Read Online Stranded by Amberly Woodruff - Free Book Online Page A

down, drawing her into his
arms, rolling her on top of him, kissing her breasts, claiming her mouth again
so that she could taste herself on him. She knelt astride him, hands either
side of his body sinking into granular sand. She lowered her mouth to find him,
to take his length between her lips. She tongued the pebble smooth head of his
penis, long, languorous strokes that brought him to even greater hardness, his
hips straining as he thrust between her teeth. Wriggling sideways, she freed
one hand from supporting herself and moved it along his shaft in an ever-increasing
rhythm. Then he turned her so that they were lying head to groin like commas,
his lips finding her core again, while she took him into her mouth once more,
lips moving up and down the silken length of him till he gasped with passion.
His tongue was tormenting her, moving in and out of her, then up to circle her
clitoris, darting back and forth, first soft and light, then hard and all
encompassing, mouth lapping and biting and sucking till she thought she would
die of pleasure.
      But, just as
she thought she would explode into orgasm, he sat up, pulled her into his arms
again, brushing her hair from her brow, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her
throat until she was awash with tenderness and overwhelmed with emotion. Then
he straddled her, pushing her legs apart with one knee, plunging into her. He
filled her, the length and the width of him delicious, and, with slow strokes, he
moved in and out, in and out, bringing her to the brink of release and then
drawing back, again and again, till she thought she could bear no more and
would burst apart with the pitch of pleasure he commanded.
    She felt a wetness swirl around her feet and realised that,
while they had been caught in the thrall of sexual congress, the tide had come
in. With each plunge of his length into her, the waves rolled in, and with each
withdrawal they ebbed back down the beach, until the pulse of the sea was the
peaking and receding of delight.
    Until, at last, consummation would no longer be denied. They
both tensed, the final crest of orgasm taking them together, lifting them into
an ecstasy that was beyond even the burning need of the flesh.
    Then they lay in each other’s arms, utterly spent, the high
tide washing away the bodily juices they had expended, cooling their flushed
skin, lulling them almost to slumber. Except that the sea was too cooling. So
they got to their feet, still dazed with the aftermath of gratification. He
claimed her mouth again, then tenderly brushed the sand from her hair, handed
her clothes to her, and, taking her hand, led her back to the Hermitage.
    They didn’t speak on the walk back, and were still silent
when they opened the door and went through to the living area, of one accord
making for the bed. There he laid her down and paid homage to her body once
more. He was firm and hard again, the symbol of his manhood prodding at her
thighs, her stomach, demanding entry, which she willingly granted. This time he
took her fast and furiously, riding her hard, balls slapping against her. She
had thought herself too exhausted to respond, but sensation flared and sparked
though her again, burning in her clitoris and her inner reaches, pulsing in
ever mounting waves, till she was thrashing her head from side to side,
helpless to stem the flood of sheer animal lust that consumed her.
    Afterwards, he kissed her, gentled her, caressed her
breasts and her back, held her to him. Then she felt
him begin to harden again and she knelt at his side, taking his gorgeous length
and girth deep into her mouth, sucking and releasing, moving her lips up and
down his shaft, feeling his muscles flex as he arched his back in abandon, till
he was pumping into her mouth, a great cry tearing from him, wordless and feral
in its intensity, and her own body was responding with a burst of pleasure that
took her by surprise and lifted her onto the peak of delight once more, like a
vessel