Chloe

I was all talked out after telling him my story and crying over it. But the awkward silence after I finally managed to stop sobbing and wiped my tears away, didn't last long before I let him convince me to go surfing.

I've been in the water for awhile now, but the waves aren’t ideal, as I figured they wouldn't be this late in the day. Still, I feel some of the old thrill I used to every time I went out on the water, and I feel lighter than I did this morning, more free than I've felt for the last three years. More like my old self, the carefree, wild girl who trusted the world was a good place. Rider gave that back to me, by listening, not judging, by seeing what I'd buried under layers and layers of denial, regret and shame, and coaxing it back out into the light. I love surfing, but I'd much rather be sitting on the beach in his arms.

I paddle to the shallows, closer to where he's sitting in the sand at the waterline, watching me.

"You wanna give it a try?" I call out.

"I'm not much of a swimmer," he says. "And I'd rather just watch you."

I smile and come all the way out, dump my board in the sand and join him. He's wearing his jeans and no shirt, and I'm all wet, but he'll have to hold me anyway, I'm not giving him a choice. He's not asking for one either, just wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer.

"I can teach you to swim," I say. "And to surf. If you want."

"Well, I do know how to swim, just not very well," he says. "Father O'Reilly took us swimming a couple of times. We even went to Lake Mead once. As for surfing, I fell into the deep end of the pool once, and the shock took all my air, then locked it right out. It was worse than getting punched."

I laugh, can't help it. "You just have to remember to hold your breath when that happens, and wait until you can draw it again."

"That's good advice in general too," he says, moving a strand of my hair, so it's not dripping all over his arm and leg.

"I feel like I've been holding my breath for a very long time," I muse. "But I'm ready to take that breath again."

"Good," he says. "You deserve it."

We share a silence after that, but it's so full of things unspoken it's actually very loud. The sun is starting to set, and we'll have to leave soon if we want to make it to our car without getting lost in the jungle. But I also want this moment to last for a very long time yet.

"Are you going to leave now that the ditches are done?" I ask, surprising myself at having said it, but it's time to find out.

He doesn't reply right away, and this silence is not as pleasant as the one I just broke. It makes my heart beat faster, makes the layers that kept me untouchable for all these years harden again.

"I was thinking of staying," he finally says, sending my heart racing even harder, but in a much different pitch. "I'm gonna be 32 years old in January, and, I don't know, the kids maybe need someone like me around. I mean, I would have needed me when I was their age."

He pauses, my heart beating very erratically as I wait for what comes next, for the mention of me, of us. But it's just not coming, and the silence is growing hard again.

I'm staring straight ahead, at the waves breaking, the purple and orange waters of sunset. I used to think I'd always be alright as long as I had the ocean. But now I'm not so sure anymore, and it's scary.

He shifts and releases me, takes hold of my chin and makes me look at him. His eyes are deep green like the jungle stretching out behind our backs.

"You're here too, of course," he says. "And I don't want to go very far away from you. I think I'm in love with you, Chloe."

"You think?" I say stupidly. What I should be saying is, "I love you too."

"Well, it's hard to tell," he says, grinning at me. "I've never felt this way about anyone. I want to hold you all the time, and fuck you, and help you, and never let anything bad happen to you, and just generally do anything you want to do. All the time."

"Me too," I say, being dumb again. So I clear my throat, stare very deep into his eyes and start over.

"I love you too, Michael," I say. "More than I ever loved anyone, and I want all those things you just said too. And I want to stay with you forever."

"Mickey," he says, smiling at me.

"What?"

"That's what Father O'Reilly used to call me. I don't like Michael, only my mother called me that, and she and I are not friends."

"OK, Mickey," I say and smile. "I can call you Rider too, if you want."

"You know what?" he says, wrapping his arms around me tighter. "You can call me anything you want."

* * *

We went out to dinner after we left the beach, so the orphanage is dark and deserted when we return.

He joins me in the shower, and we waste way too much water washing each other by the light of our flashlights. But the rain season is coming, so water will not be a problem. Especially now that he's dug us the ditches, and certainly never again, because he's staying. I still can't quite believe it's true. But he said he loves me, that he's staying. I didn't just imagine that, yet I'm still waiting to wake up from this dream.

We're both content to just let our hands and our fingers do the talking as we lather each other up, not missing a single spot. I love the shadows cast by the valleys and peaks of his abs, and my whole body is tingling, sparkling in anticipation of the night to come. His cock has been hard the whole time, since we undressed and turned on the water, and we're as clean now as we're ever gonna get.

He picks me up and carries me to my—our—bungalow. We're naked, but it's dark, so no one can see us. It's as though we're alone, but it's always like that when we're together. The rest of the world just fades away.

He lays me down on the bed, which I wish was wider, to better fit the both of us. But then there'd be too much space between us, and sometimes, when we're lying in my bed together, it feels like there already is.

He grins at me, as he kneels on the floor at my feet, gliding his hands up my legs as he spreads them apart. His touch is like a million tiny electrical shocks all coming together deep in my chest.

I sigh hoarsely as his lips touch my clit, moan loudly as his tongue goes to work. He keeps his eyes fixed on mine, as I slowly get lost in the bliss his tongue and his lips are waking inside me. He knows what he's doing, keeps me right at the edge of coming, until my need to, my yearning for release from this slow building pleasure, becomes all I know, all I can think about. With his tongue still caressing my clit, he pushes a finger into me, rubs that special spot inside me where all bliss originates. My whole body is crackling with the desire, the need to come, but he's still teasing me, still keeping me at the very edge.

He pulls his finger out, and I whimper in disappointment, right before I gasp, as it finds my other hole. He rubs a slow circle over it, my wetness aiding it's passage.

He's stopped licking my clit, is just rubbing it with his thumb now as his index finger massages my asshole, the new sensation of pleasure mixing with the old, and making me see double.

"You'll give me this hole too, right?" he asks hoarsely like it's not really a question.

I nod, and he chuckles at the naughty grin I'm giving him. I'll give him all my holes, they're all his. I'm all his.

I bite down on my lower lip as he pushes his finger into my ass, just the tip, but it feels like a lot more and reminds me of the fact that he has a lot more to give.

"You're so big though," I whisper amid a moan as he pushes his finger even deeper into me.

"Yeah," he says and grins, like I'm the first girl who's ever told him he has a big cock. "But we'll go slow, and you can take it."

I'm not so sure, but I'll try, and it's a decision that becomes even firmer as he starts kissing and licking my clit again, working his finger in and out of my asshole. I've done anal before, and it's in most of those videos my ex posted online, but he wasn't nearly as big as Rider is. But he's also never made me come as hard as Rider does. Not even close. And he's doing it again now, my vision completely blurry as the orgasm I've been craving finally washes over me with all the force of a tsunami, and just as breath-taking. He pushes his thumb deep into my pussy, and lets me ride the orgasm out, before removing his fingers.

When I regain my ability to breathe he's on the bed, kneeling between my spread legs, his cock pressing against my ass. He lifts my legs up and spreads them wider.

"Ready?" he asks with a very determined look in his eyes.

"I don't know," I answer truthfully.

"Well, I don't need a lot, and this ain't your first rodeo when it comes to anal, Chloe," he says, rubbing the head of his slick cock over my hole. "But if you don't want to, I won't force you."

"I want to," I whisper, still not completely sure until the words are out of my mouth. "But go slow."

He grins then spits in his hand, rubbing it on his cock. I don't know if a bit of spit will be enough, but I have no time to tell him that as he starts pushing his cock in. I gasp as my whole body wishes to tense against the intruder, but I won't let it.

He slows for a moment then pushes in deeper, retreats and repeats. It hurts, but the pleasure is greater, the pain bearable. After a few more of his shallow jabs, my body opens to accommodate him, because I was made for him, and he for me, and there can be no other way. He keeps pushing his cock in and out of me slowly, not going too deep at all.

The pain is gone now, fleeing from the blissful warmth suffusing me, as I start to feel his cock everywhere, my entire body one big, rippling zone of pleasure that keeps expanding and growing, until it's all there is. He keeps going, his thrust weaving the blanket of pleasure tighter and thicker, even my need to breathe secondary to accepting all this pleasure he's giving me.

The orgasm that washes over me now has no end and no beginning, bathes everything in a timelessness that even my moans and shrieks can no longer rent.