Page 62 of Whispers on the Water

I’m half expecting him to tell me we shouldn’t get physical. Things are complicated enough without diving back into a relationship we never defined in the first place. Instead, his face showed pure arousal, like his eyes alone could undress and ravage my naked body. Like fire. I never understood that saying before, but it’s as clear as day. He’s literally burning for me.

Yeah, that’s enough of waiting for him to make his move. I reach down and fist my own shirt, yanking it over my head. His eyes widen like a wild man, and both palms are instantly on my breasts. Grabbing one of his hands, I pull it up, kiss a knuckle, and then stick his finger in my mouth. I give my best bedroom eyes to him while I slowly suck and pull it out from between my lips.

If I thought I saw the fire before, it’s nothing to what that slutty little move did. With a lunge, his mouth attacks mine.

“Oh, that dirty little mouth,” he says, his voice low and rumbling like a diesel engine. Hands are pawing my body, smooth but firm. “Lemme get us to the bed, sweetheart.”

But my fingers are yanking the button open on his shorts. I know there’s nothing underneath them; I know his beautiful cock is ready for me. I lower myself to my knees, and his hands go to my hair. Shoving the fabric down, his girth flops out.

I’m almost in awe at seeing him naked again. For a moment, I stare at his manhood, resisting the temptation to tell Greg’s cock that I longed for him just as much as his sexy owner. Rather than diving straight into the matter at hand, I lean in closer, letting my barely covered breasts graze against his dick.

His head tips back, a long groan on his lips. “Fuck. Sam, the bed!”

“No,” I manage to say. Explaining my plans any further would be too much. But I love the sounds that are coming from his mouth. Noises made just for me, because of what I am doing.

Taking it as my cue, I flick my tongue out, licking him from his balls right up to his tip, then swirling my tongue along that thick, gorgeous vein.

A rumble of pure thunder shudders through him. “Baby, God. Fuck,” he groans. He’s trying to grab me and pull me up, but not this time. My appreciation for all he’s done will be given and well received.

I rest my hand on his tight abdomen as I took his entire length into my mouth. Suctioning with my lips, I slowly pull back. At the tip, I swirl my tongue around the head, and his grip tightens in my hair. The small buzz of pain on my scalp makes me moan around his dick.

Working him up and down faster with my mouth, I feel his hips piston against me. My nimble fingers go to the base of his dick, massaging at his favorite spot. The one that was guaranteed to make him lose control.

Knowing what works on him, how to make him come like a firehose, and how to let him slip away from that control his personality loves so much, is intoxicating. I know this man. I adore this man. More than anyone else in my life.

Tightening my lips, I move faster, wanting to taste him, feel his release in my mouth. Just when I think it’s time, he stops moving. His entire body is trembling with the effort of resisting.

He pulls me to my feet, his dick slipping from my mouth with a soft pop and brushes some precum off my chin with his thumb. That fire in his eyes magnified to an inferno. “Bed. Now.”

With a slow, graceful step that was torture but probably looked as sexy as it felt, I walked backwards toward the mattress. Once there, he grips around my waist and lifts me in the air, pressing his lips to mine in a forceful, nearly bruising move.

This is how I like him best. When his passion is almost painful. Just enough to show me he’s a man and strong enough to toss me around, but sweet enough to never actually hurt me.

There goes another point to evolution. My body doesn’t care about being an independent woman, she just wants a burly man to protect me. I might really need to rethink my feminism standpoint. I was never the kind to want a man to come in and rescue me. But as we continue ravaging each other’s mouths, I really don’t give a shit how it looks. Maybe I didn’t ask for a man to save the day, but that’s what I got. Help when I needed it the most. Without ever asking. Without judgment.

Love.

I know I don’t deserve it, but fuck if I care while his lips are sucking on mine.

Greg is panting when he finally pulls away. His fist encloses his cock, fisting the shaft while his other hand points to my legs. “Off.”

I nearly salute and yell out, ‘Yes, sir!’ There’s no way I’m not doing exactly what he says. I obey, shucking off my thigh-length jean shorts and panties in a clumsy move. The demanding lover wasn’t something I had seen in Greg before. But maybe it was his way of finally showing the last piece of himself. He had hidden his job from me for months, but its clear now, this is who he is. FBI Greg was somehow even sexier than surf bum Greg.

And when the two combined into this controlling, lust-filled sex God in front of me? I’m a goner. Dead. Bury me overlooking the ocean cause I’m done. Tossed into a towering one-hundred-foot wave without a board.

Okay, so really, I’m just breathless and having some sort of epiphany. Maybe a part of me finally understands why I haven’t been able to tell him I love him because I was missing this part.

Something changes in my chest. A squeeze turns into a warmth. Terrifying as it is thrilling. My chest is rising and falling too quickly. But neither of us has moved. We’re standing inches apart, both of us barely able to control our breathing. The shift in my feelings must be showing on my face because he looks like he’s truly seeing me for the first time.

He breaks first, attacking me like a demon. His kissing everywhere, touching everywhere. We tumble onto the bed.

“Greg,” I moan, wishing, hoping, needing him on every inch of my exposed skin.

“Where, baby?”

I’ve forgotten the names of all human anatomy, so I just point to my pussy. But his mouth doesn’t immediately go there. Instead, kissing a path down my stomach. “Yes, Greg.”

He blows hot air right where his lips were and I’m bucking my hips. “More?” I can’t answer him; I only arch my back to try to get the touch I crave.

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