The waves crashed in the distance as I reached for him, feeling hot again already. I pushed the boxers down and out of my way.
The length of him was plenty enough and my fingers encircling him tingled with the knowledge of his girth. I worked him a little and he braced his hands on the rock on either side of my head. Without my killer heels, I stood well below him, my face right at the center of his chest. I leaned in to lick that hollow between his pecs. He was salty and warm, smooth and hard.
His breath hitched. “I have a condom,” he said.
Good idea. I was on the pill, but I didn’t know this boy, where he’d been, how often he did things like this.
“Wallet?” I asked.
“Yeah.” His voice was low and hoarse. He was working hard to keep control as I kept one hand on him, easing up and down his length.
I liked that he was having a hard time.
I bent down for his discarded jeans. He reached to cup my bottom, not a squeeze or anything rough, but reverently, like I was fragile. I managed to lift the heavy denim one handed, but I couldn’t free his wallet without letting go of him. So I released him and turned away to get the condom.
He closed the gap between us, grazing me from behind with that extended erection. He groaned as I fumbled to find the little package.
His fingers started working me again, and sparks burst through my head. I gave up on the condom for a moment and braced my hands in the sand, glad for the flexibility earned through years of modern dance class. I felt both his hand and the rest of him sliding along between my thighs, hot friction laced with the tight circles around my swollen nub.
God, I was going to go again.
I pushed against him, suddenly desperate to have him inside. The condom. I needed it now. I opened his wallet and found it. Desperate, I tore at the corner, releasing the lubricated disc.
Chance pressed against me, dangerously close to being inside already. I opened for him, reveling in that feeling. Then he hit just the right spot and I lurched forward, crying out.
And dropped the condom.
“Shit!” I cried.
He pulled away immediately. “Did I hurt you?”
“No!” I said. “I dropped it.”
“The condom?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all right. It’s safe in the package.”
“But it wasn’t. I took it out.” I felt around in the sand until I found it. It was coated with sand, sticky and gritty.
Chance exhaled in a long rush. “That’s all right. We can drop by somewhere and pick up some more.”
I wanted to weep. He was right there, right where I wanted him. “Just tell me you don’t have anything catching.”
“I don’t.”
“I’m on the pill.”
His fingers continued their fervent press against me. I leaned back, wanting him back where he was, to keep going.
He bent over my back and lifted my hair from my neck with his free hand. “You sure?”
I pushed harder, feeling him at the entrance again, and that pulsing need that seemed to draw him in.
“Yes,” I managed to say. “Please.”
He pressed forward, the delicious tip slipping inside. I groaned as I expanded for him. It had been too damn long.
He rested his hands on my hips and slid the rest of the way until his body was flush against mine.
I cried out, overcome with sensation.
Chance started an easy rhythm, holding me in place. I turned to the stone wall to brace my hands, rocking into him, urging him on.
He matched my pace. My body shifted along with his, my hair tickling my naked back, the breeze from the ocean caressing my tender nipples. I felt so crazy alive there, on a public beach, sheltered by nature, taken by a total stranger who could probably make me orgasm with his voice alone.
I learned the sounds of him, his throaty exclamations. And his grip, fingers tight on my hips. The flat muscled planes of his abs bumped against me with every shift we made into each other.
He picked up speed, and I could hear myself groaning along with him. As he rushed into his climax, he reached around for me again, teasing my tender flesh, touching me with the knowledge he’d gained just moments ago.
I didn’t think I could go again, but I did, and when I began to shudder around him, my voice hitting that higher pitch, he released into me, jerking me hard against him, squeezing everything he touched, elongating the moment, wringing it for every ounce of pleasure.
My palms were raw against the rock, my toes deep in the sand. The wind had whipped my hair into chaos. But I was so high, so crazy elated. I wasn’t sure if I should cry or laugh or be embarrassed by the insanity of what we’d just done.
He lifted me up against him, his arms crisscrossing my belly, palms protectively cupping my breasts. His mouth kissed my hair, my head, my ears. I realized tears were streaming down my cheeks. Above us, the wind rushed over the rocks, and the stars were easy to see on the edge of the vast ocean. We stayed like that a little while, just holding on, like two refugees stranded together with only each other for comfort.
Chapter 12: Chance