Rushing headlong in the wind, where only dreams have been, we burned both ends of that night.

***

"Nan, we're here!"

Chantelle couldn't believe her eyes when she descended from the car. The mansion looked exactly as she remembered it. The walls may have been covered with crawling vines and the paint on the roof wasn't as vibrant as it used to be, but still, in her eyes, it looked as it did before.

"Nan, you seem spooked. Is everything alright?"

Chantelle turned to look at her granddaughter. Jasmine just got married and her husband bought her a mansion. A mansion that Chantelle had been in before, but that information was not something she'd ever share with her. She and her granddaughter had always been close, so despite Chantelle's age which posed a problem for their long travel, her granddaughter chose to have her as a companion in checking the renovation of the house.

"Nan, this house is huge!" Jasmine yelled as they both walked across a gravel path leading to the front door.

"Derek's friend and his wife are already inside the mansion Nan. I hope you don't mind. I asked them to come along, just in case something happens."

"That's alright, love. You shouldn't have asked me in the first place. I'm old and traveling with me is a burden that..."

"Nan, please stop. Since mom died, you have taken care of me and taken over her role. You're everything to me."

Chantelle smiled. Jasmine's parents died when she was only seven years old, and since then, Chantelle took care of her.

When the two of them reached the front door, it burst open, and Jasmine's friend-the one named Amanda-came running out.

"Oh, Jasmine, this place is huge and not to mention, grand!"

Chantelle didn't hold it against her granddaughter when she and her friend ran inside, leaving Chantelle to gaze at the front door and into the foyer. It has been sixty years since Chantelle set foot inside the mansion. Sixty years since she felt that thundering beat of her heart when Mr. Brooks, the butler, met her on that very spot and shook her hand. He was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on.

"Nan, I'm sorry. I got carried away."

Her granddaughter's voice pried Chantelle from her musings. She smiled at Jasmine and took the hand that she held out for her.

"Amanda said our rooms had been prepared. Oh, I can't wait to explore this place. Derek did a great job at choosing the people who renovated it."

Chantelle answered Jasmine's excitement with a wry smile. Not that she wasn't happy for her. It was because Chantelle's thoughts-after sixty years-started to work faster than they ever had before. Her brain was shooting out images of a gorgeous, stoic but kind, and passionate butler in every corner of the narrow hallway they were walking on.

When the two of them reached the living room, Chantelle gasped. The carpet was the same. It has been six decades, how could the thing..." She swallowed another on-coming gasp as her eyes lingered on the brown furry fabric.

"Oh, do you like the carpet, Nan? My husband was smitten by the original carpeting of the floor, sadly, it was close to deterioration. But you know him, he wouldn't let it go if he wanted something, so he searched for one that was close to it. Luckily he found one that was identical to it. Doesn't it look, great Nan? Chantelle gazed at the carpet before her, there used to be a mahogany table there.

"Mr. Brooks, a table is used for eating."

"Oh? But I am about to eat something, am I not?

"Nan? Nan?"

Chantelle shook her head to clear her thoughts of those words. It has been years since she fantasized about the summers she had with Mr. Brooks. She couldn't believe that after decades, she'd find herself in the same mansion again and have their memories flood her thoughts once more.

"Nan, why are you grinning? Did you like the carpet that much?"

"Oh, was I?"

"Yes, Nan." Jasmine gazed at her a little longer then Chantelle wondered why her granddaughter started to frown.

"Nan, you look flushed. Are you tired? Do you want to rest?"

Flushed? Oh God, Chantelle thought to herself. A single memory and there she was, turning beet red and drowning. Her odd thoughts combined with her sudden onslaught of tiredness had her agreeing with her granddaughter. Her old body and wrinkled skin felt like they were burning, and though she knew it wasn't real, she felt Mr. Brooks's hungry arms on her again. Oh how she wished to feel them once more, that was a truth that she had kept hidden in the deepest corners of her heart.

Her husband was a good man and she loved him dearly, but her summers with Mr. Brooks were something Chantelle had never forgotten. Oftentimes when she and her husband made love, she'd replay the scenes of her and Mr. Brooks, just to get her juices running.

"Nan, can you tackle the stairs? There are rooms on the ground floor, but they're small. They were meant for the housemaids of the mansion, but they've also been prepared and cleaned. If you want you can rest in one of them."

Without truly thinking much of it, Chantelle requested that she takes one of the rooms on the ground floor. And when her granddaughter led her to the biggest one near the kitchen, Chantelle dragged a breath, then instantly...

"Mr. Brooks, the china!"

"Don't worry, they won't fall."

"What if they do?"

"Then you better keep still."

She looked him in the eye, and produced a wicked grin, then replied, "Better rock me slow this time then."

"Nan? Nan?"

"Nan, I think you're really tired. You look so flushed and shaking. Go ahead. Sleep for a while."

Chantelle practically lost her balance when the images flashed through her head. That stumbling startled her granddaughter and soon, Jasmine was guiding her inside the bedroom, reprimanding herself for bringing her along. But Chantelle, knowing that the car and their seven-hour travel had nothing to do with the shaking of her knees assured Jasmine that her old body's tiredness had nothing to do with Jasmine's decision to ask her to come along.

Her granddaughter replied with okay, but Chantelle still saw the regret in her eyes.

It wasn't long before Chantelle found herself sleeping on the mattress that a long time ago, she shared every night with an aloof, stoic but passionate, and gorgeous man.

When she awoke, it was already dark. Not wanting to call her granddaughter and perhaps intrude on whatever she might be doing, Chantelle left her room and found her way toward the back door. There, she saw a shattered gazebo. A smile crept over her face when that fallen structure reminded her of a memory.

And as she sat on the steps, gazing at the ruins, she couldn't help but produce a wicked smile. In the previous decades, she'd often think about that night, that first night she broke the stoic expression on the face of Mr. Brooks. She had never forgotten the sweat, the moonlight, his tie, and his sweet kisses on every inch of her body. For a moment, Chantelle's body shivered and she felt sudden dampness in her underwear. Yes, she's old, but whenever she thought of the things that happened in those summers, she'd always find her underwear soaked. Her first night with him was exactly like the one she was currently experiencing. The air was heavy, the wind blew a hot breeze and the moon was full. Chantelle closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and as though it only happened yesterday, her mind drifted off to that faithful night.

***

She tossed and turned on her mattress. The night was so hot. She had opted to only wear her underwear when she went to sleep, just to sedate her body from the punishing weather, but nothing worked. Well, perhaps it wasn't only the hot breeze of the wind that caused such an uneasy feeling, it had something to do with the man she'd been fantasizing about every night-Mr. Brooks. The butler was gorgeous and he had a body that not only caused Chantelle to have her knees weakened each time they'd meet in the hallways, but he also possessed a set of dark piercing eyes that held a hunger in them. It was a need that even a virgin recognized.

Mr. Brooks promised never to touch a woman again, ever since his wife died, but Chantelle felt that it was a lie. Every time he looked at her, she felt like his eyes were tearing the fabric of her maid's uniform. She welcomed those gazes of course and wished that he'd do something more than stare. But Mr. Brooks never did. He instead, would abandon his path whenever he'd notice that she had taken the same route, or look to the ground when he'd notice that she had caught him staring at her.

Sighing in frustration, Chantelle rose from her bed and walked over to her window. She drew open the curtain and leaned over. The wind swept past her, but the breeze was no help. It did not soothe the heat inside her. She was never lecherous, but Mr. Brooks had something in him that caused her insides to shiver. She longed to be touched by his long fingers, or perhaps, have those fingers buried somewhere deep inside her.

"What am I doing," she murmured, and a low sigh disappeared into the breeze as the wind billowed towards her again, tossing her loose hair back. With a smile, she thought to herself, would Mr. Brook's breath feel as warm as the wind?

She stayed by the window a minute longer, eyes closed and dragging a breath every few seconds. When she felt that she was ready to return to bed, she opened her eyes and was about to thread back towards her mattress when from outside she saw Mr. Books standing inside the gazebo that was positioned just a few meters across her window. His eyes were pinned on her naked top. For a moment, she had the urge to wrap her arms around her breast which at that time had perked nipples being kissed by the warm night breeze.

But when she thought of all the times she wished Mr. Brooks would have a glimpse of her perfect body, she opted to lean further into the window, giving him a bird's eye view of her creamy and young skin. A smile washed over Chantelle's lips when she noticed that he hadn't taken his eyes away from her and she couldn't help but shiver when she saw that familiar look in his eyes. Yes, he was a few meters away, but their distance wasn't enough to blind her to the hunger in his eyes. Chantelle remained standing by her window, gazing back at him. She could tell he was squinting his eyes-perhaps to see her clearer, then, in a fleeting moment, she saw his right foot take a step forward. Her heart instantly took a thundering rhythmic dance, but soon, as though an invisible arm tugged him back, he stopped and turned in the other direction.

That did it. Chantelle couldn't stand it anymore. So she turned to her heel, not bothering to put on anything but her robe, then ran out of her room.

She rushed headlong against the hot breeze that welcomed her when she stepped out of the back door. She then ran towards the gazebo that surprisingly, Mr. Brooks hadn't left. Rarely had Chantelle seen him out of his tux, but that night, he wore a blue pair of jeans and a white shirt that hugged him perfectly, accentuating his toned body. He was just standing inside the gazebo, head tilted on the ceiling. His neck which Chantelle had longed to run her tongue on, was craned perfectly, angled in a way that made her heart thumping fast. His adam's apple that occasionally moved up and down felt like a tempting call. With her heart beating fast, legs shaking and with immediate but obvious dampness in her underwear, she walked forward.

When he noticed her approach, he bent his head down, looked her in the eyes, past the moving laced curtains that surrounded the gazebo, and said to her, "It's late Chantelle, why are you out here?"

"Why are you?" She questioned, as she made her bold step inside the gazebo.

"Hot night."

Chantelle almost fell on the planks that made up the floor of the gazebo when he spoke those words. His voice sounded deeper than the previous days and there was a rasp yet sensual undertone to it, as though he was danger incarnate.

"Same reason. The air in my room feels stuffy and too hot. I find it difficult to sleep."

He didn't respond to her and for a moment, she thought he'd walk away, but he didn't. Mr. Brooks remained where he was, then once more tilted his head to look at the ceiling.

"I love the construction of this edifice. It has the most intricate carvings."

"Cravings?" Chantelle asked. Though she heard what he said clearly, she wanted to try and steer the conversation somewhere else. She never had an opportunity to be with Mr. Brooks like that. She wasn't planning on wasting it.

"Return to your room, Chantelle. Try opening the window and letting the breeze in. It might help."

Chantelle frowned. It appears Mr. Brooks wasn't aware that she saw him staring at her naked top by the window earlier.

A smile appeared on her lips. With an act of courage propelled by the heat she had inside her, she took another step toward him, leaned closer, and whispered, "How about helping me ride the heat of the night away, Mr. Brooks?

Instantly, the butler took a step back. He eyed her for a moment then turned his attention to the floor. He took a deep breath, one that Chantelle recognized as a subdued need to say something against what was about to be said. "Enough, Chantelle. I know what you want. But, I'm old. Why would you want a shriveled prune like me?"

"Shrivelled prune? Mr. Brooks, have you seen yourself, or perhaps, the reflection of you in the eyes of every woman inside this mansion?" She took a bold move as she made another step forward, leaving only a few inches of a gap between them, and then continued to say, "How you look in my eyes?"

She knew the night could only end in two ways; him, pushing her away, or on top of her. But even with the presence of an obvious refusal, Chantelle pushed on. She closed the distance between them, grabbed his left hand, and slowly, with her eyelashes fluttering, she raised it towards her mouth and gently sucked on his finger. In an instant, his eyes turned into saucers and a frown marred his forehead. That expression crushed her hopes, but Chantelle was ready, he was about to pull away, just as always. But that's not what happened. His soft gaze slowly turned into something she had wished to glimpse for a very long time. There was heat in his eyes, as though lightning were dancing in his irises. It was like the wonders of a storm were raging violently in his countenance.

"Don't tempt me, young girl. I'm at my limit."

Chantelle was beyond ecstatic to hear him say those words, so instead of a reply, she laughed. But no sooner than that laugh, a swift tug nearly rip her off balance as she was twirled in a circle and slammed chest first against one of the posts of the gazebo. It knocked the wind out of her, and she stared wide-eyed against the cold wooden surface pressing her cheek. Her arms were twisted behind her back, and soon, she felt him lean against her.

"Do you think this is funny?" A low, dangerous growl tickled the nape of her neck. She was too shocked to speak at first. What the hell, she thought. His grip was a vice, and his hips crushed her. He was pinning her so hard against the post, she wouldn't be surprised if she found a scratch here and there the next day. As he continued to punishingly plaster his front on her back, she had to breathe a little harder just to get her lungs to open all the way.

"I can hear your heartbeat, Chantelle. Scared? Are you sure about this? Once you open this door, I'm locking you in."

Breathing heavily, she replied, "I wouldn't mind even if you throw away the keys Mr. Brooks."

"This isn't a game, Chantelle. I have sworn celibacy since my wife died and it took so much to have kept that promise. But you... you just have to break me, don't you? This is the last time I'm going to ask. Is this really what you want?"

Body stilling, she felt one of his hands leave her arm and stroke down over her hip, and then it went lower; moving far too slow as his fingers began inching up her robe, bunching it up to reveal her leg.

For a moment, she felt scared and tried to wriggle free from his hold, but when his fingers continued their administrations, she paused intentionally, waiting to see what he would do next. When her robe was pulled high enough to expose most of her thigh, his hand slipped beneath the red fabric, petting over her smooth, creamy skin and disappearing up between her hips and the post, only to stop atop her underwear. She thought that was the end of it, but she was startled, and yelped, "Oh, my god," when she felt his fingers brush softly over the thin fabric of her underwear and gently rubbed her veiled lips. He then pressed his cheek on the back of her head, sniffing the shampoo she carefully lathered on her tresses a few hours ago.

Mr. Brooks went still after that. His fingers hadn't made a move to invade her lacy panties, he just cupped her womanhood gently. Chantelle listened to his breathing pattern change, altered, perhaps by the sudden breaking of his promised celibacy and the crumbling of his stoicness. She thought he was contemplating what to do next, and for a moment, she feared that he would pull away. But no sooner than those thoughts, a startled, breathy gasp escaped her mouth when he invaded the elastic of her panties, digging inside the fabric and landing on the soft indent of her lower lips. She felt his finger slither up and down, targeting her bundle of nerves.

"For the last time, is this what you want, Chantelle," he asked with a voice she barely recognized.

Chantelle had no doubt. She had waited and fantasized for months to have Mr. Brooks. So she replied, "How many last times are you going to warn me with, Mr. Brooks?

After she said that, his finger was instantly buried inside her. Chantelle saw stars as he pumped that digit in and out of her. Then the hand that was keeping her right hand caged released its hold on her and slithered up her hair. He bunched a few of her tresses, and tugged on them harshly, forcing her to tilt her head up. He then whispered, "You're a virgin. I'm too hungry to play nice. I will hurt you. I won't be gentle."

"If you're trying to scare me away...it's not going to work," she panted. She ground her bum wantonly into his erection-one that came to be when he pinned her to the post-hoping the act would send him a certainty in her decision. Her action merited another deep thrust of Mr. Brooks's finger into her womanhood. He was panting heavily against her nape as he continued to bury his fingers in and out of her.

As he continued his invasion. Chantelle, for a moment, heard the logical side of her question, what was she doing? She was about to dive in over her head, but she couldn't stop it. He intimidated her with his promise of celibacy and searing hot gazes. For months, she walked the hallways of the mansion with wetness between her legs, not knowing how to sedate the need his presence invoked in her. She wanted nothing more than to feel him all over her, inside her, everywhere. There was no turning back. She was decided on this, despite the trepidation that continued to torment her with every move he made with his fingers.

Not knowing how he would take it, Chantelle screamed, "Stop hesitating Mr. Brooks and take me. I'm ready."

His lips instantly pressed into the back of her neck with a kiss, and then she felt him smile. No, it was more like a grin. As the slick surface of his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her nape, she heard him whisper, "Good." The vibration of his voice against her turned her heat lava hot.

She groaned in complaint when his fingers left the warm crevice between her legs and flipped her to face him, wrapping his arms around her waist. He pinned her back against the wooden post, as hard as he did earlier, as though he wanted to push her past it, to back away, to disappear from in front of him.

That alarmed Chantelle for a moment, but when she looked up, what greeted her was a set of animalistic eyes, full of hunger and repressed passion. His forehead was all scrunched up and rivulets of sweat dripped from his temples down to his neck. His jaw was clenched as if controlling his lips from landing somewhere. When she took a deep breath to take in his image, she caught a whiff of the scent that coated his fingers. He smiled and said, "You smell sweet."

Chantelle wanted to retort, but she was choked by the raging and piercing passion shooting out from his midnight eyes. Even the up-and-down movement of his shoulders caused the muscles in her slick entrance to twitch. She wanted him badly.

Without so much as a warning, his hands left her waist and he grabbed her arm. He dragged her out of the gazebo and led her towards a direction that Chantelle could only deduce to be his bedroom. The door was ajar and like a weightless feather, he pushed her inside, grabbed both her wrist, hoisted it up, and pinned her on the door. His hungry mouth found her lips and instantly devoured them. That was her first kiss. It wasn't sweet or fleeting like those experienced by her friends. It was hungry, demanding, and consuming.

Chantelle felt light-headed as Mr. Brooks continued to kiss her. A yelp escaped her mouth when he momentarily released her lips, only to have his tongue enter her mouth once again, drowning any bubbling sound that remained there.

As the kiss continued, Chantelle felt her knees weaken, she almost fell to the floor, but the grip Mr. Brooks had on her arm served as leverage for her body not to give in. He kept her up, suspended by her arm. He was brutally assaulting her mouth, she found it hard to breathe. For a moment, Chantelle started to fear what was about to happen. Yes, she wanted it, but now, as Mr. Brooks's tongue continued to explore every crevice of her mouth, she started to falter.

He must have sensed her unease because he released her mouth, pulled away from her, and whispered, "You can't back out now."

Upon hearing his words and the tone of his voice, Chantelle felt that insatiable need within her again. So instead of saying she was backing out, she leaned in and let her lips capture his mouth. Her action was welcomed when Mr. Brooks responded to that kiss with an intensity that made her see stars.

As their kiss deepened, she felt a need to wrap her arms around him, but when she tugged at them, he wouldn't let go. Each of his hands held a firm grip on each of her wrists keeping g them pinned to the wood above her head, impossibly tacked on the door as he continued to hungrily kiss her.

She couldn't tell how long the kiss lasted, but by the time he released her lips again, Chantelle was already dizzy, and desire was evident in her eyes. Her knees were shaking; her underwear soaked with her juices. She yelped when she felt Mr. Brooks's hardness as he unconsciously rubbed his groin against hers.

"I can still stop, Chantelle," he whispered.

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. But when she saw his face, she was able to tell that despite the intense kiss he gave her, he still had reservations.

"Mr. Brooks," she murmured in a breathy tone. "I don't want you to stop. Please, take me."

Mr. Brooks bowed his head and when he looked at her again, Chantelle was certain something inside him had snapped. The silence of the room allowed her to listen to his pounding pulse as he gazed at her with almost predatory eyes.

"You are naive," he muttered. That frail whisper was lost as he leaned in into her ear, tongue shooting out, licking her lobes, causing her to gasp. A squeak escaped her mouth when he ducked down, enough for his breath to ghost down her chest. Another yelp escaped Chantelle when she felt his tongue slither over the swell of her breast which was barely covered by her disheveled robe.

Without warning, a shift of fabric and the slightest of tugs guided the belt of her robe around her waist to loosen, before falling to her sides quicker for her to realize that one of her wrists had been set free.

A sweet but heart-thundering dread washed over her as she felt the flaps of her robe glide open, revealing a bare strip of flesh down the center of her chest and abdomen and below, a white panty that was completely out of place.

He pulled away from her for a moment, one arm just hanging at his side, the other still pinning one of her wrists above her head. His eyes roamed from her face, down to her bare breast, going lower towards the nakedness of her stomach and then stopping at the sight of her panties; which moments ago were crumpled by his ministrations.

Chantelle had no idea what was about to happen, sure, she heard how sex was performed, but still, there were things she was ignorant about-like how an actual penis looked like.

"You look petrified," he whispered, producing a grin after.

A childish cry escaped Chantelle's lips when his palm pet slowly up her rib cage and cupped the swell of her large breast over her red cotton robe. Although what he did wasn't skin-to-skin, Chantelle felt more aroused from that tiny action compared to what he did to her outside, at the gazebo. Perhaps it was due to his midnight globes that served to trap and drown her within their hypnotic depths.

She gasped when finally, he slid his hand beneath her robe and the pad of his thumb brushed lightly over the tender button of her mounds. They sprung alive, harder than they ever had before as Mr. Brooks continued to rub his thumb over them. His touch was feathery light, finger feeling like velvet on her skin. She wanted it, she craved it. And when he leaned down to drop a feather of a kiss on her throat, an electrifying sensation instantly coursed through her body, causing her to scream out his name.

"I haven't even begun, Chantelle," he murmured against her skin.

He continued to trail kisses up and down her throat and that only increased the need she felt. What was he doing? She couldn't help but ask. Why won't he take her yet? She wanted him inside her.

"Don't be impatient my little vixen, we'll get there. You've never been touched by a man. It is only fitting to prepare you."

She didn't understand what he meant by prepare, because she was prepared. She had dreamt of their union one too many times. She has been alone with him inside her mind for many nights. Nights filled with want and need that she barely survived.

"I'm prepared Mr. Brooks. Please, please," she begged.

With a speed she thought he wasn't capable of, he yanked her from the door. Chantelle glimpsed the room swish past her as she was thrown on a bed. Tumbling into it, she would have caught her footing if the edge of the mattress hadn't smacked into her legs, sending her crashing down onto the mound of fluffy blankets, disappearing amidst all the fabric with a soft plop.

"If you were looking to push my buttons, Chantelle, you found them. All of them."

She watched carefully as he stalked towards the bed. Her heart drummed against her chest unable to hide the excitement his actions seeded in her.

"When you first arrived here, you woke something in me. But I tried to be the adult and contained what I felt."

Chantelle swallowed the lump of saliva that pooled inside her mouth as Mr. Brooks grabbed the hem of his shirt, and pulled it over his head, freeing his body from the fabric.

"And now that you've completely rid me of the tiniest guilt in taking what you should present to the man you might end up marrying, I'm going to take everything you have to offer."

She squeaked when he reached the bottom of the bed and grabbed her ankles.

"You made the animal in me claw for freedom. Were you aware that your innocent gazes turned me on? So much so that I had to keep myself away from you at all times?"

She felt the bottom of the mattress shift as his weight landed on it. His eyes were pinned on her, looking down with nothing short of barely contained hunger. Her heart and mind were a mess by then. She barely understood the gravity of his gazes and words.

As he crawled and towered above her, kneeling, caging her legs between his knees, he grinned, then murmured, "You asked for this."

Instantly, he descended on her, weight crashing down her body as his mouth hungrily claimed her lips. The way his mouth moved against hers was nothing like before. His kisses felt painful. He was like a soul eater, trying to suck the air and life out of her body. He was pressing the tent on his jeans at her soaked panties, moving up and down, grinding himself on her as he did so.

She trashed when the need to breathe became unbearable, and he was kind enough to release her mouth. But they found a new place to ravage when he started to suck and lick her throat. A barely contained moan escaped Chantelle as he continued to pepper her jaw and neck with lustful kisses. For a moment, she worried that he would leave a mark. And as if reading her thoughts he murmured, "Yes, that's the point. I'm marking you."

That worried her, and instinctively she tried to pull away from him, trying to free her throat from his lips, but he clutched her jaw and pulled her head to the side. Her neck craned as he once again sucked a spot. He was being brutal. His hand on her was turning rough.

"Mr. Brooks. I... I don't want..."

He stilled, and that caused her words to falter. Slowly, he rose, balancing himself with both his elbows pinned on either side of her head. He leaned over her ear and then whispered, "Whether you want it or not, that's no longer up to you. You've given your consent. I have allowed you to change your mind. Now, whether you still want it or not, you're no longer in the position to decide."

After he said those words, he grabbed her robe which barely hid any part of her. Despite the assault her cover had endured, they were still on her, torn open, but concealed nothing against his eyes. He pulled down the sleeves, fully exposing her shoulders. She gasped when she found her arms being restrained by the mess of red cotton as he pulled her robe taunt from behind, enough to trap her elbows at her sides.

With wide questioning eyes she murmured, "Mr. Brooks, why..."

She wasn't given a chance to finish her words because he suddenly dropped his face towards her breast, capturing her perked nipple in his mouth. He suckled on them which caused Chantelle to trash her head from side to side. An explosion was about to burst from inside her, but that was painfully interrupted when Mr. Brooks released her nipples and pulled away from her. A desperate cry escaped her mouth when she felt his entire body leave her.

"No. Please, please don't stop," Chantelle pleaded. Tears pooled at the side of her eyes as the need and itch she felt turbulently raged inside her. It felt as though, that need to have him near her, had a mind of its own. She was going nuts. She wanted his hands and his mouth on her. She needed him inside her. What was he doing?

But soon, she understood the reason why he pulled away when his hands landed on the button of his jeans. With a swift tug, his pants and underwear came down. In a split second, Chantelle was staring directly at his erect manhood. It was big. Too big. Though she hadn't the experience or imagery to compare it to, she was certain it wasn't supposed to be that big. Would it even fit inside her, she questioned mentally.

A wicked grin answered the worry in her eyes. "Don't fret, it will fit," he whispered as he once again crawled on top of her.

"I... I..." Chantelle couldn't tell if it was fear, excitement, or the burning desire in her that muted her voice. But one thing was evidently clear, Mr. Brooks no longer had reservations. There was certainty in his movements as his fingers toyed with the garter of her underwear-a thoroughly assaulted fabric that should have gone down minutes ago.

"Don't worry, I'll make it swift and quick, like ripping a bandage, " she heard him say as he leaned on her stomach and licked her navel. He then inched down, licking and grazing his teeth on her skin until he reached her disheveled underwear. Chantelle looked down and tried to figure out what he was doing. She felt him bite a piece of the fabric as he slid down the length of her thighs, taking that fabric with him. She yelped when she felt his breath against her exposed womanhood.
"You smell so sweet, Chantelle. Do you have any idea how many times I've dreamt of..."

A scream echoed around the bedroom when she felt his tongue on her lower lip. It moved like a hungry eel, exploring every fold. She writhed and tried to free her arms from the robe that pinned them on her back, but no matter what she did she couldn't find a way to take them out of their confinement. An ear-splitting moan erupted from her lips when she felt him suck her bundle of nerves. Her gem twitched and instantly, every inch of her womanhood became soaked when something inside her erupted.

"Please... Please, stop. I... Ca... Can't take it anymore," she pleaded as he continued to lick and suckle her gem.

Tears-not caused by pain but overwhelming pleasure dripped from her eyes, forcing her hips to lurch up at the touch of something soft and wet suddenly sinking into her. She trashed and kept lurching her hips up as his tongue continued to enter her. Just when she thought he couldn't turn her anymore insane, his fingers replaced that tongue, she released a moan as it sunk inside her, pumping at a speed that followed a rhythm that was enough to throw her sanity out the window. As his digit continued to find a home inside her, his tongue returned, giving attention to her folds and her bundle of nerves, licking it clean of the juices that dripped out of her cavern. Chantelle was a total mess, writhing, panting, breath coming in gasps when he finally raised his head between her thighs and crawled on top of her, he almost crushed her small frame when his body landed on her with all his weight.

He gently swiped the tangled mess of hair that covered her face then gave her a chased kiss, as he panted, skin glistening with sweat. Goosebumps tightened over her skin as she felt his eyes roam over her freely. She was at a loss for words, and could merely gape at him in crippling bewilderment.

"Chantelle," he whispered.

Her pale lips opened to speak, but no words came, and she was paralyzed as his fingers laced over one of her hands that rested above her head. His other hand spread over her naked back, kneading gentle patterns into her, and slowly relaxing her muscles as his mouth found her neck. Patches of searing hot and chilling cold made her shiver when his tongue lapped over her, tasting her from just below her earlobe down to the slope of her shoulder, then to the front of her neck beneath her chin, and to the opposite side.

Soon, his lips latched onto her, sucking her into his mouth while his tongue continued to tease. A gasping squeak strained from her, but it did nothing to prepare her for the touch of something much larger than his fingers that suddenly caressed her virgin lips.

Her eyes instantly became wide as saucers, and a scream that was drowned by his kiss erupted from her throat when she felt something big push its way inside her. It ruptured the thin barrier of tissue that proved her virginity. It was painful and it caused her to trash against him, but his hand that was wrapped around her back kept her in place. He didn't give her time to adjust or get used to the intrusion. He rammed inside her without thought, lost in his own desire.

For a moment, Chantelle wanted it to be over. So she forced her lips away from his mouth, and between sobs, she whispered, "P-please, take...take it out. Take it out. It hurts."

He answered her plea with a slight pull of his member out of her entrance, only to violently ram it inside her again as he whispered, "Just relax, don't fight it. I'm sorry, I can't stop. I warned you. Then he captured her mouth again, muting whatever protest left behind her throat.

He must have pulled and pushed a few times before finally releasing her mouth from his, and when he did, she released a loud moan. She intended it to be a scream, but her voice betrayed her. What came out was the fulfillment of a need that had crippled her day and night ever since she laid eyes on Mr. Brooks. Not long after, the pain between her thighs finally dissipated and her cavern welcomed the foreign object, allowing her insides to stretch less painfully than they did before. Bolts of pleasure took control of her, tormenting her as the movement of his hips took a momentum that drove her to the edge. The sound of his name panted desperately from her lips, lost in a mixture of passion, of lust as he sank deeper into her, stopping only when she shivered as something that she never fully experienced bubbled from within her and exploded out of her nether regions.

After she came, her equilibrium was non-existent for a few seconds, but she cracked her lustful drunken eyes open when she felt a rush of air and the faint sound of ruffling fabric. And before she knew what was happening, the bedpost slammed against her back hard enough to stun her, but not enough to hurt. It sent a dull rumble through the rest of the room, and she gasped as he bucked into her.

With her legs hooked over his arms, he suspended her off the bed and thrust roughly. They were standing atop the mattress and for a moment, she grabbed the top of the bedpost behind her clinging to dear life as bolts of pleasure tormented her endlessly. She heard him grunt and curse under his breath as he took her fast. When he gave one hard thrust, she suddenly felt light and weak and merely gripped the mahogany post behind her as her sole anchor to reality.

He came inside her after a final, violent thrust, sending her gasping and moaning as something hot shot in her, and then slowly, the wood slid over her back, leaving them to rest with a heavy thump on the mattress.

***

Chantelle snapped her eyes open. Her leathery and wrinkled skin felt like they were on fire. Panting against the hot breeze of the night, a smile washed over her face as she thought about how they burned both ends of that night, paving the way to many more nights filled with the smell of each other's sex, mingled with murmurs of each other's name. As she rose from her seat, she deduced that perhaps, Mr. Brooks would still be part of her thoughts, even upon her death. She tilted her head towards the sky, took a deep breath, and allowed her shot legs to guide her towards the gazebo. Upon reaching, she smiled and thought about her last night with Mr. Brooks. That was the time she sheathed a knife in his nape and buried his body on the very land she was standing on. If only he hadn't said that he would never marry her because he was still in love with his wife, they could have continued their hot summer nights together