Page 7 of Make Me Yours

“I’m twenty-four,” she says, her chin hitching higher. “And I’m not a prude or a hopeless romantic, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just not into being the subject of small-town gossip and almost everyone I work with is a man. I know how they talk.Lobstermen are worse than desperate housewives, and I don’t want a bunch of horny, chatty dudes speculating about my sex life.”

I grunt, surprised again. “You’re a lobsterwoman?” I’ve known a few in my life, but it’s still an overwhelming male profession.

And none of the ladies I saw coming off the boats as a kid looked anything like this woman. She’s a Viking shield maiden, strong and beautiful and living proof that women can doing anything men can do, while remembering to wear sunscreen so their skin doesn’t dry into a windburned husk by their mid-twenties.

“Harvester is the gender-neutral term,” she shoots back. “And yeah, I am. Sixth generation. I have half a dozen ancestors out there at the bottom of the ocean and another couple dozen in the cemetery on the hill. Fishing is in my blood. I couldn’t leave this town if I tried.”

“And you don’t want to try,” I say, reading her correctly if the pride firming her features is anything to judge by.

“No, I don’t,” she says. Her tongue slips out to dampen her lips as she adds in a less certain voice, “But I don’t want to be a twenty-five-year-old virgin, either, and my birthday is in November, so…”

“Happy early birthday,” I murmur, my gaze flicking down to her tight nipple, my fingers aching to capture it between my fingers. But I need one more question answered first… “What’s your name?”

“Gertrude,” she says, in a tone that dares me to comment on the old-fashioned name.

I smile, liking her more with every passing minute. She’ll be the perfect distraction while I’m here, a way to blow off steam when the stress of dealing with my dysfunctional family gets to be too much.

“Well, Gertrude?—”

“Call me Sully,” she says. “All my guy friends do.”

Guy friends…

I’m not sure if I’m going to be one ofthose, but, “I’m happy to give you a sexual education you won’t forget, Sully,” I say. “But I’m going to need something from you in exchange.”

Her brows shoot up. “Wow. You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”

I don’t dignify the question with a response. Idothink a lot of myself and so will she, once I’m done making her come hard enough to banish her little sexting problem from her mind.

Aloud, I say, “I’m a private person, too, and the people of Sea Breeze haven’t earned the right to know anything about my life. If we decide to fuck, we keep it a secret. If our paths cross in town, you don’t say hello. You don’t so much as look my way. You don’t call me or text me or disturb me when I’m dealing with business during work hours. And when I tell you I want you, you come down here just like this, quickly and quietly, dressed all in black so no one sees you, and you leave before the first fisherman arrives on the docks in the morning.”

Her jaw drops as she shakes her head. “Bastard.”

“Indeed,” I agree.

“And proud of it. Awesome.” She huffs. “Well, you can fuck right off, Mr. Whatever Your Name Is. I don’t need your bullshit or your ‘education’ or your ego the size of?—”

I cut her off with a kiss, crushing my lips to hers.

At first her mouth is hard and unyielding beneath mine, but when I cup her breast, dragging my thumb across her tight pink nipple, her lips part on a gasp of pleasure. A moment later, my tongue is sparring with hers, stroking and teasing, demanding her submission as I jerk her top lower, baring both her breasts.

“I need your promise, Cat Burglar,” I say, plucking both of her nipples now as I knee her thighs apart. “We pretend we don’tknow each other and you come when I call, or no orgasms for you tonight.”

“I have a condition, too,” she says against my mouth, her fingers clawing into the bare skin on my back. “You never tell anyone about this. Ever. I don’t want it getting out that I’m a Tripp fucker. I may not know your name, but you have to be a Tripp, and your family is the worst.”

I kiss her harder and smile, my teeth pressing against hers through our lips. “Agreed. You have my word, Sully. Now lift your arms. I need your clothes off. Now.”

To my surprise, she obeys without another word, returning her arms to their place on the mattress above her head. I grip the bottom of her hoodie and tank top, ripping them both off at the same time, revealing a body that would launch a thousand ships. Her breasts are large, but firm and high on her chest, with pale nipples only a shade darker than her skin. Her stomach is taut and flat, with muscles visible on either side of her torso.

She’s fucking perfect, and I can’t wait to see the rest of her.

I grip the top of her sweatpants and cotton panties, dragging them down slowly, inch by inch, revealing more firm flesh, sexy hip bones, and finally, a thatch of dark blond hair. It isn’t neatly trimmed or tamed in any way. She’s a natural girl, just like her Viking forebearers must have been, and even though I haven’t been with a woman who doesn’t shave since I was a teenager, I find her untamed beauty completely sexy.

Suddenly, I can’t wait another second to taste her. I need her pussy on my mouth, her taste on my tongue. I need this bold girl helpless and writhing beneath me, proving I still have some control over my destiny.

Sea Breeze has pulled me back into its web for now, but it can’t keep me here. I’ll bury my brother, clean up his mess, pass the hideous mansion on the hill on to whatever relative wants to live in that house of horrors, and get back to my real life.

But in the meantime, I’ll distract myself by giving this girl a first fuck she’ll never forget.

---