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“No taking this back,” I say, rubbing my length up and down her slit. God, she’s soaked. The wet sounds are loud enough to hear over the music. “Once we do this, you’re mine.”
Another yank on my hair. “Good. Now fuck me, Mac McLaggen, you big tease.”
She goes still as I press the first inch inside her.
Face burning, I sink forward with a groan.
Nine
Cocoa
Holy crap on a cracker, this man is thick and long andhard.As the harbor master spreads me open, thrusting deeper into my body, it’s like being impaled on a spear.
You know, a sexy spear. A good kind of impaling. Oh whatever, I can’t think straight—can only pant, and cling to his shoulders, and grit my teeth first against the burning stretch, then against a loud moan as he brushes a spot inside me.
I wracked my brain earlier, sifting through my newly recovered memories, but came up blank. It’s official. I’ve never done this before.
He owns me more than he even knows.
Though as Mac rocks inside me, working his way deeper, suspicion flits across his shadowed face. He rubs his bearded cheek against mine, whispering: “You’re awful tight, sweetheart.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Have you ever—?”
“Nope.”
A tremor passes through his big, strong body—then Mac fucks into me harder, quicker, each harsh snap of his hips grinding me against the wooden tent pole. His breaths are ragged. I’m helpless, legs jiggling like a rag doll’s.
“You like that, huh?” My thrilled smile is swallowed up by the gloom, but I kiss his throat so he knows I approve. He growls, his thrusts getting even meaner. My chest bounces. “Oh, shit.” I break away, holding on for dear life.
And maybe it’s not the rose-petal scattered bed that so many girls picture for their first time, but this wooden tent pole, this darkness, the musty hush of the tent, the scrape of Mac’s open jeans against my inner thighs…
It’s perfect.He’sperfect.
Every second we’ve spent together until now, the harbor master has been so contained. So careful and reserved. Always the perfect gentleman, keeping his distance; always the picture of self control. Never staring too long or letting his hands linger. So respectful and distant, I feared he’dneverclaim me.
Look at him now.
He’s groaning like a wounded animal, pounding me hard enough to turn this wooden tent pole to splinters. His bared teeth flash white in the gloom. And if I’m lucky, maybe he’ll leave hand print bruises on my ass cheeks tomorrow morning; maybe the sight will spur him to another desperate, feverish round.
I want Mac to bend me over every piece of furniture in his orderly cottage.
Want him to fuck me in the rowboat where he found me that first day, the boat rocking beneath us, that pile of old nets snagging my hair.
I want himmadfor me, just like this, for all the days and weeks and months and years of our lives together, and I want the hickeys to prove it. Never want to walk straight again.
He grabs a fistful of my hair andpulls.
I let out a blissful sigh.
In this, too, we’re perfectly matched. Perfectly suited. Not just the way his cock spreads me open, pressing deep inside me, lighting me up from the inside, but his rougher edges, too. The secret, wild bite to him.
Can’t believe he thinks he’s boring. Mac McLaggen is more thrilling than any circus.
“Please,” I gasp, and he snarls as he reaches between us, pinching my clit. I’m still swollen and sensitive down there from his mouth, still slippery and tingling, and I buck in his hold, keening. Can feel his calluses. Can feeleverything.
“You’re going to come on my cock.” Mac rubs me steadily, hips still pumping, the pressure hard. “You’re going to show me what that feels like. I’ve been thinking about it, Cocoa. Been wondering.”
