Page 123 of Kincaid, Part One

I kept her there. Let her snatch frantic breaths in the troughs, then took the air away again when the water returned. Her body answered both. Tight. Soaking. Shaking. Her cunt was sloppy wet, juices mixed with seawater running down her thighs every time I pulled back. She came with her face half buried in the foam, pussy gripping me in frantic, rhythmic pulls, walls spasming and contracting hard around my cock while she coughed and tried to say my name and failed. I fucked her straight through the orgasm, watching her struggle for the next breath I hadn’t given her yet, her hole clenching and releasing in wet pulses that sucked at me.

I held her head down through the last heavy wave and came hard inside her. Hot pulses emptied deep into her soaked cunt, thick ropes of cum flooding her while her body still twitched and shook. Only then did I let her turn her face to the side. She lay there gasping, sand in her mouth, salt water running from her nose, my cock still buried in her, cum and her own wetness leaking out around my shaft while the tide kept reaching for her lips.

I stayed over her until her breathing evened out and the worst of the shaking left her limbs. Then I pulled out slow. My cock dragged free of her used cunt, a heavy string of cum stretching between us before it broke and dropped onto the sand between her thighs. She stayed face down on her stomach in the wet sand, the shirt still shoved high up her back, ass raised just enough that I could see my cum slowly leaking from her open hole.

I zipped my pants, bent down, and lifted her from the sand. Her wet skin pressed against me, coating the front of my clothes with salt water, grit, and the slick mess between her legs. I carried her up the beach, followed the stone path to the house, and took her through the open front door. She remained silent against my chest, head resting on my shoulder, as I brought her into the master bathroom.

I lowered her onto her feet inside the shower and pulled my soaked shirt over her head. Sand scattered across the tile and collected around the drain in little wet clumps. I turned on the water, adjusted the temperature until it ran warm, and guided her beneath the spray. Then I stripped off my ruined suit and joined her under the water.

I rinsed the salt and sand from her hair, working my fingers through the soaked strands until the grit was gone. I wiped the remaining grains from her face and the corners of her mouth, then ran my hands down her back and over her ass.

My palms moved along her thighs and between them. I washed the sand and the traces of cum from her pussy and the insides of her legs until her skin was clean. She continued trembling under my hands but did nothing to stop me.

I rinsed the last of the sand from her hair and pushed the wet strands away from her face. She was still trembling, but she had stopped crying. I took her face between my hands.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes lifted to mine.

“Don’t ever threaten to kill yourself again.”

Her expression changed, and I tightened my hold on her face before she could look away.

“You don’t get to decide when you die, Maggie. That isn’t your decision to make.”

She stared at me, her lips trembling.

“You wanted my attention. Now you have it, so listen carefully.” I held her face beneath the warm spray, keeping her eyes on mine. “If you die, it will be because I decided you could. Not because you’re lonely. Not because you’re angry with me. And definitely not because you’re throwing another fucking tantrum.”

Her breathing hitched, but she stayed silent.

“Your life belongs to me. So does your death.”

I brushed my thumb across her cheek.

“And if you keep pulling shit like this, I’ll make you suffer a hell of a lot more before I ever grant you that.”

I watched her face as the warning settled in.