all. My publicist, my family, my friends, everyone. But I had only tried to fool myself. And I hadn't even begun to fool him.
As the last slice of sun had surrendered to the horizon, I'd taken my phone out of my pocket and flicked to my messages. I had no network connection here, one of the essentials I had stipulated to my publicist before booking, but the message I was looking for was from two days past. I hadn't really needed the phone. It wasn't a long message and my memory wasn't that bad, but the familiar act had calmed me, even as the words had caused my heart to beat faster.
"I know what you're doing. It won't work."
Just eight little words. Eight little words that caused my breath to back up in my lungs and butterflies to dance in my stomach. Eight words that ensured I hadn't thought about anything else on the three hour drive here. Eight words that meant I had spent my first night here tossing and turning, restless dreams invading my sleep. Eight words that echoed in my head as I woke up panting, hot and needy from dreams of his touch.
I glanced around the room to check that nothing that could be blown away was lying around, before wrestling open the patio doors that led to the empty balcony. The wind howled into the house as I secured the doors and stood on the balcony to embrace the full fury of the storm. I was a North-Western girl at heart. Where others craved relaxation, the sun and blue skies, I had always been happier battling the wind and watching the clouds race across an angry sky. To me it was a reminder that nature was not to be tamed and time waited for no-one.
The wind whipped my hair round my face as I stood watching the clouds roiling above, getting darker by the minute. The sea and sky took on an eerie greenish cast as I waited for the heavens to open. I braced my hands on the balcony as I turned my face to the sky to catch the first fat drops of rain. A faint rumble of thunder sounded in the distance as the rain came down, the deluge quickly soaking through my long white summer dress and plastering my hair to my head. The torrent of water helped wash away the walls I had built in my mind, and the memories came tumbling one after the other. Fevered hands ripping clothes in their need for flesh. Teeth and tongues warring, fingers touching, nipping, penetrating and this overwhelming need to be taken and used and debased in a way that I had never before considered. As I stood in the rain and wind, I felt my face heat with shame that I had been reduced to such animal instincts, that I had begged to be defiled and that I had enjoyed every dark, erotic moment of it.
He was the reason for my self-imposed hiatus. The past few weeks had melded into a blur of lust and sex and need for this man who it seemed could always ask me for more and have it meekly handed over. My self-preservation instincts, finely-honed from years of publishers' rejection letters had kicked in and I had done what any rational, intelligent, independent woman would have done. I had run.
Now here I was, chilled and soaking, upturned face catching raindrops and wondering if I would ever get the man out of my head.
"Are you crazy?" The words were just loud enough to carry over the roar of the storm.
I whirled round and he was there. It was impossible and yet there he stood, just inside the patio doors. He dropped his car keys and what looked like an overnight bag on the floor, stepped outside and crossed to me, while I stood rooted to the spot.
"You would try to run from me?" he questioned, his voice dangerously soft as he reached out to grip my soaking hair, tipping my head back so I met his eyes. "It... won't... work."
"How long will you try to deny what is between us? How long will you deny what your body wants because you think these feelings are wrong?"
Keeping his hand fisted tightly in my hair, he lowered his head until his mouth was an inch from mine. My eyes pleaded with him not to close the distance, while my resolute silence exposed the war between my head and heart. Once he kissed me I was lost. I knew it. He knew it.
He kissed me.
It was like a wild animal had taken control of me. My passive hands seized his waist and pulled our bodies together. He tore his mouth from mine and set his teeth on my throat, the bite drawing a hiss from me and fueling my need. I grabbed his butt with both hands, squeezing the muscles there and pulled him against me, glorying in the feel of his hardness against my hip. His head whipped up and he grabbed my shoulders, pushing me to arm's length. His eyes blazed into mine with fierce possession, before his gaze travelled down to where my nipples strained against the cold wet fabric of my dress.
He lifted a hand from my shoulder and trailed one finger lightly across my lips. The rain ran down my face as his finger entered my mouth, the cool water contrasting with his warm flesh. Withdrawing his finger, he trailed it lightly down my chin, down my neck and down between my breasts. His fingers brushed over my puckered left nipple before he pinched it cruelly between his thumb and forefinger, making me gasp. His other hand reached for my right nipple and captured it in the same way. Keeping his grip on my nipples, his hands pushed against my chest, forcing me to step back and back until my waist bumped against the guard rail. Trapped, I braced my hands against the railing as he continued to pinch and roll my nipples, making me wetter by the second.
He finally let go my tortured nipples only to spin me round and press my belly against the rail. He crowded in close behind me, his body molded to mine and nipped my earlobe. My hiss of pain was swallowed by the wind and rain and I felt his stubble scratch my neck, his hot breath on my ear.
"You dare run from me?" he murmured into my ear. "Do you remember what I told you I would do if you ran?"
The memory came to me, and I squirmed against his grip, cheeks heating at the thought of it. He laughed and kicked my legs apart then grabbed both my wrists, forcing them up behind my back where he bracketed them with one fist and bent me over the balcony until my cheek was resting on the wet railing. His other hand started hiking my dress up at the back until I felt raindrops on my buttocks. His hand caressed my butt before giving it a sharp spank. The flash of pain quickly turned to heat that helped to feed the fire between my legs. The rain ran down my butt crack, adding to the wetness that was already there, cold water mixing with hot arousal.
He slapped me once more before plunging his fingers into my hot wet depths. My hiss of pleasure was carried away on the wind, as his fingers skilfully slid in and out of my slick opening. All thoughts of resistance fled from my mind as he removed his fingers long enough to slap me again before grabbing my buttock and squeezing hard. Just as I was about to protest at the pain, he let go and returned to my sopping hole, thrusting two, three and finally four fingers in. I cried out against the railing, the feeling of fullness was exquisite but I needed more. Attuned to my need, he fucked me furiously with his fingers, finally letting go my arms to reach around my hip, under my dress and rub my aching clit. Freed, I could do nothing but grab on to the railing, as his hands worked their magic.
The orgasm, when it came, wasn't the subtle release of pressure I had experienced with previous lovers, nor was it the satisfying relief my own fingers gave me when I had been too long alone. Waves of sensation began to crash over me, little flushes and sparks began to ignite all over my skin, until it seemed my body was trying to mirror the storm I was caught out in. My breath huffed in and out as I thrust myself shamelessly back on his fingers, rutting like a bitch in heat. His fingers stilled inside me and he kept me balanced on the cliff edge for a long intense moment until his hand gave one last hard rub on my clit and I was gone.
I screamed his name into the wind as I clenched tight around his fingers, waves of molten hot pleasure spilling through me. This was the only time I could make sense of what he reduced me to and I heard myself begging to be fucked, begging to be used, begging for more. Before my orgasm had fully subsided, he had freed himself from his trousers and happily obliged my demands, sliding his hard length inside me in one steady thrust. He held tight against me as he reached for my hair and wrapped it around his fist, jerking my head back. His forearm rested along my spine as he began to pound into me, riding me, his balls slapping against me with every thrust.
Pinned as I was against the balcony rail, my senses narrowed until nothing else existed outside of the house on the edge of the cliff. The sea pounded away at the coastline, the wind danced around us and the rain cooled our fevered skin as he branded me with his cock and claimed me as his own. In that moment, I had never felt more alive, never felt more in tune with the wild beast that was nature and in that moment, I could justify why I kept returning to this man for more.
A second orgasm was building in me, pulsing and growing with every thrust of his cock. His grip tightened painfully on my hair as he neared release and I could hear his ragged breathing in my ear. With one final, powerful thrust, he impaled himself deep inside me, his hot seed triggering my own climax. I shuddered around him, milking his cock for every last drop as he collapsed over me, panting.
When his breathing finally returned to normal and he began to straighten, he again grabbed my hair and pulled me up with him. Yelping at the pain, I stood, only to be twisted around and forced to my knees. With his still twitching cock in my face I hardly needed his growled "suck me" to know what was expected.
