Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
“Shit, Delilah,” he says on a husky chuckle. “Are you okay?”
His eyes search mine, genuine concern in their dark depths. I smile despite the growing warmth between my legs and the increased pace of my heart. “Oh, God, you were right,” I say with an exaggerated wail. “I’m a grape. You squished me like a grape!”
He laughs, a slow, deep rumble of sound, and I try my best not to notice how that makes certain things push and prod in areas that are growing more sensitive. But I do. My thighs clench as my nipples tighten beneath my flimsy shirt and bikini top.
I don’t know what he sees in my eyes, but his laughter dies down, his lips parting on an indrawn breath. His gaze grows slumberous, sliding to my lips and holding there.
The air heats and swells between us. The blunt tip of Macon’s thumb touches the corner of my mouth, where a hair clings. He lifts it away before caressing the edge of my lip. Every nerve in my body fires with pleasure.
I see the knowledge of that in his eyes, the answering want. His head dips closer, our breath mingling, becoming one.
“Delilah . . .” He gives me every chance to say no. But I don’t. I can’t.
His lips brush mine, and then I’m the one surging forward, meeting his mouth. Or maybe we move together. All I know is that we’re kissing as if it’s sweetly painful, like we’ve waited so long it’s almost too much to bear. And it’s so good. So very good, the feel of his mouth flowing over mine, learning the shape of me as I learn the shape of him.
He makes a noise deep in his throat, a protracted groan, a needy request for more. Liquid heat pours over me, my mouth opening to his. He tilts his head, his tongue sliding in for that first taste, and I slowly break apart beneath him, my mind going hazy, my body on fire. God, I need more. I need everything.
There’s no more hesitation. No more careful touches of tongue to tongue, lips softly questing. Just base hunger. Macon kisses me as if he’s parched, his jaw wide, tongue thrusting deep, so deep. I arch against him, held down by his chest, his fingers grasping my hair. That small bite of pain drives me frantic, kicks my lust up.
We become hot breaths, nips, licks, small wordless sounds. He’s surging against me, hard cock moving over my sex, grinding into the tender swell of my clit. And I wrap my leg around his hips, wanting more. The action shifts our positions, and the thick crown of his cock notches against my opening. It feels so damn good I moan into his mouth, my hips pushing up on him.
He shudders, suckling the plump crest of my bottom lip, and rocks into me—only the barrier of his sweats and my bikini keeping him from entering. But it’s enough. Enough that I feel that fat head pushing and nudging there but leaving me unfilled, empty.
My muscles clench sweetly, wanting relief, needing more. I slide the flat of my tongue against his, whimpering, undulating against him. He groans long and pained, his whole body moving with his stunted thrusts. We’re going at it like sweaty teens, dry fucking each other in the sand. And I don’t care. I want his clothes off. I want mine gone.
A wet slap of water crashes into us—ice cold and briny. It’s in my eyes, salt in my mouth. A startled cry leaves me. Macon shouts in surprise. We both scramble to our knees, a tangle of wet limbs, shock making us clumsy.
For a second, I don’t know what the hell happened, only that I’m soaked, my hair hanging wet and sandy in my eyes. Then it dawns on me that we’re on the beach, the sand beneath me now sodden. I glance back at the ocean. A rogue wave hit us, leaving behind foamy brine and bits of seaweed. Being on the bottom, I received the brunt of it.
Macon and I stare at each other as if in a daze, and then he bursts out laughing. God, he’s gorgeous when he laughs, eyes like dark stars, mouth wide and happy. I think about how we must have looked, sprawled on the sand, lost in each other, a wave crashing over us. From Here to Eternity, it was not. Just cold, salty, and gritty.
I start to laugh, too, letting it take me over. Better to laugh than think about how hot I’d been, how damn needy. The sound soon dies down, and we’re left slightly panting and staring at each other. Macon’s smile is lopsided. Gently, he reaches out and tucks a wet strand of my hair back from my face. “Wave got you good, Tot.”