As soon as we reach the beach house, I hear the waves hitting the shore. In the distance, thunder rumbles in the sky. Danger hasn’t reached me yet.
Following my instinct, I round the house.
I know he’s behind me, steady as a shadow, protective as a shield.
With each step I take, a piece of my clothes falls, leaving a trail of nakedness for him to follow.
The smooth sand digs into my feet, anchoring me as I gather all my courage to run toward the ocean, sending a current to freeze my blood. Damn, I underestimated how cold the water is.
My teeth chatter, goose bumps ravage my skin, but he’s right there to hold me—my personal furnace.
“If you catch a cold,” he stares at the ocean as if he’ll drain it if it causes me any harm.
Turning in his arms, I cup his face and kiss him. “Love me, Tristan.”
“I can’t stop. I won’t stop,” he says, determination dripping from every syllable only increases my desire for him, for us to join—come together in blissful union.
I am desperate to chase that euphoric moment when it’s all about pleasure and not heartbreak.
He senses my need as if it’s his own.
Lifting me up by my waist, I cross my arms and legs around his neck and waist, his hard yet velvety cock cushioned against my belly. Lust floods my brain like the waves crashing at my back—violent in their need to break the tension.
With my attention funneling into my desire, my troubles vanish.
He curls his hand around my hair into a ponytail and tugs my head back. “It’s getting harder. My patience is wearing thin. I need you like a man needs another moment, knowing it won’t ever suffice,” he says, nibbling along my sensitive neck.
I feel the same, and I undulate myself against his sculpted body in answer. He has the uncanny capacity to steal any rational thought and toss it away.
We kiss for long minutes as our hands move along each other’s bodies in sheer need and incessant desire. I could never get enough of exploring his broad shoulders, tight abdomen, counting the ridges of his six-pack, loving his hardness—everywhere.
He lowers his forehead onto mine. “I fucking love how soft you are,” he says, gliding his palms down my waist and cupping my ass.
My confidence has soared, empowered by him not being able to keep his hands off me, his low growl of approval making me feel like a goddess—one hot enough to burn the ocean.
The sun splits through the gray clouds, scattering the storm away to bathe us in light as if the sky itself rejoices in our love. Some gulls fly over our heads, singing for us as he enters me so reverently slowly, I feel him everywhere—in my heartbeats picking up, in my temperature rising, in my muscles constricting. A violent dance of passion and surrender.
It’s always so good, and after months, taking him has gotten easier, but I like that pinch of pain. That’s how I know he’s inside me, filling me with pride to take all of him.
It doesn’t take long until we come together, our mouths slanting in a hard kiss as thundering as our release.
He carries me toward the shore and lays me on one of the two lounges that are pressed together, with a sun umbrella and a small table on each side.
Chills prickle my skin, my teeth clattering. He immediately notices that I am freezing even though the sun has resurfaced, high in the sky.
He hurries back to the house to bring some towels. Wrapping me in one, he pulls me to his side, draping another one on top of me.
I lift my chin at him, grinning.
“That was not planned.” Brows furrowing, color drains from his face. “Good God, your lips are blue.”
“Worth it and the best things are spontaneous,” I beam, enamored by him—the biggest surprise of my life.
My man is the ultimate planner, loving structure and routine. I like those things too, but I like to leave some wiggle room for spontaneity.
Giving in to playfulness, I say, “It’s your fault. You make me feel reckless. You make me feel adventurous enough to leave my comfort zone.”
“I have no issue with that.”
