Lake House

The screen door banged shut behind me, and I heard her laugh before I saw her—that low, knowing sound that had been waking me up at odd hours for the past three summers.

"Took you long enough, Mark."

Nora stood at the edge of the dock, backlit by the setting sun, wearing nothing but a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a thin white tank top. No bra. The lake lapped at the wooden planks, and the air smelled like pine and humidity and something else—something that had been building between us since the day she and her husband moved into the cabin next door.

"Mike's in the city until Sunday," she said, not turning around. "I've been thinking about you all week."

I walked toward her, my heart hammering against my ribs. She finally turned, and I saw the hunger in her eyes—the same hunger I'd been fighting every time I saw her bending over to pick up a towel from the beach, every time she waved goodbye from her porch.

"You know this is crazy," I said, my voice rough.

"I know." She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her shampoo. Coconut and salt. "I don't care."

Her hand found my belt buckle before I could say another word.

She pushed me backward into the cabin, kicking the door shut behind us. The place smelled like cedar and firewood, and the light through the windows was golden and dusty. She pressed me against the wall, her mouth hot against my neck, her fingers working my jeans open.

"I want you to fuck me," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. "But first, I want you to look at what you've been staring at all summer."

She turned around slowly, bent over, and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts. They slid down her thighs, revealing the curve of her ass—full and round and tan, with a faint white line where her bikini usually sat. She looked over her shoulder at me, her lips parted, her eyes dark.

"Well?"

I stepped forward, my hands shaking as I touched her. The skin was warm, soft, and I felt her shiver under my fingers. I squeezed, kneaded, watched the flesh yield and spring back.

"Jesus, Nora."

"Tell me what you want to do to me."

I didn't answer with words. I dropped to my knees behind her, my hands spreading her cheeks, and buried my face against her. She gasped, her knees buckling slightly, and I held her steady, my tongue tracing the curve of her ass, the soft skin, the hidden place between. She tasted like salt and soap and her own sharp musk, and I couldn't get enough.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed, her hands gripping the doorframe. "Yes. Right there."

I worked her slowly, deliberately, my tongue dipping lower, circling, teasing. She pushed back against my face, moaning, and I felt her wetness on my chin.

"Enough," she said finally, her voice ragged. "I need you inside me. Now."

She straightened up, turned around, and pushed me onto the worn leather couch. I barely had time to kick off my jeans before she was straddling me, her hand wrapping around my cock, guiding it to her entrance.

"Look at me," she said.

I did. Her eyes locked onto mine as she sank down, taking me inch by inch. The heat of her was incredible—tight and wet and perfect. She let out a long, shuddering breath, her eyelids fluttering.

"God, you feel good."

She started moving, slow at first, a lazy roll of her hips that made my toes curl. Her hands pressed flat against my chest, her head thrown back, her hair brushing her shoulders. The light caught the sweat on her skin, the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin tank top.

"Faster," I said, my hands finding her hips.

She smiled—that same dangerous smile—and picked up the pace. The couch creaked beneath us, and the sound of our bodies meeting filled the room. Wet, rhythmic, obscene.

"Harder," she commanded.

I grabbed her ass, my fingers digging into the flesh, and drove up into her. She cried out, her nails raking down my chest, and I felt her clench around me.

"Don't stop," she gasped. "Right there. Don't you fucking stop."

I didn't. I fucked her harder, faster, the sweat making our skin slide together. She leaned forward, her mouth finding mine, and we kissed—messy, desperate, teeth and tongue. Her hips bucked against me, and I felt her start to come, her whole body shuddering, her inner walls milking me.

"Come inside me," she whispered against my lips. "I want to feel you."

That was all it took. I buried myself deep, my hands gripping her ass, and let go. The orgasm tore through me, hot and blinding, and I felt her clench again, another wave of pleasure rippling through her.

We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, tangled together. The cabin was quiet except for the sound of the lake lapping against the dock and the distant call of a loon.

She finally lifted her head, her hair stuck to her forehead, her smile soft and satisfied.

"Same time tomorrow?" she asked.

I laughed, pulling her closer.

"Same time tomorrow."