That’s it. I can’t stand here, twenty feet away from where there’s water washing over her golden skin.
I crank off the burner under the veggies I’m cooking before turning and leaving the cottage. I make it out the door, down the steps, and around the corner—just out of sight of the cottage’s front door—before unzipping my shorts and pulling out my cock.
I brace one hand on the concrete of the wall and squeeze my cock in the other, giving it a hard pull. The rain is warm on my back. Possibly warming the water sluicing down her naked body. What do her tits look like naked? What color are her areolas?
Is the hair of her pussy as pale blond as the hair on her head? Or darker? I bet she keeps her pussy trimmed, but not waxed. She’s too no-nonsense for that.
I pull my hand away from my dick to spit on my palm for lubrication. I give myself one more hard pull, from the base to the head, and that’s all it takes. I come into my palm as a shudder wracks my body, her name on my lips.
As the last ropes of cum pulse from my cock, I hear it. A noise so faint, it’s almost lost in the rain. A gasp.
I look up to see Clara standing there, watching me. Eyes wide. The fingers of one hand pressed to her lips.
I would assume the look on her face is one of shock—maybe even horror—if it weren’t for one thing: the hem of her dress is lifted, and her other hand is rubbing her pussy.
chapterseventeen
Clara
I feel a burst of panic when I get out of the shower and find Jonah gone.
He’d been right; the water was cold, but nothing I couldn’t handle. My year on the island relying on solar-heated water meant I could get in and out in record time, and I only wash my hair twice a week. My entire time in the shower took less than five minutes.
But when I walk out, the cottage is empty. Jonah’s beer sits open and half full by the cooktop. The cooktop is off but still warm. So where the hell is he?
What could have happened in the past five minutes that he needed to bolt?
It’s got to be something with the turtles or the storm, right?
I slide on my flip-flops and all but run out the door. It’s nearly sunset, but the cloud cover lends an odd glow to the light. There are clear footsteps leading around the side of the cottage, so I follow them, just far enough for me to see the back side of the other building.
And holy shit…what I find there.
I stop dead in my tracks at the sight of Jonah, one hand propped on the building, eyes squeezed shut, his other hand shuttling up and down on his cock, which is long and thick and maybe the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
He’s a big guy, so I assumed his cock would be proportionate, not that I let myself think too much about it. Still, the sight of it now literally takes my breath away and floods my pussy with heat and moisture. Him jacking off is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I bite down on my lips and still have to cover my mouth to keep from groaning out loud.
I should leave. I know that. But I can’t. I can’t make myself walk away. I can’t make myself stop watching.
What I’m seeing is private. It’s intimate and so fucking hot.
I’ve never seen a guy jerk off before, and suddenly that feels like a horrible waste because nothing has ever gotten me hot this fast before. Seeing his tight, almost pained expression, hearing the hitch in his breath, watching his hand move up and down the long length of his cock; it’s the single most erotic experience of my entire life and it makes my pussy ache to be touched.
I barely register that I’m lifting the hem of my dress. At first, I just press my hand to my panties. But when he murmurs my name—my name!—it’s not enough. Not nearly.
By the time he comes, long thick ropes of cum shooting out of his cock, my fingers are in my panties, on my clit, rubbing frantically, and I’m so close to climaxing, I groan out loud.
He stills a moment later, like it took him a second for my sounds to filter through the haze of his climax.
Heart pounding, I know I’m about to be caught.
He’s going to look up. He’s going to see me. He probably already heard me. And I don’t care. I want him to. I want him to know what watching him did to me. That it wrecked me.
He looks up, slowly, his dark gaze darkening even more as he takes me in. His expression is hard. Almost angry.
His hand still on his cock, he turns and walks over to me. My own hand stills, and I bite down on my fingers of the hand pressed to my mouth.
