“Now I know why this is called the forbidden fruit,” he murmured against my lips when we broke to take a breath. “Fuck.”
He came back like he was starving for it, a hungry wolf, and the kiss grew deeper, more frenzied. I sucked in a breath when he ripped his lips from mine and fell to his knees in front of me. I tipped back, groping for the rock wall, when he parted my thighs and…
“Mmmm.” A noise that communicated complete euphoria took over. His tongue teased and tortured, and instead of holding on to the rock, my nails sunk into his shoulders. My thighs started to tremble, and when he did something that made me say something incomprehensible…the entire world shattered around me. The lines the sun made under the water seemed branded onto myvision.
It felt like I’d melted into the rock, and when his tongue started a path up, circling my navel, I became solid again. I could taste the salt from myself on his tongue when his mouth met mine, and even though I’d barely caught my breath, if he didn’t fuck me soon, it felt like my body might rebel and start a war on his.
He lifted me off my feet and set me in a crevice of the rock. It was big enough for my ass, and he pulled me forward a little, tilting my body so he had access to it. My back was secure. The hand with the black wolf tattoo, eyes as electric as his, slid up my body, caressing my breast, as my legs went around his waist.
His eyes locked with mine, and a gentle breeze kissed my body before he slipped inside of me. I was as salty and as wet as the sea, and he moved like the tide, slowly at first, in and out, stretching me, and then his tempo picked up, and he fucked me like a storm ravaging the shore.
My head rolled back, my eyes too, and the noises from my mouth were so loud, they might have echoed. They were reckless, as if I was giving myself over to the storm after fighting it for so long. The rush of it coursed through my body, and I fought to keep myself in one piece.
I rolled my hips, starting to keep up, taking him even deeper, when a growl came from deep in his throat. The sound of our bodies slapping was eaten up by the waves, but it still seemed loud in this small area of the world that felt entirely ours.
He came in closer, his body never skipping a beat, and licked me from neck to ear. “Come,” he whispered, his breath warm. “Shatter around my cock, Mariposa.”
The way he said my name. The way he said cock. The feel of his tongue on my neck…
My back arched, my head hitting the rock, and my breasts bounced with the momentum of our bodies. My nipples were hard, aching for him to touch, and when he took one in his mouth, sucking and then pulling away, I cried out and dug my heels into his ass.
His walls shattered when mine did, an explosion when we crashed together, and I could feel the reverberations of it inside of my bones. When he came, he came hard, all that caged restraint temporarily in someone else’scontrol.
Mine.
I leaned my head against his chest, my breath flowing out like pants. After a few seconds, he kissed me, hard, on top of my head and pulled back some. He eyed me for a moment and thenslipped out. I tried not to wince, but I always did. It was like he was severing the connection between us.
He lifted me from the rock, setting me down on the sand. Then his eyes roamed over my body again, stilling on my thighs. He ran a slow hand up one and then the other, cleaning me up some. I could smell him, or maybe us, in the air. It was heady, even with the cleansing scents of the beach.
“Dirty enough?” I barely got out. My throat felt raw—my back and ass a bit too. Had I been screaming?
He said nothing as he lifted me off my feet and waded into the water, then brought us both under.
4
CAPO
My wife frolicked in the sea like exactly what she was—human. If frolic was the right fucking word. If she was relaxing with her head back, her eyes turned up to the sun, she spread her arms and let the water take her wherever it wanted. But sometimes she ran through it, splashing, laughing as she did.
I had taught her, for the most part, how to swim in Sicily, but she still had work to do. Just like she had work to do with always staying on her bike. I’d taught her how to ride one, and she mostly could, but sometimes if something came at her, like another bike, or a rock appeared along the path, instead of turning to avoid it, she went over. Then she came up laughing, even if she got busted up some. Then my aunts would step in and make over her like she needed them to kiss it and make it better. Mariposa would wave them away, saying she was okay, but I could tell she liked it. She never fought too hard.
The woman fucking fascinated me. The things she did. The words she used. She couldn’t lose my attention even if she tried.
Life had tried to take her from me, more than once, but she seemed as solid as the shore when a waved crashed into it. Shemostly let it roll off her shoulders. All that she’d been through, hell and back, and yet she was still so open to the idea of living that it made me study her harder.
I’d never met anyone like her in my entire life, which meant that her behavior at times was puzzling. I’d met what seemed like one of every kind of personality—I’d seen a lot of shit in my life—but I had no fucking clue what she was doing.
I was standing not too far from her, arms crossed, my head tilted to the side, trying to make sense of it. Her head was below the surface, her hair fanning out around her, arms spread, and she was bobbing with the motion of the water, bare ass up in the air.
A few seconds later, her head shot up, hair sticking to her face like chestnut-colored seaweed, and she struggled to breathe. She moved the strands from her face and met my eyes. She had the perkiest tits, her nipples hard, her skin running with clear water as the sun beat down on her body. It took all my resolve to keep my eyes on hers, even though I’d stolen a glimpse of what belonged to me.
Anything that belonged to her.
My restraint along with it.
Things I had never truly understood before were starting to make sense. Burying myself inside of a woman didn’t seem so metaphorical anymore. Whenever I pulled out, there was a need to be right back in.
I shook myself, like a dog shaking off droplets of water, and focused.
