Ariana sat in the bow watching the waves roll past to either side as the sailboat cut a swift line through the watery grayness. Looking straight ahead, unable to see the craft upon which she sat, it was as if it were her alone moving through the ocean at breakneck speed, soaring above the waves, water rushing past. The sun warmed her; her designer sunglasses kept the brightness at bay. It was calming, the quiet of sailing, the creaking of the rigging and the flapping of cloth when Sean trimmed the sails were the only sounds to let her know she wasn't floating alone in the ocean.
She closed her eyes and lay back on the deck, the bright light a red glow beyond her eyelids, baking her already bronzed skin, filling her with a sense of silent comfort. This was better than a tanning bed any day. Here time was immaterial. The pressures of life, her demanding job, her cluttered apartment, the stress of her family and friends, all of it was in another world, left behind on the shore. Here on the open sea she was transported to a realm of peaceful solitude, and an aura of tranquility settled over her, relaxing her down to her bones as the warmth of sunlight saturated her skin.
The gentle motion of the boat through the waves lulled her into a dreamlike state, almost asleep, barely conscious of reality around her, soothing and serene. She wished Sean would furl the sails, let the boat drift or weigh anchor and come lay beside her, share the warmth and peace that enshrouded her. She lay like that for a long time, possibly hours, drifting into undisturbed sleep.
She woke to a cool breeze blowing over her bare skin, the tiny, powder blue bikini barely covering her, the coldness raising goose bumps over her body. She opened her eyes, and saw that the sky had darkened, black clouds heavy with rain roiled over the boat, the chill breeze had picked up, but no rain had yet fallen. She sat up, craning her neck to see what Sean was doing. The sails were furled, but couldn't see him anywhere on deck. She noticed the waves growing beyond the stern, rising in great swells, increasing the rocking motion of the boat, as lightning flashed on the horizon like distant fireworks.
Ariana liked storms. She loved watching them out the window from the safety of her apartment, rain tapping out a beat on the glass, thunder rattling the panes within their wooden frame. Sometimes she went out into the rain, felt it spatter on her upturned face, soaking through her clothes, delighting in the childlike freedom that overtook her, sending her back to the innocence of her youth. But here, on the open sea, she was in unfamiliar territory. Trepidation spread through her like the chill wind blowing across her exposed skin. She felt a sudden need to get below deck, to hide from the imminent onslaught of the storm.
The wind picked up, whipping her dark hair about her head, strands stinging her eyes as they blew across her face. A few fat rain drops plopped on the deck, splattering on the hardwood as the waves crashed into the side of the boat, misting Arianas' body with their spray. The water was still warm as it coated her, and she could smell the salt tang in the air, stronger now that the water was upon her than it had been during the calm sailing before she awoke. She had to get below deck. She stood awkwardly, the boat rolling beneath her and, gripping the railing to keep her balance and turned on her heel, bare skin squeaking against the wet timber.
As she spun, her eyes fell on Sean, directly behind her. His bare chest was the first thing she saw, blocking her way to the dry safety of the cabin. He balanced himself with one hand in the rigging, a length of rope in his other hand. The wind ruffled his short hair and tossed his black swim trunks around his legs; his dark eyes squinted against the spray. He looked like a man on a mission, a man possessed with a singular purpose. Ariana hesitated, half standing, one hand on the railing, the wind tugging at her hair, the rain picking up as it spattered in large drops onto her, onto Sean, on the deck.
She was momentarily frightened, the expression on his face indiscernible, but then he touched her, one callused hand bracing her upper arm, and she calmed. The rope he held was rough against her skin, and he moved closer to her rather than helping her towards the cabin as she expected.
"Relax," he said, and the tension released itself from her arms and legs, her muscles loosened, the tightness within her easing.
Sean guided her gently back onto the deck until she was lying almost prone in the very end of the bow, a railing at either side. He loomed over her, uncoiling the rope with single-mindedness. Her heart raced. She couldn't figure out what he was doing, why he wasn't getting her to shelter below deck, why he was taking her hand, gently but firmly guiding it up over her head and... oh! Her heart skipped a beat as he lashed her hand tightly to the railing. The rope was itchy on her skin, snug as it held her firmly in place, her pulse quickening as realization dawned on her. He lashed her other hand as well, the knots strong and restraining. She was tethered securely into the bow of the ship, the weight of his lower body pressing down on her legs as he checked the knots.
The wind howled around them as Sean traced his fingers over her rain-soaked skin sending shivers through her. He smiled, and her apprehension melted. It was Sean, her loving, devoted Sean. They were partners in everything, best friends, lovers; Sean would never allow her to come to harm, would never dream of doing anything she found objectionable. He wrapped his fingers in her panties, and as he slid them down her long tanned legs, the rain picked up, pounding down upon them both, soaking them, running in rivulets over their bodies. Lightning flashed all around, thunder cracked through the wailing of the wind.
He ran his fingers back up her legs, up her inner thighs, moving closer to her private place; she felt his touch light as a feather, sending tremors of ecstasy through her entire body, tickling her, tormenting her with pleasure, sensations running through her like an electrical current. She squeezed her legs together, but he slid his hands between her thighs and pushed them apart with gentle decisiveness. The sparking awareness of her predicament blossomed in her mind; she was helpless, completely vulnerable, exposed and entirely at his mercy and that of the storm surrounding them.
She had never been this powerless, never been completely under the domination of any other human, and the thought of it thrilled her. Feelings stirred deep inside her mind, her body responded to him of its' own accord, and her imagination ran wild, all sorts of possibilities unfolding before her. At his touch arousal bloomed within her like time-lapse flowers opening for the sun. God, she wanted him, not just now, not just the physical contact, she wanted him connected to her, in control, his influence the only thing to which she could possibly respond. She wanted to lose herself in this moment forever.
His fingers continued their play along her skin, still avoiding any overtly erogenous zones, and then his tongue was upon her, circling her navel, fingers exploring her body in light, circular motions, ever upward, across her stomach, the swell of her ribcage, water everywhere, strands of hair plastered to her face, her body sliding on the rain-slicked deck. He moved upwards along her body, slippery and rain-soaked, kissing and caressing, and her body responded. Warmth spread through her and she felt herself getting wet, not just from the rain, but her body lubricating itself, preparing itself for the inevitable as her arousal increased.
He stopped kissing just below the top of her bikini, the only article of clothing she still wore. She burned for his touch, anticipation fluttering behind her ribcage like a bird trapped in a cage. His fingers ran once over her left nipple, just enough to send a current of raw sexual awareness straight between her legs, then once over her right nipple, the surge of arousal again shooting through her like fire. The boat rocked beneath them as he moved back down her torso, kisses trailing lower until his head was almost between her legs, waves lapping over the gunwale, warm water flowing over and around her, his mouth barely warmer than the salty liquid flowing freely about them.
His lips puckered against her skin, over her pelvis, on the insides of her thighs, so close to her sex, yet never once touching it. She was going wild, she wanted to touch him, feel his skin under her hands, feel her lips upon him, wrap her fingers tightly in his hair and pull him into her, push against his tongue, feel him touching her, pleasing her; she was aching for him, tingling, on the brink of insanity, her body begging him to please, please touch me, give me the satisfaction I need.
Then his tongue was on her lips, between them, moving over her clitoris, and she could barely breathe. Her mouth opened in a silent O as she inhaled sharply, the sensation beyond words, beyond thought, reality blurring. He teased her, his tongue finding all the right spots, making her arch her back, throw her head back in wild abandon and close her eyes. God, yes, she thought as the world melted beyond the nub of her clit, all sensation focused on the attention his tongue brought to bear upon her. Every nerve ending was alive, the raindrops falling upon her sent shivers through her entire body, the way her body slid against the slippery deck, nothing went unnoticed as she was submerged in rapture. She thrashed against the ropes holding her, wanting to touch him, to feel his body with her hands, to caress him, but he just continued his methodical pattern, his fingers moving to join his tongue as he tortured her with ecstasy.
Finally he raised his head, and their eyes met. She could see his desire, the need within him; she could feel his firmness pressing against her leg, then her thigh as he moved up her body, finally settling on her waist, the hardness of his longing pressing against her, teasing her with slow thrusting movements along her nakedness. She wanted to kiss him, reached her head towards him, but the rope kept her just out of reach of his lips. He moved his head back to avoid contact, teasing her further, the lack of kissing some strange part of this agonizing game.
He reached under her, untied and removed her top; she was naked beneath him, wanting him, needing him inside her more than anything as the storm surged around them, waves striking the hull and breaking over the rail, splashing warm salty foam over them, him pinning her to the deck, utterly helpless and at his mercy.
"I want you," she said, but so low, so quiet she wasn't sure if he heard her above the roar of the storm. She tried again, louder, a note of pleading in her voice, almost begging him to make love to her. "I want you inside of me."
She wanted and needed him more than anything, more than the safety of the cabin, more than the air she was gasping in short breaths as yearning overtook her every other need. She tasted of sea salt as his mouth came down on her neck, her collarbone, across her breasts, tongue caressing her nipples, pinching, licking, pulling gently with teeth. He had her on the brink.
"Oh God," She cried out, much louder this time, then begged for him, cried out for him to put it in her. "Sean, Fuck me. Fuck me!"
He reached down, shucking off his shorts like a lizard slipping out of old skin, then he was upon her again, the weight of him pressing down on her, the tip of him pressed tight to her entrance. He raised his head, his eyes locked firmly on hers as she strove against her bonds trying to meet his lips with hers, wanting to kiss him. Suddenly, he entered her, sliding inside slowly but purposefully, easing himself in bit by bit. A few short thrusts and she felt his hard warmth push all the way into her, filling her, almost painful in the completeness of his size, as if he were made to fill her exactly. He was perfect, made just for her, and he was hers, completely and totally.
Their bodies rocked conversely to the rocking of the deck, up and down the deck as the boat rolled side to side in the onslaught of waves. He moved slowly but firmly, thrusting in and out, and she was already so built up that she nearly exploded the instant he entered her. She came as he moved slowly, wave after wave of pleasure tearing through her body like the wave after wave of water splashing over both of them. He didn't stop, didn't even slow down. He thrust through her orgasm as if it weren't happening, overloading her senses. She wanted him to stop, give her some reprieve, don't make this pleasure go on, she couldn't take any more, but he wouldn't stop. It was beyond pleasure, a feeling so good it was almost all the way back around to pain; He kept pushing until she finally ended an eternity of orgasmic pleasure, and still he thrust inside her.
She was oversensitive, every thrust brought new waves of pleasure beyond her experience, then he picked up the pace, he thrust faster and seemingly deeper, more intent on the matter at hand. His eyes burned into hers; he hadn't stopped staring at her the entire time, and the intensity of his gaze made her feel as if he not only penetrated her body, but her mind, her very soul. She returned his stare, silently meeting his increasingly rapid thrusts, their hips meeting in quick slaps, his eyes boring into her as his body did the same, and she couldn't believe it, she was going to come again, right away, right on top of her last orgasm.
His body quivered, his hips tensed, and she knew he was going to come, and she was so close that she thought they might come together, God yes, simultaneously. His arms were rigid as he braced his body above hers, his thrusts quickening until he began driving long, hard strokes into her. She felt the warmth inside her as he came, and she came too, pulling against her bonds as their bodies spasmed and jerked uncontrollably, thrusting, grinding, bumping until he collapsed on top of her and her body became weak with fatigue, tingling with the aftereffects of their stormy lovemaking.
He lay on top of her as the storm died down, their skin hot against each other, his fingers caressing the hair from her face, running over her mouth, his touch still like lightning on her skin. The storm was dying as their passion did, slowly petering out, the last remnants of rain trickling down on them as their breathing slowed and their bodies calmed.
The thunder and lightning had moved on some time ago, though Ariana was unsure when that had happened, she had seen lightning behind her eyes right up until the end. The wind had died, and the salt spray no longer washed over them. The light rain warmed and washed the salty tang from their bodies as he embraced her bound form on the deck. All she wanted was to touch him, hold him, feel her hands upon him. As if some form of telepathy informed him of her need, he reached up and untied her, first her left hand, then her right.
Her wrists were chafed from the coarse rope, and he kissed the red marks tenderly. She could wait no longer, needed to hold him close, and her arms moved around him, across his back, fingers gripping him as if reassuring herself that he was real. They lay like that for long hours until the sun broke through the clouds on the horizon.
The crimson globe painted a multi-colored spray of light on the underside of the clouds; streaks of pink, purple, orange, and red spread across half the sky. They held each other, neither willing to move, staring at the stunning sunset, the kind of sunset that takes your breath away, a view on the end of the day the likes of which are seldom seen from shore. They lay together, wrapped around each other, watching until the sun sank below the horizon, until the last purple glow faded, and darkness spread across the sea.