Ambergris Locakboxes Traveled Salt Routes by Hugh Calder 44

Chapter Forty–Four: It Was All A Dream.

Cassienne’s voice broke the quiet night. It was soft but full of hurt. “Why?” she asked. Her eyes searched his face in the dim light of the bedroom. She lay there on the bed, her body half–covered by the thick sheet.

Dreston turned fast. His heart raced as he strode toward her. But he stopped halfway across the room. His feet felt heavy, like they were stuck to the floor. He couldn’t go closer. Not yet. Their eyes locked tight. Hers were wide open now, clear and full of pain. No sleep in them anymore. She looked right into his soul.

“Why do you hate me so much?” she whispered. Her words hit him like a punch. Tears welled up in her eyes, making them shine. She sat up a little, the sheet slipping down her stomach. Her chest rose and fell quickly. Hurt poured out of her.

Dreston stood frozen. His mouth opened, but no words came. His mind spun. Was this real? Or was she still caught in some dream? Or was he the one dreaming? He couldn’t tell right now because, everything doesn’t look real to

him.

The last he remembered, he had left her in that club with her friends. His own heart twisted. He didn’t hate her. Never had.

She waited, her gaze pleading. When he said nothing, her face fell. A single tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away, but more followed.

“Come here,” she said. Her voice was gentle, inviting. Her hand patted the edge of the bed. Right where he had sat before, watching her sleep.

Dreston didn’t move. His body tensed. Every muscle screamed to stay put. This was tricky, and reckless. One wrong step, and it could all go bad.

She might wake up tomorrow and regret it. Blame him. Yell at him for taking advantage of her. He also wants this. But he rooted himself to the spot, hands clenched at his sides.

If she wasn’t drunk, if her mind was clear, maybe he would go to her. Hold her. But like this? No. He couldn’t risk

Cassienne saw he wouldn’t budge. Her brows furrowed in frustration. Then, with a deep breath, she kicked the covers off her legs. The sheet fell away, leaving her in just her thin underwear. The fabric clung to her curves, soft and revealing.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Her bare feet touched the cool floor. She walked straight to him, slow with deliberate steps. Her hips swayed a little, it was natural and tempting.

Dreston watched, his pulse thumping hard in his ears. She stopped inches from him. Close enough to feel her warmth. Her hungry eyes searched his. What did she see there? His conflict? His want? Her hands rose slowly. Soft fingers touched his face. Her thumb stroked his jaw, gentle circles that sent sparks through his skin.

He stiffened. His whole body went rigid. Heat rushed south, his cock twitching in his pants. He wasn’t expecting her to touch him that way.

They’ve never been this close before. Never. It had been years of nothing but cold words and distance. Now, her skin on his felt like fire. Good fire. His breath hitched. He wanted to pull away, but his body betrayed him. Stayed still, soaking it in.

Her other hand took his. She guided it to her waist. The curve of her hip under his palm. Her skin was soft and warm. Instinct kicked in. His free hand moved on its own, wrapping around her waist. He pulled her close. Their bodies pressed together. Her breasts against his chest, soft through the thin bra. Her heat seeped into him.

Chapter Forty–Four It Was All A Dream

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Cassienne gasped. A small sound, full of surprise and need. Heat built inside her, it was low and aching. Her pussy throbbed. She wanted his hands and mouth on her, even if it was just once. God, she needed him. The divorce left her empty and lonely.

Nights alone, thinking about him. Now, here he was. Real and close. She pressed closer, her nipples hardening against him.

Dreston closed his eyes for a beat. The world spun. When he opened them, fire burned in his gaze. His hand shot to the back of her head. Fingers tangled in her hair. He tilted her face up. Forced her to meet his eyes.

His cock was rock hard now, straining against his zipper, and pressed against her belly. This had never happened between them before. Not like this, never.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Cassienne,” he growled low. His voice was rough with want. “Don’t push it, or you’ll regret this.”

Her eyes didn’t waver. They were bold now. “I want you to make love to me, Dreston. Just this once.” The words hung heavy. Her hands slid to her back. Fingers worked the hook of her bra. It snapped free. She shrugged it off. Her breasts spilled out. They were round and full, perfect in the low light. Pink nipples stood hard, begging for his touch, and for his mouth.

Dreston groaned deep in his throat. The sound rumbled from his chest. His eyes dropped to her chest. He ached to suck them. Lick them. But he fought it. Barely.

Her fingers hooked the band of her panties next. She dragged them down slowly, over her hips, down her thighs. She stepped out, kicking them aside. Now she stood fully naked. Her bare skin, now glowing. Her body opened to

him.

His gaze roamed from the swell of her breasts, down her flat belly, and to her wide hips, strong legs. She was beautiful. Always had been. Pain twisted in his gut. He wanted to run.

This was wrong. She was drunk, vulnerable. If he touched her now, took her like this. By morning, she would hate him. She will accuse him for taking advantage of her.

But God, he wanted her. His cock throbbed, leaking pre–cum. He had never felt this way about her. But now, he couldn’t hold back much longer. His hands itched to grab her ass, pull her down to the bed.

Then, an idea hit. A way to protect them both. “If you’re sure you want this,” he said, his voice straining, “pick up your phone. Record your voice. Say you, Cassienne, give permission. Only then will I touch you.”

She didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand. Hit record app, her voice steady: “This is Cassienne. I give Dreston full permission to touch me. I want this.” She stopped it, set it down.

That was it. The dam broke. Dreston moved fast. Hands yanked at his shirt, pulling it over his head. Pants next, shoved down with his boxers. His cock sprang free, thick and hard. Veins pulsing. He kicked them away, and he was naked now, and hungry of her.

He dropped to his knees before her. His hands on her thighs, spreading them. His mouth brushed her opening, the soft folds, already wet. He licked slowly, tasting her. Her hands flew to his hair, her fingers gripping the silky

1 strands.

She moaned his name. “Dreston.” Her voice broke, and was full of need.

He dove in. His tongue flicked her clit. Sucking gently. Her hips bucked. Moans filled the room. Heat builds fast. She was close already.

Chapter Forty–four # Was All A Dreary

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Dreston’s eyes snapped open. He gasped for air. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickled down his neck. His chest heaved. The bedroom spun for a second. He looked around and realised that he was in his own bedroom.

No Cassienne. Just the rumpled sheets.

“It was all a dream. All of it.”

His cock bulged under the covers, still hard as steel. Aching. He groaned, his hand pressing down to ease it. What the hell? His heart pounded, his face hot with shame and want.

This was the first time he was dreaming of his ex–wife like that. So explicit. Her naked body, her taste on his tongue. The sounds she made. Fuck. He shifted, trying to calm down. But the images stuck. Her eyes, pleading. Her permission voice. It felt too real.

Then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. The sharp ring cutting the quiet. He jumped, heart slamming harder. As he grabbed it, the screen lit up. The caller ID: Cassienne.

His breath caught in his throat.

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