Page 38 of The Last Sunrise

The breezy ocean air tickles my skin just as his lips press against me. My shoulder hikes up as he teases the sensitive nerve bundle at the base of my neck.

I turn my body to straddle his waist. I’ve had enough waiting. I can’t stand it anymore, and if this is his idea of not even starting to entice me, I will combust.

Pushing my fingers through his now-dry hair, I softly tug at the wavy strands, lifting his face to mine.

“I don’t believe in virtues, and I don’t have any more patience.” I move my hips, grinding against him.

His cheeks flush and a low groan falls from his lips. I don’t care to look around us to see how near the closest boat is. Julián’s face is unreadable. I can feel him hard beneath me, so I know he physically wants me, what the hell is stopping him?He seems to decide to go further, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms tight around my waist. The thin fabric of our swimwear isn’t thick enough to hide both of our arousal. I’ve never been this forward with a guy, but no man has ever, ever, ever made me feel like this. Mentally stimulated and physically… electric. Impossible to control myself.

I lean in to kiss him, but he’s faster, closing the space between us with a relieved moan. His mouth tastes exactly like I expected. Like the sunlight against my shoulders in the beginning of June, like wet skin against warm pool tile, like the first sip of ice water in the height of summer. His lips soft and pillowy, wet and skillful. His tongue slides into my mouth and I rock against him, soaking through my bikini bottoms. He kisses me like the water washes over your skin, slowly and powerfully, coming in intense waves and tiding back out.

Salty, strong, and warm. He stands up, carrying me with ease, never breaking his mouth from mine. I can’t see where we’re going, nor do I care, as we move across the boat. A door creaks open and within seconds, we’re horizontal, a soft mattress under my back as he lays me down. The smell of paper and wood envelops my senses before Julián pulls me right back into his orbit. His warm mouth trails down my neck again, focusing again on the spot that makes me squirm. He’s a fast learner. I dig my fingers into his soft hair, tugging to pull his mouth back to mine. I feel explosive, impatient. I’ve never wanted or needed something so badly. No doubt, no second-guessing. I need Julián. Now.

“I can’t wait any longer. I really, really can’t,” I shamelessly admit, breathless.

He cocks his head to the side and gives me a long look. “As you wish.”

At the exact moment he finishes speaking, his fingers slide beneath my bathing suit and inside me. I groan, the relief washing over me like a thousand seas. Julián’s tongue dips down to my top as his skillful fingers pump slowly, his thumb pressing against my clit, making me press my lips together, trying not to scream with pleasure. He uses his teeth to move the fabric of my top out of the way, revealing my breasts, goose bumps covering them, my nipples hard as his mouth touches one of them. I arch my back, and he uses his hips to pin me down.

His tongue swirls at the same pace as his thumb, fingers still moving in and out… in and out… slowly, delightfully, building a forgotten pressure low in my belly. I bite down on his shoulder as I come, my entire body tensing and pulsing, the black behind my eyelids filling with exploding light as I stay in the high longer than I ever have. As I come down, my body melts into the mattress, my chest rising and falling at a rapid speed. I can barely see straight as he brings his lips to my ear, gently kissing the center.

“I must taste you. I’ve craved you since the moment I saw you,” he calmly whispers as if he didn’t just give me the most intense orgasm of my entire life.

I want more. I need more. I need more than more.

He crawls down my body, the freckles on his broad shoulders like a starry night, the messy waves in his hair. God, he’s perfect. I lift my hips so he can take my bottoms off, and I nearly come again at the look in his eyes as his gaze rakes over my naked body. His eyes shine as his tongue glides overhis lips, and I’ve never felt so sexy, so desired. The rush is nearly too intense to stay still. He licks my stomach, the skin on the sides of my hips, circling around, teasing me. I whine his name, trying to pull him by the hair to where I need him. He gently bites the inside of my thigh in return. The stinging, delightful surprise makes my hips rise again; my feet dig into the mattress as his tongue swipes across my still-throbbing clit. He uses his tongue to write poetry, words I’ll never forget. My hand flies to my mouth, clamping down as he wraps his thick, toned arms around my thighs, pulling them wide open as he devours me. The first lick of his tongue sets me ablaze.

Flashes of skin, freckles, stars, sunsets, waves, water, the smell of sugar consume me as I climax again.

As I slowly come back to reality, he asks, “Are you exhausted yet?”

There’s a playful gleam in his eyes while I catch my breath.

“Absolutely not,” I reply quickly, reaching for his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side.

His body covers mine and suddenly everything feels easy, feels light and free, and I instinctively know my life will never be the same again.

“We should eat now while it’s fresh. In this weather, it will go bad fast, and I’d rather not give you food poisoning,” he tells me, his breath much slower than before, but still a little ragged.

He’s lying beside me as I count the splinters in the ceiling of this room, feeling my calm heartbeat in my chest. A massive, unerasable grin spreads across my face.

“How long did I doze off?” I ask him, still in disbelief that I was relaxed enough to sleep in a strange place, with a man I barely know, in the middle of the ocean.

“Only about ten minutes. You were awake one minute, then bam, lights out the next.

“Hungry?” he asks.

Sitting up, I clap my hands together, stomach growling like I haven’t eaten in a week. I reach over and grab his shirt that I threw, and which is now dangling from an oyster shell–shaped lamp, the light bulb meaning to be the pearl.

“Quirky. I like it.” I point to the lamp, and he grins.

“I made it. I used to make all kinds of silly things out of dry clay.” He rubs the back of his neck, squeezing a little.

There’s a flush in the apple of his cheeks, and I can’t tell if it’s from what we just did or if he’s embarrassed.

“It’s not silly. I would buy this on Etsy.” I lean up, my body still naked, and run my finger along the cool shell. It’s glossy, pearlized white with a tinge of green where the light touches it.

“What’s an Etsy?” he wonders, pulling his shorts up to his waist and yanking on the strings.

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