When they finally sailed back in the cove, she was wired with the pleasure and excitement of the day, but ravenous. They disembarked on the strip of beach, setting up an impromptu picnic under the canopy of trees hanging over the bank. She'd made four thick sandwiches and brought cookies, chips and fruit. Noah provided the bottles of water and put away two and a half sandwiches easily, complimenting her between bites. He grinned when she reflected men had a relationship to food in general the way a woman did to chocolate. Yet he ate his share of the cookies too. From the discreet way he eyed the rest, she expected he was hoping she'd only want a couple.
She extended one of hers to him. "Here. I'm stuffed. At this rate, we're going to have to wait on teaching me how to right a capsized boat. I'll sink if I go into the water now. You too."
"We can take a little break." He bit into the cookie, stretching out on the wet packed sand and folding an arm behind his head to gaze up into the trees. Because she wanted to do it, she stroked his chest to his stomach, and back up again.
"I love touching you," she said. "You're so pretty."
When he gave her a pained look, she laughed. "I didn't mean that in an unmanly way. You're beautiful, Noah. It's not just a physical thing. There's something about you; it's really kind of mesmerizing. Like a drug, but not. More like a feeling of happiness. Like being out on the sailboat when everything is working right. You're a living, breathing, perfect moment."
He propped himself up on his elbows, staring at her so that she colored a little. She wasn't in the habit of stating things so out front like that. But that was part of his magic, as well. Anything could be said to him, without judgment. No games, no embarrassment. He'd simply accept it. Like talking to the trees or wind.
"Lyda was right, about your poet side. Thank you," he said with sincerity. "You're a gift, Gen. I wish everyone you've loved realized that."
He was also good at touching past scars and making them feel better, even as it also made them hurt. It pricked at tears that had never been shed, because they required the right stimulus to bring them to the surface, purge them. Stimulus she tended to avoid. "It's water under the bridge. And I'm here with you today, probably because of some of those things. So that's good, right?"
"Right." His gaze remained serious. "I want to make love to you, Gen. Right here. Okay?"
"I... Okay." She whispered it.
He put his hand on her jaw, fingers curving around the side of her neck, pressing against the tripping pulse there. Drawing her down onto his chest, he guided her hand so it spread out there, over his nipple, the firm pectoral, as their mouths met. His other hand framed her face, holding her. He focused first only on her mouth, his tongue teasing hers, his fingers sliding into her hair, releasing the clip so it spilled over his hands, down against his face and shoulders. He traced her lips with his tongue, sealed his lips over hers again, taking the kiss even deeper. He moved his mouth to caress her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, her eyelids.
Dropping his hands to her waist, he opened the cutoff shorts, pushed them off her hips. When she kicked them away, he shifted her on top of him, his stiff cock pressed against her belly, her knees pressed into the sand between his thighs. He cupped her buttock, fingers sliding beneath the edge of the swimsuit to play as his other hand held her, keeping her still while he suckled her throat, bit. She dug her fingers into his biceps, her pussy throbbing already, needy for him. She rubbed against his hardness, transmitting her desire.
But he let the feeling build, until she didn't care if the cove was private. A cruise ship could have come through with a legion of camera-snapping tourists. Everything was Noah. His hands, his mouth, his body. Then he destroyed another idea she'd had about a submissive male. He reversed their positions, turning her so she was beneath him and he was pressed solidly between her legs.
She arched full against him, rubbing in frustrated desire against that barrier of clothing. He gave her a full stroke back, cock against cunt, but then moved down her body, getting rid of her bikini top so he could suckle her nipples. That stud in his mouth began its low level hum, stroking her there, making her writhe and gasp at the stimulation. He cradled her breasts, squeezed them together, lashed at her nipples, taking that vibration to the channel in between, while she bucked her lower body.
"Noah...God..." She raked his back with her nails, not expecting her own ferocity. She choked out an apology, but his gaze scorched her.
"Mark me however you want, Gen. I'm yours."
Yours Unconditionally. Who had he meant that tattoo for? At the moment, it felt like her, Lyda...he was a gift given to a woman, whatever woman he was with. He was everything she needed. A treasure from the gods.
He was playing at her navel now, disrupting the intensity by deliberately tickling. When she pushed at him, he sent her a wicked grin, then went lower, catching the swimsuit bottoms in his teeth, letting his vibrating tongue play beneath the edges. When he took those off her, he stood on his knees, pushed his trunks down. He'd brought a small waterproof container with him to shore, and he removed a condom from the wallet in it.
"Prepared," she observed, her voice shaky. "Take the swimsuit off, all the way."
He nodded, to both things, she assumed. Standing, he removed the swimsuit, the sun praising every line of his body. He rolled the condom on while she watched, moistening her lips.
He knelt between her legs again, met her gaze. "I was going to make you come with my mouth first, but I want inside you too much, Gen. I need to be fucking you."
In answer, she reached for him. He came down, guiding himself into her wet heat. It had been so damn long. She closed her eyes at the feeling, shuddering hard as he eased in.
"So tight..." His voice was strained. She could feel the energy of his body, the desire to thrust, and yet he took his time, concentrating on not hurting her. The care it took to do that, to step outside oneself and make someone else matter more, was something neither of her husbands had given her. Noah gave it to her in ways large and small, and the smaller things held more significance. Yes, he'd keep her from falling off a cliff, but the fact he'd give her the last cookie if he thought for a second she wanted it meant even more.
And that thought was the kind capable of unlocking those more painful memories. She didn't want them to intrude, so she lifted her upper body abruptly, shoving her hips forward and pulling him to her core in the same motion. The lancing pain of it had her sucking in a breath, her face reflecting the discomfort, but she wouldn't let him draw back. She dug her short nails into his buttocks, feeling their muscled tension as well as that in his thighs, against the inside of hers.
"No. Please stay. Stay."
"Sshh." His brow was creased, eyes concerned as he slid his arm beneath her shoulders. He kept her close to his chest, holding their upper body weight on his other braced arm. "It's all right, Gen. Don't do that to yourself. I'm right here. Ease back. I've got you."
He put her back on the towel, bringing his body down with her, so she was pinned beneath his chest. "Let me just do this." He put his hand on her thigh, a nonverbal cue to loosen her lock as he adjusted his hips, slid back a little, then back in, an easier angle.
"How do you know a woman's body like this?" Her heart and soul...
"I feel you, Gen. Everything about you is mapped right here." He held her gaze, telling her he meant her eyes. "Let me give you pleasure. Unless...do you want me to force you to accept it?"
As she stared up at him, he let his touch shift, slowly, deliberately, to her arms, down to her wrists. He moved them to her sides, held them locked to the sand. When she trembled he saw it, eyes darkening. His abdomen muscles contracted as his hips lifted, then sank back into wetness, her cunt slick and welcoming, now lubricated to take him deep, but instead of ramming in there like a hammer and nail, it was like the Creator bringing together two body parts, joint to ball socket. Something meant to fit together, move easily, capable of power, speed, flexibility. Control. Utter, blissful control. She'd
given it to him.
Her clit spasmed, her inner muscles clutching him. "Noah..."
"There's some of it in you, what you see in me," he said. She appreciated the catch in his voice, since she was unraveling. "It's different, but there. Lyda really brings it out in you. It makes me crazy hard, watching you two. Listening to her make you come the other night just about killed me."
She writhed against his hold, and his grip tightened, underscoring his strength. He could make her helpless, and that turned things in her lower body to molasses, but she also wanted to explore, to experiment. Lyda had offered her that opportunity, and she wanted to start now.
"Let go of me, Noah. I want to touch you."
Her voice was hoarse. As he cocked his head, not immediately complying, she saw the challenging light in his eyes. He wasn't an automatic pleaser. He understood when not being so accommodating could be a huge turn-on. The man was an endless puzzle.
"Now," she said softly. "Don't make me get rough with you."
The corner of his mouth twitched, and her eyes sparked in answer. He let go of her but curled his arm beneath her again to cradle her upper body against him, half off the sand as he slid in deeper, more firmly, making her gasp.
"You may have noticed I like it rough." His eyes were much closer now, his mouth. "Do your worst."
She kissed him, and his lips opened, welcoming her into heat and demand both. She lashed at his tongue, the surge of hot, needy lust translating into her sliding her hands up over his shoulders to rake his back again as he thrust into her, setting off a rhythm she matched with the movement of her hips. The towel was rough beneath her bare buttocks, her ankles crossed over the bend of his knees, pressed into the soft sand, their mattress beneath the terry cloth. His hand tangled in her hair to tip her head back and he bit her throat, suckling. She pulled loose and returned the favor, biting his shoulder when he plunged deeper.
"God..." She shoved at him, levered herself up. She couldn't hold against his physical strength, but when she made it clear she was going to insist, he gave way, letting her roll and reverse their positions so she straddled him. He stared up at her, eyes dark with desire. She felt powerful, beautiful, dangerous. Those bikini-clad girls couldn't give him this. Noah wanted the goddess inside a woman. He hungered for that power, wanted to worship it, be lost in that wave. A woman had to have known bittersweet pain and loss, to give him that. She had to understand what love and surrender, sacrifice and pain, were all about.
Testing herself and him, Gen slid a hand up his chest, trailing over his nipple. His expression and body went still, a powerful, combustible force, as he realized her destination. She closed her hand over his throat, the pulse hammering against her grip. When he tilted his chin up, accepting the hold, her body hummed in fierce, pleased response.
"Stay still," she whispered. "Don't move."
She rose and fell. Up, tightening all along his sizeable shaft, then down, enjoying every delicious inch of friction. Her pussy was so lubricated, she heard the sucking noise on each downward stroke impact. His breath rasped in his throat.
"Fuck...Gen."
"Don't come," she said. "I want to see you fight it until I finish."
"Anything for you."
Her heart tore free a few mooring lines at that, rising higher in her chest, the thumping painful. "Don't..." she said. It wasn't an admonishment. He hadn't done anything wrong. She just couldn't do this, couldn't hold the reins if he broke her heart wide open.
He didn't disturb her hand on his throat, but he laid one hand over her wrist, coiled his strong fingers around it, his thumb rubbing her pulse, an erogenous zone that leaped at the caress. "Ride me however you want, Mistress."
She returned to that up and down movement, the pure pleasure of it. God, there was a lot of pleasure to fucking Noah. He moved with her, anticipated when she needed him to lift his hips to help her impale herself deeper. He was hard and thick, and he met her demand, the muscles of his face tightening, then all along his body. His eyes had that feral, desperate light that told her how close he was.
She pushed herself to hold out. It felt too damn good. She didn't want it to end, but more than that, she was feeding on his self-restraint, his obvious desire to please her on every level, even the deeper ones most men weren't even aware were there, let alone expended the effort to try to satisfy. She was around some of the rarities like Tyler and Brendan, but until now that had sometimes been as torturous as being stabbed daily with a dull knife. Why did Chloe and Marguerite have what had eluded her?
No, don't go there. This was about pleasure, a sun-filled day with an exciting man.
Fuck, it had caught her. She'd faltered, despite being so close to the knife-edge of release. Her body was quivering, fighting her.
"Gen." He cradled her face, drawing her attention back to him. Her hand had shifted from his throat, the heel pressed against his heart, fingers curved into a claw over his collarbone. "Stay right here. You aren't lost. I have you."
Noah pushed himself into a sitting position, adjusting her so her legs were curled around his hips and she was cinched in closer to him, his mouth near her breast, his head pressed into her neck. He had his arms banded around her, one hand curving over her buttock. He took over, working his cock into her from that more limited movement position, making the sensation overwhelming. He nuzzled her breast, her nipples pressed high against his chest.
"Lay your head back like you did when we were sailing. Close your eyes, feel the sun and wind. Feel me."
Though she was on top, the power balance had shifted back to him, easy as the flow of water. She'd needed him to be the one in charge of the boat for this to work. He'd figured it out, accepted that responsibility without a pause.
He rocked her, such that she could imagine the lift and fall of the boat on the water. As he began to do it faster, he set those delicate tissues on fire, driving everything else away. Now he unleashed his male strength, holding her, pounding into her, stroking her clit with the motion. She sealed her mouth over his again, teasing his tongue stud with her own tongue, kissing him with frenetic passion as the climax surged up. She didn't want to break the connection, so as the orgasm swept through her, she dug her claws into him once more, holding on, screaming into his mouth as he kept driving into her. She felt the impact all the way deep inside where he was rubbing against her. He sent her soaring to the freaking moon.
His hand coiled in her hair, holding her tight, fused to his mouth, his other hand spread over her back, his thumb in the valley of her spine. He held her so tight, almost bruising. He was hanging on by a determined thread. Waiting on her to release him.
She stared at him through glazed eyes. Marguerite and Tyler both loved sculpture and possessed an impressive collection. Some of it was erotic, because several of Tyler's friends specialized in that area, but she wondered if any of them had ever captured a man when he looked like this. Almost like she imagined he'd look in battle, eyes fierce, muscles rigid, cock hard. A state where killing rage and lustful need were so close, and a woman felt a thrilling desire seeing either demonstrated on her behalf.
She slid trembling fingers down his jaw, to his throat, over his shoulder. Taking her time with it as he quivered, chest rising and falling, and that look became even more dangerous.
She reached back, bracing her palms against his knees, lodging herself deeper on his cock, the angle tilting up her breasts. She loved the frustration in his expression, but also the fact he complied with her nonverbal cue to keep holding.
"Tell me what you're thinking right now. Uncensored."
"That I'd kill to fuck your cunt. That's all there is. The desire to fuck."
She trembled at the growling response. "I want to watch you come. Come for me, Noah. Don't look away." Then she braced herself.
He tightened his grip, lifted her, thrust upward. She gasped at the deep penetration, and then she had to hold onto his legs as he started pumping himself into her with that singular focus. The des
ire to fuck. She clung to his expression, to his eyes which never left hers as he hammered his cock into her, over and over, such that her post-climactic tissues clutched him, sending sweet aftershocks through her that made her moan. He devoured every reaction, and then he was coming, his face creasing with the effort, harsh grunts breaking free. His gaze shifted only once, to her breasts, quivering with erotic movement because of the power of his thrusts, but she'd forgive him that since his heated attention sent waves of pleasure over the nerve endings.
"Yes..." She encouraged him with sighing pleasure. "Yes..."
When he finally began to slow down, rather than flopping back to the sand like a grounded trout as she expected, he slid his arm around her waist, brought her to him once more. Capturing her right breast with his mouth, he sealed wet friction over her nipple, flicking her with the tongue stud. Arousal feathered through her as she coiled her arms around his shoulders. She held him to her as he nursed each breast to aching, pleasurable response again, rubbing a jaw with that afternoon sandpaper texture against her tender flesh.
At length, he laid his head there, his damp breath on her tight nipple. She kept holding him, stroking his hair, loving the feel of her arms around him, his around her.
She'd touched him how she'd desired, learning to trust herself to command him. And he'd provided her the guidance to do it.
"So..." She cleared the frogs out of her throat. "I realize it's a really convenient time to ask, but you did say Lyda was okay with this, right?"
He smiled against her breast. "Yes. Lyda commands my pleasure, Gen. She told me I was to provide you anything you desired. And before you piss me off by asking, yes, it worked out pretty well for me as well."
Now he did do the fish thing, flopping back with drama, as if she'd completely drained him. "I guess capsizing will have to wait for another day," she chuckled.
"Nope. Just give me a minute to recharge. A couple more of those cookies would help, if we still have any."
"I could learn to hate you," she said, eying the hard body beneath her.
He grinned. "Does that mean we still have cookies?"