S*x on the Beach

by Delilah Devlin

  “The bed’s got more room,” he drawled.

  “Just roll down the windows. I want to hear the waves.”

  He hit the buttons to lower the windows as he said, “We could do it in the water.”

  She grunted. “I’ve seen Jaws.”

  When she ground against his crotch, he sucked in a deep breath. “Lift up.”

  She grabbed the handle above the door and lifted her body, enough so he could get to his buckle and zipper, and then he slid down his pants, just far enough to free his cock.

  Gina waited as he gripped his shaft and ran the tip up and down her wet folds. Her hips undulated, capturing the head, and then she sank.

  When she was flush with his lap, she drew the long-sleeved tee over her head.

  His hand went straight for her bra, unsnapping it then dragging it off her arms. Pushing her back against the steering wheel, he cradled her breasts in his hands. “They’re pretty,” he murmured, plumping them then rasping his thumbs over the hardening tips.

  She mewed. “They like it when you squeeze them,” she said, then closed her eyes while he obliged them. After about a minute, she slowly opened her eyes. “Sorry, I’m just sitting on it.”

  He laughed. “I’m in no hurry.” And he wasn’t. He liked how it felt, snug and wet.

  She bit her lower lip then squeezed around him.

  He drew a deep breath and reached for the lever at the side of his seat to ease back his seat and give them both more room. Then he pinched her nipples hard, giving them a twist.

  Her soft gasp was followed by a drenching release of fluid. He slid his hands down her ribs, over her belly, then parted the top of her folds and thumbed her clit.

  Her head fell back, and she began to rock on his lap, forward and back, grinding gently on his cock.

  He raised one hand and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. She stroked the pad with her tongue then drew it into her mouth where she thoroughly wet it.

  He brought it down again and used her moisture to circle on the tightening knot.

  Before long, she reached out and gripped his shoulder and the handle above the door. Then with his hands providing an assist, she raised and lowered, repeating the movements again and again until friction warmed his cock and her sex.

  “I like fucking you, Carson Walsh,” she whispered.

  “I fucking love fucking you, Gina Tripp.”

  She bounced harder on his lap, and her breaths grew ragged. Sweat coated her face and chest, and he leaned up to nip her chin until she tilted her head and kissed him.

  While she continued moving, breathing harder, he explored her mouth, thrusting his tongue alongside hers and sucking at her mouth. If he had her under him, he’d want nothing more than to suck on her clit until she screamed, but the magical thing was that they had all night. He’d get around to it. Show her everything he could bring. He’d prove she’d never find anyone as eager to please her.

  He drew back, fighting to control his expression, because he’d shocked himself a little. Fucking was fun. Women were…amazing, beautiful creatures, but obsessing over just one…? That had never been him.

  Still, as she moaned and bounced, her movements jerking as she neared the precipice, he was sure he’d never seen anything as beautiful as Gina in that moment. Her lush, plump mouth was rounded, her eyelids heavy. When her fingers dug into his shoulder, he planted his feet hard against the floorboard and pumped up to meet her downward thrusts, straining to give her what she needed.

  When she gave a muffled scream, his own orgasm triggered, exploding through him. The sudden release surprised him, causing him to shout—nothing muffled about it.

  As they both bathed in the moment, writhing together, he knew he didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

  * * *

  Gina cuddled against Carson’s chest, loving the way her breasts felt mashed against his, liking even better that she could still feel the waning pulses of his cock inside her. This aftermath was somehow…different for her.

  She wasn’t a prude. Didn’t mind parading nude around a guy she slept with, but, usually, she was ready to cut up, make a joke, anything to tear away a little of the intimacy. This time, with Carson, she was a little nervous, because she wanted to remain like this—quiet, enjoying every change in her body and his, savoring the heavy thud of his heartbeat against her chest.

  He wasn’t making it any easier for her to do what she needed out of self-preservation, not with him gently gliding his hands up her back, cupping her shoulders, then gliding them back down again—slow caresses that made her feel…cherished. Her. Gina Tripp.

  Guys enjoyed her company. Loved having sex with her, but she’d always set certain expectations to make the after part easier for them and for her.

  This time, she was breaking with routine.

  “You’ll stay with me, right?” he asked, his voice a little raspy.

  She shivered at the sound, thinking the roughness in his voice was something she’d like to hear again…and often. “For the rest of the week?”

  His cheek rubbed up and down against hers.

  “If I’m not imposing…” she said in a little voice.

  He gripped her upper arms and pushed her back a little.

  Gina scraped back the hair she knew was sticking to her cheeks and tried to school her expression into something a little less revealing. Did the moonlight betray her need?

  Carson framed her jaw and rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks, her mouth. “Guess I’m not really asking, Gina. You’ll stay with me.”

  When his thumb stroked over her lower lip again, she bit it then sucked it into her mouth. She drew hard on it and rubbed it with her tongue. When his cock stirred inside her, she smiled. “Guess, since you say so…”

  One side of his mouth quirked up. “I love a woman who knows her place.”

  “On your dick, huh?”

  “I’ll say it again, I do have a nice soft bed inside…”

  A breeze blew through the window, teasing the tips of her nipples. She cupped them, liking how raw they felt and loving the way his nostrils flared as she touched herself. “But I’ll have to let go of this,” she said, tightening around him.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” he rumbled.

  Pouting, she reached for the door handle.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, Carson awoke with the sunshine streaming inside his bedroom and Gina sprawled beside him on her belly, taking up far more than half of the bed.

  Not that he minded. Hell, no. Last night had been a revelation.

  Sometime during their long night together, he’d fallen in love. Crazy as that sounded, even to him. He’d never understood how men could cleave to one woman—just one—for the rest of their lives. The idea had seemed too…confining, stifling, boring.

  Already, he knew Gina would never inspire those feelings. The girl had game, whether trailing behind a bunch of SEALs to rescue her best friend from a drug lord or proving she could play as dirty and uninhibited as he did between the sheets. Gina had it all.

  He gazed over at her, admiring her creamy-pale skin and dark hair. He knew her curves, knew every sweet spot, and she’d learned his.

  Again, he looked out the window at his little piece of paradise and decided he’d had enough of the carefree single life. Somehow, with the few days they had left together, he was going to figure out a way to convince her that she loved him, too.

  He slipped from under the sheet and padded to his closet. What better way to start than to woo her? A little shop inside one of the beachside resort hotels sold flowers. He’d grab a bundle of something pretty, pick up some breakfast tacos and a couple of coffees, and be back before she woke. She’d never know he was gone.

  After dressing in long shorts, a tee, and sandals, he drove to the nearest hotel. In the parking lot, he checked his messages. There was a text from Fisch with pictures of him and his family sitting in innertubes, floating down a river. A picture he’d no doubt sent to show Carson t
hat all was well. The St. Christopher medal flashed brightly against his chest. Carson couldn’t help but smile. The last time he’d talked to his friend, he’d been making the most of his restful recuperation, filling out job applications. Now, he thought he might join his brother in his workshop in New Braunfels, Texas, making custom furniture.

  Another message was from his brother, asking when he was coming for a visit. He texted back, Maybe Thanksgiving? He knew without hearing back that his brother would be instantly busy searching for flights for their parents to get them from Florida to Missouri. That was okay. He hoped he wouldn’t be making that trip alone. Nothing would make his mother happier than meeting a girl who didn’t carry her own beer koozie in her purse or wear shirts so small her tramp stamp peaked out every time she raised her arms.

  His mom would be thrilled with Gina. Smart, “spunky”—those would be her descriptions. His dad’s would likely include, “a good head on her shoulders” and a mean stare—qualities he’d say Carson needed in a wife.

  And right there, he’d thought the word. “Wife,” he said out loud. Yeah, it didn’t scare him spitless or make his belly cramp.

  Whistling now, he slid his phone into his pocket and headed into the hotel.

  * * *

  Gina moaned as she stretched and reached out a hand to pat the opposite side of the bed. Well, the two feet left of the other side of the bed. Good Lord, had she hogged the mattress? No wonder he wasn’t there beside her. She pushed back her hair from her face and decided a shower was in order. Or maybe a long soak. She ached in places she hadn’t in a long, long time.

  She grabbed her phone and hunted through Carson’s drawers for a T-shirt. She’d wash her clothes today. Again, she dug again through his drawers, trying to find a pair of shorts small enough she could wear in place of a swimsuit, thinking she might as well enjoy the beach since she was there.

  She cocked an ear, listening for any sounds inside the house and realized it was pretty quiet. Had he headed out to the beach without her? How sweet. He’d let her sleep. She went to the tiny living room and opened the front door, and then noticed right away that his SUV wasn’t parked in front.

  Okay, so maybe he’d gone for breakfast. She wouldn’t worry, not yet. Just because she’d taken up all the bed and had slept until nearly noon didn’t make her the worst girlfriend in the world. Last night, she’d given him a blowjob he’d likely never forget. Smiling, she grabbed her phone and headed to the bathroom, swiping through the screen.

  One text was from Fetch back in Kalispell. Call me.

  Curious, she hit his speed dial number.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hey, Trip. You’re in Cabo, right?”

  She’d missed his growly voice. “Yes, Cabo San Lucas for the rest of the week.”

  “Good. I was wondering whether you could do me a favor.”

  Not sure what she could do for him from all the way in Mexico, she said, “Shoot.”

  “We have an old skip who’s reported to be there. Haven’t been able to touch him because the U.S. doesn’t have extradition with Mexico. His daughter lives in Missoula, and she’s getting married next weekend. We’re hoping he won’t want to miss that. Could you check the place he’s been staying to see if he’s gone? We’ll cut you in on the reward if we nab him.”

  Sounded easy enough. She put him on speaker and opened her Evernote app. “Sure, give me the address, and be sure to send me whatever files you have on the guy.”

  Fetch gave her the address, and she put the phone back to her ear. “I’ll check it out today,” she said, wrinkling her nose, because now, she really did have to wash her clothes—and talk Carson into taking her there.

  “How’s that friend of yours doing?”

  Gina chuckled. “She’s married.”

  “What? I thought her fiancé ran off with the wedding planner. She take him back?”

  “Nope, she married another guy.”

  He was silent for a beat or two. “Sounds like a story for another day.”

  Nodding, she said, “When we have time to drink a beer or two…or six.”

  His chuckle sounded warm in her ear. “Don’t go and get inspired by her hijinks. The office has been pretty dull since you left.”

  “No worries, Fetch. I’ll see you next Monday.”

  After she ended the call, she stood staring at the screen. Don’t go and get inspired… Well hell, now she was thinking about it. Getting married. To Carson. As if he’d ever want to marry. The man lived on a beach, fished when he was hungry, went bar-hopping when he wanted company…

  What would being married to Carson even be like? Would his wife have to love gutting fish?

  And had he been serious about leaving Mexico? If he wanted to return to the States, where would he go? Back to Southern California or Washington, D.C., to find some sort of spec ops job? Would he be willing to move farther north? Say, to Montana?

  The idea held merit. The outfit Chase worked for hired SEALs. For that matter, so did Fetch…

  Maybe he’d like a taste of what it was like to be a bounty hunter. She started the water for her shower and glanced at the mirror, only to do a doubletake. She groaned. She still had black camo paint under her eyes and along the sides of her nose. Was that why he’d hightailed it out of there so early, suffering some “buyer’s remorse” after he’d spotted her in the morning light? She’d have to wash the sheets, too.

  Sighing, she stepped beneath the water and started scrubbing. She hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long, because she had one Anthony Padgett to track down.

  * * *

  Carson found Gina sitting in a lounge chair on his small porch, dressed in the jeans and tee she’d worn the previous day. Both looked like they’d been washed and dried, which meant she’d likely been up since shortly after he’d left.

  He hadn’t meant to be gone as long as he had been, but after buying flowers, he’d decided against breakfast tacos and had gone grocery shopping instead. That way, they wouldn’t need to leave his beach house for a day or two.

  But looking at her sitting in her newly laundered clothing, he realized she’d likely need her suitcases. He’d wanted to avoid returning her to the hotel in case she had second thoughts about being with him.

  Well, hell. He grabbed his shopping bags in one hand and the bouquet of flowers in the other and walked toward her.

  Her mouth stretched into a smile. “Those for me?”

  “No, they’re for my date tonight,” he said, keeping his expression neutral until her eyes narrowed. He laughed and handed her the flowers. “Of course, they’re for you. Sorry I took so long.”

  She glanced down at her clothes. “I’d give anything for some of the pretty clothes I packed, but I made do.”

  “Today, we’ll stop by the hotel, if you like.”

  “I’m in no hurry. Just warning you I don’t have a dress should you want to go out tonight.”

  “I thought we’d stay in,” he said, holding up his shopping bags. “I bought food we can cook for dinner.”

  “Good. I thought I’d have to get by with beer and bologna sandwiches.”

  They both smiled, and he set the bags on the porch and settled into the seat beside her.

  She raised the flowers to her nose and breathed in the scent. “This is lovely.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  She gave him a flirty, sideways glance. “You trying to butter me up for something?”

  He drew a deep breath then shook his head. “No. I saw them, and I thought of you. No ulterior motives. Swear.”

  “So, you haven’t been thinking about—”

  “‘Course, I have. But I’m okay with...whatever.”

  She fingered a rose petal. “I was wondering…”

  He canted his head, studying her expression. There was definitely something on her mind.

  “My boss called me.”

  His stomach dropped. Was he calling her back to work? Carson needed more time with her.

 
; “There’s a skip—a guy who failed to show up for court. He’s well past his bond date, but there’s still a reward for his return. He’s here in Cabo. Or was. His daughter’s getting married, and Fetch, my boss, wants me to see whether he’s still here.” She turned in her seat and gave him an earnest look. “That’s it. Just stop by his house and check it out. If he’s gone, Fetch will scramble a team to cover the wedding in case he shows.”

  “And if he’s here?”

  She shrugged. “Not anything we can do about it. Mexico doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S. If we tried to take him across the border against his will, we’d wind up in a heap of trouble.”

  He bent to grab the bags. “After we check out his place, we’ll hit the hotel and get your bags—if that’s okay with you. I mean, if you want to stay here.”

  Her smile was worth his small sacrifice. “I’d like that. If you don’t mind…”

  “I want you here, Gina.”

  She ducked her head, and her cheeks filled with a pretty pink color. “Well, I’d like that, too.”

  Feeling happy, he headed inside to put away the groceries.

  * * *

  The neighborhood where Padgett lived was a little shabby for someone who’d been charged with embezzling over a million dollars from the transportation company he’d worked for. His ill-gotten gains should have funded a more comfortable retirement.

  Gina looked at the one-story dwelling, with its rock and stucco façade and the sign in the yard with a picture of an old-fashioned calculator, and wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t read Spanish, but she understood he was advertising his services. “This is the right address…” she said as she leaned forward and stared.

  “You really think he blew through that million in just a couple of years?” Carson asked as he cut the engine.

  “I don’t know.” She picked up her phone and reviewed the documents Fetch had sent—Padgett’s warrant, his booking photo, documents describing his crime. “Now, how do we figure out if he’s still here?” His garage door was down, and his window blinds were closed.