Sometimes, his voice is like that, smooth, silky, reassuring. Other times, his voice turns harsh and raspy. When he’s turned on, rumbles surface from somewhere deep within him.
“I’m sorry. That was…” I brush the wet hair from my face and try to finish my thought. What am I trying to say? “Intense.”
That word is far from adequate. In fact, it’s wholly inadequate, but it’s the best I can do considering my brain turned to mush after that orgasm. Those neurons aren’t firing. They’re incapable of piecing together a coherent thought.
My body still echoes with the aftershocks of that orgasm. Little flashes of pleasure zing along overstimulated nerve endings.
Slowly, the ability to think returns to me.
His low chuckle rumbles through my chest.
“We’ve barely begun, luv. If you think that was intense, wait until I get inside of you.”
Oh, I need him inside of me. If he can do that with his tongue, what is he capable of with that straining, jutting erection standing rigidly at attention at the apex of his thighs?
Shit!
He’s yet to get off. I know Scott’s frustration when sex takes too long. He’s all about getting in and getting out. Like sex is a job, or an itch he needs to scratch. Something to relieve the tension of his day, and nothing more.
My fingers dig into Hawke’s shoulders. I hate that my thoughts turn to Scott when I’m in his arms. But comparisons are inevitable. My sexual history is rather limited. To be honest, I’m not that impressed with sex. It’s more of a chore than anything else—except whatever just happened.
That was no chore.
It was amazing. So amazing, that I want more. I crave more. There’s a hunger, a need, boiling up inside of me, which demands Hawke’s cock.
Emboldened by all these new sensations, I do something I’ve never done before.
I ask for more.
“If that was the appetizer, I’m ready for the main event.” I bite at my lower lip, unsure how the next part of this goes.
Am I supposed to lay down and spread my legs?
Somehow, I don’t think Hawke is big on the whole missionary position. He seems more of an adventurous lover.
Unfortunately, that position, and doggy style, are the only two I know.
There’s about an inch or two of water covering the ground. Tiny protrusions in the fake rock make the floor sticky. I’m not keen on lying down. Nor am I happy about getting on all fours. I want to watch him, not endure the whole thing like I did with Scott.
His finger traces along the line of my jaw and he sweeps a wet strand of my hair off my face.
“What are you thinking?”
I glance up at him, eyes wide, as my mind spins. No way in hell am I telling him I was thinking about Scott.
Instead, I let my hand trace down the dips and valleys of his chest. He’s all sinew and stacked muscle. I saw a little of it while we snorkeled earlier today, but now I get to touch.
A low groan vibrates in the back of his throat as my fingers dip over the well-defined muscles of his abs.
“I like the direction you’re headed.” His rumbly words resonate with unspent lust and flicker with amusement.
“Do you…” I glance down, and my hand hesitates.
“Do I, what?” Mischief glimmers in his eyes. “Do I want your hand on me, fisting me to release? Or maybe it’s that pretty little mouth of yours I desire. Lips wrapping around my cock as I thrust inside and knock around your tonsils for a bit? Maybe, I want it all? Your hands on my balls, your lips wrapped around my cock, and your tongue licking along my shaft.”
Holy fuck, the man doesn’t mince words.
“To be honest, I want to see you on your knees. It’s a bit of a power trip to stand over a woman while she pleasures me. There’s just something about a woman on her knees, the submission of it, that gets me off.”
Heat licks between my legs as his rumbly voice grows harsher, coarser, more forceful and demanding. It’s enough to drop me to my knees.
“Um…” My hand presses against his belly, fingers barely touching the incredible grooves which angle down to where his very erect cock weeps for me.
He grips my wrist and takes control. “The answer is most definitely yes to all of that. I want to put you on your knees and fuck that mouth.” He forces my hand to the root of his cock. “I want to feel your hand on me, fisting me, fucking me.”
My fingers move of their own accord and wrap around the base of his erection. His eyes close and his head tips back.
“Fuck, your hand feels so damn good.”
He doesn’t release my hand. Instead, he moves his along his thick shaft, taking mine with it. His grip tightens as we move, showing me how he likes to be handled.
I dip down, getting ready to go to my knees. I’ve never had a man eat me out like that before. Those aren’t even words I use. Eat me out. But I do know one thing kind of demands the other.
Of course, I had boyfriends who tried and bungled the whole thing. More frustrating than anything else, I usually couldn’t wait to yank them off and get to the fucking so we could finish and get on with our night.
That is not what goes through my mind with Hawke.
First, he surprised me by going to his knees. I barely registered what was happening before the heat of his mouth turned me into a quivering fool.
Instant orgasm.
Like lighting a fuse, or setting off a bomb, my body detonated.
Or so I thought.
That lick of his tongue sent me spiraling into oblivion.
I’ve never come that fast.
I’ve never come that hard.
I’ve never had the world disappear as I flew free.
If he wants me on my knees, I’m not only willing to repay the favor, but I’m willing to assume the role he’s hinting at. Me serving him. Him commanding me. Unlike all the other men with whom I wanted to rush through it to get to the end, I never want this night to end.
I need more.
I want more.
And I’m going to take it.
But first, I’ll repay the favor he graciously bestowed on me.
The pace of his hand quickens. This must be how he masturbates: hard, fast, and frenzied.
But when I try to lower to my knees, he gives a sharp shake of his head.
“As much as I want you on your knees, if you put your mouth on me, I won’t last.” He glances around until he finds his shorts. Releasing me, he steps away to dig in the pockets, searching for something.
A shiny foil pack.
In my lust-crazed brain, I forgot about needing protection. Honestly, I’d take the risk.
He rips open the wrapper and smoothly slides the condom over his shaft.
We’re going to fuck.
My insides clench in anticipation. But how? And where? Surely, he doesn’t mean to take me here?
A quick glance around reveals I can see nothing outside our secluded retreat. That means no one can see inside. I don’t remember much of the mad dash in here, except we somehow managed to step through a waterfall and curve around the walls to reach the very back of this place.
Well, not the very back of the grotto. We stand in a little open area. Water splashes all around us. Tiny jets inject heated mist into the air. Maybe it’s steam? I don’t know.
But tucked in the corner is a bubbling hot tub with steam rising off the warm, frothy water. The floor runs right into the hot tub as if it were specially molded to gradually descend into the pool.
Hawke takes my hand and leads me into the water. We stop waist deep and his hands run up my arms. His eyes gaze deeply into mine, dipping down to admire my breasts more often than not.
His golden eyes are molten pools of desire. He sweeps his hand down my arm and back up my side, where he fondles my breast. His eyes narrow as he grips my nipple.
My eyes widen because I remember the pain when he pinched them. Pain that should have sent me running, but instead set up a deep throbbing b
etween my legs. Never have I experienced anything like that.
“Come.” He commands me and leads me by my breast. Specifically, by the grip he has on my poor nipple.
I don’t dare hesitate, because—pain. And holy hell, the way he commands me to follow? I don’t understand why that’s turning me on as much, or more, than his grip on my poor tortured nipple.
Although, I’m not against seeing what might happen. I have a strong sense Hawke knows how to make sex fun. Like deliciously dirty and downright filthy, but in the best way possible.
He heads to the far wall, where the designers of this little escape molded in a depression that looks a lot like a seat. My gaze meanders over the rock walls and I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s supposed to be.
We spin around and he backs me up to the seat. It rests just above the water’s edge. Water laps onto it, keeping the surface warm. But it’s not slick. Like the floor, tiny nubs provide traction to keep me from slipping.
“Come.” He lifts me by the hips and deposits me on the seat.
My arms naturally go to his shoulders, to support me. To touch him. I can’t get enough of his muscular physique. He leans in until our lips are kissably close.
“Open your legs, luv. It’s time to get properly fucked. I’d take my time and make you come again, but I honestly can’t wait to sink into your wet heat. I need inside of you now.”
I completely agree and spread my legs.
It’s weird.
I always feel self-conscious about this kind of stuff, hiding my body, trying to rush to the finish line. I prefer sex in the dark. There’s no darkness here.
Yes, the lighting is subdued, but I don’t have to squint to see every bit of Hawke’s devastating physique. Especially, his cock: long, thick, with ropey veins along the shaft. A thick, bulbous head, it’s painfully engorged with blood. He’s hard for me.
Hawke doesn’t rush anything. He could shove right on in. Instead, he leans in for a kiss.
An utterly unforgettable kiss.
Our lips mold together and slide against each other. He nips at my lower lip, light at first, then eliciting a flicker of pain. I draw back, but instead of a hiss, a low moan escapes me.
How is that? Why is that? What the fuck is he doing to me?
Sensations that should make me recoil are instead intense, erotic, and mind-numbingly insane.
I let my hands run freely across the expanse of his back. He leans in. Our bodies move and writhe together like two sinuous souls wrapping around each other.
If I thought it felt like we were fucking on the dance floor with all that bumping and grinding, it’s nothing compared to this. He reaches between us. Cups my breast. Plays with my nipple. And, basically, turns me into a quivering mess.
“I’m going to fuck your tits, luv. Right after I fuck your mouth.” He grabs my lower lip between his teeth and gives a slight tug. “But first…”
That familiar sensation coils in my core, a flush of pleasure, a needy throb, that tightening which only needs the right touch to explode.
I jump when he presses a finger to my sex, then cry out when he shoves a finger inside. He does something with his thumb, pressing the sensitive bundle of nerves of my clit while stroking me from the inside.
He hits something inside me and my entire body detonates with an orgasm I knew was coming but didn’t think was anywhere that close.
As my legs clamp around his hips and my head tilts back with the primal cries ripping out of me, the flare of his cock presses against my entrance. With my orgasm still surging within me, he thrusts inside. His hands move to my hips, my butt, and he grabs hold.
I’m still coming from my second orgasm when he buries himself inside of me. No gentle easing in. He takes me with one powerful thrust until he’s buried to the root.
A pinch of pain passes through me. It’s brief, barely noticeable, as my climax ebbs.
“Fuuuck…” His raspy moan sounds like a man who’s found heaven. “You’re fucking tight. So hot. So slick. So fucking perfect.” His hand flies up to grasp the back of my neck and he forcibly kisses me.
Raw. Urgent. It’s feral and uncontrolled.
I can’t catch my breath. My body is recovering, sliding down the opposite side of yet another powerful orgasm.
That downward fall is interrupted when Hawke pulls out and slams forward.
If I thought he could move those hips on the dance floor, that is nothing compared to the way they gyrate as he fucks.
The man is an animal when he finally surrenders to his lust. He takes me hard, and true to his word, there’s nothing gentle about his punishing thrusts.
That gentle downslide of my orgasm gets hijacked by the sensation of him filling my pussy, by the slow glide of his cock outward, and the hard thrust inward.
His breaths pulse in and out as his breathing deepens. For now, he’s still in control.
As for me?
Heat coils in my core with each glide of his cock, each punishing thrust. I’ve never come from penetrative sex. I’ve never felt the slightest tremor of arousal.
With Hawke, I’m a different animal. He drags me up another impossible cliff, and I fly right over the edge, sailing into oblivion with my third orgasm of the night.
I come in waves until my voice is hoarse. He milks more pleasure from my body until I can’t take any more.
And that’s when he truly begins.
He fucks me senseless in the grotto until my legs shake so hard that I can barely stand. He spins me around and takes me from behind. He hoists me up and fucks me against the wall. I go down to my knees and kneel for him while he mounts me from behind. There’s no denying who’s in control while he manhandles me as he wishes. I surrender fully to his authority, happy to simply let this happen. I’ve never let go like this. I never knew this kind of thing existed. With Hawke, I don’t think. I merely react to everything he does to me.
I scream and cry as he wrings one orgasm after the other from my body until I’m utterly spent.
We laugh as we try to drag our wet clothes over our bodies and give up, falling with exhaustion into the bubbling waters of the tiny pool.
Tangled in each other’s arms, we kiss. We make love again.
And my heart breaks.
This isn’t real. It’s a fantasy. One I’ll never forget, but there’s no running from the truth.
I don’t belong in his life and he doesn’t belong in mine.
I’d like to think otherwise, but that’s me. I’m a thinker. Logical to a fault, I know how this ends. While I try to keep my heart out of all of this, it’s not possible.
He’ll move on, while I’ll muddle my way through, holding onto memories of Christmas in paradise and the man I had to leave behind.
Only, we’re not there yet.
It’s still tonight. Or maybe early in the morning of the next day.
Either way, it’s too late to make arrangements to leave.
When we come up for air, I’ll call the airline and change my ticket. I miss my family, my obnoxious brothers who never fail to bring a smile to my face. I miss my mom and daddy too.
I should spend the holidays with them, rather than alone, even if it’s in paradise.
I’ll tell them about Scott, and they’ll think the tears I shed are for him. I’ll be the only one who knows the truth.
I knew the stakes going in. No strings. Just fun. I thought I could separate my feelings and live in the moment. Or some such crap like that.
I gave my heart to a man with raven hair and golden eyes, a man who not only doesn’t love me, but never will.
I’m the one who took a chance.
I don’t blame Hawke. He never lied to me or led me to think a future waited for us beyond these few days.
It was a mistake. I know that now, but I don’t regret one second of what we shared.
I already think about us in past tense, even as he pulls me into his arms and kisses me until I can’t breathe.
Twenty-Fiv
e
Hawke
Something’s off with Quinn. The moment I tie her to me is the moment she drifts away.
It makes no sense.
We fucked like rabbits in the grotto, then laughed all the way back to my villa where we had sex on the deck beneath the stars. We slept out there too. The warm, humid air and the lulling sound of the surf were too intoxicating to resist.
I pulled the mattress from my bed while she carried the sheets and pillows. We snuggled. We fucked one last time. Then sleep pulled us under. I plan on fucking her the moment I wake, but she’s not in bed.
It takes a moment to find her. My first thought is that’s she’s inside, using the facilities, but there’s no sign of her in there.
This sinking feeling in my gut is not the usual reaction I have after a night of sensational sex. To be honest, I’m usually the one who pulls away.
Then I see her on the beach, staring out at the turquoise waters. The wind blows her hair out behind her and golden highlights glint in the sun. The bottom of my tee-shirt billows around her legs.
I have to say she looks fucking sexy in my shirt. It helps that it’s somewhat see-through. I see every inch of her long, toned legs. My mouth waters, eager for another taste. I’ll never get enough of her.
She looks deep in thought and I struggle with staying where I am, admiring her from afar. I should pull her back to bed. My cock stirs, giving a little twitch. Fucker got a workout last night—made me proud—it can’t get enough of her pussy and her mouth.
Fuck, when she took me in her mouth last night, my balls drew up and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. The woman knows how to suck cock. Not what I expected, given her hesitation at the start.
Not that my ego needs any stroking, but I have a feeling I rocked her world. She’s never had a lover like me, a lover who saw to her needs above his own. I can tell in the way she came apart in my hands and came on my cock and my face—over and over and over again.
I lost count of the number of orgasms I wrung from her body.
Which makes me wonder what she’s doing on the beach instead of riding my cock. No way are we done exploring this thing between us.
Hawke: Christmas in Paradise (Billionaire Boys Club) Page 17
