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CHAPTER 15
CARSON
Jayme’s admission does something to me, unleashing a tight rein I didn’t know I was holding back. But now that it’s untethered, I can’t hold back. Reaching out through the water, I bring her to me, pulling her lush curves against mine.
With our mouths close together, I quietly admit, “I don’t think anyone has ever seen me as vulnerable or been the least fucking concerned about taking advantage of me. Hear this . . . you’re not, Jayme. I want you, I want this.”
I kiss her lips softly, gently sipping at her. She tastes of salt, and a hint of that grass smoothie still, but I don’t care anymore. I’d drink a hundred of those things if I could kiss her. When our lips part, she sighs, a sound not of resignation but of happiness . . . of acceptance. “I want you too,” she whispers. “I want this, Carson.”
I think I dream it for a second, but when I open my eyes, I see her bright ones shining into mine with joy. And freedom.
It makes me realize, as much as this is an unleashing for me, Jayme just let herself off the chain too. And she attacks me with passion, her arms going around my neck and her legs wrapping around my waist. Her skirt must slip up her thighs, or hell, maybe it rips? I don’t know for sure, but I grip her smooth skin in my hands, kneading the flesh beneath the water.
“Fuck yes,” I growl, pulling her core against my rigid cock. Considering how goddamn cold the Pacific is here, it’s a testament to how sexy and beautiful and intense Jayme is. Her hips buck as she rubs herself on me, driving us both wild.
I guide her hips, using the buoyancy of the water to lift and lower her as I stride to shore. As the water fades away, I feel her clutching me tighter, her bucks becoming smaller as she holds on.
“Climb down,” I order, tapping her hip.
Pouting, she does so, her eyes boring into me. I rip my shirt off and lay it on the sand, holding it in place with my foot as a makeshift blanket. Her eyes scour over my chest and then dip lower as I unbuckle my belt and undo my slacks. I shimmy my hips to let my pants drop, then lower my underwear. I stand back a step, letting her drink me in with her eyes. “I don’t want to touch myself and risk getting sandy.”
I splay my hands, fighting the urge to do it anyway. I’m pulsing, harder than I’ve been in years. My desire for this woman is that rampant. What I don’t tell her is that in addition to getting sandy, if I touch myself, I’m probably going to come so hard Greenpeace will try to drag me back into the sea as a sperm whale.
“Let me help,” Jayme says. She drops to her knees in the sand in front of me, my cock bobbing mere inches from her cheek. With her hands on my hips, she looks up at me and whispers, “You’re beautiful.”
I’m not. My cock is a raging, purple monster at this point, desperate for any contact and already leaking along the head. But Jayme looks at me as if I’m the most delicious thing she’s ever seen. She laps at the fluid, her moan more vibration than sound, and lays tiny licks along the underside and then along my shaft. I groan in desperation, pleading, “Jayme . . .”
She swallows me, and my back arches in pure pleasure, giving her even more. But she takes it gratefully, moving up and down my cock and covering me with her saliva.
She finds a rhythm that drives me to the edge, and sand be damned, I thread my hands into her hair, holding her still so I can fuck her mouth. “Are you okay?” I ask, and though her lashes are slightly damp, she nods and swallows, her throat reflexively working me. “Fuck, your mouth feels good.”
Throwing my head back, I fight to stay on the verge of coming, not wanting to fall over yet. “No,” I hiss, pulling free from the warm wetness of her mouth. “Not yet.”
She grins like the Cheshire Cat, knowing she almost got me. I step back and pivot, sitting down on my shirt so my bare ass isn’t on the sand and then motion for her to climb onto me. Jayme slips her skirt higher up around her waist and lifts one knee, then the other, to get her panties off. Straddling my lap, she lines up her pussy with my cock.
I grip her hips tightly, not letting her impale herself onto me yet.
“Jayme?” I grit out, my voice rough. I’m not sure exactly what I’m asking . . . Does this mean something to you? Are you going to regret this later? Do you want me half as much as I want you?
