Page 47 of Denying Davis
“The beach house.” My breath was jagged and broken. “Let’s go there. Now.”
She nodded. “Right now.”
It was the green light I needed. I picked up the glasses and bottle from the sand, handed them to her, then scooped up her small body. She let out a small protest about being able to walk for herself, but I laughed and carried her anyway. I was in control, and I relished every second of it. I liked taking care of her, doing things for her. And I never wanted to stop.
When we arrived at the bungalow doorstep, I placed her on the ground, fished the keys out of my back pocket, and led us inside the small property. It was just right for that night—a place where we’d lock out the rest of the world and only enjoy each other.
“Here we are.” I flipped on the wall light switch.
We both knew what was about to happen. It permeated the air around us. We didn’t have to say it.
“Wow,” she murmured as she walked inside the one-room cottage. “There’s a lot more in here than I remembered.”
“It was renovated last year.”
“Why am I not surprised?” She laughed. “A bed and everything. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you planned it this way.”
“What can I say?” I gestured to the queen-sized bed at the far end of the room, which also contained a small couch, kitchen, bathroom, entertainment center, and entrance to an outdoor shower. “This place was built for those times when someone would need to spend the night at the beach.”
“As opposed to the enormous house across the street.”
“Of course. Why walk across the street if you don’t have to?” I closed the door. “Although, I don’t think I’ve used this place for its intended purpose ever before.”
“First time for everything.”
I crossed to her and swept her up in my arms again, dispensing with all the pretext and subtlety. I wanted—needed—her whole body, and I was ready to claim her.
“I’ve wanted this ever since I saw you at the party,” I murmured.
I crushed my mouth to hers. As we kissed, I walked her backward toward the bed, lifted her up, and placed her in the center of it. Her lips were sweet and needing, and they responded to my touch. I moved my mouth in a light trail down her neck then grasped her dress and unzipped the side. She lifted her body and I pulled the dress down it, revealing her breasts, flat stomach, creamy thighs, and shapely curves. I moved off the bed and took in the sight of her body.
Only a small pair of black bikini briefs stood between me and her nakedness.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“All the things I’m going to do to you. All the ways I want to please you. And all the ways I’m going to show you how much I care about you tonight.” Then I crossed back to the bed and pulled her underwear from her body. “And it starts right now.”
I spread her legs. Beginning with her ankle, I planted a pathway of kisses up her body. I took care to savor her calf, her knee, her thigh, and finally the sweet core of her body.
A moan escaped Samantha’s lips as my tongue found the deepest part of her, and her hips twisted with pleasure as I worked in and out, curling my lips around her sensitive skin. My hands caressed her stomach then traveled to her breasts. I kneaded her nipples as I licked and sucked her clitoris, moving her toward a release I knew she wanted with every cell in her being.
“Don’t stop,” she murmured. “Don’t ever stop. Ever.”
At the perfect moment, I raised up and unbuckled my pants. Then I kicked off my shoes and ripped my clothes off as fast as my fingers would allow. Found a condom in my wallet. Naked, I returned to her on the bed and angled myself on top of her.
“Are you ready?” I asked against the shell of her ear.
Her deep groan was all the confirmation I needed.
In two quick movements, I buried myself inside her. It was like coming home, and as we embraced each other on the bed, the warmth of our connection scratched an itch in the deepest parts of my body. I was all around her, and she was all around me, and together we raced toward the peak of our connection. And then we both came, something so unexpected and so incredible. I’d entered the room as one man, but I would leave as another. And I couldn’t think of anything better.
I wasn’t a virgin—I’d lost that my freshman year at Florida State—but sex with Davis Armstrong felt different. It was like our souls entwined as we connected in ways I hadn’t considered possible. Like we’d finished a connection that had been so cruelly interrupted by life. Lying on the bed of the beach bungalow, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Davis was asleep. He’d been asleep for hours. In fact, he fell sleep a few minutes after we’d finished, and the soft rhythm of his breaths had beat out a steady pace as I lay with my head on his shoulder. A few times, I’d closed my eyes too, hoping sleep would come.
But it hadn’t.
Instead, I stared at the ocean outside the floor-to-ceiling windows in the opposite side of the cottage and felt guilty. My mom was in the hospital, and I hadn’t checked in since before dinner the previous night. After a while, I slipped from the bed, found my phone in my purse, and sent my mom a text message telling her where I was and that I was thinking about her.
