Page 8 of As You Crave It

CHAPTER THREE

QUINRESTEDHIS head on top of Celia’s. Under his hand, her skin was soft and warm. He almost couldn’t believe that she was sitting here with him again. Not a day had passed in eight years when he hadn’t thought about Celia. He never imagined he’d get another opportunity to be close to her, so he relished it and pulled her closer. They sat like that, and except for the roar of the water on the sand, and his own heartbeat, it was silent. After a while, Quin noticed that the sky was beginning to lighten from an obsidian black to a deep violet and he realized that he had no idea how much time had passed.

“I’m glad you decided to come out here with me,” he said.

“I’m glad you asked me.” Her voice was almost a sigh.

“You always loved the beach.”

“Yeah, but I don’t get to see much of it these days.”

“Neither do I.”

Celia shook her head and looked off into the horizon, which would welcome the sunrise. This late at night—or early in the morning—despite the hustle and bustle of the city, the beach was almost vacant, probably because they weren’t supposed to be there. But he had no regrets—the beach was downright serene. The air was still, tranquil, with the only sounds the dull roar of the water crashing against the sand, and then pulling back, mixed with their own breaths, and the beating of his heart.

Apparently not caring about getting sand in her hair, Celia lay back on the beach and fixed her eyes on the sky. Quin joined her, lying back, resting his weight on his forearms. He looked over at her. She looked so beautiful in the lightening morning sky that his chest tightened. They had a history together, and even though he knew she might push him away, he couldn’t help but lean over her.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that because I’m hot now.”

In college, she had never been a woman who wore flashy clothing or makeup, and that was fine. She was gorgeous now—but she had also been gorgeous then. But he’d been too much of an idiot—too afraid of catching feelings—to go for it and take a chance with her. “You were always hot,” he assured her. How badly had he wanted her the night of the graduation party? But he just couldn’t. He had been terrified of pushing her away. But as it turned out, he’d pushed her away, anyway.

“Sure. I was just the mousy girl from computer science.”

“I thought you looked good then, too.” Whether it was their romantic surroundings, or that the shock of seeing her had worn off, he had finally let down his guard, allowing a slow-burning desire come over him as he looked over her, in repose on the sand. He wanted to kiss her, touch her. Their eyes connected in the dim light of sky. Her smile was wide and he wanted her to wonder if—just maybe—she had the same things on her mind.

“You’re such a fucking liar, Quin,” she said, interrupting his thoughts with a laugh. “What, with my frizzy hair and no sense of style—”

“Will you just shut up for a second and let me kiss you?” She gasped, and just seconds later, he went for it and his lips brushed lightly against hers. A surprised sound emanated from her throat, but he was relieved that she didn’t push him away. When she parted her lips, he deepened the kiss and his tongue entered her mouth. Her mouth was hot, but sweet, and she tasted like red wine, rum and pineapple. An exquisite combination. Her tongue slid along his and as she kissed him back, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down over her, drawing him closer.

Sinking into the kiss, he rested on top of her, bracing himself on his forearms, kneeling between her parted thighs. She moaned at his touch and Celia shifted her hips underneath him. Her short dress had ridden up, but he was still fully dressed as he nudged his hard dick against her heat. Even through their layers of clothing, the contact forced a shudder through his body. He wedged his thighs against hers, parting her legs even more, and his hands went underneath her skirt, driving it up higher. He could feel her heat on his leg, and he moaned into her mouth when she ground herself against him. Still kissing her, Quin cupped her breast with his palm, and pulled down the low neckline of her dress and the cup of her bra, to reveal her. He trailed his lips over her jawline and down the smooth, sensitive skin of her throat, taking the rosy bud of her nipple between his lips. He pinched, sucked, nibbled her and she cried out into the early morning sky as her fingernails raked down his back, clawing him through his shirt.

Celia’s hands came between them, and it took him a moment before he realized that she was unbuttoning his pants. Knowing exactly what was on her mind, he groaned into the crook of her neck.

She slid her hand past his zipper and gripped his dick. He gasped against her skin and pushed his hips against her hand, thrusting into her grip. Leaning on one forearm, careful not to crush her into the sand, he used one hand to squeeze the round curve of her ass. His hands ventured to her front, and with her moan of permission, he delved under her panties and cupped her mound, sliding his fingertips over her, finding her hot and wet. She gasped at his touch, and the shifting forward of her hips urged him on. He skimmed along her bare flesh, before delving into the folds. She pushed against his fingers. He wanted to taste her, to bury himself deeply inside of her, and make her scream out, and he wondered how long they had alone on the beach before the early risers and city workers would join them out here. His fingertips danced along her clit, skirting over her sensitive flesh, and she threw her head against the sand, exposing the soft skin of her throat. He drew his tongue up her neck as he slid one finger, and then another, inside of her.

Desperate to kiss her again, he leaned in for a sample of the delicate skin of her throat. He kissed her pulse point and used his lips and teeth to trace her jaw, as she writhed underneath him as he stroked her intimately with his fingers. Celia’s breath increased, and then it hitched as she closed her eyes and bit her lip. The way her body stiffened against his and her tight pussy clenched around him, he knew that she was in the throes of her orgasm. He increased the speed of his fingers, jutting in and out of her and using the heel of his hand, and firmed the pressure on her clit. Her eyes fluttered shut and she shook in his arms. He held a steady pace until the tremors that racked through her body quieted.

As Celia caught her breath, she gripped his dick again. The pressure was exquisite, and he thought he might explode. “Do you have a condom?” she said, her voice breathy in his ear.

Fuck. Quin pushed himself up and looked down at her. “No. I wasn’t prepared for this.” He hadn’t been planning on having sex tonight. “Especially not on a public beach.”

She looked skeptical. “You weren’t prepared, really? You? A night on the town and you don’t bring anything?”

That one mistake of not putting a condom in his wallet that evening was the only thing that stood in the way of him having Celia. He pushed himself off her and lay down beside her on the sand.

“You know, I’m not a complete horndog,” he told her, a little bothered that she’d rightfully guessed about his lifestyle, post-college. Add Celia to the list of people who didn’t believe he could change or grow as a person, he realized with a frown.

But she hadn’t noticed his change in mood, and she stroked his still fully erect penis. “You know,” she said, with a small purr in her voice, “there are still things we can do without a condom.”

She was right, there were things they could do, but regretfully, the moment had passed. He removed her hand, zipped his pants and sat up in the sand. Celia took the hint and began straightening her clothes.

They were quiet again; the only sounds were the ocean and the seabirds waking for their breakfast.

“It got late,” she noted.

“Or early, I guess. Depending on who you ask.”

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