vicious.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, but finally he felt like something was going to rip inside him if he didn’t get relief. He looked around wildly, thinking maybe the Scotch in the liquor cabinet in the living room would dull his mind and his body.
Finally, he registered what his eyes were seeing out the window. Cool flagstones, wet grass, the sea. Moonlight drained all color from the landscape and bathed it in soothing silver.
He had to be out under the stars. He had this crazy idea that starlight or moonlight would wash away his turmoil.
He didn’t bother to dress. In fact, he didn’t want any clothes between him and that cleansing light. He jerked open his bedroom door and headed to the French doors a few steps away, at the end of the corridor. He threw open those doors and stumbled out onto the path. The cool air felt good on his heated body. The crashing of the waves at the base of the cliffs was relentless. He lurched toward the rear of the house, across the flagstones of the terrace, his bare feet gripping the rough stone. Then he stepped onto the wet grass of the lawn, which stretched down to the pergola overlooking the Pacific. He came to a jerky halt in the middle of the open space. The moon was almost full, waning or waxing, he couldn’t tell which.
Heal me , he begged silently. The way my mother can’t anymore. Not that anyone could heal what was inside him now. He stretched up his arms, fingers splayed, as if to make himself vulnerable to the light. Strip me bare. And he didn’t mean of clothes. He was still naked, his cock unperturbed by the night air. It rose almost against his belly, aching with need. His mind reeled.
Make me numb. Strip me of need. Strip me of desire and compulsion. Strip me of music.
He sucked in a horrified breath at that thought. Would he give up even his music to avoid his fate? Music had been his life, solace, his nurturing influence ever since he could remember. If that was the price to escape the maelstrom inside, would he give up part of his soul?
The moonlight seemed to beat at him, not a kindly cleansing influence anymore but a battering ram, banging against the door of his soul. He collapsed to his knees, his body shaking. He bent his head, hunching his shoulders as if to protect himself.
But there was no protection from this assault.
Maybe there was a way, though, to relieve the pressure building inside his loins and his gut. He grabbed his cock in his left hand and began to jerk it roughly.
*
Greta threw back the covers. She wasn’t getting any sleep tonight. She was still painfully aching between her legs and her thighs were wet. This was ridiculous. And she was not going to masturbate in some strange house because she had it bad for…whatever his name was. How could she have it so bad for him when she’d seen him exactly twice? She didn’t even know him. She’d only seen him in good light for the first time in the foyer downstairs an hour ago. She was really losing it.
She didn’t even pull on the robe Jane had lent her. She just started pacing the room, growing more agitated by the minute, until she stopped as though something had shaken her into stillness. She turned to the draped windows. Her breasts felt full and tender. Her center grew quiet as she walked slowly to the window and pulled the brocade aside.
The moon, partially obscured by a graceful tree with feathery leaves, washed over a flagstone terrace. Grass stretched down to a pergola covered with heaps of some vine. The lawn was surrounded by gardens. She recognized rose bushes and birds of paradise among other plants. Beyond the pergola, the moon cut a silver channel along the ocean. The house must be up on cliffs here, since she couldn’t see the breakers. Stars dotted the night, though you couldn’t see as many at sea level as you would in the mountains.
She opened the latch on the window and swung it outwards. The roar of the waves breaking against the cliffs
He didn’t know how long he stood there, but finally he felt like something was going to rip inside him if he didn’t get relief. He looked around wildly, thinking maybe the Scotch in the liquor cabinet in the living room would dull his mind and his body.
Finally, he registered what his eyes were seeing out the window. Cool flagstones, wet grass, the sea. Moonlight drained all color from the landscape and bathed it in soothing silver.
He had to be out under the stars. He had this crazy idea that starlight or moonlight would wash away his turmoil.
He didn’t bother to dress. In fact, he didn’t want any clothes between him and that cleansing light. He jerked open his bedroom door and headed to the French doors a few steps away, at the end of the corridor. He threw open those doors and stumbled out onto the path. The cool air felt good on his heated body. The crashing of the waves at the base of the cliffs was relentless. He lurched toward the rear of the house, across the flagstones of the terrace, his bare feet gripping the rough stone. Then he stepped onto the wet grass of the lawn, which stretched down to the pergola overlooking the Pacific. He came to a jerky halt in the middle of the open space. The moon was almost full, waning or waxing, he couldn’t tell which.
Heal me , he begged silently. The way my mother can’t anymore. Not that anyone could heal what was inside him now. He stretched up his arms, fingers splayed, as if to make himself vulnerable to the light. Strip me bare. And he didn’t mean of clothes. He was still naked, his cock unperturbed by the night air. It rose almost against his belly, aching with need. His mind reeled.
Make me numb. Strip me of need. Strip me of desire and compulsion. Strip me of music.
He sucked in a horrified breath at that thought. Would he give up even his music to avoid his fate? Music had been his life, solace, his nurturing influence ever since he could remember. If that was the price to escape the maelstrom inside, would he give up part of his soul?
The moonlight seemed to beat at him, not a kindly cleansing influence anymore but a battering ram, banging against the door of his soul. He collapsed to his knees, his body shaking. He bent his head, hunching his shoulders as if to protect himself.
But there was no protection from this assault.
Maybe there was a way, though, to relieve the pressure building inside his loins and his gut. He grabbed his cock in his left hand and began to jerk it roughly.
*
Greta threw back the covers. She wasn’t getting any sleep tonight. She was still painfully aching between her legs and her thighs were wet. This was ridiculous. And she was not going to masturbate in some strange house because she had it bad for…whatever his name was. How could she have it so bad for him when she’d seen him exactly twice? She didn’t even know him. She’d only seen him in good light for the first time in the foyer downstairs an hour ago. She was really losing it.
She didn’t even pull on the robe Jane had lent her. She just started pacing the room, growing more agitated by the minute, until she stopped as though something had shaken her into stillness. She turned to the draped windows. Her breasts felt full and tender. Her center grew quiet as she walked slowly to the window and pulled the brocade aside.
The moon, partially obscured by a graceful tree with feathery leaves, washed over a flagstone terrace. Grass stretched down to a pergola covered with heaps of some vine. The lawn was surrounded by gardens. She recognized rose bushes and birds of paradise among other plants. Beyond the pergola, the moon cut a silver channel along the ocean. The house must be up on cliffs here, since she couldn’t see the breakers. Stars dotted the night, though you couldn’t see as many at sea level as you would in the mountains.
She opened the latch on the window and swung it outwards. The roar of the waves breaking against the cliffs
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