| Prologue
Oh God, I’m drowning.
The swirling tentacles of the undertow wrapped themselves
around Colin Baxter’s legs and tugged, trying to pull him
under the raging waves of water. Surrounded by a sea of moonlit
sapphire blue, Colin fought to stay above the tide.
Swim, damn it, swim. You know how to do it.
Colin treaded water, turning in a circle, frantic for a direction
in which to go.
A beacon of red suddenly showed itself in the distance, as
if beckoning Colin home.
The flash of color disappeared with one blink of Colin’s
eyes, but it no longer mattered. His arms and legs could now
feel the location to which he was supposed to swim.
Colin wasted no time and started swimming freestyle toward
an endpoint that existed only in his mind. Swells of water
pushed him halfway backward for every ten strokes he progressed;
after what seemed like hours, Colin slowed, his body battered
in a way that brought back nightmares from long ago.
“Help me,” a rough male voice rippled across the night sky.
Colin jerked and whipped his head around, searching for a
body to go with the words he had heard. Nothing. Just water
and more water, illuminated by the light of a bright, full
moon.
Exhausted, wanting to give up and sink to the bottom of the
ocean, Colin gritted his teeth; something inside him refused
to slip under the water. The strange pull of the suspended
red object drove him to move once again. His muscles screamed
with every churn of his arms and kick of his legs, but he
could not stop. Something beyond his ability to physically
endure drove him forward, swimming toward…nothing.
“Help me.” Ragged desperation laced the male voice again,
haunting Colin.
Angering him too.
Revived emotions gave fuel to Colin’s depleted body. Maybe
if you help me, buddy, I could help you. Colin could
only think the snapping retort in his mind. His burning lungs
would not allow him to speak.
A white light flashed through the night sky right then, and
everything moved in fast-forward, like in a film. Colin existed
in a place of limbo, floating above his body. He saw quick
snapshots of himself swimming, making progress toward a shoreline
as the night sky changed with stop-motion progression and
became a blindingly sunny afternoon.
Crashing down into his own body once again, Colin fell face-first
into pure white sand, the warmth of which seeped into his
nakedness and slowly brought his chilled body back to life.
Colin’s lungs heaved, and he sucked in great gulps of air,
greedy for the oxygen. As his breathing returned to normal,
he pulled his arms and legs under him and stood. He looked
up, and his knees nearly collapsed him right back down to
the sand.
In front of him, a colonial-style home sat up off the beach.
Painted pristine white with black shutters, it had an unusual
blue tile roof. Above the door, a rectangular stained glass
window shone bright with multiple colors, but Colin barely
took note of the design. The door itself commanded his full
attention, gleaming in the sunlight with its shiny coat of
bright red paint.
“Holy shit.” Colin blinked, certain the home must be a mirage.
He opened his eyes, and there it still stood. And that door.
That fucking cherry red door filled his vision.
His legs no longer lethargic, Colin trekked up the beach
to a sandy path surrounded by tropical greenery on either
side and stopped at the bottom of the steps of the majestic
porch. He walked up the stairs slowly, mindful of the smooth
wood under his feet, as well as the cool metal of the railing
under his hand. Reaching the landing, he planted his foot,
and the creak of the porch caught his attention, drawing forth
a smile. I’m going to have to remind him again to fix
that. The thought not only filled Colin’s brain without
hesitation, but also tugged at his heart with a sense of indulgence.
Everything, down to the very foundation of the house, spoke
to him without words and enveloped him in invisible arms.
Colin crossed the porch and reached out to touch the door,
laying his palms flat on the shiny surface. He swore a pulse
beat beneath his hands. “How did I see you from so far away?”
He leaned in and pressed his forehead to the wood. “Why did
you save me?”
A different weight, a very real, male weight, pressed into
Colin from behind, trapping him against the door. Hot skin
brushed his bare back and warm lips came to rest at his ear.
“You’re here. I prayed you would come.” The man spoke with
a voice full of gravel, and his breath fanned Colin’s skin,
triggering a little shiver.
“I don’t…” Big hands slid down Colin’s sides and over his
stomach, rubbing his lower belly and then slipping farther
down, circling his cock. With first contact, Colin traded
his protest for a moan. The man pressed Colin into the door,
stroked his rapidly growing erection, and sent every last
confusing thought in Colin’s head into a tailspin. He didn’t
know where he was, who owned this house, or why he felt he
should walk inside and stake ownership.
At the moment, he no longer cared.
Colin braced his hands high on the door frame and spread
his legs so he looked like a big X. He pumped his hips into
the rough-skinned hold of the man teasing his cock, forcing
greater friction. His cockhead pearled beads of precum with
every slide of his dick in the man’s tight-fisted hold, releasing
the smell of sex into the already humid air. The unknown man’s
prick grew and pressed against the cleft of Colin’s ass, nudging
at a place that did not have an opening. Colin’s ass channel
pulsed with need, pounding in time with the beating of his
throbbing, hard cock.
“Lower.” Colin groaned and shifted, sticking out his ass.
“Get it into my hole.”
The guy abruptly let go of Colin’s erection, making Colin
whimper with the loss. Quickly, the man slid one hand around
Colin’s waist and down into his crease, not stopping until
he fingered Colin’s pucker. “I know how to fuck another man.”
He growled the words, making them vibrate against the back
of Colin’s neck. The man toyed with Colin’s entrance, playing,
but didn’t push his finger inside.
Colin bit his cheek to keep from screaming. Good God, he
didn’t understand it, but he wanted this anonymous person
to fuck him. “Then do it.” Colin bumped back into the muscular
body. “Please.”
The stranger replaced the tip of his finger with the head
of his cock, wrapped his arm around Colin’s waist, and pushed
his way inside Colin’s ass. Colin groaned as the thick, hard
length stretched his hole and claimed his channel. The man
grasped Colin’s hip and started to move, fucking Colin with
the smoothest damn slide of cock he had ever experienced.
Colin thrust his backside out to meet every measured piercing
of this anonymous dick, glorying in the sensations that took
over his body and drove him to crave more, no matter that
he’d had no preparation for the taking at all.
Dropping his head and staring at the porch floor, Colin bit
his cheek, barely enduring the pleasure of the man behind
him, in him, nearly surrounding him. “Oh God…” Colin bore
his forehead into the red door and reached back to grab the
man’s hips, needing to feel some additional connection but
unable to turn his body around. “Who are you?” Colin moaned
as that wonderful length filled his ass to the hilt again.
“You feel so fucking good.”
“You need to find me.” Muscular, deeply tanned arms engulfed
Colin, and a thick wall of chest and flat stomach plastered
to his back. “I don’t know where you are.”
Still caught in the tangle of the man’s sexual web, Colin
couldn’t think about or feel anything but the intimacy of
the fucking. “I’m here.”
“No, you’re not.” Lips pressed into the strands of hair covering
the back of Colin’s neck, lingering with a kiss. “I won’t
make it without you.” As soon as the words were spoken, the
weight, the presence, behind Colin lightened, left
his body, and faded away.
* * * * *
“No!” Shooting upright in the darkness of his own bedroom,
Colin fought the sensation of drowning once again…as well
as the fiercely painful arousal of his body.
With one hand already firmly around his cock and the fingers
of the other buried in his ass, Colin dragged his fist up
and down his dick in a furious rhythm, pulling his length
past the point of pain in agony of release. He struggled to
remember pieces of the man from his dream: the vaguely sweaty
smell of his skin, the imprint of his palm pressed into Colin’s
stomach, the gritty texture of his voice, the length of his
cock mastering Colin’s ass.
Colin’s rectum squeezed, as if it recalled the dream too.
He shoved his fingers deep into his chute and fucked himself,
trying to re-create a three-dimensional picture that was already
fading fast. The nerve endings in his prick wanted more of
that rough hand so Colin gave his body both, writhing on his
bed. He lifted his legs and spread them at an awkward angle,
jerking and fucking himself at the same time.
The smell of plant life and ocean filled his nostrils, and
a fading hint of the stranger’s lips whispered a touch against
the back of his neck. The feel of the man’s lush lower lip
lingered and triggered Colin’s release. His passage contracted
around his fingers is a series of spasms, and he yanked his
cock as he spewed, sending ejaculate spraying in milky lines
across his trembling stomach. It took long minutes before
Colin came down from the high of orgasm and withdrew his digits
from his ass.
His body now sated, Colin remained lying in the dark with
cum streaking down his sides, shaking, too disturbed by his
dream to move.
One thought filled his head: I just met my future.
* * * * *
Marek Donovan stood on the deck of the boat, staring at the
first house the local realtor showed him. Once upon a time,
the colonial-style home probably held the envy of the natives
and visitors alike, with its size and stature. A dirty stained
glass window, in a design that looked like it might be a family
crest, sat above the front door. Back in the day, the house
had probably been something grand to see.
Today, the porch sagged on one side, the white siding could
be mistaken for gray, and there was more than one blue tile
shingle missing from the roof. Sad. Pathetic. It was a structural
hazard that nobody would come near with a ten-foot pole.
Marek slid on his sunglasses and said, “I’ll take it.”
“But, sir.” The realtor grabbed his arm. “You’ve only glanced
in the front door. I haven’t shown you the rooms or grounds.
We haven’t discussed price.”
Marek glanced down at the woman’s hand on his arm, and then
looked into her eyes. She gasped and stepped away.
Good.
“I said, I’ll take it.” Looking at the house one more time,
Marek gritted his teeth as the memory from long ago hit him
in the gut. “On one condition.” He didn’t wait for the woman
to nod. “Hire someone to come in and tear down that goddamned
red door. I don’t want to have to look at it again.”
He went below deck to drink a beer in celebration of his
new life.
Alone. … |
