by J. Haymore
His stubble scrapes against my cheek as he turns me onto my back. I gaze up at his face, but darkness cloaks him. He’s just a shadow in the dimness, but his eyes glint as they watch me intently. My hands dive under his shirt, feeling the ridges of the muscles in his abs and chest. He’s gorgeous and perfect, even in the dark.
He kisses me again, his body pressed against mine, one of his legs on the outside of mine. I feel boxed in, enclosed, but not imprisoned. I feel completely safe here with his weight on me, cocooned in a warm haze of desire and longing, and the strength and protectiveness that is Ethan.
“I want to be inside you so bad,” he whispers roughly.
“Yes,” I say. I’ve been ready for this for days.
He heaves out a sigh. “I want to…so damn bad. I want to make you mine, Tara. But I can’t. We can’t. Not until we get to Hawaii.”
My hips buck up against him in an immediate denial. “Why?”
My hands go still on his chest. His muscles are tense beneath my palm, almost quivering with restrained masculine energy.
“No condom. I didn’t expect… I didn’t know this was going to happen.”
I groan. I’m so out of my mind for him, the lack of a condom wouldn’t have even registered if we’d had sex. Thank God one of us held on to sense.
“I knew I hadn’t packed any. I thought I might have had one or two buried in my luggage, but no.”
“You checked?”
“I checked.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to calm down my raging, reckless libido. At this moment, there’s no doubt in my mind why accidental babies happen. I’d be willing to take the risk right now, just to feel him inside me, my desire for him is so strong.
He rubs himself against my thigh and makes a strangled noise deep in his throat. He’s so hard, it must be painful for him.
“I’m clean, and I know you are too. It’s not disease I’m worried about…but…you’re not on the pill, are you?”
He sounds so hopeful, I would have laughed under any other circumstance. But right now, sexual frustration is so painful, seeing the humor in anything seems impossible.
Of course he’s right. There’s no reason for me to be on the pill. “No, I’m not.”
“Shit,” he groans, pressing his forehead to mine. “Damn it.”
“We could borrow one from Kyle—” I start, then flinch, first at my choice of words—“borrow,” as if we’d return it afterward—and then at the idea. Although, right now, I’d almost be willing to risk the look on Kyle’s face if I asked him for a condom. Almost.
Then a lightbulb blinks on in my head. “Or maybe I could steal one,” I say eagerly.
I would do it, and without any guilt either. Over the years, Kyle has stolen tons of stuff from me, including my—used—toothbrush once when he stayed over at my apartment. When we were juniors in high school, he stole an issue of a teen magazine featuring a “bikini extravaganza!” that he told me he jacked off to while flipping pages and lusting over the models.
I remember covering my ears and telling him to shut up, shut up, shut up! when he told me this, but Kyle has always taken a special kind of pleasure in shocking me.
I wouldn’t feel guilty about stealing from him. I would feel guilty because if he found out about it, it would hurt him.
I’m not going to do that to Kyle. Even though I want Ethan to make love to me more than my next breath.
I sigh and sag back into the mattress. “Never mind.”
“Right.” Ethan’s chest rises, pressing against mine as he inhales. “I’m damn tempted to use the withdrawal method.”
“Do it.” It’s irresponsible, but at this moment, I honestly don’t care.
He makes a sound that sounds like a long, low growl. “I can’t. We can’t risk it. You know we can’t.”
He’s right, but I still want to pound my fist against the wall in frustration. “Being a responsible adult is highly overrated,” I grumble.
He laughs softly. “It is.” Then he kisses me again, long and sweet and languid. And after a few minutes, I’m so ready for more, my panties are drenched.
“I’m going to make you come, though,” Ethan murmurs, then the tip of his tongue trails over the shell of my ear.
A sigh of pleasure…and relief…slips out of me. Because if I don’t come, and soon, I just might lose my mind once and for all. Or crawl out of my skin. Or both.
“I’m going to make you come every night until we get to Honolulu. And when we get there, I’m going to make love to you until neither of us can move a muscle. Then we’re going to sleep and do it all over again when we wake up.”
“Sounds like heaven,” I whisper.
Three nights of him giving me pleasure—and I intend to repay the favor—and of building anticipation to the main event.
I can do that.
In a way, three nights sounds like forever though, when desire pulses so strongly throughout my body. “People used to wait until they were married before they had sex,” I point out, more to myself than to him. Reassuring myself that abstinence is an acceptable course of action to take.
His puff of laughter washes over my neck. “Some still do.”
“Then we shouldn’t complain, right?”
“I’m complaining,” he says quietly. “All those people who wait for sex aren’t with you, Tara. They’re not inhaling your sweetness right now, they’re not touching your soft skin. They didn’t watch you almost…” He breaks off, then he continues, his breath whispering over my skin. “They didn’t watch what happened this morning, and they don’t know how I feel about you. They can’t have any fucking clue how…how much…” His voice shakes, then dies away altogether.
“Ethan…” I whisper. My body stills, overwhelmed by the emotion brimming in his words. How can he treat me as if he cares like this while at the same time so openly stating that it’ll be over once we get back to LA?
How can he say he’s no good for me when being with him feels so good? Better than I’ve ever felt before. He’s wrong about that. He’s got to be wrong.
He kisses me, cutting off the words brimming inside me, then he moves down my body and back up, lifting my shirt off as he travels upward, giving him access to my breasts. He takes full advantage, kissing, suckling, until the pleasure overwhelms me. Every inch of skin on my chest has been claimed by his mouth, and my hands fist in his soft hair, holding him against me.
He moves downward again, but his hands stay on my breasts, kneading and stroking, but then he tugs my pajama shorts and panties down, sliding them off my legs, trailing kisses in their wake. He gets rid of them, then presses my legs apart gently. He kisses the sensitive skin on the inside of my knee, then licks his way up my thigh over part of my scar until his mouth latches on to my sex.
He doesn’t use his fingers this time, just his mouth—wet and hot and thorough. He flicks my clit, teases me, suckles me. The sensations are so intense, they border on the ridge between pleasure and pain. My body squirms, telling me it can’t take this onslaught of sensation, but his hands clamp over the fronts of my thighs, pinning me in place, forcing me to take it. And I do…and it’s so, so good.
Soon, I’m completely lost. All the strange events of the day melt away, leaving me nothing but a slave to the sensation Ethan wreaks on my body. My fingers and toes curl, and whimpers burst from my throat with every painfully blissful stroke of his talented tongue.
Every muscle in my entire body is strung taut, only to grow even tighter as he continues his assault.
I’m so primed, so ready for him, it doesn’t take long. He seems to know exactly how to get me where I need to go.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “I…I can’t.”
He doesn’t respond with words. He only tightens his fingers over my thighs as if to tell me that yes, I can, and he’s here with me.
Just when I open my mouth to beg him to stop, I tumble over the edge, exploding into a thousand shimmering pieces of pleasure. I’m flying, f
loating for long moments, before drifting back down. The pieces fuse back together until I’m myself again, and Ethan is still between my legs, his mouth gentle now as he presses kisses to the sensitive folds between my legs, drawing out every last shudder and pulse until I really can’t stand it a second longer.
He seems to know I’ve reached my limit, and he releases me and moves back up my body, pausing for a few seconds at my breast, where he licks and nuzzles my nipple before rising up to press a kiss to my lips.
I’m a languid, boneless mass, collecting hardly enough strength to kiss him back.
“Go to sleep, Tara,” he murmurs, settling beside me.
His words are like a splash of cool water over me, and I’m suddenly wide awake. I turn my head toward him, my lips curling wickedly. “I don’t think so.” I push him to his back and straddle him, bending down to kiss him. “Your turn,” I murmur against the softness of his lips.
Chapter Sixteen
Ethan lies back willingly. I kiss his lips before trailing more kisses over his tight T-shirt and down his front. I lift his shirt a little after reaching the hem of it and spend some time exploring his rippling six-pack. After stopping at his belly button, I follow the light trail of hair down to the waistband of his boxers, then grip them and tug them downward. The waist catches on the tip of his cock, but I peel the cotton over it, and Ethan lifts his hips, and when they’re down near his knees, he kicks them off.
He is long and hard and thick. And…I never thought I’d feel this way about a man’s penis, but it makes my mouth water. The crazy, insatiable desire for him to be inside me pulses in the part of me that wants him so, so bad.
I’m going to have to make do with having him in my mouth—which, right now, doesn’t seem at all like a hardship. I want to taste him, want to feel him under my lips and over my tongue.
A part of me realizes this is a basic, instinctual reaction that begins at the primal core of my humanity. The insatiable desire to mate and be mated. I feel primitive and raw, and so turned-on and needy, my eyes can’t seem to focus on anything.
I raise my hand tentatively to his cock. When my fingertips stroke over him, his whole body jerks in reaction.
I slide my fingers from the head to the base, marveling at the softness of the skin over the solid length of him, at the dry, searing heat of him.
I take my time exploring him with my fingers, stroking with my fingertips, then wrapping my hand around him and experimenting with moving my fist over his length, rubbing my thumb over the head, squeezing him loosely, then more tightly, roughly, then gently.
From the tempo of his breathing, from his gasps, it’s clear what he likes. When my hand strikes the perfect balance between soft and hard, he pants and thrusts up into my touch. When he does that, pushing the head of his cock through my fist, my mouth is ready, and I wet my lips and take him in.
We both groan. He is hot and hard under my lips, and he tastes clean, like Ethan always does, and salty and intrinsically male. Stretching my mouth wide to accommodate his girth, I move my fist and my mouth down him, taking in as much of him as possible.
“God, Tara,” he whispers roughly, pushing his fingers into my hair. “God…” He shudders. “Your mouth feels so…fucking…good.”
Strong, heady arousal washes through me, and my sigh brushes over his skin, making him shudder yet again. I love this, having this power over him, this ability to make him tremble and moan and to bring him pleasure. I love the taste of him inside my mouth, foreign yet so erotic.
My eyes sink shut as I focus on pleasuring him. I lose myself in moving my lips and hand over him. The glow of my recent orgasm fuels me, and my only goal is to bring him as much satisfaction as he’s brought me. Soon, his hands thread in my hair, and he begins to guide me. I let him direct my movements, always learning how he wants it, how he likes it, storing this information in my head for the future. Because I want to do this again and again and again.
He lets out a long, low groan and grows even bigger, a tight fit against the circle of my lips. He thrusts up against the back of my mouth, and I relax my throat, taking him in as deep as he can go. His thrusts become frantic, and his hands tighten in my hair.
“I…I’m going to come… Tara…” he forces out. “Stop… Stop…” He tugs me back halfheartedly, because he doesn’t want to force me to take anything I don’t want to.
But I do. I do.
I hum with pleasure, with acceptance. I squeeze my hands on him and my lips over him.
He thrusts over and over again, deep, his movements jerky, almost desperate. A moment later, he freezes, and he starts to come, his cock pulsing violently. I swallow convulsively, and as he shudders, my body shudders too, fully succumbing to the sheer carnal pleasure of this moment, and I am close to coming myself.
I keep sucking as the pulses recede, drawing out his pleasure for as long as possible until my mouth slips off him. I lay my cheek on his thigh for a long moment, then slowly crawl up his body, thread my hands into the softness of his hair, and give him a wet kiss, knowing he can taste his own release on my lips. And right now, that is the most erotic thing imaginable.
God. I want him. I want to wrap myself all around him, hold him close, and let him take every single bit of me into his care and keeping.
These are wild thoughts. Crazy thoughts. Unsafe ones. Stupid ones, since he has absolutely guaranteed me that he cannot be held responsible for the care and keeping of any part of me.
I try to push it all away. I want to enjoy this moment and not think of anything deeper, anything beyond. But I can’t help it. It’s unstoppable, this desire for more.
The kiss slows, becomes sensual, then languid, and we finally pull apart, both of us sighing in satisfaction. Then, Ethan tugs me against him. I entwine my body with his.
Moments later, with my leg draped over him, my arm wrapped around his torso, and my head safely resting in the crook of his arm, I drift off, rocking along with the Temptation in a warm sea of contentment.
* * * * *
“Ethan! Ethan!”
The screech rips me out of slumber, and for a moment, I have no idea where I am or who’s lying beside me or who’s screaming.
A figure sits up beside me, and I realize it’s Ethan, still wearing his black T-shirt, his dark hair sexily rumpled…maybe from sleep, maybe from all the illicit things we did to each other earlier.
Ethan directs a frown at the closed door. “What is it?” he calls out roughly.
“There’s a problem.” Nalani’s panicked voice comes from beyond the door. “A serious problem.”
Ethan glances at me in alarm, and we both scramble to pull on some clothes. “Okay, we’ll be out in a minute.”
A few moments later, Ethan and I come out into the main cabin, him in his T-shirt and sweatpants, and me in my pajamas. Kyle is there, shirtless, his hair in haphazard spikes. His expression is one of complete bewilderment. Nalani is standing in the doorway that leads down to the two cabins on the opposite side of the boat from Ethan’s and mine.
“What’s going on?” Ethan asks.
Kyle swallows hard and turns to Nalani, who’s visibly trembling. She stands there, looking first at Ethan, then at me, and finally at Kyle. Then her gaze moves to the front window and unfocuses, as if she’s gazing at a vague outline of an island miles in the distance. “It’s Mick,” she says in a reedy voice. “He… He’s gone.”
“Gone?” I repeat. “Gone where?”
She shakes her head. “He’s just…disappeared.”
“Are you sure?” Ethan asks her.
“I just checked the bunks again.” Nalani’s dark eyes are wide with shock as she finally turns back to Ethan, as if imploring him to tell her what needs to be done next. “No trace.”
“Did he fall overboard? He must have fallen overboard.” Kyle’s words are flat. Emotionless. As if he’s in shock.
We all stare at one another in silence for a moment. I turn to Kyle and Nalani. “You two were on wat
ch after Ethan came down, right?”
“Right,” Kyle says. “And nothing strange happened, until…” His voice drops off. Nalani sinks onto the sofa as if her legs can no longer support her. Her café latte complexion drains until her skin is the color of curdled buttermilk.
“Oh God,” she whispers.
“What?” Ethan asks sharply.
Nalani swallows hard and gestures roughly at Kyle. “He came down to go to bed, but he went into my cabin. I went down to tell him to get the hell out of my bunk, that he has the couch until we get to Hawaii, and after that, I never want to see his—” She breaks off, not making eye contact with Kyle or anyone.
“We were arguing,” Kyle explains, as if that weren’t already obvious.
“How long were you down there?” Ethan’s hand slips into mine, and he squeezes tight.
Kyle shrugs. “Maybe half an hour. Maybe longer.”
Nalani groans and presses her forehead into her palms. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
“We need to see if we can find him,” Ethan says. “We’ll get the boat turned around, then we’ll align our course with the GPS so we retrace our route.”
We all nod.
“Let’s do a thorough search, see if there’s anything missing or that can give us a clue about what happened,” Ethan continues. “Once we get closer to the area where he disappeared, we can post ourselves around the boat and see if we can spot him.”
Everyone agrees…our plan is set, and we all move into action. Nalani is losing it, though. Muttering “Oh my God, oh my God. Oh God…” as we go up onto the deck to prepare the Temptation to make a 180-degree turn.
But as soon as I go out into the cockpit, something seems amiss. Different somehow. Wrong. I step all the way to the stern and look over the back of the boat.
“Oh no,” I whisper. “The tender.”
Ethan comes up behind me and stares, then Nalani and Kyle move in behind him. All of us are silent as we stare at the empty spot where the tender—the small rubber dinghy that’s used for going ashore when the Temptation is anchored—used to be.
