She didn’t break their stare. “Harder. I need you deeper,” she said on a ragged moan. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold out. But she wanted to see him go over. His focus never shifted and his hips never stopped. A drop of sweat slid around his temple and down the scruff of his cheekbone to his lip. She caught it with her tongue and couldn’t hold on any longer. She crashed into the mattress and his fingers laced through hers as he slammed into her.
“God, yes.”
Her thighs shook as she tried to hold them together, knowing it would vise around him at the same time. She cried out his name and a litany of other swear words and mumbles to God. The fact that the house was a former church seemed even worse. But she didn’t care. She was careening headlong into a wave of release.
He rolled her onto her side and peeled her open. The friction had been enough but his masterful fingers on her throbbing clit ended her. The wave became a curtain of black as she shuddered and screamed.
The next thing she knew he was pinning her to the bed with his thigh over hers and his breath coming in pants against her back.
Sweet God, she’d actually blacked out.
She looked over her shoulder and he was grinning up at the stained glass cross above the bed.
“Shut up.”
His chest shook in a silent laugh and she pushed him off her.
“Don’t gloat. It’s unbecoming.”
He rolled onto his side, blissfully naked and totally uncaring. The man didn’t have a modest bone in his body. The fact that she wanted to crawl back against him and soak in his nakedness made her roll off the mattress.
No way was she giving in to him again.
Not now.
He inched his arm across the sheets to her and she slapped his hand. He only grinned wider and she threw a pillow at him. “Beach.” She winced at her sweat-slick skin. “Shower, then beach.”
He bounded off the bed and tucked her under his arm as he dragged her intro the bathroom. They fought over the meager trickle of water from the showerhead and she gave up on shampooing her hair about halfway through the shower. It didn’t matter if her hair was clean. They were going to be full of salt and sand in an hour.
She managed to keep her towel long enough to dry off before Simon chased her around the bed. A little beachy air and he was full of energy. She only had to put on her red bikini twice before she got on a cover-up. He was much too fast with the hooks and ties of a bathing suit.
They brought a cooler with water, tea, and fruit, as well as a pile of towels.
When he pushed his feet into flip flops, she shook her head. “Not on this path, pal.”
He frowned and picked up his board, scrawling: I can walk in these things anywhere.
“I’m not carrying your ass back up the mountain after. Sneakers.”
He bent at the waist with an exaggerated sigh and stuffed his feet into running shoes before tucking his board away into the cooler bag.
“You’ll thank me.” She pushed him out the door, hiking an oversized beach bag on her shoulder. She pointed him toward the trees and a small path. He looked down and then back at her.
“Holy fuck,” he mouthed. He turned his baseball cap around backwards and grabbed for a tree on the incline.
“See?” She’d done this path a million times as a girl. There was nothing to do but use the forward momentum to speed down. Simon slipped twice and she used footholds to slow them both twice. But once they got to the bottom, there was nothing but sand and the dock.
He turned his hat around and opened his arms. He scooped up a branch and wrote in the sand: Are you fucking kidding me with this?
She grinned and pointed to the catamaran on the dock and he grabbed her hand, dragging her over to the water. He hopped on one foot to flip his sneakers off and climbed onto the wide wooden dock.
She rolled her eyes and scooped up his shoes, tucking them into her bag. The dark stain of the dock had faded with years in the sun, but the catamaran was sleek and gorgeous in the same blue and white she remembered.
Brian and Kim kept their gear in amazing shape. The wide fin-like supports of the ship gleamed in the sun and water chopped under the wide screen of netting between them. God, she’d missed this ship.
She smoothed her hand over the pontoon. Mozart Dreams. She’d named it when she was seven. One of the few times she’d seen her father get a little misty was when they’d sat together to paint the name on. It was a simple design, made for family and for relaxing.
There were others out there for racing and sporting events, but this had been her favorite place for a lot of years. Stretching out, watching schools of fish through the clear water under her as she baked in the sun for hours.
That was what she wanted for Simon—this bit of island happiness.
She climbed aboard and checked the small forward hull. Simon jumped on after her, not an ounce of trepidation. She was fairly sure he’d never seen a boat that wasn’t a ferry, but he took to it like he was born for the water. His raven-black hair blew around his face. His baseball cap had been thrown into the seat above the netting.
She snagged the cooler and dumped the food into the chiller on the boat. Memories of a thousand trips on the water activated muscle memory. She unfurled the sail and untied the boat from the moorings. The water was smooth as glass, but the current was strong. With a little help from the sail, they moved out beyond the cove and into the open water.
Simon had lost his shirt and shoes, and he stood on the starboard pontoon with his aviators on and the wind whipping his hair back. She’d been worried that his lighter skin would burn, but he was already browning up.
When they hit a choppy wave, she turned into the wind and they soared out to sea faster. He fisted his hands into the sky and braced himself. She laughed as he grinned at her over his shoulder. When he rolled his hand for her to do it again, she used the rudder to turn into the wind.
He rolled into the netting above the water and splayed out until his body made an X. The smile hadn’t left his face since they’d gotten on the beach. Finally, the wind died down and she pulled the sail.
“Get up, lazy butt.”
He rolled over and stared at her, shaking his head.
“I need your long arms.” He gave her a pouty face and she sneered at him. “Earn your keep, first mate.”
He reached for the marker board on the deck.
Do I have to walk the plank if I don’t?
She laughed. “Yes. And no sex.”
He slapped the board down and climbed out of the netting. He hopped to his feet in front of her and saluted.
“Funny guy.” She handed him a crank and pointed to the sail. They got the sail down and she dropped anchor. Before she’d let him curl back down into the netting, she cranked it tighter so the space between the pontoons was more like one big trampoline instead of a glorified hammock.
They unearthed food and drink, having a quick lunch before they made a nest of towels over the netting. She pulled off her cover-up and dropped it on the bench then crawled out into the middle to stretch out on her belly. “Oil me up?” She peeked up at him from her stacked forearms and caught the smirk tipping his lips up.
The tie of her bikini loosened. She hissed as a trail of warm oil slipped down her spine. Simon’s large, lightly callused fingertips worked the suntan oil in slowly and methodically. Along her shoulders and arms, down her back. He paid special attention to the sides under her arms. She rose up onto her forearms and tipped his aviators down as he cupped her breasts.
He slicked the oil over her nipples and massaged it in, rolling her nipples between his fingers and plucking. She shifted restlessly, but he didn’t seem inclined to do anything more than work her chest over until every inch was covered. He slipped up to her neck and then back down, but always kept her breasts his focus.
His hip leaned against hers, but that was the only part of him beyond his hands that touched her. The water sloshed and kicked under them as they drifted on th
e waves. His attention was gently lulling her into sighing out little moans. She whispered his name and tried to roll over, but he held her still. Forever tugging at the tips of her breasts, cupping them and lightly massaging, but nothing else.
Just when she thought she’d scream with frustration, he slipped around her back and paid the same attention to her lower back and above her bikini bottoms. He started off small. Just the tips of his fingers under the material, then slowly, he dug deeper to the rounded cheeks. He separated her cheeks and slid the oil over her skin.
When the ties loosened there too, she let out a soft groan. Part of her wanted to give back the slow, soft massage, but every part of her felt weighted down. She let him part her legs and curled her fingers into the towels as he poured oil down the small of her back.
She hissed as it slipped between her cheeks. He followed it down with his thumb and she tensed as he skimmed his fingertip over the rim. But he didn’t stop there. He arrowed down until the oil slipped between her lips.
His intense massage moved on to the backs of her thighs and every damn inch of her ass. She opened her thighs wider of her own accord as he deliberately rubbed and stroked every part of her except her pussy.
He moved behind her, between her legs and smoothed up and over her calves to her thighs. His remarkably strong fingers pushed and worked her over until she was one, massive throbbing bit of insanity.
“Simon,” she groaned when his fingers tripped over the oversensitized tissues of her pussy, but didn’t stop. Finally, he curved his hands around the fullest part of her ass and his thumbs plotted a course along the skin between her ass and thigh and then slid between her legs.
She sobbed as he tucked the pads of each thumb inside and moved forward. Full of him and ready to scream, she lifted to give him more access. She was dripping from the oil and her own wetness, and if Simon didn’t do something, she was going to scream.
He moaned and she rocked against the netting, her fingers twisting in the holes. Anything to ease the insanity driving into her with each rocking motion of the boat and his fingers. He used the nail of his thumb to tweak the top of her clit and she groaned out his name.
He slid one thumb back to her ass and used his knuckle to circle her clit, then turned his fingers and filled her with two fingers, then three. He moved them, but it wasn’t enough. She writhed under him.
“Let me come. God, you’re killing me.” The swamping orgasm hovered at the fringes of her brain and her body, threatening to drive her insane. His fingers were relentless. He opened her wider, pushed for more and she swore at him. She stared down at the water below her and couldn’t concentrate on anything but how full she was, though she knew that she’d be even better if he just covered her.
If he used his cock to fill her up so good.
She’d never been this wanton and crazy for sex until Simon. It drove her as crazy as it thrilled her. She loved that he could make her feel this alive. Except when he withheld. Then she wanted to kill him.
How did he have the strength to hold back?
He turned his hand and used the tips of his fingers to strum her into a frenzy. Her clit was so big and so sensitive she couldn’t breathe around it. Finally, he straddled her thighs and he panted above her. The blunt end of his cock teased her entrance and she pushed back.
“Yes. Finally, yes.”
His thumb slid up further between her cheeks and he pulsed against the rim until the tip of his thumb slipped inside her. Her pussy already so swollen and so sensitive, she shuddered as he lightly scratched over her lower back.
She nodded. “Yes. Please, anything. Just let me come.”
He snapped his hips forward and his thumb slid inside of her to the knuckle. The oil helping him to stretch her. He shushed her and she tried to relax around the invasion, but her body was on overdrive.
Her thighs shook and he drove his cock deeper into her, his thumb lightly playing over the other, more intimate tissues. She’d never wanted to try anal before, but nothing seemed to be off-limits with this man.
She wanted to know everything. But she needed to go over. She was there, right there but she couldn’t find the release she craved. Finally, she slipped her hand between her thighs and felt him filling her. The shaft of his cock buzzed along her fingers as she found her clit.
She widened her fingers and brushed his balls as they slapped against her. His breathing went harsh and she did it again, then grazed his shaft. Now she understood. Pushing back the pleasure to make your partner crazy…there was a power in it.
He pulled out and bumped along her hood with the head of his cock and she shivered. The pressure led her back to touching herself. She pushed him back inside of her then rubbed her clit. So slick and slippery with oil and herself.
The pain of the pleasure made her back off, but Simon wasn’t having any of it. He snapped his hips into her and his thumb pushed deeper until she was nothing but one huge nerve. She tried to get up on her knees, to get away from the searing pleasure. She arched up onto her forearms and pulled herself forward with the netting. He followed.
They moved all the way up to the deck and she finally was able to get onto her knees. His thumb slid free and he held onto the edge as he drove into her. Impossibly deep and God, it felt so fucking good. Her head spun with it and she could only hope they truly were alone out in the water because she must’ve sounded like she was being murdered.
But it was only her pussy being utterly possessed by him. He rose behind her and held onto her hips. She replaced his hold on the deck and pushed back on him. His name was a prayer and a curse until finally the blue skies and thrashing water below them fell away. Until there was nothing but silence as she became the eye of their own personal storm.
When she was aware again, she was curled into herself and Simon was wrapped around her, his cock still lodged inside of her, her body still pulsing around him. He’d tucked his chin into her shoulder and made light shushing sounds. She reached back and caressed his face.
“So much. Always so much with you,” she whispered.
How could she not have seen it wasn’t just the sex that took her over? It was also the absolute trust she handed him. That was why it was always so good between them. The trust that had been blooming out of love. From the music that had connected them first, and now to the physical and emotional pieces that fit together like she’d been made for him.
She turned in his arms and curled her legs around his hips, turning him until she straddled him. “I couldn’t feel more for you if I tried, Simon. Do you know that?”
His silvery-blue eyes blazed. He tried to look away, but she cupped his face.
“I know you don’t trust it yet, but it’s true. I love you too, Simon. Not because you’re broken and healing in here.” She brushed her fingers over his neck and around the Adam’s apple that was so close to his abused vocal chords. “There’s no pity inside me.” She moved her hand down to his chest. “Because of here.” She rolled her hips so that his half-hard dick was there against her lips. “Because you make me feel love and understand it more than I ever have. Even if half of it is still a mystery to me.”
Rearing up, he wrapped his arms around her middle and crushed her to his chest. His mouth was on hers and the kisses that had been missing from before were there now. Every corner of her mouth was infused with him and the melon and strawberries they’d had for lunch.
It wasn’t whiskey-laced Simon.
It was Simon-laced Simon.
And she loved every part of him and this moment.
Chapter Twelve
The boat rocked lightly, and the splash of water soaked the towel beneath them. He tipped his hat back off his face. They’d been lazily drifting since their little interlude. He’d been loathe to move. Margo and her sweet, romantic self was a rarity and he didn’t want to break the spell.
But the clouds above them were a little ominous.
He slid his hand down her arm and scratched lightly. She made a c
ute little moaning sound and turned into his arms, settling her cheek on his chest.
Cuddling in the post coital glow with a woman had never been a hardship for him. He liked the weight of one on him or snuggled up against him, but Margo was a whole different animal. He’d assumed she would be the opposite in every way.
She never seemed to want him in her space when they were doing the benefits outside the bus thing, but in his bed? She was an octopus.
And he fucking loved it.
Each of them ended up tangled up on or around the other at all times. Maybe later in their relationship they wouldn’t be, but he kinda doubted it. But they were still new in the sleeping together department. Not fucking—they knew how to do that. The closeness thing was something he could get used to.
A little too much.
She slid her knee up his thigh and rubbed lightly. He groaned as her naked breast shifted against his skin. She jumped and touched her face. “Oh, crap.” She wiggled out of his arms and up onto the deck.
He rolled up to sit and watch her and her glorious breasts rush to the front of the boat. She tipped her head and gave him her get moving glare.
His gaze drifted down to her unencumbered breasts and she swore. “Now is not the time for you to be ogling me.”
As far as he was concerned it was always the time, but he rolled to his knees and climbed out of their little nest. The rain started in earnest and the waves between the pontoons got choppier by the moment.
She dug into their bag and put his wife beater on. He’d never seen her move so fast before. She went from the front to the back of the boat in a flash. He heard the winch motor and suddenly they were released back into the current.
“Untie the sail. We need to get back to the dock before this gets worse.”
A wave batted at the starboard pontoon and knocked him off the deck and back into the netting.
Son of a bitch.
He scrambled back up and held onto the bench to get to the sail. The removable crank rolled off the box it had been resting in. When he reached to get it, he heard her voice.
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