I stand, shucking my shorts and my briefs, because I can’t wait any longer. If I don’t get my cock in her pussy right fucking now, I’m going to embarrass myself.
She clearly sees how eager I am because she laughs with delight when I scoop her into my arms and toss her onto the bed.
I grip my cock in my hand and give it a tight, slow stroke, just enough to take the edge off, because even though I jacked off less than an hour ago, I am perilously close to losing it. “I am going to need to hear more about those toys of yours later.”
She bites down on her lip and nods, her eyes sparkling and eager as her gaze rakes down my body to my cock. “I’m pretty sure they’re not going to live up to the real thing, but at least this shouldn’t hurt.”
“Good.” I crawl across the bed to her, sliding between her open naked thighs. Covering her body with mine, I kiss her again.
As desperate as I am to bury myself in her, I can’t get enough of kissing her.
I pull back to look at her, poised at her entrance, the moist heat of her like a brand on the head of my cock.
Her eyes flutter open, her pupils so wide her eyes look indigo. “I know this sounds irrational, but I think you’re right. I think I do love you. I know I said you were ridiculous for thinking that, but—”
“Clara,” I groan, sliding into her. “Shut up.”
She nods on a gasp.
There is just the faintest hint of resistance, a single sharp inhale of breath. Her eyes widen for a second, then she adjusts, her lips curving, as she rocks her hips up to meet mine, easing me deeper into her heat.
She is everything. So hot. So tight. So perfect.
I move then, pistoning into her, angling her hips until I’m hitting the spot that makes her gasp, relishing the feel of her pussy gripping my cock. This moment, right here, is more than I could ever want. It’s everything. She’s everything.
chaptertwenty-one
Clara
By the time I wake up the next morning, the storm has passed. The plywood we nailed to the window frame came loose at some point in the night and is hanging free so that a sliver of sun shines in through the window.
My body is sore and tender in ways and in places it’s never been before, but it’s also tingling and satiated. If Jonah were here beside me, I definitely could have stayed in bed all day, because last night was not enough.
Not nearly.
I feel like I could spend years learning his body and it still wouldn’t be enough. Which, I guess, is why I’m the luckiest woman on earth, since he’s already my husband.
I rub my legs together, relishing the feel of his sheets against my naked skin, and pull his pillow over my face, inhaling the scent of him and squealing with delight.
Despite his promise to fuck my brains out, he only made love to me once. It was tender and slow and perfect. I never imagined I’d come the first time I had sex, but then again, I never imagined my body would respond to someone the way it responds to Jonah.
As tempting as it is to while away the day, I drag myself out of bed and dig out some more clothes from my duffle to get dressed. I find my phone and pull up information about last night’s storm. Sylvia briefly worked up the energy of a Cat 1 but quickly dissipated once she reached the atolls and then turned north. All the drama she created, was just that…drama. But I am not in a position to complain.
Out in the main room, I find a pot of coffee waiting for me along with a note from Jonah saying that he’s checking on the animals.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and then go in search of him.
From the front porch of the cottage, I can seeThe Gambit, still secured to the dock, thank God. She looks worse for the wear and is listing to one side, a sign she probably took on water that we’ll need to pump out, but, as problems go, that one is very manageable.
The beach is littered with debris from the storm, trash that has washed up, along with branches and palm fronds. Again, nothing we can’t handle. I can tell from a glance that the building Jonah built for the turtles made it through the night with no problems at all. He’s raised the hurricane shutters already and the front door is propped open.
The sight of that building, so sturdy and secure, so well planned out, makes my heart tight. This man of mine put so much work and effort into a safe place for others, a place where the fragile and vulnerable could shelter in a storm. The difference between the shelter he built for the turtles and the home he lives in himself says everything I need to know about him. He puts others first, over and over again.
Just like he did with me, the silly man. Trying to protect me from himself.
I slip into my flip-flops before making my way across the grass from the cottage to the shelter, once again cursing the thorns in that grass. He may have the gentlest heart of any man I’ve ever met, but this grass has got to go.
When I step inside the cinderblock building, it takes a second for my eyes to adjust. Jenny and Noah are happily paddling around in the tank, munching on a fresh patch of lettuce. Jonah is on the other side of the room at one of the workbenches; Taco is beside him perched on the edge of one the crates. Jonah and Taco seem to be considering one another.
