Chapter 13
Heath
Her room is the same as it was the day I left Wainscott Hollow.
The same as the last time I laid in her bed and stroked her hair, inhaled her scent as we dreamed of our future together.
In here, it’s as if the years haven’t passed at all.
Time hasn’t moved, and nothing but the changing tides and the winds, and the rise and fall of seasons, indicates we’ve moved forward.
Her room is the same, but all of us, we’re unrecognizable from the three Shaw siblings who graduated from Fairmont and ran through the great halls of Wainscott Hollow under the watchful eye of their father.
Kat’s old clothes from high school still lie tucked away in her drawers. I lift out a yellow sweater, an old favorite because of the way it contrasted her eyes and made them look even bluer.
I inhale her scent, and my knees almost buckle at the onslaught of memories that besiege me.
The entire manor is in disarray, unrecognizable from the home it was before, but Kat’s room remains like a shrine.
An homage to the beautiful young and innocent woman she was.
Her brush still sits on the chest of drawers laced through with strands of her flaxen hair.
In a moment of carnal depravity, I yank open the small top drawer that used to house her bras and panties.
White cotton, black lace, red silk. I pull out a cotton pair, bring them to my nose, and inhale deeply.
Even though they’re clean, my cock is instantly hard at even the memory of her scent.
I take them out and sniff them one by one as a jealous seed festers in my gut, bubbling and growing until I want to tear my hair out, screech into the void, and curse the gods for separating me from the other half of my heart.
I tuck the black lace ones into my pocket and move to the makeup table. Her perfume sits in its usual place as if she just ran out one day without packing and never looked back.
Vanilla. Soft, seductive, and simple. This scent is still my favorite and does unnamable things to my libido.
I used to eat breakfast at a bakery in the city because of this scent.
When you opened the door, it would envelop you, and I’d sit there and drink my coffee just to be near an aroma that reminded me of her.
I’d linger at a small table staring out the window at the rush of people pushing past each other, always in a hurry, while I sipped my coffee and savored Kat’s scent, even if it was coming from a pastry.
I never ordered one or asked which delicacy was responsible for the aroma because nothing would satiate my hunger for Kat, no substitutes, no proxies, no one-time distractions.
Kat is my poison, my drug of choice, and I’d rather be sober, empty, and alone than waste my time on knockoffs that do nothing for me.
I decide to take a walk on the beach toward sunset.
I’ve missed the spectacular light and color show the sun puts on every night out here as it dips behind the ocean.
Maybe that’s what all these blue bloods pay the big bucks for, to be closer to the sky, closer to God.
I walk down the dunes differently now that I own them.
I make my way east, shoes in hand, waves lapping over my bare feet and sometimes dampening the fabric of my rolled khakis.
I changed into a while linen shirt and casual pants, but I kept Kat’s black lace panties in my pocket just to be close to them.
My walk brings me past the Dunnings and the Ginsberg’s, the Hamilton’s estate, and the Levi’s.
When I recognize the Lind’s mid-century modern palace, I move from the shore right up through the dunes, wondering if this is where Kat lives now with her piece of shit husband.
My affinity for Eddie Lind has fallen to a zero and the respect I once had for him is non-existent since I saw him put his hands on the woman I love.
The estate is inhabited, and I open the wooden gate of their beach boardwalk and make my way inside the grounds. No alarm system, no obvious cameras—these sheltered upper echelons put too much trust in their neighbors, in my opinion.
Watch out, Montauk. Heath is back in town.
I walk right up to the house and the big picture windows glow with warm yellow light in the dusk.
I spot Kat framed in an upstairs bay window looking out at the sunset, a long white transparent dress covering her gorgeous full body.
She looks wistful and pensive and moves her hand gently up the frame.
I stand in plain view by a garden gazebo.
The grounds are lit by significant outdoor lighting, so there’s no doubt in my mind that if she looks my way, she’ll see me.
I take her panties out of my pocket and clench them in my fist, bring them to my nose, and indulge in another deep sniff. I lick the crotch of the panties, and my cock surges, impossibly hard in my pants.
I could come just looking at her in the window, imagining tasting her succulent flesh.
I wonder if she longs for me as badly as I do her.
I watch her intently, desperation and anger warring in my bloodstream.
Kat is mine. I’ve got half a mind to storm into this house and strangle Eddie with the panties in my hand.
Fuck his wife hard next to his purple and very dead body.
Make her come and cry my name as he takes his last breath.
Just when I think I might turn and leave, run from the storm of feelings making me breathe fire, her eyes lock with mine.
She sees me. I can’t make out her expression, but she doesn’t move away, doesn’t call for her husband to tell him there’s an intruder in their midst. I’m about to walk away when she lets her straps fall from her shoulder and the entire night dress slips off her body, revealing her naked curves to me.
She knows it’s me. She wants me to see her.
I unzip my ocean-battered pants and unleash my throbbing cock, her panties wrapped around my fist as I stroke my massive erection that only responds to her.
Her hands roam down her body, and she toys with her full tits until the nipples are erect and straining.
Jesus Christ, her body is fucking hot, sin incarnate, a diamond in a sea of cubic zirconia.
I’m rock hard, steel in my grip with precum leaking from the head.
I glide her panties up and down the length of my dick, picturing her kneeling in front of me, ruby lips wet, mouth open, begging me to let her suck.
I imagine her laying down for me on her marital bed, thick legs spread, her body shaking with lust as my tongue dips in her sweet cunt, tasting her honey, devouring her sex like it’s my last damn meal, sucking and licking until she can’t take anymore.
Kat’s so fucking beautiful. The prettiest damn girl in the world.
I move her panties up and down my cock, jerking myself, picturing her warm, sweet mouth around my dick, her full lips spread from my girth.
On the beach, I wanted to force my cock into her pretty mouth.
Hear her gag, force her to take me in her mouth as I pulled her hair and fucked her face like it was her pussy.
I wanted to be rough with her, watch the tears roll down her face as she choked on my erection.
I craved hearing her beg me to stop. I wouldn’t stop, though.
I’d ram into her sweet mouth, hitting the back of her throat, owning her, making her my whore and my queen.
It didn’t matter which as long as she was mine.
As much as I love Kat, I also hate her now. Dueling emotions fight inside me for dominance. I’m a changed man with a cold broken heart that only her love and adoration can thaw. I want to shower her with love and punish her for what she did to me—to us.
Legs parted, she slides her hands down to her pussy.
She knows exactly what she’s doing. Driving me mad.
Kat’s playing with fire, and she doesn’t even know it.
I’m no longer the optimistic and earnest boy she grew up with.
It would seem she’s changed, too. Little Katelyn Shaw is now a seductress, a goddess who I’m going to have begging on her knees.
Her panties feel so good, like I’m close to her in a fucked-up way.
I jerk faster as my balls tighten, the need to come heady and consuming.
Her head falls back, and I know she’s close, too.
I recognize her body language, still know the blueprint of her anatomy, the secret tells of her desire.
I fist my cock roughly, yanking until my cum explodes all over her panties.
I wave my hand with the lace undergarment up to her in the window to show her how I’ve defiled them, warning her there’s more to come.
She shudders as she works her way down from her own orgasm.
The two of us. A fucking combustible disaster waiting to happen.