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The two of them stood, silently watching, while the last remnants of the sunset faded, and more stars shyly began to appear, one by one.
Finally, unable to resist any longer, he pulled her toward him. She lifted her head, and their lips met.
At first, her lips brushed against his, like the breeze, cool and fresh and tanged with salt, but the kiss rapidly deepened, becoming hotter, more intense. He couldn’t stop himself from pulling her against him, needing to feel her soft, pliant body pressing against his own. He slipped a hard thigh between her legs, and she rubbed against him, whimpering.
The memory of her hot channel squeezing his fingers, clenching around them as she came, shot through him like an arrow, almost painful in its intensity. He wanted to make her come like that, over and over again. He wanted to take her fully, to thrust into her, fast and hard, filling her so deeply that they became one. He wanted to be a part of her, and for her to be a part of him.
He ached for intimacy in a way he hadn’t in a long, long time.
Even so, this wasn’t the time or the place for it. His big brain knew that, even if his little brain didn’t. Exerting every bit of self-control he possessed, he pulled away from her hot, eager lips, and gazed deeply into her fathomless eyes.
“Not here,” he said, hearing the hoarseness in his own voice. “We’re going to be staying at the Fairmont Grand Del Mar. You’ll love it. Once we get there—”
She leaned into him, peppering kisses over his throat and jawline as if he hadn’t spoken at all. All at once his knees felt strangely weak, and his heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to get out.
“I can’t wait,” she murmured. “Please, Brent. Please.”
Dammit. He was more than twice her age, and he needed to be the grown-up here. The responsible party. And yet she was untying his tie, shoving his suit jacket off his shoulders… and he was letting her. Helping her, even. He spread his jacket over the sparse grass and hardy wildflowers that managed to grow in the rocky soil and salt air, and the two of them sank down onto it. He heard himself groaning, a feral sound of need and longing.
He couldn’t do this to her. Not like this. She deserved a soft mattress and softer sheets, the golden sheen of candlelight flickering over the two of them, the soft sounds of a Spanish guitar or a string quartet playing in the background. She was young, so young, and, he suspected very strongly, a virgin. For her first time, she deserved romance and tenderness and sweetness.
He couldn’t possibly fuck her in the grass like an animal.
But despite his better impulses, he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from roaming over her body, shoving up the flowing skirt of her dress, finding the satiny thigh-high stockings she wore, and above the lacy tops, the even more satiny flesh. Beneath his questing palms, her thighs were soft and smooth, and he longed to lose himself between them, to touch her and kiss her and draw in the spicy scent of her arousal before plunging deeply into her slick hot depths…
“Can’t,” he whispered against her throat. “We can’t, Jessica, I didn’t bring protection…”
“It’s all right.” Her hands dug into his hair, holding him fast. “I’m on the pill.”
A desperate relief flooded him. He knew he was clean, and he was almost certain she’d never been with a man before tonight. The only real concern, then, was to not get her pregnant, and like the smart young woman she was, she had that covered.
He drew back and looked at her. “You sure this is okay?”
She looked back at him. Something flickered in her gaze, for just a moment, but then she nodded resolutely.
“It’s more than okay,” she whispered. “I need you, Brent. I need you so much.”
The last remnants of his self-control shattered and blew away on the cool ocean breeze like so much dust. He found himself rucking up her skirt desperately, then yanking at the little scrap of lace that concealed her hidden flesh and tossing it aside.
And then he lowered his head, brushing kisses along the soft, tender skin of her inner thigh. The incredible scent of her arousal hit him like a hammer to the skull, dizzying him, and he struggled to control himself, doing his best to go slowly. But as he kissed his way upward, her hips rose eagerly, and her voice lifted in a desperate cry.
“Brent!”
God, she was something. Fresh and sweet and innocent, yet eager and frantic and hungry for him. As he moved upward, slowly but surely, her thighs fell apart, offering him everything she had to give.
Even so, he managed to hold himself back. His mouth moved upward, across the fabric covering her belly, and then over the soft swell of her breast. His lips fastened onto her nipple, and even through the fabric, she seemed to like it. Her hands dug into his hair harder than before, holding on so fiercely it almost hurt, and as he suckled her hips lifted against him, and a frantic noise rose from her throat.
