Agnieszka
She is blind to the folly of seeking a tryst with a man she barely knew. This man. Her need to drug herself overriding any concern that her cocktail might be laced with poison. Might be entirely poison. If he were not a danger would she have called up that terrible shard of memory that had turned her mind toward terror and lust?
Stillwater has followed her closely down to the beach and the featherlight brush of his lips drove her on like a bullwhip might have. As if she needed any additional motivation. Here on the beach his body slides along hers and her eyes close as he draws alongside her--she a statue and he a leviathan that could shatter her into the sea. His breath falls against that latch of her throat, lips brushing her jaw, but he does not speak and frustrate her with more words and questions.
Her thoughts are too loud, but redirecting it is easy enough--at least this time--and it’s the painfully handsome stallion that she has convinced herself she needs in order to quiet her longing. Desire is a rhythm, a heartbeat drum, a pulsing in her head that is old and primal and so familiar that it threatens to break her anew. But the water is here, singing to her the way it always has. The way it always has. The absent power that she craves is renamed Stillwater for tonight, for an hour, or for however long they could be together under this black satin night.
This softness of kisses, or her name upon his dark lips like fine bourbon. These are not enough. Her eyes open and she watches him, foamy waves hoping to pull him away. A single step into the water is slow, deceptively demure. False, and she cannot maintain it. Her chest heaves and the painted girl splashes forward to all but collide with the stallion waiting in the water. She is breathless and coiled with tension when her soft lips brush the corner of his mouth. A wave breaks against them and her eyes close again. She tucks her face beneath the shelter of his muscular neck to keep from catching the impact of the water. As the wave crashes away Eszka’s lips lift to taste the salt water fresh from the taut plain of his neck, his hide black sealskin beneath her caress.
an unequaled gift for disaster
@[Stillwater]