Fireworks on the Beach

by Poppy Parkes

  We’re back on each other in an instant. She cups and squeezes my balls while I liberate her from the confines of her bra. Her exquisite breasts fall free, heavy and ripe with nipples that beg me to taste them. I comply, sucking at her while she rakes her fingernails along my back, both of us breathing raggedly.

  I drop to my knees to examine her panties. They’re delicate and lacy, a pale color that glows bright in the darkness with a tiny black bow front and center. I take the garment in my teeth and peel it down her legs, then help her step out of it.

  And now Daisy is bare before me, a goddess that I’m all too happy to worship at the feet of.

  And by worship, I mean pleasure like she deserves.

  I bury my face in her blonde thatch, burrowing with my tongue and gentle teeth until her curls give way to wet heat. I devour her earthy scent and taste, lapping at her opening, her lips, her clit, everything my tongue can reach.

  Her hands grope at the smooth expanse of my head, as I eat her. She gasps and mewls until her breath hitches for an instant, a moment between time. Then she crashes into an orgasm that fills the dark space around us with primal cries, her thighs trembling on either side of my face.

  She hasn’t fully come down from her climax before I climb to my feet. I peel my shirt off while she watches, approval in her eyes, needing to feel as much of my skin against hers as possible.

  Then I step so close that I can feel her quickened breath on my chest. She hooks one leg around my waist, jaw set but lips parted, my hardness already nudging into her quivering cave. With a growl, I drive the rest of the way home, the juices of her first orgasm allowing me to slide fully into her in one swift thrust.

  Being inside Daisy, making our two bodies into one, feels so right. It feels like we were made for each other.

  It feels like coming home.

  I want to take my time, to spend hours and eons exploring Daisy’s body, learning what makes her wet and ready, what makes her smile and what makes her come.

  But she massages my ass with demanding hands, pulling me into her harder and faster as she thrusts upward with her pelvis.

  “More,” she says, voice guttural, “I want more.”

  I give myself over to her.

  Hiking her other leg up so all that’s keeping Daisy from the pull of gravity is my support and weight, I give her everything I’ve got. I pummel into her like a man possessed. Her inner walls pull at me like she’s loathe to let me go, then blossom open when I push back home, sending her knees shooting up and her head rocking back.

  Daisy is panting and writhing against the beam, massaging at the back of my neck with wild fingers. She holds me close, knotting her legs behind my back. Her cave closes tighter, gripping me harder.

  And then she’s shattering around me. Daisy cries out her ecstasy while she cascades to beautiful pieces, her orgasm all-consuming.

  Her insides milk me and I grit my teeth and try to hold back. But she feels too damn good and I empty myself into her in powerful pulses that make my skin shiver and every hair stand on end.

  “You,” I rasp, cupping her cheek in my palm, feeling sweat matching my own beading on her forehead, “are a fucking marvel.”

  “That’s what I’ve always thought,” she says with a weak laugh. “And now I’ve found a man who can see it.”

  I kiss her, gentle and slow, my satisfied length still buried within her, marking in my heart the momentous night that I claimed this woman as my own.

  Daisy

  I don’t tell Dante that I’ve never come during intercourse before.

  I don’t tell him how Mike struggled to get me off regardless of whether he used his mouth or his fingers or a toy.

  I don’t tell him that he just gave me the best sex of my life — and not only due to my twin orgasms, but also because of how in tune we felt, how unified, moving as one with cataclysmic success.

  I don’t tell him these things, not on this night, because I don’t need to. Even though we’ve only known each other for a short while, I can tell that he understands me on a far more intuitive level than Mike ever did.

  Besides, this is our day one. We have a lifetime of tomorrows ahead of us. I don’t know what that will look like, but the one thing I’m sure of is that I want to spend every one of those tomorrows at Dante’s side.

  After we make love beneath the boardwalk, Dante helps me back into my clothes with reverence and care that brings tears of gratitude to my eyes. I do the same for him. Then, hand in hand, we emerge from our cocoon to rejoin the growing crowd of mischief-makers on the beach.

  We settle in the sand near the bonfire. Dante wraps his arms around me, protective and possessive, and I lean my weight into him, trusting him with my body as I have with my heart.

  He murmurs in my ear, telling me how the residents of Ocean Point throw their own version of a Fourth of July party a day early. He points out people he knows. I thrill at how I’m getting to know Dante better and better, one piece at a time, and will continue to do so for many days to come.

  Dante sits back, giving a low whistle. “Uh oh,” he says with a grin, jutting his chin toward a couple of younger guys snickering as they fuss with a long cardboard tube they’ve got sticking out of the sand closer to the waves.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Trouble. They’re about to shoot aerials.”

  I frown. “What are aerials?”

  “Fireworks that get shot into the air.” He winks at me. “They’re not legal for consumer use in New Jersey, but somebody always sets off a few every year. The one they’re setting up now is a Roman candle.”

  “Then uh oh is right. But as long as nobody gets set on fire, I’m not complaining.” I snuggle in close to Dante, letting the heat from his body warm me against the cool breeze coming in off the ocean.

  One guy yelps as sparks flicker onto the sand from the top of the lit Roman candle. They all scuttle back. A moment later there’s a series of whuff sounds as five objects launch from the tube one at time, streaking skyward like shooting stars.

  A cheer goes up from the crowd as the sparks fade from the sky. Then the guys shuffle around and a moment later there are more tubes, more matches, more explosives flying upward.

  Soon the sky above is filled with pop after pop of colorful sparks and showers, windmilling bursts of light, and whistling flares.

  “It might not be legal,” I murmur to Dante, “but it sure is pretty.”

  “Not as pretty as you.” He kisses my forehead, then the tip of my nose.

  “What are you going to do with me after tonight?” I ask, half in jest and half because, after what happened with Mike today and Dante tonight, anything is possible, for good or ill, and I need to make sure.

  “I’m going to keep you close, love you hard, and build a life with you,” he whispers fiercely, the light from the fireworks refracting in his eyes. “If, of course, that’s what you want.”

  I press my lips to his, savoring how the touch of his mouth to mine ignites my core as powerfully as the fireworks banish the night’s darkness. “A life with you, a good, kind man who loves well and cares deeply, is exactly what I want.”

  Dante shifts so that he’s sitting behind me, legs splayed on either side of me, hands crossed across my heart. I rest my head against his shoulder, watching the stream of illicit fireworks light the sky.

  Yesterday I was walking on eggshells to please Mike, and this morning his betrayal sent the future I thought I wanted up in flames. All seemed lost, but into the ashes of my expectations stepped Dante, turning everything upside and capturing my heart with his. Now, I can’t imagine a future without him in it.

  I whisper a silent thanks to Mike for treating me in all the wrong ways so I could recognize a man worth loving when I met him. Then I pull my lover’s arms tighter around me. I know that as much as I wasted time with Mike, it was all worth it in the end, every squandered minute, if that’s what it took to find a man like Dante.

  Epilogue


  Dante

  Nine Months Later

  I cannot fucking stand still. The crisp white button-up shirt that had felt so light this morning now feels like it’s near to choking me. My matching white pants are rolled up into cuffs at the bottoms and the ocean waves are washing my bare feet, but I still feel caught, constricted as I wait here on the beach.

  “You okay, man?” Crispin hisses out of the corner of his mouth, eyeing me worriedly.

  “Yeah, fine,” I say to Tess’s guy. He’d registered as a minister so we could have a friends and family only service, zero strangers. “Like, sorta. I’m nervous as hell.”

  “Well, you are getting married. It’s a big deal. I just hope I’m as calm as you when my big day comes.”

  I fix Crispin with a skeptical eye. “Are you messing with me?”

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “No, sir. Just telling it like it is. You don’t look as jumpy as you think.”

  And I do feel jumpy, like I could run and run and run without ever growing tired.

  But if I did that, I wouldn’t get to see my bride. And that would be unacceptable.

  I turn, looking out over the small group of loved ones gathered on the beach for our special day. It’s an informal wedding, with everyone milling about in an amiable cluster while soft music emanates from a portable stereo. My sisters are here, and Olek and Maria were able to make it along with Tess. There are a few of the guys from Wawa, plus Daisy’s parents and older brother and a few of her friends. I look out at them all from I’m standing close to the water, Crispin at my side and the Atlantic at my back, and try not to jump out of my skin.

  Then I see her.

  Every vibrating cell in my body stills as Daisy fills my vision. She makes her way down from the plank walkway that leads from the beach through the dunes and up to the large house we rented for the reception and for the out-of-town guests to stay at.

  She’s a vision. A goddamn vision. So beautiful, even from this distance, with wind catching her creamy veil and the modest train on her dress. The bodice of the gown hugs her bosom while the front hem exposes her feet. And in between, my favorite part of all, the cream fabric stretches tight across Daisy’s pregnant belly — pregnant with our twin girls.

  The crowd parts to allow Daisy through in all of her fertile glory. She was beautiful before, but motherhood has made her even more so. It’s true what they say about pregnant women and that special glow.

  Then she’s there, radiating before me like the angel she is. She slips her hand into mine, grounding me, calming my spirit. Crispin starts his short rehearsed speech, but all I can think of is how Daisy is making me the happiest man alive. The luckiest one too.

  Crispin has to clear his throat twice to get my attention when it’s time to exchange rings, making my cheeks hot and the guests chuckle kindly. I know what comes next without his prompting, though — now it’s time to kiss my wife.

  And I do, with abandon and all the respect and love I can muster. My fingers spread over Daisy’s belly as we seal the deal, our guests clapping their approval. One of the babies rolls, jabbing a foot into my hand, and Daisy and I both laugh.

  I don’t think I stop smiling for the rest of the day. Not when the guys from Wawa produce some illegal fireworks that they must’ve saved from last summer and shoot them off over the ocean as we turn to face the crowd as husband and wife.

  Not when we lead our friends and family to the house to the sound of their raucous cheers and hollers, and not when we pour the champagne and toast each other. Not when we eat the buffet dinner we prepared or when we cut the cake.

  Not when our guests begin to trickle either home or to the bedrooms, and certainly not when I lay down next to Daisy for the first time as her lawfully wedded husband.

  In fact, I don’t stop grinning like a damn fool until Daisy rolls over, still in her bridal gown, and says, “Kiss me, husband.”

  I do. Over and over.

  And then I slip my hand up beneath her dress and discover that she’s not wearing panties. My findings making me hard, I finger her clit. She’s sopping, of course. That’s one of the perks of pregnancy nobody seems to talk about — not the dads anyway — how carrying a baby makes a woman wetter than ever.

  “No foreplay tonight,” she whispers, voice tired but eager. “I’m ready for you.” She bunches the skirt of her dress up, the scent of her arousal thick and delicious in the air.

  Like the good husband I am, I give my wife exactly what she wants and I give it to her fast. Opening my trousers, I slide them down to my thighs and nestle between her open ones. She grasps hold of my thickness and guides me into her with a jagged sigh.

  “Fast,” she says, “I want you fast.”

  Leaning at an angle so that I’m not crushing her glorious belly, I lever myself in and out of her at a feverish pace. With this approach, I can’t penetrate her deeply, but I can stroke her front inner wall with my cock, working her button with my fingers from the outside. It always makes her explode extra hard, and tonight’s no exception.

  “Yes, firecracker,” I groan my pet name for her as she writhes in pleasure . “I love making you come.”

  “Do it again,” Daisy gasps, scooting away so she can, with no small effort given the size of her belly, flip around. Now she’s on her hands and knees, dripping slit quivering provocatively before me.

  With a growl, I dig my fingertips into the luscious flesh of her hips and bury myself in her anew. I can enter her all the way this time, probing deep inside, feeling her velvet walls clenching and pulsing over every inch of my shaft.

  I pummel her with my cock just how she likes it. Daisy meets me thrust for thrust, urging me on. My balls contract as her slit begins to clench tight around me, and I know what’s coming.

  Reaching around, I tickle her clit and am rewarded by her throaty cries of climax. Her cavern clutches me close, and a moment later I erupt too, shooting my hot load into her welcoming cave.

  We collapse, a mess of sweat and fluid and love. I pull her into my arms, cradling her from behind. We both stroke her belly, feeling the twins tumbling inside, jostled awake by our lovemaking.

  “Only a couple more months of this before the girls are born,” Daisy says in a voice heavy with fatigue. “If they keep baking that long, I mean. You know how twins come early.”

  “Yes, I do,” I say soothingly. “And if the girls decide they want to bust out sooner rather than later, we’ll deal with that when we come to it. For now, though, I want to enjoy snuggling my exquisite wife.”

  “Wife,” Daisy breathes. “I love hearing you say it.” She looks over her shoulder at me with a twinkle in her eye. “Husband.”

  “I see what you mean. I never thought I’d like the word, but when you say it, it’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I agree completely,” Daisy murmurs.

  “We should get out of our clothes,” I say after a pause. “Get you nice and comfortable so you can get a good rest.”

  “Mmm,” she agrees. “But first, can you just hold me like this a little while longer? It feels so perfect.”

  I snuggle in closer, holding my wife a little tighter. “I’ll hold you for as long as you like,” I say. A few minutes later, she’s asleep.

  I don’t budge, though. A promise is a promise, after all. And until Daisy wakes and tells me otherwise, I’ll hold her close and keep her safe all through the night.

  Don’t miss the other sexy stories

  in the Down the Shore series:

  Under the Boardwalk

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  A Love Note For You

  Dear wonderful reader,

  Thank you so much for reading Fireworks on the Beach. I hope you enjoyed Dante and Daisy’s H.E.A. as much as they did. ;)

  If you have a few moments, I’d be so grateful if you considered leaving a review for Fireworks on the Beach here on Amaz
on. 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

  Our Happy Holiday

  The Once Upon a H.E.A. Series:

  SWEET

  PAID

  WAKE

  The Love at First Sight Series:

  Meant to be Yours

  Love Tumble

  Head Over Heels

  One in a Million

  The Light Between Us Series:

  The Light Between Us

  Finding Me and You

  Wedding Jitters

  Collections & Anthologies

  Once Upon a Happily Ever After

  The Light Between Us Box Set

  Wrangled: The Cowboy Collection

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  About the Author

  Poppy Parkes is the author of sweet and hot love stories. Poppy writes, paints, and dreams in the mountains, where she raises her two boys. She is in love with luscious color, moon-gazing, and dancing wild. And coffee. And wine. And chocolate. You know how it is.

  www.poppyparkes.com