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Authors: Lucy V. Morgan
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by the crash of the tide. “Don’t want you to be sore.”
“I…I won’t.” I wanted to savor every second; in a few hours, I’d never be able to have him again.
My muscles complained at his intrusion. It seemed I was still at least half a virgin (how the hell was that possible?) because while his entry was quicker than the first, it still stung in the same sharp way. I lowered myself slowly, wincing, and then— oh . There it was.
“Good girl.” He clutched my skirt to the cheeks of my ass. “That’s it.”
How was this gorgeous fullness so familiar already? I’d only had him once before, but that orgasm already echoed as if it lingered solely to be awakened by Gabe. Clever boy.
I sucked a welt at the base of his neck. “There’s nobody up there, is there?” I was facing the cliff; he had the view out.
“No. We’re all alone.” His teeth grazed my jaw. “Do that harder for me…ah.”
The sour salt of the sea filled my nostrils, and he was welcome sweetness in his proximity—his heat, his sweat, the static friction of my sundress against his T-shirt and the pain-pleasure chafe of my bare thighs on his cord shorts. He pressed the heel of his hand up now and I crushed my clit on it as I fell down faster. Harder. Faster.
“Gabe…Gabriel…I…” I whimpered into his kiss. “Make me come.”
His silver-gray eyes flashed at the challenge. The fist that held my skirt in the breeze stroked up to squeeze my hip, and he undulated into me, forcing his last inch. I bit his earlobe to keep from moaning too loud, but the moment would come soon when I’d break and he’d bruise. Again.
I should have cared that he had me half naked in public, but I was so close and he felt so good. The shop girl’s words kept echoed over and over— I didn’t know Gabe had a girlfriend —and the sweet throb of the alcohol had turned dull at my temples.
“Danni?”
I yelped against his neck. It was all I could manage.
“ Danni, I need to—don’t— ah .”
It may be that he said things after that; I just didn’t hear him. I rode into spasm after spasm, never tiring of pleasing myself; judging by the loud curses, he was peaking too. He finished with his face pushed into my breasts and my fingers drawing patterns in his hair.
“I like nasty hell,” he mumbled, exhausted. “It’s…bouncy.”
“My thighs are killing me.”
“Serves you right for being so greedy.” He grinned through our kiss. “Want me to carry you home? I’ll throw you over my shoulder.”
“Mmm…I wouldn’t say no.”
He did try. We got half way up the beach path before he got tired of my shrieking laugher and plonked me back on the floor, muttering about excitable teenagers. I loved that he was strong enough to haul me about like that, though; I felt safe in this visceral, primal way.
We showered off the sand together in his tiny bathroom. There was barely space to move in the cubicle but we worked up a lather in the squash of limbs. I stroked coconut shower gel over his pecs and watched the bubbles drop down to coat each streak of muscle.
The barbecue was set up for dinner and we chargrilled a steak big enough for about four people. Gabe showed me how to cook it by demonstrating how it should feel on the different parts of my hand, and it ended with him biting at my fingers, kissing his way up my arm. There in the garden, turning the coals beneath the grill and wrapped in my gorgeous man, I was starting to see what he meant about the sun. About being connected.
About getting everything you needed from one warm, shining source.
The sky put on a show of feathered clouds that evening and we lingered beneath it, laid out on the blanket and sipping from glasses of pear cider and ice. I felt teeny under the great expanse of blue.
“Don’t you get lonely here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Occasionally, yeah. But I have a lot of friends visiting, especially when it’s hot, and I go to the Mermaid for a few drinks most
“I…I won’t.” I wanted to savor every second; in a few hours, I’d never be able to have him again.
My muscles complained at his intrusion. It seemed I was still at least half a virgin (how the hell was that possible?) because while his entry was quicker than the first, it still stung in the same sharp way. I lowered myself slowly, wincing, and then— oh . There it was.
“Good girl.” He clutched my skirt to the cheeks of my ass. “That’s it.”
How was this gorgeous fullness so familiar already? I’d only had him once before, but that orgasm already echoed as if it lingered solely to be awakened by Gabe. Clever boy.
I sucked a welt at the base of his neck. “There’s nobody up there, is there?” I was facing the cliff; he had the view out.
“No. We’re all alone.” His teeth grazed my jaw. “Do that harder for me…ah.”
The sour salt of the sea filled my nostrils, and he was welcome sweetness in his proximity—his heat, his sweat, the static friction of my sundress against his T-shirt and the pain-pleasure chafe of my bare thighs on his cord shorts. He pressed the heel of his hand up now and I crushed my clit on it as I fell down faster. Harder. Faster.
“Gabe…Gabriel…I…” I whimpered into his kiss. “Make me come.”
His silver-gray eyes flashed at the challenge. The fist that held my skirt in the breeze stroked up to squeeze my hip, and he undulated into me, forcing his last inch. I bit his earlobe to keep from moaning too loud, but the moment would come soon when I’d break and he’d bruise. Again.
I should have cared that he had me half naked in public, but I was so close and he felt so good. The shop girl’s words kept echoed over and over— I didn’t know Gabe had a girlfriend —and the sweet throb of the alcohol had turned dull at my temples.
“Danni?”
I yelped against his neck. It was all I could manage.
“ Danni, I need to—don’t— ah .”
It may be that he said things after that; I just didn’t hear him. I rode into spasm after spasm, never tiring of pleasing myself; judging by the loud curses, he was peaking too. He finished with his face pushed into my breasts and my fingers drawing patterns in his hair.
“I like nasty hell,” he mumbled, exhausted. “It’s…bouncy.”
“My thighs are killing me.”
“Serves you right for being so greedy.” He grinned through our kiss. “Want me to carry you home? I’ll throw you over my shoulder.”
“Mmm…I wouldn’t say no.”
He did try. We got half way up the beach path before he got tired of my shrieking laugher and plonked me back on the floor, muttering about excitable teenagers. I loved that he was strong enough to haul me about like that, though; I felt safe in this visceral, primal way.
We showered off the sand together in his tiny bathroom. There was barely space to move in the cubicle but we worked up a lather in the squash of limbs. I stroked coconut shower gel over his pecs and watched the bubbles drop down to coat each streak of muscle.
The barbecue was set up for dinner and we chargrilled a steak big enough for about four people. Gabe showed me how to cook it by demonstrating how it should feel on the different parts of my hand, and it ended with him biting at my fingers, kissing his way up my arm. There in the garden, turning the coals beneath the grill and wrapped in my gorgeous man, I was starting to see what he meant about the sun. About being connected.
About getting everything you needed from one warm, shining source.
The sky put on a show of feathered clouds that evening and we lingered beneath it, laid out on the blanket and sipping from glasses of pear cider and ice. I felt teeny under the great expanse of blue.
“Don’t you get lonely here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Occasionally, yeah. But I have a lot of friends visiting, especially when it’s hot, and I go to the Mermaid for a few drinks most
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