by Poppy Parkes
Leaning my head close to her nether regions, I inhale the musk that’s leaking through the layers of fabric. I slip my fingers between her legs and press upward. She shudders and opens her legs and I confirm what I suspected — the dampness there comes from her, not the rain.
Working more slowly than Tess did, I divest her of her bottoms, helping her to step out of the wet clothing before I turn my attention to her bared pussy.
Her mound is crowned with thick curls as ebony as her eyelashes. I rub my palm up and down her thatch, blood thrumming when she emits another moan, then split her lips with my fingers while I keep the heel of my hand on her clit.
I bend to examine her, drinking in the earthy aroma of her arousal. The insides of her labia are as pink and swollen as her hair is dark. And she’s wet, so goddamn wet. I could bury my face in her crotch and happily smother myself to death there.
But that wouldn’t get her off.
And a woman like Tess deserves that and so much more.
I intend to give it to her.
Spreading her folds to allow me greater access, I stroke her most intimate place with my tongue. I spiral over her clit, dive into her recesses, nudge at her outer folds, then return to her nub. It’s not long before Tess’s shuddering gasps turn into full cries loud enough to be heard outside over the torrential weather.
Not that I care. I’m way past decorum and caring what other people think. All that matters now is Tess and her pleasure.
Holding the tip of my tongue against her button, I thrust three fingers into her crevice.
Her inner walls crumble around my digits in a velvet avalanche, pulsing out the rhythm of her orgasm in time with the mewls scattering from between her lips. I follow the same beat with my tongue and my fingers, breath turning into hungry pants of my own as I watch this glorious woman give herself over to the power of my touch.
A man could get used to this.
Her pussy calms, inner walls releasing their grip on me, and I’m ready to urge her body into a fresh orgasm, already working my tongue over her sensitive nub in new ways.
Tess has other ideas.
“Come here,” she growls, tugging at my rain-soaked jacket.
When a half-naked woman smelling of sex commands you in that tone, eyes hot and hard, you listen. Only a fool wouldn’t.
And I’m no fool.
I climb to my feet, hands on her hips, her belly, her breasts, ready for whatever she demands.
Tess
Crispin isn’t even inside me yet but this is already the hottest fuck of my life.
We’re trapped by the storm that’s battering at the stand’s hatches, our drenched clothes accumulating in a sopping pile on the floor. Just his kisses make my pussy hum. Then he adds his fingers and I become a fucking waterspout in his hands.
I need more.
I need all of him, inside me, now.
Turning around, I rotate my ass against his exposed cock before bending over, arms on the counter, slit ready and waiting.
Crispin doesn’t need any further encouragement.
He’s on me, bending over my back, grappling at my entrance. Then he’s in me, my chosen position allowing him to plumb my deepest depths.
He does not disappoint.
With one smooth stroke, he fills me absolutely. His balls nudge below my opening and his tip touches something so wild and ready that I explode.
My hands grope blindly of their own accord, seeking something, anything to catch hold of as I, writhing, ride out this unexpected orgasm that’s as torrential as the rain outside.
Crispin’s thrusts are gentle and patient after that first one until he feels my spasming insides calm.
Then one of his hands is on my clit and the other grips my hip and he’s sheathing himself to the hilt in my wetness again and again. I struggle to catch my breath, to ground myself enough to meet his every forward movement, but I can’t. I’m too dizzy with the sensation he’s gifting my body.
I don’t mind a bit.
His hands travel from my hip to a breast, sliding between my flesh and the hard counter to massage the blossoming skin there. My nipple contracts at his touch and I shove my upper body forward, pressing into it further.
Crispin folds his body over mine so that his thick, low moans are loud as he breathes them directly into my ear. My skin prickles at the mere sound of his arousal. When he begins to thrust into me all the harder, the music of his ecstasy swirls with the electric sensation he’s sending coursing through my form and, gasping, I come again.
This time he comes with me, tipping over the edge of control and cascading into a cacophony of pure feeling. Our cries are the most beautiful concert I’ve ever heard — or they would be, if I had the clarity of mind to form coherent thought.
But I don’t. My brain is merely a conductor of knowledge that this is the best damn pleasure of my life. Nothing else matters. There is nothing more that I want but this man and his body on mine and in mine, an ouroboros of ecstasy with no beginning and no end.
Crispin
The sound of my phone buzzing from my discarded clothing brings me back to reality, even though all I want to do is stay ensconced in Tess’s flesh until my dick softens and falls from her soft folds.
I withdraw, and the absence of her warmth is a near-physical pain.
But the sound of the ringtone filling up my ears makes me realize how goddamn unprofessional it is to be ploughing my employee at her place of work.
This is over.
It has to be.
It should never have begun.
But all I want is Tess Giordano in my arms until the end of time.
Unfortunately, that’s the one thing that can’t happen between us.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, realizing how fucking lame the words sound considering that I’m uttering them as I re-buckle my pants with shaking hands. “I’m so sorry.” I repeat it again and again like a prayer, like if I just say it enough it’ll make the injustice that I’m perpetrating against Tess go away.
“You’re . . . sorry?” She sounds flabbergasted, and I can’t blame the woman.
I pause in the reassembling of my clothing. “I’m your employer. I’ve taken advantage of you. This shouldn’t have happened, and I regret using you in this way.”
Her gaze narrows. “You regret having sex with me?”
“Yes. Well, no, the sex was amazing. You’re amazing. But the situation is all wrong.” Fuck. I can’t even apologize right.
“The sex was amazing.” She draws near, and even though she’s put her own rain-dampened clothes back on, I swear I can feel the heat radiating from her body. “But I disagree about the situation. It felt pretty damn right.”
I scowl, confused. “I took advantage of my position.”
Tess snorts. “Like that would work on me.”
Snapping my wrinkled suit jacket straight — or straighter, at least — with a wet shake, I sigh, confused. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying that I don’t regret fucking you the way I did.” Her eyes are alight with challenge, but I’m not sure how to rise to it.
“Okay.” I shrug, feeling helpless, caught between my desire for Tess and the fact that I can’t have her because it would be an abuse of my position. “I’m glad, I guess.”
“And,” she continues like she didn’t hear me, “I’ve never had so many orgasms in one lay.”
“Great,” I say weakly.
“Which means you’re special, you dumbass. Special to me, at least.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m special . . . and I’m a dumbass?”
“You will be if you walk out that door and never see me as anything more than an employee,” Tess says, pointing at the stand’s sole entrance.
I know I shouldn’t do this.
I know I should walk away.
But Tess’s words goad me, and instead of putting space between us, I stride to her and clasp her to my body. “Do you mean that?” I growl.
>
“Every syllable.”
“How do you know?” I demand. “How do you know that I’m special?”
“Because it felt special to be with you.” Tess speaks casually, as if she’s not saying everything I didn’t know I need to hear. “I’m no prude. Kind of the opposite. I do what feels good. But you . . .” She gives me an appraising look before continuing. “Let me put it like this. The other guys I’ve been with, they’re cotton candy. And don’t get me wrong, I like cotton candy. It’s fun for a quick sugar high. But you’re cheesecake — heavy and smooth and ultimately satisfying.”
“I’m . . . cheesecake?” I pray to God that I’m following what she’s saying accurately because if I am, it works out staunchly in my favor.
“Yeah. I’m not satiated after cotton candy. I need more. But after cheesecake, I’m golden. Satisfied. Happy, even.” She looks at me through her lashes. “I want to be happy, Crispin.”
It’s the first time she’s said my name and maybe it makes me a bad person but fuck, it’s hot to see those lips form the sounds of my given name. I want to see it happen again. I want to see it every damn day.
And I want to see what else those exquisite lips can do.
When I speak, my voice is thick with desire — not just the desire for Tess’s beautiful body, but also desire to have this woman in my life in a real and lasting way. “I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy.”
“Then don’t leave,” she says. “And kiss me again.”
“I’ll have to leave eventually.”
She cocks her head at me. “Then take me with you.”
I rest my hands on her hips. “You mean that? Because if you do, I’ll take you up on it. I’ll take you with me and never let you go.”
“Do it.” Her eyebrows raise like she’s surprised at her own words, but her jaw is set, stubborn, sure.
She means what she’s saying.
I answer by covering her mouth with mine and tasting her anew. This time, I’m thinking beyond this moment. I’m thinking of forever and how it would feel with Tess by my side.
Judging from this moment I think it would feel really damn good.
Even better, she knows my father’s business far better than I do. Tess has not only captured my heart — she’d also make a killer professional partner.
I’d be a lucky man to make Tess Giordano mine, for multiple reasons.
“Okay,” I say, breathless as I pull away. “Come home with me. Spend the night. Stay for forever.”
“That sounds insane,” she laughs, then grows serious. “But somehow I think that’s exactly what I need to do — what I want to do.”
“Let’s make each other happy,” I say, nibbling at her neck. “Let’s be each other’s cheesecake.”
“You’re on, boardwalk billionaire,” she purrs, cupping the hardness that’s staging a comeback in my wet pants.
And for a reason I can’t quite fathom, I understand her words as a promise, a vow that she doesn’t make lightly.
Tess wraps her legs around me and I open my belt and fly and penetrate her anew as fresh rain thunders down on the roof of The Sugar Shack.
Epilogue
Tess
“Well,” Maria says, leaning in over the table at Four Roads, eyes on Crispin as he orders our drinks at the bar, “I see that you took my advice to heart.”
I follow her gaze, belly warming at the sight of my man. My man. Even just the thinking about the fact that Crispin and I have given ourselves to each other gives me the chills. Good chills. “I guess you could say that.”
“You boinked the boss you had the hots for and now he’s your bae — and you’re his business manager.”
“A business manager,” I correct. “Assistant to the head one. I’ve got a lot to learn. And,” I add, wrinkling my nose, “don’t put it like you did. It makes it sound like I slept my way to the top.”
Maria smirks. “You kind of did.”
“No, I had sex with Crispin because I wanted him. And I still do.”
The teasing edge fades from my friend’s smile. “You really do feel like he’s the one, don’t you? Like, The One?”
My eyes fly to Crispin once more. His back is to us, and he’s chatting with Dominique. Whatever he’s saying is making her laugh. Then when he turns to us, balancing three precarious beers, his eyes light up when his gaze meets mine, teeth shining in a wide grin.
“Yeah,” I say, cheeks warming as what is probably the world’s dopiest smile flops across my face, “I do.”
“Lucky girl,” she says approvingly.
“Who’s lucky?” Crispin says, arriving at the table and sliding a golden beer across its surface to each of us before perching on a stool himself.
“That one,” Maria says, pointing at me. “And you too. For finding each other.”
“Yeah,” he says, turning to me, grin growing. “We really are lucky, aren’t we?”
My insides feel like honey as I bask in the genuine adoration that Crispin’s beaming at me.
I’d never really believed in mushy, heart-melting, weak-in-the-knees kind of love. I’d figured that anyone who said they were experiencing it was lying, either to themselves or others.
Now I know better.
I not only believe in it. I’m living that mushy, heart-melting, weak-in-the-knees romance.
I’ve never been so happy to be proven wrong.
The door to Four Roads opens and a group wearing Surfside Pier staff shirts pours in. I stiffen as I see Olek, and then he turns and sees me.
And that’s when I know that I’m not crazy. That’s when I know that I’m not imaging the electric connection pulling me and Crispin together.
Because when Olek gives me a friendly wave in passing, I find that I’m neither worried about feeling awkward with him, nor do I feel the need to fuck him under the boardwalk again — which would mean that what I’m experiencing with Crispin isn’t the real deal.
I lean into Crispin for a moment, muscles jiggly with relief. He turns to me and gives me a kiss that tastes of fresh beer. I smell the spice of his aftershave over the scent of Four Roads’ interior, and just the faint aroma is enough to get my insides thrumming.
Olek is cotton candy. He’s sweet and cute and fun, but there’s no real substance to him. Not as a person, but as a potential mate. For me, at least. He’s a sugar high, and a girl can’t live hopped up on spun sugar forever.
Crispin, however, is my cheesecake. He’s sweet but full-bodied and sustaining. When I’m with him, I feel grounded and enriched. He satisfies every craving.
And it’s not like Olek’s a bad guy. Anything but.
He’s just not my guy.
He’s not my cheesecake.
And while I like cotton candy every once in a while, cheesecake is my favorite. If I was only allowed to enjoy one dessert for the rest of my life, it would be thick and creamy New York-style cheesecake, hands down.
Like Maria said, I’m a lucky girl — lucky to have found the man that’s my cheesecake.
And I found him on the boardwalk, no less, the place that I thought was a dead-end. The place I feared I’d be trapped.
Instead, the gig that started years ago as a summer job has expanded into a bright new future.
Not that I’ve given up on being a teacher. Nope, that dream is still burning bright. But, unlike a month ago, I no longer feel terrified that the summer will end and I’ll find myself jobless and, eventually, homeless.
No, now I can work the corporate end of The Sugar Shack business while I continue to submit my teaching resumé and apply for teaching placements. Best of all, that resumé will look all the better with more management experience on it.
A month ago I felt like I was watching my life trickle down the drain.
Now the future has never felt more bright — and mostly because I get to spend it with Crispin.
It might not make logical sense, finding love at first sight. But neither Crispin nor I can deny how inexplicably r
ight and real our bond is.
Neither one of us is willing to walk away from it.
As we listen to Maria share about her day at the ticket booth, Crispin scoots his stool closer to mine and loops his arm around my shoulders. I give him my weight, trusting him to hold me just as I trust him with my heart. And just like my heart is secure in his care, my body is steady against the rock of his.
I lean my head on Crispin’s shoulder and a happy sigh escapes my lips. Because this is only the beginning of us, and it’s starting so beautifully. My whole body thrills at the prospect of a lifetime of giving ourselves to each other.
It’s going to be so damn good.
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A Love Note For You
Dear wonderful reader,
Thank you so much for reading Under the Boardwalk. I hope you enjoyed Tess and Crispin’s HEA as much as they did. ;)
If you have a few moments, I’d be so grateful if you considered leaving a review for Under the Boardwalk here on Amazon. This helps your fellow readers know if it’s the right book for them.
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Thanks again for reading! It means the world to me.
Love, Poppy
Also by Poppy Parkes
Standalone Stories:
Accidental Valentine
Bodyguard X2
Cowboy’s Pride
Falling Into You
First Time Player
Giddy Up, Cowgirl
Her Declaration of Independence
Her Winter Cowboy
Hot for the Holidays
Mister Cowboy
