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“Little Siren, I need you…” I mutter, moving across the deck, oblivious to the onlookers’ gazes.
“I need you too.” Her lips press against the crook of my neck sending shockwaves of pleasure to my already stiffening cock. I have so many questions, so much to ask, to say, but before I can even begin to unravel how she got here, I need to quench my need for her just enough to keep me sane.
“Where are we going?” she asks, a smile on her cupid’s bow lips.
“Somewhere private,” I manage to utter. The sand is unstable beneath my feet and I stumble a little. “Fuck.”
“I can walk, Malakai, put me down.” She’s laughing now, her happiness infecting me with its delicious warmth.
“I was trying to be romantic… I can’t compete with that song.”
Gently placing Connie on her feet, she reaches for me, her hands clasping the back of my neck as she urges me to kiss her. “You sure about that? The conch shell, your letter, your notebooks. That was pretty romantic, Malakai,” she whispers against my lips.
“You read my notebooks?” My stomach clenches with fear and self-loathing, making me feel inadequate suddenly.
Connie brushes her lips against my mouth, shushing my question with a gentle swipe of her tongue as she kisses me. Goddamn this girl and her soft kisses that break me wide open. Her kiss is heartfelt, as though her very essence is bleeding into me with every soft swipe of her tongue. I can only stand helpless, reciprocating every gentle nip, every stroke, every lustful groan. My fingers tangle in her hair as I pull her closer, wanting to slide beneath her skin in my need for her.
It’s overwhelming.
I’d take her here, right now if I could, but I need to know the answer to my question.
Breaking from the kiss, I cup her head in my hands. “Did you read my notebooks?” I repeat, searching her face.
“No, Malakai. I didn’t.”
“Why?”
She reaches up and strokes her finger over my frown, soothing the anxiety I feel. “A wise woman once told me that your past doesn’t define you. I know the man youare, Malakai. I don’t need to know the man youwere.”
“But…”
She shakes her head, pressing her finger against my lips. “I haven’t read them because I’m afraid to, far from it. I just know that it doesn’t matter to me. Nothing will stop me loving you, Malakai.Nothing,” she adds fiercely, her navy eyes flashing with conviction.
Something close to relief washes over me and I grab her hand and start jogging towards my beach hut, her happy laughter wrapping me in warmth as we run. When we finally hit the soft sands of my own private beach, I turn to Connie and yank her against my chest, crowding her with my body as I kiss the breath from her.
I’m hungry.
Fucking starving.
For her, for her love, for this.
For us.
Us. One simple word that means everything.
My Little Siren whimpers when I pull back sharply, her eyes at half-mast, her pretty lips moist and plump from all the kisses, reminding me of the other place I love to taste her. Kneeling before her in the sand, I look up and bask in the love I see in her gaze. She reaches for me, her fingers running over my eyebrows, my cheeks, my nose, my lips, before cupping my face in her hands.
“Why are you on your knees, Malakai?” she asks me.
“Worshipping you, my Little Siren. Fucking worshipping you,” I respond, lifting the hem of her dress, my fingers drag up and over her ankles, over her shapely calf muscles, her strong thighs and rounded hips. I rise upwards with the movement, pulling her dress over her head and casting it aside as I look at her.
She’s a goddess. All wavy hair and lush curves, soft tanned skin and blush pink nipples, and a galaxy of freckles across her chest.
The tip of Connie’s tongue pushes through the seam of her lips drawing her lower lip into her mouth as her cheeks tinge the same colour as her pert nipples. She’s wearing white lace knickers, the material thin enough for me to see that she has a strip of neatly trimmed hair covering her mound. My cock throbs, begging me to take her right now. But I want to savour this, I want to make love to her until we’re both too spent to do anything more than lie in each other’s arms.
“Touch me, Malakai. Put your hands between my legs and make me come,” she whispers, her chest heaving, the light breeze dragging the length over her breasts.
“All in good time, Little Siren.”
