Soon, we’re in the truck. He drives down the road to a beach entrance, across the sand, and backs it up along the shoreline. He drops the tailgate, and we set down the thick blankets and pillows, making a bed under the stars. I snuggle up next to him as we watch the ocean sings its steady song.
“This is perfect,” I murmur, and lean over, kissing his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. He returns my kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes flicker with mischief.
“You gonna be okay if I fuck you out here?” he says.
I pop up from the bed of the truck, checking down each side of the beach. It’s quiet and empty.
I glance down at him, finding him smiling, cocky. It’s as if he knew I would panic at the very question of sex... in public. But he doesn’t waver to calm me.
“Lay on your stomach,” he orders, low and firm.
I bite my bottom lip, but carefully lower myself. It’s plush under my palms, but the steel underneath isn’t far. His hands tug down my pants. Immediately, the thick humidity clings to my bare skin. The gentle dew of seawater gathers like spritz from a shower.
His zipper sounds over the hum of the waves. I suck in a sharp breath and hold still in anticipation. Then, his fingertips skim over my slit before fingering me, preparing me for what’s coming.
Then, the firm end of his cock presses to my entrance. The truck whines softly as his weight lowers over my back, his broad chest shielding me from the twinkle of the night sky.
His hips roll in, and I moan softly as his thick length stretches my body.
“I love hearing you,” he murmurs, then starts with long, sensual strokes.
“Mmm,” I moan once more. “I’ll be louder if you preach to me.”
He nips at my neck, then drags his teeth down my shoulder, creating a powerful shiver that ends in my hips.
“I’ll preach for you, baby.” His voice is deep and husky, flowing with desire. “Name a book.”
An idea appears, sprouted from my heart.
“Yours.” I answer, referring to his real name, Jonathan.
“Hm, John. Alright.” His tongue traces along my shoulder blade, tasting my skin and the dampness of the sea.
“Make it about you. And romantic,” I blurt.
He chuckles. “You’re a wicked girl. I know what you want.”
“Then say it.”
“John 4:8. ‘Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.’ That what you want, church girl?”
He thrusts in hard and deep, stealing my breath.
“Want an atheist fucking you? A man inside you, unsaved.” He pulls my hair gently. “A man that doesn’t know love?”
Before I can answer, his hips move faster, sending me deeper into a state of euphoria. He goes for a while, touching and caressing my body, making me whimper and moan. When he slows, the fog of sex lifts just enough for me to speak.
“Yes. You don’t know love,” I pant, unable to open my eyes.
He brushes his lips against my ear. His weight presses down. Suddenly, two long fingers invade my mouth.
“Suck like you sucked my cock, you tempting thing.”
I obey, cast under his spell.
“Mm, good.” And he rewards me, the way I hoped since he spoke that sacred verse.
“I love you,” he whispers near my ear, his breath warm and wet. “I love you. This atheist loves his church girl more than she can possibly know.”
