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Twenty-Four
Malakai
Connie awakes with the sunrise,her body unfurling beneath the deeply pink sky. The colour reminds me of her swollen, lush pussy, goddamn heaven to look at, to lose myself in. She stretches her arms, reaching up above her head, her eyes fluttering open. The throw she had wrapped around her slips into her lap as she sits up and pushes the hood of her sweater back off her face.
She yawns, rubbing at her eyes, utterly oblivious to me watching her. I’m leaning against the base of the cliff, my bare feet buried beneath the sand. I’ve been here all night, taking up this spot the moment she settled down and fell asleep. I’d followed her and that Peter prick back home, not trusting his intentions.
When he’d kissed her, I’d very nearly lost my head.
The only thing that prevented me from beating the shit out of him was Connie. I’m fully aware that my jealousy, my possessiveness, would have let the proverbial cat out of the bag, so I didn’t act. This is my punishment for leaving her, for fucking touching her when I knew I shouldn’t have.
Instead of punching the little shit, I watched Peter make his move, biting down on the inside of my cheek until the metallic taste of blood made me gag. Her body language told me she wasn’t interested in his advances. She didn’t mould herself against him. She’d held herself stiff, her eyes open the whole time his were closed.
I’d breathed a sigh of relief.
When Connie came out of her house a couple minutes after entering, of course I had to follow her. She might have lived on this island her whole life and felt comfortable enough not to be afraid of getting jumped in the middle of the night, but Iknowdanger is only ever one bad decision away. This island has changed over the past year. There are more tourists for a start, with no authority to handle the sudden influx of unknown people. All it would take is one psycho to take up residence here and the islanders are fucked. Look at this Peter prick. He’s an unknown, literally. As of yet, my search for his real identity has come up blank. Not even the dark web has helped. The little fucker is a mystery that I do not want hanging around Connie.
As a result, whilst Connie slept peacefully, I remained awake, watching over her.
I’m watching her still. I should leave, sneak off now that she's awake. I don’t.
Over the gentle waves lapping against the shore, Connie’s voice lifts into the air. She’s singing that damn song again. Every word a knife piercing my skin, reminding me of the night we spent together. I should never have kissed her the way I did. I lost control. I was weak. Yet I’ve lived off that one night, those few kisses and the taste of her pretty sunset cunt for the past year.
It will have to do. Itmust.
Connie starts to walk towards the shoreline, her figure encased in watercolour, the sea a deep pink swathe reflecting the sky above us. When she removes her trainers, then her socks and hoodie, I sit up straight. “What are you doing, my Little Siren?” I whisper to the terns cawing above me.
Entranced, I watch as she removes her t-shirt and slides her jeans over her hips with a wiggle that has my cock hardening painfully. My breath catches, the pulse in my neck throbbing in time to the one in my cock. I’m hard. So damn hard for her.
Goddamn Connie and her luscious curves.
Before I even have a chance to consider what I’m doing, I snap open my jeans, violently pulling down the zipper and gripping my cock. I’m not sure if I want to squeeze the erection out of my dick or pump it until I come over my hand like a fucking teenage boy. When Connie removes her bra and knickers, her rounded arse a perfect peach that I want to take a bite out of, I loosen my hold on my cock and slide my hand up and down the firmness. I guess I’m going to indulge my inner fucking teenager. She sings, her voice lifting up into the air and washing over me, cutting me deep.
Goddamn Connie and her soulful voice.
I’d been so affected by her song, by her words last night, that the only reaction that didn’t involve drawing her into my arms and kissing her breathless, was to walk away. Every step had been leaden, burdensome. Just like now, my insides had caught alight.
With hooded eyes I observe my Little Siren as she walks slowly into the water, the ends of her long dark hair grazing her backside as she sings. The sudden urge to chase her down and wrap her long hair around my fist is a brutal one. I don’t act on my impulse, I just take it out on my dick, corkscrewing my fist up and down in a violent wank that borders on masochistic.
In contrast, the ocean laps at Connie’s skin, gently rising up her legs and kissing her pussy with the barest of touches, like it too can’t bare not to touch her. She pauses, the palms of her hands floating above the surface as the sunset coats her in a glow that takes my breath away.
My heart crashes against my ribcage as blood fills my dick, my lust throbbing painfully. I need release. I need Connie.
I need her.
I fuckingneedher.
Pushing up onto my knees, I grasp my balls with one hand, whilst yanking at my dick with the other. Precum drips from the tip and I coat my thumb with it, circling my engorged head with wetness. For a moment, Connie just sways slightly in the water, the ocean’s current lapping at her pussy. Then, oblivious to my fucking voyeurism, she brings her hands in front of her, one disappearing between her legs.
Goddamn her and her sweet little cunt.
My cock jerks.
It fucking jerks as though she’s the one touching it, drawing me towards her.
Above me the terns fall silent, and all I can hear are my dirty little pants and her quiet little moans, the lyrics of her song forgotten in this intimate moment. Her hand moves between her folds, her legs parting to give her access as she tips her head back and rocks her hips backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.
God, please fucking help me.
