by Mason, Marie
I heard a noise and realized Cage was coming back up. It took an effort, but I didn’t turn around and look.
“Stop pouting, Abby. I’ll let you suck my cock later.” A hard tug on my hair accompanied the words that made me stutter.
“I, I …” I turned around and realize he had a picnic basket in his hand and an irresistible smile on his face. I remained strong and didn’t return it. Taking my hand again, he led me to the front of the boat.
I followed him, weighing my options. I could continue to pout and make the day miserable for both of us. Or get over the fact that he had rejected me. It was a whole lot easier to get over that when he was acting like he wanted to be with me. “So, are you going to strap me to the front of the boat and play king of the world?” I wasn’t sure if he’d get the reference to Titanic. He didn’t look like a chick-flick kind of guy.
He flashed another smile. “No, but if you pull shit like that again, I’ll put you over my knee and nail that pretty ass.”
My mood immediately improved. He thought my jiggly, not so little ass was pretty. Plus, the thought of me bent over anywhere with Cage behind me sent fissures of pleasure shooting through my pussy.
Within minutes, he’d spread out a large blanket he’d retrieved from storage under the benches that lined the boat and was unpacking the basket. I saw immediately that he’d gone to the tiny deli on the other side of the island. It wasn’t as popular with the in-crowd since it didn’t offer the pretentious fancy fare as some of the other restaurants. You ordered your food and ate it at one of the weathered tables in front of the small shack or did what Cage had done and ordered it to go. It had good wholesome food that a big girl like myself appreciated. If I had to eat one more spear of asparagus I thought I would die. That’s all they served at the places Horace had been taking me and my mother.
I knew my mother didn’t care about those types of restaurants. She was more enamored with her dining partner than her surroundings. I sighed, taking the sandwich Cage handed me. I realized that my mother really did love Horace. I was happy for her and sad all at the same time.
“What was that for?”
I pulled myself away from my thoughts and looked over at my boating companion. He sat cross-legged on the blanket, a large sandwich in his hand. I look at the food he’d bought and realized he’d included most of my favorites. No asparagus in sight. We had overstuffed roast beef sandwiches—two for him, one for me. Homemade chips and potato salad that looked yummy.
I picked up a chip. “Nothing. I was just thinking how happy my mother is.”
“And that makes you sad?” He took a big bite of his sandwich and swallowed before I could answer him.
“No, of course not.” I took another chip. They were delicious. “She deserves it.”
“But you’re worried it might not last?”
“Maybe.”
We stopped talking and focused on our food. There was a slight breeze off the water that kept the air moving and kept the sun from baking us alive. Soon, though, I was feeling the effects of the sun and realized I needed to put on more sunblock. I started to get up.
Cage had already packed up the leftover food and returned it to the galley. He’d carried my tote down there when we’d first boarded. Now he was stretched out on the blanket, his head cushioned by his massive arms as he basked in the sun.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to get my sunblock.”
“I’ll get it.” He rose to his feet with one smooth motion. I’d heard the expression before—poetry in motion—but hadn’t truly known what it meant until I’d seen Cage. He moved with a grace that reminded me of a cat in the wild.
In minutes, he was back. He knelt down beside me and suddenly I was nervous. I reached for the bottle, but he held it away.
“Take it off.”
Goosebumps ghosted over my flesh. He’d put his sunglasses back on to hide that beautiful blue color. Not being able to see his eyes made me feel even more vulnerable. I reached for the lotion again. “I can do it myself.”
“No doubt. But I can do it better.”
He licked his lips and suddenly I knew we were talking about more than spreading lotion over my body. Why did the image of him between my legs, touching me, licking me, suddenly form?
Feeling his eyes on me, I took off my cover up and put it to the side. I realized I needed to thank my stepfather for the clothes he had provided me for this vacation, especially the well-fitting bikini. Usually the size of my large breasts made most tight fitting tops I wore look a little slutty. Not this top. It contoured my breasts into two beautiful mounds of flesh. The same with the bottoms. They were cut high enough to prevent a muffin top from forming, holding in my stomach until I felt like I had an actual shape.
“Now lay on your stomach.”
I obeyed him. What choice did I have? I wanted the guy. His wish and all that. I stretched my arms over my head, offering myself to him. I felt him move and his weight settled on the back of my thighs. He straddled my body. The sun disappeared when he leaned over me. The cool lotion clung to his palms as he touched me. He gave my arms long, slow strokes. Down from the tops of my shoulders, then from my elbows to my wrists. As he moved, the hard strength of his thighs pressed into me. He poured more lotion into his hands and lifted up my arms, covering the underside as well.
Next, I felt his hands on the back of my neck. Like the masseuse had the one time I’d experienced a professional massage, he kneaded my neck. His long fingers slid beneath me to touch the collarbone on each side of my throat. More lotion, more stroking.
Between the heat of the sun, the coolness of the lotion and the softness of his touch, I found myself relaxing, almost tumbling into sleep. I grumbled a protest when I felt his weight shift, indicating he was stopping. I wanted to beg him to continue. It felt so good, so right. I let the sleep dancing on the edges of my consciousness filter in.
All thoughts of sleep were swept away when his hands jerked my legs open, his fingers now hard and compelling on my ankles.
“Cage!” I realized I was screaming his name a lot today.
He didn’t answer, but I heard a laugh in the grunt he gave. He spread a thick line of cool lotion from my ankle to the edge of my bikini bottoms. I groaned when his hands cupped my right foot and he started rubbing the arch of my foot. Was there a direct line to my womb? Because my loins were clenching like crazy. He did the same thing to my other foot and I thought I might come from that alone.
Next, he nudged my legs farther apart. I prayed he couldn’t see the wet spot on my bottoms. I was embarrassed to admit my pussy was wet. Wet from the interrupted blow job and now from the sensual touch of his hands on my feet.
His fingers sank into the muscles of my calves. He moved his hands up, stroking across the back of my knees. He rolled the heel of his hand over the back of my thighs, pushing down before sliding to the side. Then he started all over again on the other leg, spreading the lotion and massaging my tense muscles. How could I not be tense? He was stroking my body from my feet to my … pussy. Oh, heavens, his hands were moving closer to the juncture of my thighs, his thumbs digging into that soft layer of my inner thigh.
“Wider, baby, spread your legs wider.” Like a puppet, I did his bidding.
The next glide of his hands was slower, softer. Up my calves, a light stroke over the bend of my knee. His thumbs traveled all the way up the inside of my legs. This time he didn’t stop at the restrictive elastic band of my bottoms. His thumb pressed into my slit. I tried to close my legs, but he was between them, his big body holding them wide.
“You’re wet, Abby.”
Of course I’m wet, I wanted to snap at him. Your damn hands are magic. I didn’t say the words out loud, but I was sure my groan as he touched me again said it all.
I whimpered when he stopped and I felt him move away. I didn’t have to stay still for long. He flipped me over. I opened my eyes, my gaze unfocused from the languid state I found myself in a
nd the brightness of the day. He moved and became a dark shadow between me and the sun overhead. He put more lotion on his hands and started at my neck, stroking it into my skin where my top didn’t cover. I let my eyes close, losing myself in the sensation of his touch.
There was a lot of bare skin on the top and sides of my bikini bra and he did a very, very thorough job to make sure I was protected. Then he moved to my stomach, long strokes sideways across my soft belly.
At first, I wanted to protest. Any woman with a few extra pounds knows what I’m talking about here. The stomach was no man’s land. For some reason, having a rounded belly was the bane of my curvy existence. I didn’t mind my thick thighs or rounded ass or even the less than firm skin of my upper arms. But my stomach …
Suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter as much since it was Cage who was touching me. Cage, who I knew desired me. Had proven he found me attractive.
He stopped for more lotion.
“Open your eyes, beautiful.” I did, blinking slowly. He’d removed his glasses and his blue gaze bored down on me. The air around us seemed to thicken even though nothing about the weather had changed. His fingers eased beneath the bottom of my bikini top. I hissed out a breath when his lotion-covered palms cupped my breasts. My hands gripped his forearms. As we stared into each other’s eyes, he kneaded and squeezed, hardening my nipples with the press of his palms against my breasts. Slowly, he reached behind me and undid the top. He eased it away until I lay before him topless and breathless.
“So pretty.” His face was still a study in seriousness as he pinched my nipples between his thumb and finger. My back arched off the boat’s hull. The movement pressed my lower stomach into his crotch. A crotch that was as hard and I’m sure as achy as my nipples. Instead of taking them in his mouth as I was silently begging him to do, he stopped touching me and moved to my legs.
With quick, efficient motions, he lathered the front of my legs in sunblock. As he knelt back on his heels, I thought he was stopping. A whine that sounded like a needy puppy escaped my throat. I bit down on my lower lip and looked down my body, past my heaving breasts to see him sitting there, looking at me.
“Cage?” My voice was a whisper of a question. He’d reduced me to a ball of mush that could only form one word sentences.
He continued to look at me, his gaze traveling up and down my body again and again until all my self-consciousness tried to resurface. When I made to cover myself, he gripped my knees, and shook his head no. My arms fell back to my sides. He moved, his hands finding the waistband of my only remaining piece of clothing and slid the bottoms of my bikini out of the way. My breathing accelerated as I thought about what was coming next. I couldn’t wait to feel his huge cock sliding into my wetness.
I laid my head back, waiting for the heaven, I knew he could give me. He parted my legs and spread them wide. Eagerly, I moved them, trying to help him. I drew them up until my heels touched my ass. “So pretty,” he repeated again right before a thick finger stroked up the center of my pussy.
“Oh, god,” I groaned. His fingertip lingered on my clit.
I felt him move and clenched in anticipation. He was going to fuck me. Finally. The last twenty minutes had been a study in torture. My body jerked in surprise when, instead of feeling the broad, thick head of his cock separating my slick folds, I felt the suction of his mouth as it closed over my clit and he worked me over with his tongue. Suck, stroke, swirl.
One large hand spread over my stomach and he pushed down, holding me in place. It was a good thing he did. I wanted to escape at the same time I wanted to move closer. Since I couldn’t move closer, the want had me moving my pelvis as best I could. It was somewhere between the rotation and thrusts of hips a stripper or pole dancer would make. It was crude but effective I realized when he started sucking harder. In minutes, we both knew that wasn’t enough. He let go of me with his mouth and took his thumbs to spread my flesh apart until my nub was exposed to the warmth of his breath. Then he was licking me.
I’d never had a guy go down on me even though I had given one or two blow jobs. I’d watched porn, despite what I might have told Cage earlier—hey, a girl has to learn somewhere—and knew this guy had serious skills. Not only was his tongue broad and thick, he was going down on me like a cat lapping up a bowl of cream.
Cream. I giggled in my near euphoric hysteria.
I squeaked when his tongue ventured further down than it had, lingering over the pucker of my other hole. Oh, the things I was learning about my body at the hands of my stepbrother.
His hands moved to my thighs, squeezing me hard before he turned his attention back to where I wanted, needed, it most. He burrowed his face into my pussy, thrusting his tongue into my channel as he opened me wide. I was about to go over the edge and I moaned.
He moved again and this time I did feel his cock sliding through my juices. He kept sliding and sliding until our bodies touch. He fisted my hair in one hand and looked down at me as he pulled out and slammed back home again. “I’m going to fuck you raw, Abby. Fuck. You. Raw.”
Two thrusts into his savage possession, I felt the strike of lightning inside me and my release burned through me. My pussy clenched around his cock, pulling at him with each stroke. It kept my body shuddering with my release.
With one last powerful thrust and a ferocious roar that I’m sure could be heard throughout the bay, he came inside me. I felt the thick, wet spurts of his seed, jetting inside me.
He fell forward, catching his weight with his hands as our breathing slowed. Still inside me, he rolled us until we were lying side by side, my hips still cradling his body. A cloud moved overhead and blocked out the sun. We lay there, randomly touching each other until our passion eased. More clouds joined the first, but we didn’t leave, not yet. We made love again, this time slow and easy, just like the storm clouds gathering.
I hoped that wasn’t an omen of things to come.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ABBY
I awakened the next morning feeling under the weather. I didn’t know if I had gotten too much sun or too much sex. Lazily, I reached over hoping Cage hadn’t left yet. This would be only the second night he’d spent in my bed. He had a tendency to leave before dawn. Tonight had been different. He’d stayed long after the sun had come up, but he’d still left. But not after hours of being with me. We’d talked in between the loving. He wasn’t the most sharing of individuals, but I felt we’d shared something of our lives and ourselves besides our bodies.
I yawned and stretched, grimacing when I felt the pull of my sore muscles—inside and out. Tossing aside the cover, I headed toward the bathroom. Maybe I’d get lucky and Cage would return from the gym early. I now knew he used the cool morning hours to jog along the beach and work out at a gym he’d found toward the outskirts of town. It was one the locals used.
I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the people who lived in this resort town. I knew how I would feel living here year round. It would suck. Some of the people who came here treated the residents like shit. A lot of my so-called friends included.
I turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up. Using the bathroom, I realized it was about time for that dreaded monthly visitor. I liked to think of myself as an easy going individual—most days. I was an introvert so many perceived my shyness as being stuck-up or bitchy. Most days, I didn’t take the time to correct their misimpression. Why should it? It was usually the bitches who I didn’t fall at their feet, uber impressed by their pedigrees who thought that. The opinion of those people didn’t matter.
I tossed my clothes into the hamper, remembering the day I’d walked in on Cage and reprimanded him about throwing his discarded clothes around. I had learned since then that Cage was somewhat of a neat freak and would have no doubt picked up after himself that day.
Stepping beneath the spray, I let the hot water ease my sore muscles. Lying on the deck of a boat—umm, fucking on the deck of a boat—resulted in some interesting
bumps and bruises. Leaning forward, I placed my hands on the shower wall, sticking my lower back under the water. There was a rainfall head and a couple of jet sprays on the sides that hit me in just the right spots.
“Stay just like that, sweetheart.”
I jerked my head up to discover a grinning Cage in the shower with me. How had I not heard him?
The steam of the shower wrapped around him like a lover’s hand. My gaze took him in and I realized I wanted him even though I wasn’t feeling my best. How could I not?
He was so damn fine.
His shoulders were broad, the muscles well defined. A light mat of dark hair covered his chest, trailing down his stomach to surround his dick. Which was jutting out from his body. Ready, willing, and able. He didn’t shave down there, just kept himself nice and tidy. Much like I did.
His large hands spread across the more than generous flesh of my ass, making me moan. Somehow I felt small when compared to his size. Feeling the length of him pressed between my thighs, I realized he was damn big all over. He covered me with his body. Reaching above me, he entwined our fingers even as he pressed his body closer to mine.
He leaned down and kissed the top of my shoulder, nibbling his way down. He went as far as he could without breaking the hold on my hands. He did the same to the other side. My body arched into his touch.
“Keep your hands up,” he whispered in my ear as he took one of his hands away. It dropped to cup my breast. He squeezed it, applying a delicious pressure somewhere between pain and pleasure. That sensation continued as he tweaked my nipple between his thumb and finger, pulling and twisting. I moaned, wanting—needing—more.
He’d come to know me, and my needs, so well in such a short amount of time. Giving my nipple one last sharp pull and twist, he moved his touch down my body. His touch on my stomach barely registered today. I didn’t care anymore that I wasn’t that tall, thin, athletic girl who wore a size two. I was in the arms of a man who, at least by his actions, told me that he wanted me. Wanted to fuck the hell out of me. I shivered, remembering the feel of his big cock inside me. I wanted it again.
