“I don’t need it. I believe in you. I believe in us.”
I swallowed through the lump in my throat his sweet words inspired. “I believe in us, too.”
He looked me fully in the face, ran his big hands over my hairline, and held them there. Even in the semi-dark, I could see his eyes burning. “My turn,” he said. “Are you still empty inside?”
My words from his mouth were sharp and painful. I inhaled back tears. “No.” I wasn’t. He’d filled me with goodness and killed any poison in me.
“Good.” His hand moved to my jaw, and he pecked me. “Ready to go up?”
I shook my head no, so he stayed and kissed me a little longer until it was completely dark. Eventually, we gathered up the blanket and walked back to the house holding hands.
I unpacked the picnic we hadn’t touched and the wine we’d barely drunk, and we ate to the soundtrack of waves crashing against the shore.
After we’d cleaned up, I asked, “How about that massage, surfer boy?”
He scooped me up in one swift movement and carried me up the stairs. “I love having you all to myself,” he said and set me down in the bedroom.
“Strip to your underwear,” I instructed as I went into the bathroom. I swapped my sundress for the silky white robe I’d brought from home, then grabbed some body oil from under the sink.
When I came out of the bathroom, the look on his face stopped my trek to the bed. “You brought your robe,” he said and bit his bottom lip. “I love that fucking thing.”
“I know you do. Now, get on your stomach, facedown. And no screwing around,” I said, mimicking his surf lesson on land, “or you might get hurt.”
He chuckled as he shook his head and got into position. He waited with his arms tucked under his head. I went to turn out the lights but decided against it. I didn’t want to miss anything.
I climbed over him, parted my robe to straddle his firm ass, and squirted oil onto his back. I dove my hands into it, spreading it from his broad shoulders down to his narrow hips. I rubbed and kneaded, savoring every inch of him and working myself into a decent state of arousal. I loved the way his skin felt under my fingertips and how his muscles relaxed at my probing touch.
“Turn over,” I said after a while. I lifted onto my knees to allow him to flip onto his back. When I settled my bare pussy on his underwear, we both inhaled sharply. He looked up at me from under heavy eyebrows. I filled my hands with oil, took a deep breath, and touched his chest. I felt his pecs, his shoulders, his biceps. I made my way over the contours of his taut stomach. When I looked back at his face, he’d closed his eyes in peace.
I was aware the moment he hardened under me. I was already wet against his underwear, had been for a while, and was further excited when the ridges of his cock twitched against me. I suppressed a moan at the thought of taking all of my man inside of me.
You’re unreal, I thought as I looked at him.What if this has all been a beautiful dream? And when I wake up, it’ll be too soon . . .
My tear fell onto his stomach, but with his eyes shut, he didn’t notice. I slid my hands under his lower back and dragged them back up. I let my fingers graze under the waistband of his underwear, and he jerked.
He sighed heavily without looking and ran his hands over the outsides of my thighs. My hand skated up his stomach and then down again, reaching slightly farther under his waistband. He inhaled slowly but loudly and coaxed my hips over him, back and forth.
Finally, he opened hungry eyes and slipped his hand inside my robe. It grazed up over my breast and neck until he cupped my jaw. “You look like an angel.” He pulled me down, and I curved my body to meet his lips as he added, “A fantasy.”
I cocked my head slightly.A fantasy, I repeated in my head.A dream. A fantasy.
He kissed me slowly, and I responded, unhurriedly letting my tongue memorize his mouth. My hips moved on their own, finding pleasure against the length of him. Without disconnecting from his mouth, I pulled down his underwear and put him inside me. We moaned at the same moment, exchanging hot breaths.
A dream. A fantasy. A dream. A fantasy.
The words ran through my head like a prayer, an appeal to something higher.
Don’t take this away from me. I can do it for you, for you I can do anything. I could never walk away.David . . . my David.
“David,” I whispered. “My David.”
“Olivia,” he responded with his hands tangled in my hair. “Open your eyes.”
I let my face fall into the space between his neck and shoulder and gyrated faster.
“Baby.” I could hear him gritting his teeth, and I knew he was close, so I kissed his neck the way he liked.
A dream. A fantasy. A dream. A fantasy.
