Sea Mists

    Her face was tipped up, her eyes dark in the moonlight, his bright and sparkling. He lowered his lips to hers for a long, deep, incredibly soft kiss. He loosened her hair, ran his hands through it and buried his face in the scented strands he held. He slipped his hands completely under her top to stroke her soft, warm, smooth skin. He returned to her midriff, hooked his fingertips inside the waistband of her slacks and slowly slid them from side to side with his knuckles rubbing her tummy, easing a little further down her smooth, warm stomach with each pass.

    She stood still with her head tipped back, knowing she wasn't going to stand still much longer. She was beginning to purr deep in her throat like a big cat as the swirl of passion swept and rolled through her. He teased her tongue lightly with his and she responded with building passion. He gently nibbled her ear lobes and moved to the hollow of her throat to nibble and kiss teasingly.

    With a shock, she realized he was not asking or demanding anything from her. He only wanted to make her happy and bring her pleasure. Any other man she had even known would have tried to have his hands all over her by now. As his soft lips returned to hers for another easy kiss the thought eased through her brain, this is a real man! Another fascinating thought zipped through her mind. What would it be like to be his wife? With that thought, she let go of everything that held her back and offered herself to him without reservation.

    She pressed tightly to him and reveled in the feel of his body against hers as he eased his knee between her legs. She took a long deep breath that caught in her throat and eased out in a low, purring moan. The feeling that stirred the first time she looked into his eyes now burst into full, glorious flight and carried her along to new heights. However, the dark, brutal, ugly memory of being hurt so deeply was overpowering and she pulled away. Her shoulders were racked by sobs. She turned to him "I'm sorry, I must go."

    A freak wave hit the crippled sailboat broadside, heeling it far over. Jenny Stark held on to the wheel as the craft righted itself. The terror of being absolutely alone screamed in her mind as she desperately searched for her companion, Jess Cook. The wildly rolling deck was clean except for a tangle of rigging and lines, one a bright orange safety line, stretched over the starboard side. Jenny worked her way to the lines and saw Jess floating face down in the tangle. She pulled with all her strength on the safety line to no avail. With no thought for her own safety, she bailed off into the churning water to help her friend. Can she reach him in time?