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This is more than pleasure now.
More than crude lust.
More than sex, when I feel her in my bones and she fills the cavities inside me.
I can’t rip my eyes off her to save my life.
Her pleasure is incandescent—the way she writhes, reaches for me, gasping with every deep-rolling thrust that brings us together in this fiercest way.
We are the night.
We are the waves.
We are the lashing wind, caught in this primal dance and thrashing wildness.
Her tight, gripping body is sheer heat, sheer madness.
A dark fire inside her that I chase to feel again and again, plunging into her, searching, needing to find and grasp something that I can keep for my own.
I’m so close.
So fucking close and almost reaching, almost there, almost—
Fuck!
She lets out a cry as I fuck her over the edge.
That tightness squeezing my cock is crushing; the heat is scorching, and the wetness makes me glide so sweetly inside her—
Goddamn!
I find that dark fire—or it finds me.
With one more savage thrust, I push to her depths, everything swelling as my spine ignites.
Then Elle Lark consumes me with the ocean.
I’m still growling and kissing the sweetness from her lips when I come, making her mine this once.
Just for tonight.
And I fall with her.
I fall apart with the violent rip of pleasure tearing us in half. Mating with pure fire, unafraid of the consequences.
I give in and let myself be utterly consumed by the burn.
XV
THE SUN AT NIGHT
(ELLE)
I wonder if my tits are going to be all over the tabloid rack in the Walmart checkout lane in the morning.
I can’t believe we just had sex on the beach, barely a few hundred feet away from hills where anyone could have looked out and seen us down here rolling around in the spray.
I don’t know if I want to hide my face in mortification and stretch as languidly as a sated cat—or run away from August before he sticks the knife in me again.
