Chapter 20
the twentieth chapter
MARK
Even with my eyes closed, the beach envelops my senses.
Powdery sand warms the soles of my feet.
The roar and surge of each wave crests and foams.
That's my favourite part.
A fine mist sprays salt on my tongue.
And nearby I can hear seagulls starting a riot.
Maybe someone has spilled a carton of fries.
Porter stands behind me, lips soft against my neck.
“Open,” he whispers.
The smile that spreads across my face says it all.
This is what I’ve been dreaming of, ever since I was little.
Every inch feels like paradise.
“That watery horizon just keeps on going,” I marvel. “As if it never stops.”
“Maybe it doesn't,” he murmurs.
“You know what I've been wanting to do since forever?”
“Tell me,” he says.
“Build a sand castle. Eat fish and chips from a paper parcel. Watch the sunset.”
I’ve always wanted to see that, the way the light paints the ocean different colours.
“We can do all three,” he promises.
Our first night in Noosa is one I’ll never forget.
The freedom of swimming in the ocean unleashes something wild in me.
My handsome man insists on cooking, as always.
And this time he pulls out all the stops.
That first taste is an explosion of flavour in my mouth.
“One day I'd love to own a restaurant by the beach,” he muses.
“You're a culinary genius,” I smile. “I'm sure you'd create a menu that people would drive across the continent to experience.”
Porter takes me by the hand.
“We could host events together,” he says.
He's never spoken about the future like this.
Not with me in it.
My heart is overflowing.
◆◆◆
The house where we’re staying is beautiful.
There’s a hot tub in the garden, hidden behind a secluded row of flax bushes.
Folding the cover back, we lift it onto the tiles.
“You sure Damien's parents don't mind that I'm here?” I ask.
“They don't need to know,” he shrugs. “You're my guest. I want you here.”
“You want me here? Or you want me here?” I tease.
“Both, obviously,” Porter replies, slipping a hand beneath my shirt. “Wanna take a dip?”
Walking over to the drying rack to retrieve our swim suits, I pull a face.
“My boardies are still sandy and damp from the beach,” I sigh.
He wraps his arms around my waist.
“Who said anything about wearing clothes?”
Asses bare, we sprint across the lawn.
“It’s almost like a big bathtub,” I grin.
The water jets tickle my feet.
“You’ve never been in a spa before?”
“Nope.”
Nestling into each other, we survey the midnight sky.
Even this far north of the city, the stars along the coast pale by comparison.
Nowhere near as effervescent as they are in the outback.
But in Noosa, there are hundreds of them.
Not just an urban handful.
So this is the closest thing I’ve seen in almost four months.
It leaves me feeling a little nostalgic.
Not for the town I abandoned, but for the cosmos above it.
Porter traces a thumb across the scars on my back, causing me to flinch slightly.
“You don't have to tell me. But I'm guessing these burns weren't an accident.”
Turning to look at him, I shake my head.
His slow exhale speaks volumes.
Eyes fierce, he holds me tight the way he did on the night of the storm.
“Your dad?” he whispers.
I manage a subtle nod.
I haven’t told him much.
Only that I lived with Beth because home sucked.
“Is that why you moved to the coast?” he asks.
I hesitate for a moment before answering.
“Yep.”
Yep is enough for now.
◆◆◆
Porter understands that seduction is a slow simmer.
Peace, contentment, yearning.
Passion, hunger and lust.
His kisses bring every emotion to its peak.
Hands venture where they've longed to go for days.
“I can't stop thinking about that pantry,” he says, slightly breathless.
“Neither can I,” I confess.
The thought leads us upstairs to the kitchen.
No potato to grab this time, but just as intense as before.
A euphoric moan.
A salty mouthful swallowed.
Giving head is like a drug to me.
Again, that ravenous look in Porter's eyes gives me such a high.
It’s a power I’ve never known.
The power to seduce, to unravel, to drive another man insatiable with need.
I long to make him feel this way over and over, to take him beyond the stars.
I want to know how it feels to be completely immersed in each other.
The question hovers on my lips.
“Would you ever...?”
My voice trails off, curiosity tapering without courage.
Porter kneels beside me.
“Would I ever what?” he smiles.
I shake my head, cheeks tinged scarlet.
“Never mind.”
He can tell that it must be something worth hearing.
“Okay, now I'm dying to know.”
Porter tackles me and carries me to the bed.
“Tell me, or I'll edge you until you beg, and then leave you wanting more.”
“You say that like it's a threat,” I laugh, giving him a cheeky nipple pinch.
“Mark, would I ever what?” he persists.
Soon enough, I cave.
“Would you ever... let me fuck you? The way you fuck me.”
My question goes deeper than desire.
Beneath the wild heat, a newfound trust is emerging.
Mutual vulnerability.
A willingness to surrender.
He perches on the end of the mattress, fingers trailing across my knee.
“Can we try just the tip?” he asks shyly.
“Of course.”
Resting his chin on my shoulder, he whispers:
“Good, because that country boy cock barely fits in my mouth.”
As if summoned by name, my dick begins to swell.
“We can go as slow as you want,” I assure him.
“Extra slippery?” he requests.
“Entire bottle of lube,” I sigh. “Two, if you insist.”
The hunger I have for this man consumes me, more and more with each breath.
But I won’t rush.
This is something I’ve fantasised about for weeks.
Years, if I’m honest.
Unzipping a suitcase, Porter tosses me a squeezy bottle.
Then a second one.
“Oh I was kidding. You actually brought two?”
“Hell yes, I did. Two weeks alone in this big empty house? You know my hand likes to play. Wouldn't be surprised if you've heard me through the wall at home.”
“I might have.”
I absolutely have.
The sound of his orgasms make me feral.
“Might have joined in, too,” I add playfully.
And for the record, I have.
“Come find me next time,” he scolds. “You're the reason I get hard in the first place.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.” I smile. “But how could I possibly help?”
He lays down on the bed.
I close the door, out of habit rather than necessity.
“I can think of many ways,” Porter says breathlessly.
“Hmm… best if I keep my pants on,” I flirt. “I'd only make things worse.”
“Make it worse,” Porter demands. “I want you so much it kills me.”
“How much?”
“Get over here before I burst into flames.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
Kneeling on the mattress, I warm him up a little with my mouth.
And this time feels different.
This time things begin to shift.
A thirst for more.
An unquenchable, overpowering need for him.
Just the tip, I remind myself. Just the tip.
I love to tease.
But I desperately need to be inside him.
Damn.
Perhaps I’ve taken the request for slippery a little too far.
What starts as a generous squirt from the bottle soon becomes a sticky mess.
I’m so aroused right now.
Slick and hard as anything.
I have to be careful not to tip myself over the edge.
At first I keep missing the hole.
But then...
“Ahhh…” Porter gasps.
Got it.
Fuck, that feels dangerously good.
Slow, I tell myself.
Keep it slow.
“Mm-hmm,” comes the moan.
He closes his eyes, raising both knees to his chest.
“More?”
“Uh huh…”
A wave of ecstasy ripples along the shaft.
I want to ravage him like nothing else.
“Say when.”
I’m doing my best to be patient.
To sound patient, at least.
I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
So much better than a hand job.
I’m skating on very thin ice.
“Deeper,” he pleads. “But not all the way.”
Holding him by the hips, I give a gentle thrust.
Oh God...
Porter grips my arm.
“Let me have it,” he purrs.
“All of me?”
“All of you. Slowly.”
◆◆◆
My hips curve back and forth.
The slap of my balls against his ass feels so naughty.
Soon we’ve reached the peak we hit that first time Porter topped me.
It’s everything I’ve imagined, and more.
But with emotions.
Messy, messy emotions.
“Take me,” Porter whimpers. “Bend me over the bed.”
These are the moments that will replay in my mind.
Over and over again for weeks to come.
The way our bodies move in sync.
The way Porter claws the edge of the bed as he climaxes.
But most of all, the freedom that these four walls offer us.
Unbound from fear of getting caught, we let ourselves go completely.
Fuck, it’s hot.
I’ve never heard such a guttural moan from him.
It’s not like this when we fool around back home.
At home, he grits his teeth and comes as quietly as possible.
We muffle our voices with pillows.
Rough and heavy breath, cuss words mouthed silently.
I mean... quiet isn’t always possible.
Not the way we play.
Sometimes we have to turn the music up a notch to hide what we’re doing.
Just in case someone hears us through the door, or arrives home early.
But not here.
Not tonight.
Under this roof, we can be as loud as we want.
So we make the most of every minute.
Ten days worth of minutes.
Couch. Shower. Garden. Hot tub. Garden again.
Even in the back of the truck.
Our appetite can’t be tamed.
We barely pause for food or ocean dips, sometimes making it part of the fun.
Porter devours my body as if it’s his dessert.
New Year's Eve comes and goes.
We watch the sunrise together, hand in hand.
Both of us are doing our best to ignore the sand that slips through the hourglass.
January fifth looms.
Neither of us want to lose this precious moment.
This bubble away from the world we know.
Not just the way we crave each other.
Not just the earth shattering heights we’ve reached when we fuck.
It’s the way Porter holds me in the early hours after dawn.
The way he looks at me across a crowded farmer’s market.
The way he kisses me on the cheek as we stand in line for gelato.
For once, he doesn’t give a damn who sees us.