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I’ve been as happy here in this magnificent ocean-front home as ever, but still, a real happiness and contentment eluded me until she walked through that door. I battled my silent demons and guilt in the dark of the night. Hoped for a tiny speck of calm during the days. Now, I can’t imagine not having her here. Not having her in my sight every second of every day. I need her here forever, and I have to figure out how to make that happen.
All I can think about is how her kiss tasted. Sweet and sultry. I focus on her lips and all the filthy things I want to do with them. I imagine what that velvety tongue of hers would feel like lapping at my balls. Running around the tip of my dick, down the thick vein that is throbbing and pulsing right now, desperate for contact with her.
I feel the warm, sticky cum seeping into my damp jeans, and I wonder if her sweet pussy is spreading the same warmth through her little bikini bottoms.
I release a feral growl as I grip the back of her neck and pull our foreheads together.
“Remember what I said earlier?”
I hear her swallow, her breath coming faster. “No, what?”
“At the pool. I said I was going to kiss you, but Mother Nature cock-blocked me.”
She giggles. “She can be a bitch.”
I crush my lips to hers as a whimpering moan seeps into our kiss and lust pounds through my body.
I think she’s going to pull away, as my tongue moves against hers, and she shifts on the floor. But she does the opposite, her hands pressing against my chest and moving me from my crouched position next to her, back onto my ass, leaning against the front of the sofa as she climbs onto my lap and my balls nearly explode.
I slide my hands down and grip that fantastic ass, the damp slip of fabric wetting my palm.
I pull her against my aching cock. She’s so small, and again that raging fear of hurting her makes me pause, but when she presses her tits against my chest I’m back to fast-forward.
My hands want to be everywhere. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop touching her now that I’ve started. She’s barely a wisp as I shift, grabbing her ass cheeks with both hands and lifting her onto me, backing myself off the floor and onto the soft cushions of the massive velvet sofa I’ve used maybe a handful of times since I moved in.
I leave her mouth, only because I want to taste the rest of her. I kiss and lick her neck, her earlobe, then back to where her nape slopes to her shoulder, and listen to her making this amazing fucking sound that seals her fate.
I’m growling and panting, licking, lost in pleasure of it all. She’s sweeping through my senses like a tidal wave. I’m drawn under, drowning and drenched in her. Something that’s never happened to me before.
On a hard exhale, I pull my mouth from the softness of her skin, gathering her glazed eyes to mine, letting her know what’s happening here.
“I’m going to claim you. Those fucking noises you make are killing me. I’ll never be able to live without hearing that for the rest of my life.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever made noises like this before.” Her words are breathy and stuttered as though her brain is struggling with the simplest of tasks.
The pin pricks of her pupils are surrounded by the masterpiece of textured green and gold. Her irises expand and contract with her breathing, and I want to wake up to these eyes every day for the rest of my life.
“And you won’t ever again unless you are with me,” I groan into her ear. “You want that, don’t you? To make those noises for me, and only for me, because you’re mine.”
I half expect her to push off and grab a knife from the kitchen, because I realize I sound like a psycho. But instead, she pulls at my wrist, taking my hand and sliding it up under the damp t-shirt covering her bare breasts.
I take the luscious weight of her round tit in my palm, my fingers twirling around the cool hard nipple, and see her eyes glaze with lust.
“You should know…” she says, her lids growing heavy, head falling back.
“What?”
“If this is going where I think it is, I know I’m not an eighteen-year-old naïve flower…” Her words take on a self-deprecating tone, and I reach up to grip her chin.
“I don’t want or care about any eighteen-year-old any kind of flower. I care about you.”
“I’m twenty-six. I own two restaurants. I live a big life in so many ways, but in others.” She presses her lips together as her irises undulate, trying to focus. “Small life. No boyfriends, no relationships, and definitely no—” She looks down where our bodies are touching, the heat from her pussy tearing through me like a comet across a dark sky. “Sex. Like, any sex. Maybe I was overly driven to make my own way and I didn’t trust getting derailed by emotion or,” she rolls her eyes, “an unwanted pregnancy. Maybe it was not trusting men to stick around. Maybe it was my overbearing brothers, scaring every possible suitor away.”
“When I meet them, I’ll buy them both a beer. And I have a secret for you, one no one knows. No one.”
“What?” Her eyes widen, lips pressed together, anticipating, and I can’t believe I’m going to say it. But it spills out like perfect water over a cliff.
“I’m thirty-seven… I’ve fought in two wars. Killed more men than I want to admit. Lived all over the world, but never felt at home. Not in a place and not with a person. Until now.” I swallow and force myself to finish. “Baby, my dick is as chaste as your little honeypot there. The only fuck it’s had is my own hand.”
