Past Midnight (South Island PD Book 2)

by Ranae Rose

  She pulled on his belt, momentarily tightening it around his hips before the buckle slid free. He tensed as she unbuttoned and unzipped him, barely pausing before she hooked a thumb in the waistband of his underwear.

  “You looked … uncomfortable.”

  “I was.” Understatement of the damned century.

  She finally touched him, slowly sliding her hand against his shaft, wrapping her fingers around it and closing it in a fist.

  He moaned.

  She sighed. “You feel … you look … so nice.”

  She exhaled before he could reply, her gaze darting to his. “That sounded dumb. I haven’t done this in a while and you’re – well, you look really good.”

  “It didn’t sound dumb. In fact, I’d pay good money to have a recording of you saying that to me.”

  He interpreted her rush of breath as laughter.

  “Peyton, you look better than nice. Better than good.” He kept rubbing slow circles over her clit. “I’m so hard for you it’s all I can do not to throw you down right here and ruin this in a split second.”

  He was serious. The temptation to insert himself between her soft thighs and thrust balls-deep into her pussy was a siren song, toying with his sense of restraint.

  He should’ve taken her to his bedroom then and there, but impatience won out.

  There, hardly six feet from the front door, he stripped her all the way out of her dress.

  Her bra matched her panties and was smooth against his palms, except for where her nipples pressed hard against the cups.

  His mouth flooded at the sight of them, and that was before he even unclasped the bra and slid the straps down her arms.

  She trembled slightly, as if the AC was up too high. The tight, pebbled brown circles around her stiff nipples reinforced the idea.

  “Are you cold?”

  He stared at the sloping curves and rounded bottoms of her breasts and didn’t have to look to know he’d leaked a little pre-cum just inches above her fist.

  “No,” she said. “Just … ready.”

  It was all he needed to hear. He’d been ready before they’d even left the café.

  Some part of him – the painfully hard part currently wrapped in her hand – had been ready the moment he’d met her.

  He pulled his hand away from her clit and cupped her breasts, unable to resist. They filled his palms, and that was saying something – his hands dwarfed the average man’s.

  Desire weighed him down like a box of rocks; he didn’t want to leave the spot where they were standing. With her so close, his bedroom seemed miles away.

  She sighed, and that gave him the willpower he needed to move.

  His bedroom was a study in simplicity: white walls and a blue comforter over a queen-sized bed. He slept alone, but the queen mattress wasn’t a luxury; his frame demanded it. The carpet was grey and his dresser was one he’d owned for at least twenty years. He always left his duty belt on top of it, and that was the most personal touch in the room.

  Did Peyton even notice her surroundings? She was looking at him like he was looking at her: like she wasn’t seeing anything else in the world.

  Her undivided attention combined with the look in her eyes made his blood run hotter and hotter, until he started unbuttoning his shirt, unable to stand it anymore.

  She’d left her dress, panties and bra in a silky pile on the living room floor and didn’t have a stitch of clothing left to take off. Instead, she helped him, brushing his hands aside and deftly pushing his shirt buttons through their holes.

  His shirt was gone in seconds, and then she slid her hands beneath his undershirt.

  It was gone quickly, too.

  She sucked in a breath. “Wow. You’re in great shape.”

  “So are you.”

  “Not like you. I don’t work out like I wish I did – I’m so busy with the shop.”

  “You lucked out with the genetic lottery, then. You have a body people would kill for, Peyton.”

  She smiled.

  If she had any insecurities, he didn’t have a clue what they were. He was damned sure they didn’t make any sense, though. She was perfect.

  She slid her hands down his chest, all the way to his hips. His pants still hung loose there, barely clinging to him.

  She shoved them down, and his underwear too.

  He loved the way she looked at him, but he couldn’t just stand there and stare back at her. As fantastic as she looked, just looking wasn’t enough. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her close.

  The edge of the bed brushed his thigh, and the temptation was irresistible. When she leaned into him, he pulled her down onto the mattress.

  Her body felt so damned good against his, no matter how they made contact. Her limbs tangling with his wasn’t coordinated or smooth, but it was the hottest thing he’d experienced in recent memory.

  Maybe ever. Heat and pressure flared at the base of his spine, inciting a full body ache. Not pain, just desire so intense it was almost the same thing.

  As he sat on the edge of the bed, she settled over his lap, straddling his thighs as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They were so close that he could hear her breathing faster. Hell, he could feel it.

  And he could imagine how fast her heart was beating, because his was too. Anticipation avalanched over him as she shifted in his lap, wriggling closer.

  The shaft of his cock pressed against her belly, the head skimming over her navel and rubbing the silk-smooth skin above.

  The pleasure wasn’t limited to his dick; it was a full-body buzz, one that awoke every nerve ending he had. His skin prickled, and his balls were so tight she might as well have been holding them in her hand, squeezing.

  The lust he felt for her was a vise-grip. He was lost to it, and for a split second, he grappled with the urge to lift her up by her hips and lower her onto his hard cock.

  But he couldn’t, because the condoms were out in the living room. He’d left them there after they’d walked through the door, before he’d undressed her.

  He groaned.

  “What?” Her breath rushed against the hollow of his throat.

  “I left the condoms with your dress. Hold on; I’ll be right back.”

  He lifted her by her hips, but not like he’d fantasized. Instead, he sat her down on the bed.

  Leaving her there felt wrong; no man in his right mind would’ve left her alone in bed, unless he’d had to.

  He took a last lingering look at her sitting there, her skin and sandy hair practically glowing against the dark blue comforter.

  Turning, he got the box of condoms and returned quickly, tearing the top open and pulling one from the strip.

  He felt her gaze on him when he pinched the tip and began to roll it down over the head of his erection.

  When he looked up, their gazes didn’t meet. She was watching his hands, oblivious.

  Slowly, he rolled the condom down over his shaft.

  She barely blinked as he let his fingers glide down the sides. They were marbled with thick veins, and they throbbed as he watched her watch him.

  He couldn’t wait to watch his shaft disappear into her.

  Once the condom was on, he joined her on the bed, still smoldering with the heat her small display of voyeurism had kindled.

  With protection in place, he was free to finally explore her like he’d been longing to. His mouth watered as he let his gaze drop to her breasts and their dark, tight peaks. If the taste of her destroyed his sense of restraint, that’d be okay now.

  She kissed him, and he got lost in the sweet taste of her mouth for a while. Every stroke of her tongue fanned the flames licking up and down his spine, making him feel as if he was literally burning with lust.

  Eventually, she lay back on the bed and he laid down with her, cupping one of her breasts.

  When he broke their kiss, she sighed.

  When he brushed her nipple with his lips, she gasped.

  The sounds she made w
hen he drew it into his mouth were indescribable. Low and breathy, shuddering. It must have all felt as good to her as it tasted to him.

  And the taste was fucking amazing. Her skin was sweet and earthy, warm in his mouth. Feeling her arch beneath him as he sucked that stiff peak was something straight out of a fantasy, one he easily could’ve come to even without her there.

  But she was there, and he was going to come deep inside her. The thought made him harder than he’d ever been.

  He sucked the other one too, first licking it lightly, teasing her until she arched her back, pressing it into his mouth.

  She gripped his shoulders, her nails raking his skin.

  He slid a hand between her thighs and touched her clit. It was still swollen and hot. Her pussy lips were even hotter. She was so slick and so ready, just like she’d said.

  And she wanted him so badly that she grabbed his hand and pressed it against her pussy, causing two of his fingertips to delve inside.

  She moaned, so loud it sent a frisson down his spine.

  She was louder than he’d anticipated. Even hotter, too. She wasn’t the woman he’d thought he’d met at the lingerie boutique with the broken window.

  He was only now realizing how much more there was to her than what his first impressions had revealed. It was exhilarating to think that this was just the beginning of getting to really know her.

  He released her nipple, then pulled his fingertips out of her pussy and wrapped his hand around his cock. He wouldn’t wait any longer. She was ready, and so was he.

  He was already above her, already between her thighs.

  She kept still as he pressed the head of his dick against her entrance, pausing for half a second before slowly thrusting into her.

  Her intake of breath was deep and nearly silent. He saw her chest rise beneath him and finally heard her moan when he’d buried himself all the way to the balls.

  He understood; the feeling took his breath away too. She was hot and tight, but more than that, her body responded to his. Her pussy tightened and pulsed, like she was trying to draw him deeper in.

  It was mind-altering, a pleasure he felt all the way down in his bones. A moan tore out of him, raw and deep. He’d wanted her, and now that he had her, he wanted her even more.

  Part of him wanted to thrust hard into her until he came. Mostly, though, he wanted to feel her come beneath him – around him.

  She’d been close in the car; he’d do whatever it took now to make sure she came.

  He rocked in and halfway out of her, making the mattress shake. Their motion made it all the way to the wall, causing the headboard to rap against it.

  He’d have to fix that later. For now, there was no stopping. Not with her arching and breathing harder beneath him, raking his shoulders with her nails again.

  “Does this feel good to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there something else you’d like me to do? Like—”

  “No. Your body is rubbing against my clit when you push into me. It – it feels so good. Just stay close.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, as if to hold him there.

  He wasn’t going anywhere. Close to her was exactly where he wanted to be. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, her nipples still hard. And then there was the heat of her breath and the smell of her hair: tropical fruit and flowers from her shampoo, and a salty freshness from their walk on the beach.

  When he’d first held her hand on the Blue Mile, he hadn’t known he’d end up here with her pussy tightening around his cock and her arms wrapped around his neck. He’d felt the mutual attraction between them though, as strong as a riptide.

  By the end of the walk, they’d both been sucked in. Anticipation of this moment had raced up and down his spine, filling his mind with visons of this moment. He’d felt the wide-open possibility, had known that the things he craved with her could be more than just fantasy.

  “Elijah…” The sound of his name on her lips heightened his senses, doubling his pleasure. Wrapped tightly in her body, his cock felt more sensitive than it ever had before.

  “Peyton.” Saying her name was a pleasure in and of itself.

  Saying it and hearing her sigh in response was on a whole other level, something he’d remember for a long time.

  He flexed his hips, hard, remembering what she’d said about his body rubbing her clit. He could feel her heat, a light sheen of sweat forming between their hips.

  “I’m close,” she said.

  “Do you want me to touch you?”

  He didn’t want to pull out of her body, but there were ways he could stay inside her and still have access to her clit.

  “I don’t want you to stop. I want you in me when I come.”

  “Here.” He slipped his hands under her shoulders and rolled, so that she sat on top of him, legs spread across his hips.

  For a second, he forgot what he’d been about to do, or why. She looked so hot straddling him like that, her hair a tangling halo around her shoulders and her body on bare display, all the way down to where her pussy clenched around the base of his cock.

  She rocked slightly and moaned.

  Jesus…

  He pressed his fingertips against her clit and began a slow massage.

  Her shoulders flexed forward, but she tipped her head back while bracing herself with her hands on his hips. He didn’t know where to look and wished he could look at all of her at once – freeze the moment in his mind and lust over every little detail of how she looked riding his cock.

  Her nipples were still hard. He rubbed one with his free hand, making the dark skin around it pebble.

  She groaned, and her pussy seized up tight around his dick.

  The pleasure was a hot, crushing wave, and it wasn’t just physical. The high of knowing he was making her come was just as real.

  Her walls relaxed a little, then tightened again. As she came, she pulsed around his shaft, almost but not quite matching the rhythm of his fingers against her clit.

  She couldn’t seem to catch her breath as her pussy pulled him closer to climax with every contraction.

  She gasped when she finished coming, griping his hips hard.

  Her nails bit into his skin as he thrust, letting the tension that’d been building at the base of his spine flood through his body and into the tight sheath her pussy created around his cock.

  He poured himself into her with several hard thrusts, thrusts that shook her from the inside out and made her gasp again.

  When he’d ridden every heart-pounding second of the orgasm and his rigid dick was left too rawly sensitive to continue, he finally stopped.

  She didn’t let go of his hips until he lifted her by her own, placing her by his side on the mattress, where she melted into a heap of bare limbs, sandy hair and those blue, blinking eyes.

  Despite what they’d just done, he stayed hard, his cock throbbing between his hips, where she’d left eight little half moon dents in his skin.

  The sight of them added a sense of reality to the hot, thoughtless haze that’d cloaked the room and filled the space between his ears.

  He looked at Peyton, who was practically glowing in the light of the cheap overhead fixture. She looked even better than she had when he’d first met her, even better than she had when he’d first stripped her naked. A fresh, overwhelming wave of admiration hit him.

  It was like desire, but not quite – they’d done what they’d both longed to do. He wasn’t ready to do it again, and if the slight tremor in her gorgeous thighs was any indication, neither was she.

  But what he felt when he looked at her was just as strong as the lust that’d driven them into each other’s arms.

  She didn’t say anything, and neither did he. But he couldn’t look away from her, either.

  “Wow,” she said eventually, with a smile, and that was all.

  He made a sound of agreement low in his throat. He wanted to say more, but there were no words: it’d been that good.

&nbs
p; He laid a hand on her shoulder. Her skin was so soft it almost didn’t seem real.

  She closed her eyes and relaxed against the blue cotton comforter.

  If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought she was asleep.

  It seemed right, somehow – the idea of her sleeping in his bed. And it sparked a fresh wave of longing, one that didn’t have much to do with what they’d just done.

  It was different, something he’d never experienced before, at least not at this level of intensity.

  He’d just had her, and yet, he still wanted her.

  He finally removed the condom, which was near to bursting with what she’d drawn out of him. Rising from the bed, he walked across the hall to the bathroom to throw it out.

  When he returned, she was lying curled in the same position on his bed, the ends of her hair fanned across a pillow.

  He took the opportunity to study her – every perfect curve and delicious inch of her body. Now that he took the time to look, he realized her skin wasn’t tanned at all. There were no lines across her back or shoulders from bikini straps, and her heart-shaped ass wasn’t any paler than her rounded thighs. Her skin was the same shade all over: a light, golden olive.

  When was the last time she’d let herself enjoy the island’s sunshine?

  He started to ask her, but then he realized: she was asleep.

  The rise and fall of her side was steady and slow, and when he said her name, she only shifted slightly, causing a lock of sandy hair to fall across her face.

  He brushed it out of the way and tucked it behind her ear.

  She was oblivious.

  He shut off the light and climbed into bed beside her.

  He was aware of the fact that he’d lucked out that night. Who the hell would’ve thought taking her to Rogers’ engagement party could’ve possibly ended like this?

  Still, it didn’t feel strange.

  It just felt good.

  CHAPTER 11

  Peyton woke up at seven am, on the dot. Elijah was already gone.

  She blinked against the neon glow of the alarm clock on top of his dresser, throwing back the blue comforter.

  Her skin pebbled in the chill of the air conditioned room – no surprise, considering that she was naked.