by Cari Quinn
And she wanted it to only be hers.
She backed off the dance floor, dragging him with her. “Home,” she said quietly.
He nodded and tugged her over to the bar. She stood behind him as he paid. Her fingers slipped under his shirt to the taut muscles of his belly and down to the double knot of his board shorts. The rumble of his groan made her bolder.
Beneath the line of the bar where the shadows lay, she curled her fingers around his shaft that had been half hard for the last hour. She smiled into his linen shirt covered back when he cracked his credit card along the bar top.
“Am I distracting you?”
“Yes,” he growled.
She brought her other hand under his shaft and cupped his balls. When Deacon’s entire body stiffened, she shushed him. “Now, now.”
DJ finally finished ringing them up and Deacon hustled her out the door. The dark beach and roar of the tide were disconcerting at first. It was only a ten minute walk back to their cottage, but it felt like an eternity of sifting sand and darkness. Deacon’s hand was tight and sure on hers as they trudged along the coast.
She twirled around in front of him and hopped up until she could hang off his shoulders. The music and the laughter of the crowds faded as he kept walking. She wrapped her legs around his hips and bumped her nose along his.
When he laughed into her mouth, she held on tighter. She rolled her hips against his warm belly, crossing her ankles at the back of his waist.
“I love you.”
He stopped, his arms tightening around her.
She brushed her mouth over his. The words came easier now. The emotions that he brought out of her were so mixed with love and happiness, she didn’t know how to let them out sometimes. They clogged her throat, they were so overwhelming.
He slanted his mouth along hers as his stride lengthened. She didn’t stop kissing him as he brought them home, as his gait became uneven at the top of the dunes outside their cottage. Even when he slowly let her slide to the ground, they didn’t stop kissing.
Deacon peeled her cover-up over her head and flung it on the lounger. She ripped at the snaps of his shirt and crouched in front of him to drag her tongue along the line of hair above his navel. His long fingers slid into her hair, dragging her back up to him.
He dipped his mouth down to hers as he loosened her bikini top, letting it fall to the shale floor. He flicked open the button to her shorts, making quick work of them as well. The light breeze off the water made shadows play over his skin, accentuating the muscles of his belly and chest with each sway of the twinkle lights.
“God, the way you look at me.”
Her gaze locked on his beautiful face and her breath caught at his rough words. He was all stark angles and intensity. Words were trapped in her chest, but she knew exactly how he felt. Like the world was in his eyes. It was terrifying to have one person be the center of her.
He was her world and she was his.
Deacon slid the backs of his knuckles along her collarbone and down to the slope of her breast to her nipple that stood so tight and swollen just because he was there in front of her. She shuddered as his light touch skidded over the flat of her belly to the curve of her pelvis. He slid a knuckle between the already swollen lips of her slit and groaned.
Shadowed eyes glinted in the low light as he turned his hand, dipping two long fingers inside of her welcoming body. She wanted to throw her head back and lose herself to the feeling, but she couldn’t stop watching him watch her.
Gentle and insistent, his touch was everything. Slick with her, he delved back inside of her and out again. Each time, the calloused tips of his fingers left behind a light scrape of an echo that no one could ever make but Deacon.
She grasped his wrist as her balance faltered. God, he felt good inside of her. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, just the ever slow glide of his fingers until she couldn’t do anything except feel. Except experience the buzz that happened when they were in the same sphere.
She wasn’t sure if it was the roar of the ocean or the roar in her head as he patiently drew her down the path of her first quaking release. When she could feel her own walls clasping around his fingers, he dragged her close and covered her mouth. The swallow of his groan of pleasure swirled with her own as his tongue mimicked his fingers.
The moon and shadows held her as tight as Deacon’s arms as the first wash of misty pleasure swamped her. Distantly, she heard his board shorts fall into a heap as he backed up, dragging her closer to the hammock. He gingerly curled into the wide canvass contraption and drew her in front of him, her back to his front.
Then there was nothing but the floating feel of Deacon wrapped around her. He shifted her and then there was only fullness. Deacon’s wide hand across her belly, holding her tight against him as his cock pulsed inside of her already quaking pussy.
His lips found her neck, his other arm cradled her tight so that his forearm banded beneath her breasts. Cherished. The light sway of the hammock and Deacon’s rolling hips extended one orgasm into another until they were one knot of love and lust and emotion.
Her name became part of a litany of soft groans of love and earnest praise as she broke again and again. But she never fell.
He would never let her fall.
Finally, the gentle cadence of his release flowed around her and filled her. She drifted off, her husband still wrapped around her and inside of her.
Five
Steam
Deacon woke with a groan. His skin was slick with mist and sweat. Harper was still curled in his arms, but they were more like a sloppy, soggy burrito this morning. Residual tequila sloshed in his gut with each sway of the hammock.
Not good.
He squinted at the gray sky peeking between the slats of the pergola. The light rain was picking up and the breeze off the sea was rocking the hammock dangerously.
Definitely not meant to hold a guy his size all night. He looked around, unsure how to unseat them without landing on the shale covered ground.
When another gust tore through the porch, the creak of the rope made the decision for him. He slapped his hand on the ground as gravity and one hundred and fifteen pounds of Harper tried to slide free.
“Shit!”
Harper gasped and instead of curving into him, she stiffened. He managed to roll them, taking the brunt of the fall on his hip and elbow when they hit the ground.
She shrieked out a laugh as she sprawled across his chest.
Sand and water scraped the hell out of his ass as he tried to sit up. “Nice.”
“I’m sorry.” She tried to stop laughing, he’d give her that. But she inched up his body and put her face in his neck, her shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. “I’m not laughing at you.”
Deacon gave up and flattened on his back. If anyone came by, they were just going to have to look away. Man, he had sand in places he just didn’t want to think about.
She hovered over him and flipped her soaked hair out of her face. “What is it with us and rain and mud?”
“It’s going to follow us around obviously.”
“Well, we are in Texas.”
He lifted his head, looking down at them then back at her face. “The grass hurt less though.”
“Aww, poor baby.” She slid off of him, wincing. “Wow, that was a lot of tequila last night.”
“Ya think?”
She stood up and all thoughts of tequila left him. She was a pink hued bronze from the sun yesterday. Sand and a few tiny shells stuck to her belly and along the side of her breast. Her hair was a tangle from the sea spray and rain, but that smile.
Damn.
She pointed at him. “No. Get that thought out of your head.”
He propped himself up on his forearms. “What thought?”
Harper glanced down at his unmistakable hard-on. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“You kinda look like the mermaid from the bar last night.”
“You’r
e a very sick man. I look more like a hungover college student.”
He rolled to his side and rose to his knees. “Okay, I can work with that. I’ve never been a frat guy, but we can play frat boy and sorority girl, if you want. I prefer the helpless mermaid though.”
She snickered. “Helpless?”
“Thankful?”
Harper’s head fell back with a delighted laugh. She pushed her hair out of her face. “Seriously, though.”
“Oh, I’m serious.” He leaned forward on his knuckles and got one foot under him. “This big, bad fisherman is going to do unspeakable things to you.”
“Deacon.” Her voice was full of warning. She glanced at the door then back at him, her gaze tripping over his body, especially his cock, making him even harder. Christ, he missed playing with her. It was so rare to get this side of her lately. He wanted more of it. And would definitely make sure he didn’t let them fall back into a rut.
“You’re not going to beat me to that door, Lawless.”
The tip of her tongue came out at the corner of her mouth and he really had no choice. He shot up, snatching her off her feet before she could move a muscle.
She wiggled in his arms. “Deacon,” she shouted and dissolved into giggles as he hauled her into the cottage. “Our stuff.”
“Later.” He tucked her under his arm, heading for the bathroom.
“You can’t manhandle me like a caveman. I’m an independent woman.”
He simply looked down at her with a raised brow. “Now I’m a caveman?” And when she broke off in another fit, he laughed with her. “I need to shower off my mermaid and turn her back into a real girl.”
“God, you’re such an ass.”
He set her down and opened the wide glass door to the ceiling to floor shower that made up half of the bathroom. He turned on the water and hit the dial on the full body shower heads that sprayed from each wall.
Dragging her inside, he stood them both under the wide rain style hood in the center, sunk his fingers in her hair, and leaned down to her mouth. With water pouring around them, he kissed her, swallowing her laughter with a healthy amount of sand and salt. When her fingers came around his wrists like they always did, he simply sank into her. Steam, Harper, sweat, and a few aches created a hazy bubble of just them.
He lifted her onto the bench, flipping a few of the wall mounted sprayers to hit them. With the height of the bench, she actually could look him in the eye. She slid her hands into his hair and linked them around his neck. The kiss was wet and slow. He let himself steep in her taste. Long, open-mouthed kisses easy with familiarity and a slow build toward the peace he found only with Harper.
Deacon banded his arms around her back, pulling her flush to his chest. She gasped, and he felt the sandy grit between them. He reached back for the soap, but she stole it from him, soaping up her hands with the simple bar before tucking it behind her on the shelf. She soothed her sudsy hands over his chest, washing away the debris from their trip onto the ground. She lightly scratched her nails through his chest hair and over his pecs, then down to his belly.
He groaned with each nip of her nails over the ridge of his abs and lower into the fuller hair below his navel. Reaching around her for the bar of soap, he covered his hands with hers around his shaft. Each stroke of her hand from root to tip nudged him a little further away from the easy gentleness they were enjoying.
She moved one hand up his belly, back to his chest, but instead of continuing to stroke his cock, she pulled him closer to her thighs that were soapy from contact. His head slid along the slippery wetness of her legs, searching for her. Always searching for a way to get inside her perfect body.
But the angle was wrong. Instead, she trapped him between her thighs, lightly grazing the top of his shaft with her pussy. When she found the rhythm she liked there, she went to work with her hands again.
Over his nipples, up to the wide flatness of his pecs and collarbone to his neck. She rubbed her nose along his scruffy neck, the tip of her tongue rasping through the whorls of hair until she got to his ear.
“This body is mine. Every glorious inch is for me to touch.” She nuzzled her cheek against his, tucking his hair around his ear. “Only mine.”
He groaned as his hips flexed into the suds they made, but the light friction wasn’t enough. Despite the running water, he could feel her coating the top of his dick. Her scent filled the steam. The want between them heady as alcohol.
His arms came up around her back, his hands sliding into her wet hair to drag her to his mouth again. Finesse dissolved under the need to swallow her whole. Peace falling away, replaced with lust that chewed through any gentleness living inside him, leaving it and him in tatters.
She dragged her mouth away from his until she could press her forehead to his. Her eyes were laser blue intense and he knew she was right there with him. She reached between them, her grip firm on his cock. “You make me crazy. How is it that I can never have enough?”
He hissed as he pushed through the tight grip, begging for relief. She angled him up so the head of his cock dipped inside of her. The tissues teasingly close, but still she denied him the one thing he wanted.
Steam and soap made for a precarious balance on tile, but he needed inside of her. Needed to open her wide and take her, to sink into her until nothing remained but them.
He swung her off the bench, wrapping her leg around his hip. She hung onto his shoulders as he pulled her under the rain hood again. His mouth opened her as he wanted her legs opened. She met his tongue thrust for thrust, wrapping her other leg around his hip until she could scissor up and lean on his shoulders. He crashed into the opposite wall, the shower bracket digging into his spine, the jet on high.
He twisted them away, her back to the smooth tile away from the water. The soap was gone and she was there, opening for him. He drove inside her ruthlessly. She gripped his hair, relocated to his neck, then finally his shoulders as she hung on. Her nails dug into his flesh as he pounded her into the tile. The slap of their bodies matched the pelting water. He buried his face into the side of her neck, looking down at where they were joined.
His cock sliding in and out of her, nailing her to the wall again and again. He hooked her knee over his forearm to open her wider. He needed more. To see everything, to fit all of him inside her as only Harper could.
She shook around him, her lips quivering.
“Harper?”
“Don’t you stop.” She brought her trembling thigh up on his hip, clasping around him. Her lids slid down over her eyes as she held onto him and her cries curled around them.
He wrapped her other leg back around him as he pinned her to the wall with his hips, driving himself deep inside of her.
“More,” she said with a shaky breath.
He gripped her thighs, forcing her hips to widen until she was splayed open against the wall.
“Yes. Yes,” she hissed. The water had gone cool but it didn’t seem to matter. They needed that break in the steam. He groaned as her nipples burned into his chilled skin.
Her cheeks were a high pink and her bottom lip was abused from his mouth and her own scraping teeth. He turned to look for the bench, quickly crossing the small area to sit with her astride him.
He lifted his hips up to meet her and finally he was deep enough. His fingers dug into her ass, dragging her up and down the length of his cock. She looked down at him, her hair slicked back, leaving her face unframed and her uptilted eyes wild.
She shifted over him, her hips rolling endlessly as she took him with merciless strokes. He slapped his hand against the wall next to him in the little alcove. He let her take control, drifted into her rhythm and let it become theirs. Sweat coasted down his spine as he met her on each downswing. His cock relentless, his breathing shallow.
“Fuck,” he cried out.
And when she screamed his name, there was nowhere else to go but over the edge with her. Panting, he laid his cheek against her chest and heard t
he roar of her heartbeat as the last edges of his orgasm hazed his vision.
She collapsed against him, her arms around his neck as she slowly smoothed her fingers through his hair. He curled his arm around her hips to keep her from slipping to the floor in a heap.
Well, maybe that was more for him. Dehydration from tequila and a long hot shower with phenomenal sex probably wasn’t the best idea, but who the hell cared? “Jesus, you feel amazing,” he said against her breast. He sipped some of the moisture that beaded up on her skin.
She pressed a kiss to his temple then pulled his face away from her chest, cradling his cheeks. “We’re going to need a shower to recover from our shower.”
He brought her hand to his mouth, seeing the proof of just how long they’d been in there. “We’re all pruny. We should probably try and get up.”
Harper laughed. “I’m not sure my legs actually work at the moment.”
He stood with her, grabbing onto the alcove when black spots danced around his head. “I need a gallon of water and something hugely greasy.”
“Oh, yeah. Hey, you liked those pub fries over at Rhianna’s?”
“Yeah.” He carefully set her down and pulled her back over to the middle of the shower. They quickly soaped up and did the whole hair treatment before stumbling out to the bathroom to fight over the sink for a thorough tooth brushing.
They bumped around each other to dry off, their touches softer and less harried now that they had their shower of magical sex out of their system. Not wanting to deal with his hair, he tied on a bandanna, shoved a pair of shades on his face, and stepped into another pair of board shorts.
When he turned around, Harper was fastening a long gold necklace with glass and metal dangles that hung between her magnificent breasts. She shrugged into a bikini top and the purple triangles with cutouts cupped said perfect breasts, making his mouth water.
She had her arms up above her head, tying her hair into one of her crazy intricate braids. If it was at all possible, she looked even more like a mermaid. When she snapped a rubber band around the ends of her braid, he crossed the room and lifted her up, kissing her soundly.
