Rescued I Read online

  The depression had been a difficult battle, but she had been winning. Today was different though. Today she wanted to pull the covers back over her head and wake up again tomorrow.

  A fog surrounded her as she dragged herself through her morning routine: breakfast, shower, dressed.

  Jenna knew she should keep busy, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything. How could she do something as trivial as go shopping? Yet her heart believed her parents would not want her to wallow in her misery. Whatever her senses told her, she would not be heading to the mall or anywhere else.

  Her whole body felt as if there were weights hanging from her limbs—as if her grief were something she had to physically carry around with her. Overwhelming sadness, combined with flashes of panic at the memory of that terrible day, left her disorientated. She managed to climb on the couch, hoping to numb her pain with a frothy movie or two.

  After an hour Jenna found she had no idea what was happening on the television. She’d been staring at the screen, lost in her own thoughts.

  The sound of the doorbell dragged her from her reverie.

  Who could that be?

  She had no family left to speak of, and she doubted any of her friends would think of this date.

  Jenna prized herself from the couch. She went to the door and cracked it open cautiously. The broad figure of a man stood in the doorway, a bunch of white calla lilies grasped in his hand.

  A whole year had passed, but she would remember those dark eyes for the rest of her life. Those eyes had held her gaze steady as he used a hack saw to free her from the car wreck, though a chunk of the metal was still embedded in her when she’d gone to the hospital. He’d come with her, holding her hand in the back of the ambulance, knowing she didn’t have anyone else.

  The sight of him shocked her, bringing back memories with a rush.

  “Nick Smolenski?”

  He must have seen her face blanch, for he reached a hand out and then hesitated.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “No, I’m sorry. It’s fine, really. You just took me by surprise.”

  He pushed the bouquet toward her. “They’re a small consolation, but I didn’t want to turn up empty handed.”

  Jenna took the flowers. “They’re beautiful, thanks.” Backing away from the door she asked, “Do you want to come in?”

  His eyes flicked to the space behind her. “Oh, I don’t want to impose.”

  Jenna gave a sad smile. “You’re not imposing. I promise.”

  Nick smiled and stepped into the hallway. Jenna closed the door behind him. He lurked awkwardly, his six foot two frame dwarfing the small passage, not sure which direction to head in.

  “Go through,” she told him, motioning to the lounge where she’d been wallowing.

  He went into the room and sat down, perching on the edge of the couch. His hands clutched together, elbows resting on his knees, his dark hair flopping over his forehead.

  Jenna quickly gathered up the numerous left over cups and glasses on the coffee table, her cheeks flushing at being caught out in her slovenliness. She wasn’t used to having visitors.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, remembering her manners.

  Nick shook his head and so she sat down beside him.

  “It’s a year today,” she said, finally.

  “I know. That’s why I came. I kept meaning to, but I told myself you’d need some space to recover, and the last thing you’d need is a reminder about that day. Then I woke up and a whole year had passed and I still hadn’t seen you.”

  “I didn’t think you’d even thought about it. You were just doing your job, after all.”

  “Jenna, things like that don’t happen every day. People like you don’t happen every day.”

  Her skin bumped in gooseflesh. So he’d thought about her too.

  She glanced down to his lap, to where his hands wrung nervously together. He had such big hands. She remembered those hands, how they held hers while they waited for the saw to be brought over so he could cut her out of the wreck.

  The memory flooded over her, drowning her in its emotion. How terrified she’d been at the thought of dying, how thankful she’d been to survive, the guilt because she’d been the only one to live.

  Tears trembled in her eyes, pooled and slipped down her cheek.

  Nick reached up his big, strong hand and wiped away her tears.

  “This is why I never came,” he said. “I couldn’t stand the thought that I’d only upset you.”

  She grasped his hand, and instinctively brought it to her lips. “I wish you had come,” she said. “I thought you’d forgotten about me. That you’d just done your job and gone home and forgotten.”

  “I never forgot.”

  Jenna looked up and their eyes locked. He reached out again, to stroke her cheek this time, and then his fingers wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her toward him.

  Their lips met, soft and warm and gentle.

  His compassion fired a spark inside her; one she’d believed had died a year ago. It burnt up from between her thighs, into the pit of her belly. She opened her lips to him, their kiss becoming fiercer. His tongue snuck out, finding hers, exploring every inch of her mouth.

  Jenna’s fingers traveled up his thick forearms, enjoying the ridges of hard muscle beneath his skin and the downy dark hair. She ran her hand up and over the swell of his bicep and across his chest. His body felt as sculpted as it looked. Of course his job kept him fit, but she didn’t think there was an ounce of fat on him.

  Desperation to have his skin against hers filled her, and her hand slid down and under his shirt, marveling at the combination of hard muscle and pliant skin.

  But Nick broke the kiss.

  “Jenna…” he said, but she didn’t let him finish, stopping his words with her lips.

  “Help me to forget,” she said. “That’s what I need the most today. I need to forget, just for a while.”

  He didn’t need any more encouragement.

  Nick’s body pressed up against hers, her full breasts crushed against his chest. His hand spanned her back, and reached under her shirt. His fingers found the coarse lace of her bra, her nipples hardening beneath.

  “Take it off,” she said, as he pulled at the buttons of her shirt.

  He did as she asked, not bothering to undo any more buttons, instead yanking the shirt up over her head. Jenna’s blond hair settled round her shoulders.

  Nick saw the reminder of her injury and he grazed his finger over the twisted white and red mark. Her body froze, but he bent his head and kissed her scar.

  Jenna pulled away from him.

  “Don’t,” she said. “It’s ugly.”

  “No part of you could ever be ugly.”

  His lips travelled down her body, teasing every inch of her skin. With skill, he reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, dropping the lingerie to the floor. Gently, he pressed her backward so she reclined on the couch, him above her.

  Nick reached her breast and took one nipple between his lips, sucking gently, pulling the hard nub against the roof of his mouth. Then he turned his attention to the other one, his teeth rasping against its delicate skin, before encircling it with his tongue.

  Jenna moaned. Her fingers laced in his hair; thick and silky beneath her fingertips.

  He lifted his head and Jenna pulled at his shirt, wanting to see him, wanting to touch him.

  His body looked as good as she’d imagined; from the hard curve of his bicep, down to the rows of muscle on his abs. A line of black hair ran from his navel, disappearing into the waist band of his shorts.

  Her lust pooled in her panties, making the simple white cotton stick to her folds. She shifted against the material, embarrassed by her own wetness.

  Nick’s lips trailed kisses down over the dip of her stomach. With both hands, he took hold of her jeans, wriggling them down over her hips.

  “This
is okay, isn’t it?” he asked, looking up at her, his dark hair flopping over his forehead.

  “Oh, yes,” she said. She couldn’t think of anything more okay.

  She lifted her ass, allowing him to pull her jeans down, taking her panties with them. He pressed her thighs apart, taking her in.

  He lowered his mouth to her mound; hot breath against her most susceptible skin. Then his tongue stroked her, separating her. She was already wet and his tongue teased the sensitive bundle of nerve endings, licking her with small, repetitive flicks.

  Jenna writhed and squirmed beneath his touch.

  Using his finger he rubbed her opening, slicking his digit with her juices before gently pushing inside her. Her tight channel grabbed him, pulling his finger deep, and as he slowly moved in and out, his tongue continued to work her.

  Pleasure climbed, her cunt pulsating against his finger, hers hips pushing upward against his tongue. She was close and knew she could easily come with just his finger and tongue, but she wanted to repay him.

  “Not yet,” she said. “I don’t want to come yet.”

  He looked up, worried he’d done something wrong.

  “I want to taste you,” she said.

  Nick’s eyes lit up. Quickly he stood and removed his jeans and shorts. His cock sprung out at her, as big as the man himself.

  Jenna fell to her knees in front of him. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock, holding him firm and steady. Looking up into his eyes, she opened her mouth wide and took his huge head between her lips. She tasted the salty pre-cum and her tongue teasing the slit of his cock, pressing her tongue into it.

  She sucked gently, pulling his dick deep into the back of her throat, being careful of her grating teeth. Her head bobbed back and forth, her tongue swirling around his girth, loving the sound of his moans above her.

  His hand found the back of her head, not to apply pressure, but guiding her movements to match his own. As his breathing grew hoarse and heavy, she reached up and gently tugged on his balls, slowing him down.

  Jenna broke the suction, letting his cock pop from her mouth. Slowly, she worked her way upward, teasing the skin with tiny nibbles. She showered kisses over his hips, his stomach, his chest. Finally she stopped to pay attention to his nipples, flicking the hard nubs with her tongue, before reaching his neck and mouth.

  He kissed her slow and deep, the curve of his cock pressed against her flat stomach. Still kissing her, he lifted her and laid her on the couch, his hard body held inches above hers. He reached between them and his hand parted her legs. His fingers smoothed open her folds, using her wetness to slide over her clit, making her gasp.

  Fisting his hard dick, Nick used his cock to rub her entrance, slicking its head with her arousal. He gave a gentle push, entering her by only an inch, and she stiffened in anticipation. His hips pulled back and rubbed again, prolonging the pleasure, before thrusting hard, filling her completely.

  The walls of her pussy clutched him and he pulled out again, almost slipping out of her, before pushing in, impaling her as deep as he could.

  Jenna reached up and grabbed hold of the back of his neck, pulling his face down toward her. Their lips met; passionate, crushing. There was no style or finesse, just raw passion. Together they lost rhythm in the kiss as their fervor grew.

  He slammed into her again and again, his movements becoming frantic. Jenna clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as her orgasm undulated through her. Every muscle tightened as the pleasure flooded over her body in a wave, over and over. Nick’s body stiffened over hers, his hips jerking and pushing deep as he released inside of her.

  Exhausted, her head spinning, Jenna slumped beneath him. Nick dropped to one side, careful not to crush her, and held her close while their breathing slowed and their heart rates steadied.

  For the first time in the last year, she felt buoyant. The heavy grief that had been weighing on her so heavily was suddenly lighter. Her heartache would never completely disappear, but she felt as if something inside of her had been released.

  Nick carefully maneuvered his body to one side of the couch and pulled her into his arms. She snuggled into his broad chest and he kissed the top of her head. With his arm wrapped around her, his fingers landed on her much-hated scar, but this time Jenna didn’t mind.

  Lulling her into a sated sleep, he ran his fingers over the twisted skin, gently, over and over.

  And with every stroke, a little more of her healed.

  Life-guarded

  Damp sand crushed between her naked toes and a cool wind lifted her long, dark hair from her face. Out on the horizon, a bank of gloomy clouds sat low and heavy, as if waiting their next move. Waves rose and curled, crashing on the shore, leaving behind foam, which quickly sunk back into the sand.

  It wasn’t normal beach weather, but Christina Blake didn’t care. She didn’t come to hang out, or bathe herself in the rays of the sun.

  Not another soul graced the beach that morning. A lifeguard tower and hut stood behind her, but being off season, they too were deserted.

  Christina swam as a challenge. She liked to keep herself strong and supple, but she loved to defy nature. When the waves raged up, as they did today, she felt she was battling their power. Them against her.

  Swimming kept her tough, both physically and mentally. Since her ass-hole of a husband left six months earlier, trading her in for the twenty-two year old junior at his law firm, she found solace in swimming. She was alone and every drive of her fist through the water acted like a direct punch in his face.

  Now thirty-one, she had her own career in real-estate, and had never needed to rely on her successful husband’s money—she had an income of her own.

  Looking back she wondered if her job contributed to him leaving. Though he had loved her independence when they were in their mid-twenties, when he wanted her to put her own career on hold in order for them to have a family, Christina hadn’t been quite so keen.

  Maybe she’d seen it coming?

  She wanted to have kids one day, but she could envision the trap he set out before her; have his children, give up her job, and take away her options. She would have to stay with him—even if she did find out he was busy screwing his slip of a secretary. Anyway, she’d long since decided she was better off out of the marriage. Toward the end, the sex had been non-existent and she’d quickly gotten used to having only her hand and her personal drawer containing her toys to keep her company.

  There was a good chance the swimming had as much to do with her own sexual frustration as her anger toward her ex-husband. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hard dick inside her.

  Christina shrugged out of her jeans and pulled her sweater over her head, dropping them, together with her towel, on the sand. Christina’s simple black swimsuit hugged her curves, designed specifically to give extra support to her ample chest.

  Light on her feet, she half ran down to the shore. The cold water raced over her toes and she paused for a moment, her breath catching at their bite. She knew she couldn’t wait for too long. It was better to get it over and done with. If she thought about the cold she would chicken out.

  She powered into the water, her strong thighs cutting through the waves. The breakers crashed down on her, and she had to turn sideways, the cold snatching the breath from her lungs. As soon as she was past the break, she plunged into the sea, diving beneath the waves.

  She burst from the surface, gasping, but exhilarated. The salt stung her eyes and she blinked away the water, wiping a hand across her face. Free-styling, she swam further out, enjoying her muscles working. Out here, she felt strong.

  Working against the waves, she quickly tired. Christina turned to swim back to the shore, but stopped and treaded water for a moment, shocked. The water’s edge was much further than she thought. Now, swimming in place, she became aware of the pull on her body, and still the distance between herself and the sand increased.

  She struck out
again, using all her strength to power through the water, but when she looked up she’d gotten no closer.

  Panic fired through her. As the waves grew larger, Christina rose and fell with the swell. She dropped into the barrel and her view of the shore was blocked. But as another wave lifted her up she caught sight of a figure on shore; a man.

  She waved an arm.

  “Help! Help me!”

  He carried on walking along the beach and she thought he wouldn’t see her, but then he stopped and raised his hand, shielding his eyes from the few rays of sun still remaining. He turned and ran back the way he came.

  Tears sprang to Christina’s eyes, though they were washed away in a moment by the blast of another salty wave.

  She couldn’t believe he was leaving. Exhaustion bled the strength from her limbs, her calves threatening to cramp. She didn’t think she could continue to fight the pull of the water for much longer.

  Then she saw him, glimpses through the waves. He ran down the beach, a life buoy under his arm.

  Oh, thank God.

  As he ran down toward the water, he stripped off his clothes, shedding them on the sand. Then he plunged into the ocean and Christina lost sight of him. She only hoped he was swimming toward her.

  A large wave crashed over her head and suddenly she was under, her nose and mouth filling with salt. Driving back to the surface she choked and coughed, but another wave hit her just as hard and she went under once again. The churn of the waves caught hold her, flipping her in a tumble, before she managed to figure out which way was up and break through the surface. Her lungs burnt and she spluttered salty water, completely disorientated and blind with panic.

  Strong arms wrapped around her chest and she found herself pressed against a firm torso. She was pulled her onto her back. Instinctively, she tried to swim, but a deep voice said, “Relax. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

  Christina did as she was told and gave into his strength. Another harsh cough wracked her body and more water splashed onto her face, but the man holding her was strong and didn’t let go for a moment.