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In the beginning, it was all heavy breathing and steamy smiles, but now there were moments when those dreamy chocolate eyes reflected uncertainty. He seemed to be searching for answers about himself while in the throes of lovemaking.
I couldn’t understand what that searching gleam in his eyes meant. Whether he was battling with himself over us, or whether he was going through a realization of sorts, I couldn’t say. Maybe I was reading too much into those sudden complex expressions in his ever changing face.
Chase bit his lip—a telling sign he was about orgasm as his dick hammered into me and he nearly lifted me off the ground. I cried out as I came again and again. He grunted noisily, pushing as far into me as he could go. His dick went on pulsing and jerking.
“Oh, Ivy,” spilled from his lips as his dick, a firing piston, spewed cum deeply inside of me.
My head dropped back as fiery sparks unleashed a blaze through me. Fireworks exploded before my eyes, and off I flew before returning, breathless and raw.
I fell on my back and giggled. “What a nice way to start the day.”
After a big hearty breakfast, we headed to the beach for a walk.
Everyone else was expected that day, and a party was planned for the evening.
It was a tradition, apparently. Every year at the start of the summer season, the Elliots threw a party.
I loved parties. And I certainly had plenty to celebrate. No one knew about our decision to get married, and despite my dying to tell Liam and Sara, I’d decided the party would be the perfect time to make that heart-melting announcement.
I changed into a summery cotton dress and tied my hair back. As I regarded myself in the mirror, I stared at my clear eyes and rosy cheeks. I was happy. Really happy.
Dressed in cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, Chase joined me on the wooden balcony of the white two-story house where the beach practically lapped at its feet.
“That’s very seventies.” I stroked his silky shirt.
“It’s an original.” He smiled. “My dad’s. It was in the cupboard. I thought I’d wear it.”
He looked hot, as always. It didn’t matter what Chase wore. The shirt flapped in the breeze, revealing his chest, those delicious firm mounds that I liked to sink my cheek onto.
Barefoot, we hit the sand, hand in hand. It was midday, and the sun burned into my skin.
“I think I might have a dip,” Chase said.
“I didn’t wear my bikini,” I said.
“Doesn’t matter. No one’s around.” He bounced his eyebrows, and I giggled.
We got to the shore and splashed about in the shallows, where the water rippled gently.
“There aren’t any waves,” I said.
“No. I was hoping to get a surf in,” he said.
“You surf?” I stared at him in surprise.
He nodded.
I’d only ever seen Chase as a party boy. But as I studied him with his hair uncombed, his tanned face, and his stubbled jaw, I saw a down-to-earth version I’d only just caught a glimpse of during the spa hike.
“We’ve been coming here since we were babies,” he said. “I took up surfing when I was a boy. It’s a buzz.”
“I thought it was more a Californian pastime.”
“Wherever there are waves, there’s potential to ride a board. But I love the West Coast for surfing. We’ll go there if you like. I’ve got a house in Malibu.”
“Really? I’d love that. I haven’t been to LA for years. My dad took me when I was young. He loved it. I prefer New York. It’s a little edgier.”
He drew a circle in the water with his feet. “Edgier? You like tension?”
