Based on a photo prompt from OwenAnderson.
***

“Well, how long will you be?” Meg asked.

The phone hissed slightly “… t two hours… love,” her husband’s voice crackled.

“Fine. I’ll wait.” She sighed and hung up.

She slumped forward on the picnic table with her head resting on her folded arms and turned to watch the sun descending to meet the sea on the horizon. Taxi or wait? She looked down at the deserted beach from the terrace outside the café where she worked. Go for a walk, maybe? Well, it was a nice night.

She stood, hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, and made towards the steps down onto the beach. She walked down to the water’s edge and slipped her shoes off. The water was deliciously cold on her toes. She held up her full-length, suede skirt to keep it dry. Her shadow lengthened across the sand and she played games with it.

Finally the sun succumbed to its fall, and all faded to twilight. She felt the sudden chill of the sun’s absence; her golden yellow vest top left her shoulders and a lot of her chest bare. She picked up her pace to burn off her frustration and keep the chill at bay.

Along the beach she spotted a light; probably teenagers having a party. But, her curiosity was piqued, so she kept going. As she got closer she saw it was not one light, but many. Candles, around one of several thatched shelters. Was this part of the beach private? She looked up to the dunes and saw the lights of a hotel above.

Soft music played; probably a couple having a romantic night together. She turned to head back along the beach.

“Jessica?” a man’s voice called.

Meg looked round. He approached her from the little shelter, linen shirt unbuttoned to his navel showing off a slice of tanned, ripped body beneath.

“Umm, no, sorry,” she stuttered.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Her eyes drifted down over his hips. He wore khaki shorts but no shoes. She quickly snapped her head back up as she realised she was staring.

“Sorry,” he said. He turned to walk back and rolled his shoulders. Her pulse quickened at the sight of his muscles moving under the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Who’s Jessica?” she asked. Her eyes widened in surprise at her own boldness.

He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. “Someone I was supposed to meet here. A girl I met online.”

He didn’t look like the kind of guy who needed to pick up girls on a dating site, but who was she to judge. She took a hesitant step towards him, mesmerized by the dream like setting.

“She didn’t show?”

He shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m Meg by the way.”

He paused then gestured with a nod for her to follow him into the pool of candlelight. “Owen,” he said.

She walked over and he flopped down onto a pile of cushions with his hands behind his head. She swallowed hard. What idiot of a woman didn’t show up for a date with this guy?

“Can I offer you a drink, Meg?” he asked with a resigned sigh.

“Umm, I guess.” She perched on the edge of the decking beneath the shelter and set her bag aside. Owen shot her a cheeky grin and she felt a flush of heat ripple through her. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing but she couldn’t stop herself either. The whole thing felt unreal.

He turned away to pour some wine from a waiting bottle. “So how come you’re walking alone on the beach?” he asked.

Her turn to sigh. “My husband was supposed to be picking me up from work but he was held up. Again.”

“Doesn’t sound like a very good husband then.” He handed her a glass and their eyes met over the rim.

“It’s not his fault.”

He smiled. “Well, here’s to being let down.” He clinked his glass against hers and she returned the smile.

He sat close to her and turned his body to face hers, resting his arm casually across his knee. “I think if I were your husband, I’d be careful letting you out of my sight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A beautiful girl like you, wandering alone on the beach, someone might try to snap you up.”

He stroked the back of his fingers down the outside of her arm and she shivered.

“What about Jessica?” she teased, turning to face him properly.

“She didn’t turn up. You did.”

His dark eyes smouldered in the candle light and her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to look away, really she did, but she couldn’t. It was like time slowed down. He set his glass aside and reached up to stroke her cheek. She held perfectly still and closed her eyes, heart racing in her chest, as he leaned in. The gentle, electric touch of his lips on hers lit a fire inside her. She heard herself moan and he chuckled. He kissed her again, firmer this time and the fire burned hotter.

“Stop,” Meg whispered. “I… I…”

“Do you really want me to stop?”

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Oh God, she couldn’t force herself to say anything. She wanted him to stop, but she was also desperate for him not to. His lips found hers again and he cupped the back of her head in his hand. She parted her lips against his and tentatively touched his tongue with hers. She felt like her very bones were vibrating.

All this time she’d kept her hands by her side.

When he shifted closer and traced his fingers lightly down the bare skin of her arm she reached for him. She felt like it wasn’t her, not her body; nothing about this could be real although the touch of his hands and his lips told her it was. Nothing in a dream could ever make her feel this good.

He moved one hand round to the small of her back and gently lowered her down onto the waiting cushions behind. She shifted her legs up onto the decking and he knelt between then. He put his hands to her waist and slowly moved them down to her hips. God, what was she doing?

He watched her cautiously as he moved one hand further down, hitched up her skirt, and traced his fingers up her leg. She closed her eyes and rested her head back on the cushions.

He ran his finger along her pantie line and she gasped. Something snapped inside her. She wanted him. She wanted to run her hands over that bronzed chest and feel his muscles flex beneath her fingers. She wanted him to touch her, all over. She wanted him to make love to her in this little pool of candlelight, holding back the night. Holding back reality.

She sat up, reached for the sides of his shirt and pulled him into a deep kiss. She released the last few buttons on his shirt and pushed it back, running her hands over his firm shoulders and back. His breath shortened at her sudden acceptance and he quickly pulled her top up and over her head. The darkness of his eyes deepened with lust and desire. He cupped her breast and brushed his thumb over her hardening nipple through the black lace barrier of her bra.

Meg dropped her head to his chest and kissed his tanned skin, faintly salty with his sweat and maybe sea water from a swim earlier. She trailed her tongue down to his nipple and traced circles around it. He moaned and stroked her hair.

Suddenly he pushed her down onto her back and pressed his body against hers. She felt his erection brush against her and grabbed his hips to pull him closer, tilting her own hips to rub herself against him.

He pulled back and found the zip on her skirt then peeled her skirt down an inch, then two. He kissed her stomach and traced little wet circles with his tongue, down, until he met the hem of her black lace panties, the match of her bra. He gently teased his tongue along it. She was already flooding with wetness and heat.

He moved back up to kiss her as her hands explored his tight body. She reached for the button of his shorts and relieved the pressure within. He kicked them off, along with his underwear, and she feasted her eyes on the magnificent sight of his naked body hovering over her.

She sat up again, forcing him back onto his knees, and he reached behind her to unclasp her bra. Her nipples ached for him to touch them, matching the almost painful ache between her legs. He kissed her as his hands found her breasts to press, pull, pinch and massage the ache into thrumming, quivering pleasure.

She couldn’t take much more. She needed him inside her to relieve the ache there too. She shifted forward onto her knees and he encircled her in his arms and kissed her fiercely. His erection pressed against her stomach leaving little traces of moisture on her skin. She pushed her panties down over her hips and kicked them off behind her.

He let out a little growl of lust that made her knees weak then moved his hands down to her ass and lifted her up. He settled back on his haunches, lowered her down and she reached to guide him into her.

She looked into his eyes as she slid onto him, watching the dancing reflections of the candlelight. Sweet candlelight that held them in its bubble and kept the world outside. Sweet candlelight that let this moment be. She slowly rocked her hips against him as he lifted his to drive small, intense thrusts into her. His hands caressed her body and his lips softly brushed hers as the pleasure built and built.

“I think fate must have brought you here,” he murmured as he kissed her neck.

Meg moaned her agreement, so far beyond words right then. His movements became more insistent and shaky and she could no longer keep her steady rhythm as her legs turned buttery. He lifted her up again and dropped her onto her back. She cried out as he thrust deeper and harder, and gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his back.

Her muscles clenched tighter around him as she approached orgasm and he shuddered.

“God you feel so good,” he cried.

“You too,” she managed through all the incoherence in her head.

Her cries peaked, ripping harshly from her throat as he tipped her over the edge into sweet oblivion. He followed her just a few thrusts later, crying out as he pumped deep inside her.

He collapsed panting on top of her and she held him, savouring the feel of his weight on her. His stomach muscles clenched with each breath. She trembled as the lingering high faded away.

“Wow,” she said.

“Yeah.”

He dusted soft kisses across her lips and stared into her eyes. She turned her head to briefly look beyond the enclosing wall of the candlelight and he sighed.

Her phone buzzed in her bag. Her husband no doubt, asking where she was when he arrived to collect her. Out there, beyond the candlelight.

“You have to go?” Owen asked.

She looked into his eyes, torn between the dream inside the light and the reality in the darkness beyond. Would that the candles burned forever and never let her leave.