Page 93 of Beached Wedding

His hands slowly shaped my lower back, igniting fires as he climbed his hands to my ribs then down to the top of my ass. He smoothed his palms over my hips and slowly brought them up to my shoulder blades, cradling me close again, but this embrace was no longer comforting and safe. I was beginning to glow. Toburn.

“I didn’t know I could love anyone like this,” he confided with an emotive edge on his voice. The pulse in his throat was heavy against my palm.

“Me, either.”

It awed and overwhelmed me, but I wasn’t frightened. Not anymore. Even when he kissed me so deeply, I lost track of where we were and forgot to breathe. Even when my arousal became more than desire. More than want. Hunger. Need.

I swept my tongue into his mouth and pushed my hips into the thick pressure of his erection.

This wasn’t me. I was never the sexual aggressor, but I needed him to know how much he meant to me. How deep this craving went for us to be physicallytogether.

He groaned and brushed the straps of my sundress down my shoulders.

I pulled back. “It has to come over my head. My ass is too?—”

His brows went up in a small warning.

“—spectacular for it to slide down over my hips.”

His teeth flashed. “Hell yes, it is.”

He shed his shirt and shorts, then helped me with the dress, lifting it off my upraised arms. I reached to unhook my bra and he caught a finger in my underwear, but only used that snag to draw me closer as I threw my bra away.

He was naked and hard and so incredibly sexy I nearly melted as my skin brushed his hot, tense frame.

I realized I was shaking when I watched my fingers tremble as I lightly traced across to the ball of his shoulder, down his biceps to his forearm.

“I want to rub myself all over you,” I whispered and licked at his dark brown nipple, beaded and tight beneath the pressure of my tongue.

He drew a shaken breath. His arms tightened around me. “Yes, please.”

I released a breathy laugh against his chest, but I wanted to sob under the massive feelings swamping me.

“I’m serious,” he whispered against my ear, making my scalp tighten. “I want you all over me.” His fingertips were tracing the line where my thong disappeared between my cheeks. The tickling caress caused a hot rush of wetness into the cotton.

“I want you in me.” I clasped my hand around the girth of him, squeezing firmly enough he pulsed in my hand and hissed a breath through his teeth.

He nipped at my mouth and backed me toward the bed, then we stood beside it, kissing deeply, tongues playing and both of us groaning at the gorgeous, lusty sexiness of it. His hands cupped my breasts and his thumbs circled my nipples. I stroked him andhe pushed into my hand and I was pretty sure I was going to die from the ache in my pussy.

I released him to push the thong down and he threw himself onto the bed, then invited me with the beckon of his hands.

I straddled his hips and he said, “Babe. Up here.” His strong hands took hold of my hips and he slid down the bed, encouraging me to move up.

“Another time.” I’d never sat on a man’s face in my life. For the first time, I was more intrigued than appalled, but, “Right now I really need to feel you in me.”

I stood on my knees over him and used my fingers to part and spread my juices over and around, preparing to take him in.

“Keep doing that,” he said in a low, graveled voice, hands moving restlessly on my thighs while he watched.

I slowed and showed him what I liked, rubbing up over my clit and sliding down to penetrate, growing hotter and hornier under his intense stare. I was getting really close. I bit my lip, slowing my touch. Slowing and slowing.

When I made a helpless noise and lifted my touch away, he dragged his incandescent gaze up to mine.

“Keep going. I want to watch.”

I already felt unbearably vulnerable, but there was something in his soft command, something in this small bridge of trust we were building, that made me want to give him everything. I closed my eyes and touched myself again. I stroked my clit until I was wet and tense and arriving at the peak. Rolling over it.

A small cry tore from my throat as the climax hit. I buried two fingers deep inside me, waiting until the hardest pulses had faded before I let them slide free.

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