Kingfisher Lane by Grant Gosch

Author:Grant Gosch [Gosch, Grant]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Kingfisher Lane
Publisher: Ocean Creek Publishing
Published: 2022-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Rose

(Sunday)

Rose woke early the next morning to gray light streaming through rain-streaked windows. She watched the light chart a path up her legs. She slowed her breathing and tried to catch its movement. Impossible, it seemed, like watching the rise of the tide. After years of distracted mornings, she reveled in the simple pleasure of the rising sun.

When the light reached her thighs, her thoughts turned to Henry. The warmth of him when she touched him on the bridge. The spark from his hand when they said good night. She thought about his hands. Strong and warm. She thought about the words his hands had written, the keys they had played, and the strings they had thumbed. She thought about his hands holding her. His fingers moving up her neck and wrapping in her hair.

Her body warmed at the thought of his touch. Just a harmless fantasy, she mused, as she slid a hand under the duvet and found herself. She pictured Henry’s shoulders. Rounded. Strong. The movement of him. Then his hands again. She thought of his fingers brushing her cheek. His hand on her thigh, her hips, her breasts. She rolled to her stomach, the duvet slipping and exposing her legs to the rising sun. Her fingers moved in a slow rhythm. Henry’s hands holding her. Her body warming. Henry’s weight on her. Her hands on his chest. The heat of him. Her pulse quickened as her mind slid Henry just inside her, then moments later, quietly, fully into her depths. Circle. Slide. Circle. She arched her back as intense pleasure flowed through her body.

Rose relaxed into the bed and breathed in the morning chill. Everything seemed so distant. Her life. Her real life. Perhaps it was being on an island, or the feeling that she was in some way returning to herself. Tears welled in her eyes as raw emotions surfaced through the confusion of her life. Waves rolled along the shore. Small waves. Wind waves. They were close. So close that Rose could hear the tumble of rocks and she felt as if she were one of them. A rock tumbling along to some greater force.

Rose’s thoughts were interrupted by the staccato clang of the triangle on the front porch. She looked at the clock on the nightstand; 8 a.m. She rolled from bed and slipped on her shorts, sandals, and fleece. She stretched her arms to the ceiling, exposing her midriff to the cool of the morning. She thought about crawling back into bed but the idea of someone else cooking for her was almost as pleasurable as her orgasm.

Rose walked across the gravel drive and up to the porch of the main house. She was anxious to see how Gail and Bob would react to her after seeing her in the motion light the night before. When she walked into the house, she was greeted by a couple in their sixties–new guests that had arrived the previous evening. They looked up at her from the dining room table.

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