“God, you’re a dirty little Angel aren’t you,” he groans as his pelvis rocks against my body. “Fuck I like that. Have mercy, how I love that Rochelle.”
His rock-hard erection makes me want only one thing. To feel him shoved so deep inside me I don’t know where he begins and I end.
The mention of my name on his lips sends me into overload as his fingers find my sex again and he fills me once more, pushing my body further than I thought possible. Hunter descends down my body and I impatiently wait for him to taste me again.
“True or false?” he whispers just as his tongue licks up my slit. “This time, when you cum, your dirty little mouth screams my name?”
Chapter Ten
Rochelle
Hunter’s hands slip around my waist as I look out across the ocean. His mouth finds the crook in my neck and he places the tenderest of kisses against my cool skin.
It’s been a month since the ballgame, his apartment, and our truth or dare escapade which had me surrendering and craving his next touch more than anything I have ever needed or wanted before in my life. He’s never pushed me further without asking, and like a perfect gentleman he has not forced the issue of when I’ll give him my virginity.
One night soon, I know I will let him make me his, and I’ll enjoy every moment of giving myself to him for the first time because no one has ever cared for me as tenderly, as passionately, as unconditionally as him before.
God help me because it sure feels a lot like love.
Love? Is that what this is? If so, I sure hope he feels it, too.
“I’ve never felt perfection like this, Angel,” he whispers as his grip tightens around my waist and my insecurities start to fade. “With you in my arms, you’re all the heaven I need to save me from any kind of hell I’ve ever faced before, or ever will again.”
My body relaxes as his words circle my thoughts. Running my fingertips across his hand, I gently start to raise them up his arm.
If heaven doesn’t feel like this, I don’t want any part of it.
The wind blows past restlessly as we take a ferry across the water towards Balboa Island. It’s Saturday, and we both had the day off. No work. No game. No school to keep us occupied. The sun begins to set, and I smile as we venture further towards a future I never expected.
Earlier, Hunter made me promise to let him “take me out.” Since my run in with Tiffany, I have been more inclined to spend each second together in private. Something he’s quickly caught on to.
When he confronted me about it, I denied it at first until he pushed further. I caved and told him a little about my past in Georgia, and growing up here in California after the move. I left out the part about the secrets that led to us leaving the South. Mostly because I still don’t know the whole truth myself.
After several minutes of coaxing me to accept the fact that he only wanted me, and nothing but me for as long as I would let him have it, he eventually decided to show me just how bad his need for me ran. That ended with me screaming his name as he licked and sucked me into oblivion moments before I dropped to my knees and made him cum harder than he said he ever has in his life. A fact I proudly accepted as I stood and kissed his lips before he spun me around, forcibly grabbed me back against him, and drove his fingers deep inside me again.
“I need more,” he had whispered against my ear as he quickly worked my center into another climax. “I’ll always need more, Rochelle.”
The boat comes to a stop and several cars start to make their way off the ramp and onto the island. Releasing me, Hunter grabs my hand and walks me towards his bike. Handing me my helmet and kick starting the engine, I climb on the back, secure my headgear and lean against him, holding on tight as he takes off into the evening light.
Chapter Eleven
Hunter
Rochelle forks some of the chocolate dessert into her mouth and wraps her lips around it, making a sound as delectable as the chocolate she is eating. But the moan of pleasure is also just as seductive as when she purrs when I’m touching her, building her up and waiting for her to crash over the edge. She looks up at me through hooded lashes as her foot rises and brushes against my inner thigh. I lean back in my seat, gripping her ankle tightly under the table, I give her a look that promises if she pushes me any further, I’ll take her on top of this table. She blushes, before setting down her fork and taking a sip of coffee.
She looks out across the view and my eyes follow her gaze. The ferry lets off another group of people as boats drive back and forth across the harbor. Birds fly high in the air as tourists and locals walk back and forth enjoying the pier, the surf, sand, and laid-back atmosphere the island has to offer.
Somehow, when you’re here, you forget that you’re in a big city like Orange County. Only a 10-15 minute ferry ride across the bay, and actually attached to Newport Beach by freeway if you want to forgo the boat altogether, the island feels detached enough to slow you down, but plenty engaged with California life to keep you going all night.
“I like it here,” she says, as the breeze blows in through the open window and flutters her hair about her face.
“Me too,” I confess as she glances back my way. “Edward and Sylvia have a house on the island. We’ve been coming here since I was a kid. When we wanted to escape the crazy downtown LA life, they would pack us all up and bring us here to relax. I know this island like the back of my hand. I spent many nights exploring the streets after the sun would go down and the tourists would leave. It’s like a second home.”
“Then why did you get an apartment in Huntington Beach if you had a place here you could stay at?”
I shrug. “Have you ever wanted to escape and make a name for yourself? Not live under the thumb of what others wanted for your life? Not walk in the shadows of their footprints? That’s why I guess. How about you? What made you leave Georgia?”
Startled, she looks down at her plate and bites her lip. Maybe I crossed a line. But I don’t take it back, because I want to know more about her, a lot more.
