He squeezes his eyes shut. "You're evil. Sexy as hell but totally evil."
I kneel next to him and rub my lotion-slick hands across his chest. "No, evil would be leaving you to deal with that massive hard on all by yourself. I'm being a good girl and offering to help."
He flops back on his towel and presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "Fuck."
When I straddle his waist and continue stroking down his abdomen, he makes a strangled noise. "Liss ..."
"Shhh. Liss is busy right now. You can talk to her later."
I slide down his body, so I can reach his erection. It's lying on his stomach, heavy and thick.
It's been so long since I've been up close and personal with him, I feel like Captain Ishmael finding the white whale.
Thar she blows.
I rub what's left of the lotion onto his thighs.
"You don't need to put sunscreen on my cock," he says, still hiding his face.
"Wasn't intending to. That would taste gross."
I lean over and lick him from the base to the head. He starts making low, long sounds and moves his hands from his face into his hair. "Jesus Christ ..."
When I suck gently on the tip, every muscle in his body tenses as he moans. I'd almost forgotten how sexy it is to hear him make those noises and watch him hang on by a thread, knowing I'm the one affecting him like that. It's even more empowering than jungle nudity.
"You like that?" I ask.
He tugs as his hair. "Too much. Way too much. I'm trying to not become a giant geyser of stickiness right now, Horatio, but you're not making it easy."
Smiling to myself, I slide him into my mouth as far as I can, and when I suck in earnest, he yells, "Fuuuuck!" so loudly, it echoes off the nearby cliffs.
He continues swearing under his breath as I fall into a rhythm, twisting my hand at the base while teasing the head with my mouth. Every pass of my tongue winds him tighter, and it isn't long until he's making noises like he's in pain.
"Elissaaaa. Fuck, how the hell are you doing that?" His voice is low and rough, and he grips my hair as he thrusts. I want to take him all in at this point, but there's no way I can. "God, Liss ... oh, shit ... ohhhh, Jesus, you're going to make me come."
Knowing exactly what he needs, I give one final suck before pumping my hand in long strokes until his back arches, and he comes in thick bursts across his stomach and chest. "Yes ... ohhh, God, yes. Lisssss ..." With each wave, he groans my name, and his breath comes in short, uneven gasps.
When he's done, he collapses so heavily, I wonder if he's passed out.
"Liam?" He doesn't answer, but his eyelids flutter. "You okay?"
"No." His voice is a groan, and he barely moves his mouth. "You killed me. Death by orgasm. What a way to go. Just leave me here to rot. The jungle will take care of me."
I snuggle into his side. "If you're less dead in a few minutes, want to go for a swim?"
"Sure. Sounds good."
"By the way, you should wash yourself off before that stuff dries. It'll set like glue. Also, I think I have sand in my vagina."
He chuckles, still with his eyes closed. "I did warn you."
"Shhh. Dead men tell no tales."
EIGHT
And When You're Good, He Gives You Sex
The rest of our weekend flies by in a blur of sex, food, and sleep, and by the time Sunday evening rolls around, I'm more than a little exhausted. Turns out, being naked around each other for an extended period of time is a sure-fire way to guarantee we'll behave like total nymphos. For the past two and a half days, we've had sex whenever and wherever we liked, and Liam's impressively short recovery time has often taken me by surprise. I still tingle when I recall how he'd bent me over the kitchen bench while we were making lunch. He'd fucked me so furiously, you'd never have guessed we'd already made love four times.
Now, we're in bed, watching eighties movies and eating ice cream, and I can't remember a time when I was happier or more satisfied.
"Hey," I say as Liam swirls some salted caramel around my nipple and licks it off. "Isn't there some big Christmas event on the mainlaind tomorrow night?"
He presses sticky caramel kisses to my chest and neck. "Hmmm, maybe. Why?"
"I thought we might go. Alba said there'll be music and fireworks. It sounds like fun. We could spend the afternoon there, see some sights and do some shopping, then go to the parade."
He leans on one elbow. "What if people recognize me? I came here to get away from all that."
I stroke the side of his face. "No one will know you with all this hair. We'll be fine."
"I suppose." He scratches his beard. "Just don't let me go back to New York without getting a shave and a haircut. If my mom sees me looking like this, she'll cancel Christmas."
"Is Momma Quinn not a fan of beards and long hair?"
"In general, yes. On her son, no. She thinks they make me look 'uncivilized'."