The purple blanket of heather was in its full glory as she walked the moors. Nothing moved her like this place. It was in her blood and she had been away too long.
The final days of summer had been kind this year; the freckles on her face attested to that. She smiled as the warm breeze blew her hair across her face. She shook her head to free herself, holding it back with her hand as she spied a hovering kestrel. It was taking advantage of the air currents, holding its position with ease.
She turned south, heading towards their place. It was time. Time to lay the past to rest. He was gone and she needed to let him go.
She walked until she reached the dry stone wall that curved down below the small wood. There was a natural hollow there, a sheltered little sun trap where the wall had been built over a large flat rock, creating a natural seat.
They used to come here together. It was where they’d first kissed and where their innocence had been well and truly lost. The innocence of spring had soon turned into lush, dirty, sweaty sex in the summer. He was the best she’d ever had. Knowing that was like a splinter in her finger, deep and impossible to gauge out. She couldn’t stop pressing it, probing it, the pain a part of her that she had reluctantly accepted over the years.
Things were different now. There was someone new – someone who she thought might be able to make her feel that way again. So she wanted that splinter out and she was prepared to bleed for it.
She sat on the warm rock, leaning back against the dry stone wall. Closing her eyes she took a moment to enjoy the sun on her face before she let herself remember. The memories were stored away so securely it was a while before she found her way back to the beginning.
She felt a sharp pain in her chest as she let herself see his face clearly, not just a blurred sense of him but every piece that made up his whole. Mossy green eyes, a crooked smile to go along with his one crooked tooth. Nicely shaped lips, the scar on his brow, long eyelashes that she had loved to play with. She traced them all in her mind, touched them for the last time, watched his lips open, his tongue licking her finger, drawing it into the warm cavern of his mouth.
She felt the wetness on her skin, watched herself penetrate his mouth. The flick of his tongue on her finger tip a ghost’s whisper between her legs.
She thought that she had wanted to remember the painful arguments, the cruel words, the emotional destruction. Instead she found herself watching him undress, throwing his clothes on the rocky seat. So many memories to recall: the look in his eyes when he had wanted to fuck; his long, lean climber’s body that had been so graceful and strong, so beautiful to touch. She was lost in it now, lost in the endless memories and the need to relive them.
She smiled and went to him when he sat on the grass, straddling his legs when he took hold of her hips, sank onto his long, hard cock – could swear she felt it – when his big callused hands stroked down over her full, round bottom. He’d liked to hold on there, to grab a handful and leave his mark. She could feel the sun on her face, the earth beneath her knees again as they moved together.
This exorcism had somehow turned into a celebration and she rode him in the knowledge that this would be the last time.
She rode him with wild abandon, her bottom slapping down onto his thighs, her arousal causing the wet lewd sounds that she knew he loved.
She heard his low, husky sex words, caressing her mind, “Do it, Annie. God, you look so beautiful. I want to feel it, want you to make me all wet. Show me… do it!”
So she did: she came long and hard with her legs open wide on the rocky seat, her fingers working her slick flesh, shouting out her release to the wind and the trees and the kestrel.
When her heartbeat slowed and her aching legs closed, she rubbed her finger. She thought the splinter might be gone.
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