Page 30 of Ghost on the Shore

She scoots back, holding her knees to her chest once we’re inside and she’s settled on the sleeping bags that cover the tent floor. “I’m not on the pill or anything. I just figured it wasn’t worth it being that you’re leaving so soon. But I did bring—”

I finish the sentence for her. “I did too.” Her eyes are fixed on my dick as I go to get the condoms from my bag, but I ask her anyway, “Are you sure?”

“I’vebeensure.”

Grace unwraps her arms from around her knees slowly, props her hands on the floor behind her and parts her knees just the slightest bit. It’s her way of telling me that she’s mine for the taking.

I ease her knees further apart so I can taste her. Long, slow licks that leave her gasping and clutching the blanket beneath her. I look up, wanting to catch even the slightest movement, and I’m rewarded by the sight of her tits and the lustful look in her eyes.

She tells me she wants my cock, whispering the words as she circles her hips against my mouth. But I want to make her come, want to sink inside of her right at that moment when she topples off the cliff. Here eyes are back on me, hungry as I roll the condom on, and she spreads her legs again to welcome me inside. It doesn’t take long, touching her until she can’t hold out, and I push inside as her muscles contract around me. Fuck, fuck, fuck—I never want to stop. She responds, whispersyes, and moves the way you dream that a woman will. Her hands are on my ass, pulling me in deeper, and she’s begging me to make her come again. And when she does, I follow. I am wrung out and bone tired in the best possible way, moving her to rest at my side once I roll onto my back.

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t get any better than that.” She doesn’t say anything in return, and when I look down I can see that she’s troubled. I’m not a manwhore, not into the fuck buddy thing, but I’m experienced and I’ve never had any complaints before. “Was it good for you?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.”

“Hey,” I turn her chin up so she’s looking at me, “where’d you go just now?”

She looks like she’s bracing for impact when she asks, “Does it bother you? Like, when I spoke that way during sex...Is it too much?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think maybe I get a little carried away.”

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“You don’t think I sounded like a...”

“What?”

“Like a slut?”

I turn onto my side so we’re face to face. “No! Everything you did, everything you said...I loved it.”

She nods her head once, forces a smile. “Good.”

“I’ve gotta ask...What would make you think that?”

Grace breathes in deep. “I kind of went through the rest of my high school years thinking I was a slut, even though I was never with anyone in that way after Peter.”

“Why?”

“I come from a buttoned-up, traditional kind of town. Pretty sure I was the only girl in the freshman class having sex.” She bites her lip before adding, “Sex on a regular basis and, um, liking it, too.”

“And then when he did that to you...”

“I felt really, really stupid.”

“But you’re not. You weren’t back then either.”

She’s quiet for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “Have I ruined this? I mean, have I ruined tonight by bringing all of that garbage from my past up again?”

“Never. And I’ll never judge you. You know that, right?” She nods and I kiss her head.

She moves to straddle me, bracing her hands on my chest. “So now you know me, Damien, warts and all.”

And I see the back and forth, the conflict in her eyes. Trying to smile her way through something that still hurts. She’s young. Not even twenty years old and still just trying to figure it all out like the rest of us.

My eyes rake over her. She’s perfect but I know she can’t see herself through my eyes. Grace likes her body but doesn’t always like the attention it attracts, she likes sex but she’s ashamed of liking it, she wants to be a woman but still thinks she needs permission to be one.

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