Page 2 of Hold on Tight

She smiled. “You like that?”

“Hell, yeah,” he said.

Another button, and another, and the shirt hung down at her sides. He cupped her breasts in his hands. Now the ache was in his throat and his jaw and God, fuckingeverywhere.

With other girls, he’d kissed them because it was the thing to do, the time to do it. With Mira, he kissed her because he couldn’t not. And he kept kissing her because it hurt to stop, played with her nipples and grabbed her ass and rocked her up against him because he wanted to haveall, fucking all, of her; there wasn’t enough of her, hecouldn’t get enough of her. That was how it was with Mira.

The way she got in his arms. Like something fierce, writhing and live. Like he could barely hold her. And that lit his craving worse. He wanted to trap her, wanted to rub his heat and need off on her, but she wouldn’t be contained.

She wriggled out of his arms and darted a short distance away.

“Come back.”

She shook her head and dropped her shirt to the sand behind her. She undid her bra and arched her back a little so her breasts swelled and her nipples tipped up. Something roared in him, but he stayed where he was because the visual was so fine he couldn’t stop looking. Saliva rushed into his mouth, blood poured into his dick. And then her hands found the button of her denim shorts and slid them and her underpants down her long, white legs to the sand. The whole, perfect fantasy revealed in the moonlight.

He lunged, but she ran into the water, laughing at him. She gasped at the cold. “Get in here and warm me up.”

He got out of his own clothes so fast he tripped over his jeans and got an arm tangled in his T-shirt. The cool water slid across his heated limbs. His body tightened and shrank, but his desire stayed sharp beneath the surface of his skin, like an undercurrent. He kicked and swam out, then back, stretching his legs and luxuriating. She treaded water and watched.

“C’mere,” she said.

In the water, she was cool and slippery, heat hidden in the places where he buried his fingers and his face. They stood in water up to their shoulders, and her body warmed his until she pressed his erection between his belly and hers.

“Do you want to?” A gesture so vague she could have been asking if he wanted to go to the grocery store, but even in the dim light he could see the flush rise in her cheeks.

He wanted to. So much he couldn’t answer, couldn’t choke outyes,fuck yes, oh my God please yes.

“I have two blankets in my bag,” she said.

“I don’t have condoms.”

“I do.”

She’d planned for it and—he wanted to believe—longed for it.Jesus. He kissed her hard and lifted her off her feet and tried to press up into her despite the mad impossibility of those logistics.

She laughed at him. “Hang on. Hang on.”

He swept her into his arms and carried her up the beach. He squatted, balancing her across his thighs, ignoring the burn, grabbing the blankets out of the tote bag she’d brought and laying them out as best he could on the sand. He set her down on one and she spread the edges out, then reached for him and pulled him down so abruptly he lost his balance and fell beside her.

He crawled over her and dropped his mouth to hers. Her body was a dizzying contrast of warm and cool, her tongue a wild, aggressive thing. He couldn’t catch his breath. She made senseless sounds, moving against his fingers, shifting to press her breasts up so he could duck his head and lick circles around her tight nipples. Her next noise was a definite moan. It swirled in his belly and made him so hard it hurt.

“I want you,” she whispered in his ear.

His brain had shut down, and whatever part of him was in charge could only think:In. He moved over her and positioned himself, swollen and leaking pre-cum. He felt her wet heat give against his tip, felt her all over his head, and he almost came right then and there, almost blew his wad and ruined the whole fucking night.

“Condom,” she said.

“Shit.” He withdrew.

She tugged her bag over and found one, tore it open and reached for him. He had to use all his self-control to hang on. He made a choked sound, and she hummed her approval as he got between her legs again and she lined him up against her wetness. He thrust forward. An inch, and he wouldn’t have thought it possible but he wanted her even more, her fierce heat squeezing him, and he pressed farther, farther, until he noticed she’d gone still beneath him.

He was so crazed with lust that it took him a moment to catch on. She’d turned her face away, too.

“Mira,” he whispered.

“Ow,” she whispered back.

“Oh, Christ, I’m sorry,” he said, and drew back, which elicited another squeaked noise of—he now recognized—pain. “I’ll go slower.” He dropped a hand between her legs and began to slick his thumb lightly back and forth over her clit.

---