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He grinned, then plucked the strings that still held the garment on and drew it away. As I laid on my back topless, I shivered, seeing the feral light in his eyes. His grin died as he made quick work of the two bows that tied on the bikini bottom and tugged that off too.
Leaning over me, he swirled his tongue around my already tender nipples. I gasped, shaken by the swift return of arousal. I had thought I was sated. I was wrong.
I could hear the rush of the ocean in my ears, feel the warm breeze flowing over my over-sensitised skin, every part of me becoming an erogenous zone—throbbing with life and passion as he kissed and nipped, licked and caressed every inch of my skin.
I was writhing, the desire so intense it was almost pain when he finally parted the slick folds of my sex and lapped at the very heart of me. How could I be wild for him again so soon?
I moaned, about to go over again from the tantalising caresses, the wet suction of his lips on that swollen nub, when he rose over me. His broad shoulders cut out the sun as he stood up.
‘Hold that thought, bella,’ he said, his voice so low I could barely make out the words over the persistent thud of my pulse in my ears.
He shucked his shorts and the giant erection sprang free. Long and thick, it bowed up towards his belly button. I had a momentary fear that something so large and hard would never fit inside me, but I couldn’t take my eyes away.
‘I don’t have protection with me,’ he said as he grasped the base of the erection and stroked it absently. ‘But I want so badly to feel you come apart around me,’ he added, becoming even bigger and harder as I watched. ‘I promise I am clean, and I will pull out in time.’
A shiny drop of moisture appeared at the tip. I was so fascinated and so turned-on I could hardly talk, let alone think. The juices between my thighs flowed freely, the desire to feel that thick length inside me unbearable. I licked my lips, fixated on the sight of him, and gloried in the thought that I had done that to him.
‘Bella, look at me,’ he ordered and my head jerked up to meet his gaze. He looked amused. ‘Is that okay?’
It took me a moment to register what he was asking. The blush intensified as I realised he’d caught me gawping at his erection like a child in a sweet factory.
‘Yes, I’m clean,’ I said. ‘And I’m on the Pill,’ I said, for once impossibly grateful that I had started taking the medication to regulate my periods—which had become erratic, my doctor had insisted, because of stress. But I didn’t feel stressed now; I felt languid and exhilarated all at the same time. ‘And I want you inside me too,’ I said, just in case there was any doubt in his mind.
‘Grazie Dio,’ he murmured, the muffled curse full of the strain it was taking him to go slowly, hold back until he had my consent.
Somehow the thought of that had my heart beating double time in my chest as I watched him climb onto the lounger. His body looked so wonderful, the many imperfections as beautiful as the sleek muscles, the deeply tanned skin, the sprinkle of hair that brushed against my trembling legs and my reddened nipples. He kissed me, his tongue tangling with mine as he lifted my leg and hooked it over his. I tasted sea salt and the musty scent of my own arousal as the kiss deepened and became hungrier. The huge head of his erection nudged at the swollen folds he had primed so perfectly.
Then he thrust hard and deep. The pinching pain shocked me, the stretched feeling becoming unbearable as he plunged through the barrier of my virginity.
I bit down on my lip, swallowing the whimper of distress, as my tender flesh adjusted to the immense weight inside me. I felt impaled, conquered, overpowered.
He stilled and stared down at me. I saw shock, then confusion, then suspicion cross his face, before he masked it. For several torturous seconds I lay there shivering, waiting for him to pull out. I thought he had figured out that I was a virgin and he was angry. But as the blush fired back across my cheeks, that assured smile returned to his lips and all he said was, ‘You’re incredibly tight, bella. Am I hurting you?’
I shook my head, the muscles of my sex relaxing at last. He was still too big, too overwhelming, the intrusion still sore, still too much, but I didn’t want him to stop. And I definitely didn’t want him to figure out my secret—that I had no experience of sex at all. That I was a fraud.
‘I can make it better—just relax,’ he said, still lodged so deep inside me I was sure I could feel him in my throat. He placed a tender kiss on my lips. Then focused all his attention on my nipple again, licking and sucking the responsive flesh. He stayed inside me without moving, allowing me to adjust to his size, his girth. The darts of pleasure began to build again, and the muscles of my sex released him a little more.
At last he found the tender nub of my clitoris with that clever thumb again, and began to circle it. My sex softened, allowing him to move, rocking out, pressing back in slow, careful thrusts.
‘How does that feel?’ he said as he pressed deeper, but there was no pain now, only the exquisite waves of pleasure, building, breaking.
‘Good,’ I managed around the thickness in my throat, at the care he’d taken with me.
He pulled me under him completely and gripped my thighs, positioning me, and angling my hips, until I was wide open to him. The slow, sure, steady strokes, became harder, faster, deeper. His fingers dug into my buttocks as he forced me to take the full measure of him, butting a place that had the waves building with staggering speed.
My hands grasped his sweat-slicked shoulders, trying to cling onto my sanity as the titanic climax raced towards me.
It hit me hard, crashing into me with the force and fury of a tsunami. I cried out, swept away by the conflagration of sensation charging through my body. He grunted as I massaged his thick length, then reared back, the hoarse shout echoing off the cliffs above us as his hot seed spurted against my belly and he collapsed on top of me.
I held onto him, the shelf of his tattooed shoulder pressed me into the cushions as his jagged breathing matched my own. The haze of afterglow covered me like a golden cloak full of sparkling lights, twinkling around me and sprinkling fairy dust over my skin. I tried to suppress the fanciful thought, but the intensity of my orgasm was working against me. Everywhere we touched I could feel him, imprinted on my flesh for ever.
As I stared at the blue sky above me, the sunlight warmed my skin and my heart expanded against my ribs as his hard length finally began to soften against my belly. But as much as I tried to dismiss the overly romantic images still flickering through my brain, and that compelling feeling of contentment and security—and concentrate on the small aches and pains brought about by the primitive fury of our lovemaking—I couldn’t seem to qualify it, or even acknowledge the truth, that everything I was thinking and feeling in this moment was simply the intense physical aftermath of my first multiple orgasm.
&
nbsp; Any more than I could ignore the clenching sensation in my chest and the desire to lie there for ever—safe and secure in his arms.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
