ing tight and wet,” he breathes out. “I can’t get enough of you.”
And I can’t get enough of him. So consumed by the moment, I can’t get the words out. He’s insatiable. And so am I.
His strokes are long, powerful, and purposeful. With each one, his rock-hard cock rubs my clit, stimulating it and hitting that magic spot inside me I never knew I had. My breathing is labored, my skin heated; my heart racing. Everything’s condensed in a haze of lust and love.
“I want to own your body, Zoey.”
“I’m yours,” I pant out.
“I so needed to hear that. You’re so f*ck
ing beautiful.”
He called me beautiful again. The word makes me unravel as I moan with tortured ecstasy.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
There are so many things I want. I want this night to never end. I want him to never leave me. I want his mouth on mine…all over me. I want, I want, I want…f*ck
. I can’t think straight anymore.
“Do you want to come?”
Oh God, yes. The Mediterranean may be calm, but a tidal wave of epic proportions is sweeping through me, taking every cell in its midst.
“Zoey, I need words.”
“Yes! Please make me come.”
“Baby, don’t hold back. I want you to fall apart into a million pieces so I can put you back together and then make you fall apart again.”
“Oh, Brandon!” My body convulses and a sea of love meets his own volcanic eruption head on. He roars out my name yet again and collapses on top of me, taking my legs with him. For the first time, I feel his nakedness all over mine. Blanketing me with his warmth. I’ve never felt so comfortable—or beautiful—in my own skin.
After collapsing on me and staying there for a while, Brandon rolls over and repositions us so that we’re both on our backs. My head is on his chest. One of his arms cradles me while the hand of the other draws lazy circles around my nipples and then my navel. It’s ticklish and delicious. We both gaze up at the starry sky while the Mediterranean softly serenades us. It’s as if no one else exists except the two of us.
“How do you feel?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“f*ck
ed.”
“In a good way or bad way?”
“In the best way. But I’m sore. Very sore.”
“Where?”
“All over.” And that’s the truth. My back smarts from grinding against the rough stucco, my ass throbs from the belting, my legs ache from running away from him and from being stretched, and my face stings from the coarseness of his stubble. But where I feel it the most is between my inner thighs. My p*ssy
’s on fire.
“Show me where it hurts the most.”
I take his hand and put it on my p*ssy
. He caresses it, the rawness giving way to arousal against the gentle friction of his fingertips.
“I gave it to you good, huh?” His voice is laced with smug victory. “Was it too hard for you?”
“I don’t think I can walk.” I loved every f*ck
ing minute.
“Do you think you’ll be able to walk down the red carpet with me tomorrow night?”
Of course, I will and can’t wait, but the actress in me says: “Not sure.”
On my next heartbeat, he stands and scoops me up in his strong, loving arms.
“What are you doing?”
He shoots me a cocky smile. “I’m going to heal you. I can’t afford to have you out of commission tomorrow night…or tonight for that matter.”
Two minutes later, to my utter shock, we’re deep in the Mediterranean. He’s still holding me, but now I’m facing him, my arms and legs wrapped tightly around him. The water is surprisingly warm and while the saltiness initially stung my soreness, now it’s soothing. I cling to him like a life preserver, and while I know this is a gentle sea, my fear of the ocean has crept back into me.
“How do you feel?” he breathes in my ear between delicious kisses.
“Better. But I’m anxious.” Truthfully, I don’t know what I’m afraid of. There are no waves and the current isn’t strong. And he’s holding me.
“Are there sharks?”
“Yup.”
I gasp.
He smiles smugly. “Just one…me. I want to eat you up alive, my sexy little beast.”
Before I can punch him, he latches his lips on to mine, consuming me with another tongue-driven, passionate kiss. He cups the back of my head while I fist his hair, deepening and prolonging it. As our tongues glide together in some kind of synchronized swim, waves of bliss roll through me. I don’t want to let him go. My fear of the ocean is abruptly replaced by my fear of losing him. And the reality is he’s not mine to be lost. He belongs to another. Katrina. For the first time since leaving the restaurant, her name sears my mind, my heart, and my soul. Why didn’t he break up with her before this trip? He hasn’t told me and I’m too afraid to ask him. Apprehension ripping through me, I pull away.
“Brandon, f*ck