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I’m choosing to listen to my heart. It urges me to pull her closer, melt into her, give her every bit of me.
I do.
With another surge, I sink more than my cock into her mouth. I surrender to the worship of her tongue and the devotion of her lips. I silence the argument in my head to focus on her alone.
Her fingers dig into my thighs, then curl around my hips to pull me even closer. She eases back to heap pleasure and adoration on my sensitive crest, then slips down my length in a dizzying, suction-filled glide. I feel her nose against my abdomen, her hot breath against my skin. Through the shadows, I watch her, an open-mouthed siren, staring at me like she’d do anything to make me love her.
Bethany repeats the process, picking up speed until I’m gasping. I watch her lose herself in the moment, see her seemingly let go of all her inhibitions and focus on exalting me.
Not going to lie, getting head is always great. But the way she showers me with bliss and simply gives herself is the biggest turn-on of all.
“Beth…” My strangled yelp is all the warning I can give. I’m about to lose it.
She doubles her efforts to touch me everywhere, seemingly dedicating herself to my ecstasy. I know I’m not the only man who’s ever been in her bed—or in her mouth—but right now I feel like the most important.
And I have no doubt this is going to be the most cataclysmic orgasm of my life.
Seconds later, it crashes down on me. I’m helpless to do anything but growl out as need overtakes me, jolts my body, then sends me hurtling into a euphoria that’s the closest thing to nirvana I’ve ever experienced. I lose myself in its crushing throes, forgetting all sense of time, place, purpose. Of anything but her.
When the massive orgasm comes to its devastating end, I blink and pant, swaying on my feet, heart pounding. Somewhere along the way, I melted against the wall. I’m still holding Beth’s silky hair in my fists, just as I did while she wrung every bit of pleasure from my body that I had to give.
Holy shit. What the hell has she done to me?
With a soft pop, she releases my cock from her lips and slowly stands, looking shy as she kisses my shoulder, my pectoral, my cheek. “Clint?”
“Beth.” I manage to pull her closer, even though my legs threaten to stop supporting me. “Oh, my god…”
When she lays her head on my chest, I feel a hint of her smile. “Finally, I get the chance to make you feel half as good as you’ve made me feel. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to do that at all.”
Really? “What else have you wanted to do?”
She blinks up at me. “Honestly? Give more than my body to you.”
Does she want to be open and honest with her body before she’s the same with her story? Or is she hoping to butter me up with what she thinks I want to hear so I’ll be so happy and sated and, of course, believe whatever she tells me?
Fuck, I hate this suspicion and indecision. What if the truth pulls us apart?
“How?”
She peels off the rest of her clothes to stand before me in the dark. “I’ve never, ever surrendered complete control of my body to any man. I was always in charge. I pulled the strings and held myself separate, despite the physical closeness. You’re different. I don’t want to manipulate you by doing things to you. I want to do them with and for you. I want to yield myself and give you whatever you desire.”
Fuck, I want to believe her so much the ache is a physical pang. If she’s serious, then I’m staggered and humbled by how much she’s allowed herself to become vulnerable with me in less than two weeks. On the other hand, she might be telling me what she thinks I want to hear. I can’t discount that…no matter how I’m dying to.
Either way, I’m not turning her down.
After kicking away my flip-flops, shorts, and underwear, I take her hand and lead her through the darkened ohana, through the kitchenette, and beyond her bedroom. I fling open the doors to the little balcony that faces the ocean and urge her outside.
Immediately, the night air caresses our skin. It’s cool, but not chilly. The wind is like a soft caress. Palm trees sway. Ocean waves break.
Her breathing grows choppy and loud. “Clint?”
I turn to her. “No one will see us. The inn’s guests are asleep. If Maxon and Keeley are awake, it’s because they’re with the baby, so they’ll be too busy to care about us.”
