by Casey Hagen
Feeling more confident now that she knew he liked her touch, she set a slow pace. Every time she reached the head, she smoothed her fingers over the tip, loving the feeling of moisture leaking from him. He grew impossibly harder under her hands, his breathing turned rough and raw.
He yanked on her capris, popping them open in one hard pull. When his rough fingers slid into her panties, dragging through the moisture pooled there, her head fell back on a low groan.
"Damn, you are so wet. You need relief, don't you?"
"Please!"
He teased her over and over until she was writhing, but he didn't let her slide over the peak. At the brink, he slowed, denying her the release she so desperately needed. He laved over both nipples and blew lightly on them, taking her that much closer to the edge before sliding his fingers inside her. Hooking his fingers in just the right spot, she screamed while wave after wave of sharp pleasure crashed over her. She felt the hot release of moisture inside her and his rough explicative as she came.
"God, Corrine! If you don't stop I'm going to lose it."
She tightened her fingers over him and moved faster. "I want to make you feel the way you make me feel," she gasped out.
He crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue invading every recess of her mouth, dueling with hers. He stiffened and broke the kiss. Throwing his head back, he gasped and let out a sexy growl as hot moisture erupted with every jerk of his hips.
Corrine stared at him, fascinated with the rigidity of his muscles, the flexing of his jaw, and the harshness of his breathing.
She kept her hand on him even as he started to soften, loving the intimacy of touching him there. He rained kisses over her face, finally settling over her mouth and sweeping her away.
"Mmmm, you're so good at that,” she said.
"At what?"
"Kissing and, well…everything."
He laughed. "You're not so bad yourself, Corrine Anderson."
"So it was good."
"You have to ask?"
"I've just never done that before and—"
"Wait—what? What part haven't you done before?"
"Well, no one has ever made me come like that, and I've never, you know, for a guy before." Mortification burned her cheeks at the admission. She’d had sex, she just had rarely ever orgasmed with a sex partner. The two men she slept with hadn’t dabbled in the nuances of foreplay.
"Wait. Are you a virgin?"
"What? No!"
"Then how is it possible you've never been touched like this?"
"The men I dated…they weren't overtly sexual."
"They were selfish."
"I don't know if I would say—"
He snorted. "Did you orgasm regularly during sex?"
"Well, no—"
"So they got what they wanted and left you unsatisfied."
When he put it like that, she couldn't deny it. She put aside her pleasure and needs in deference to her partner's. Didn't that make her not much more than a doormat? Mortified, Corrine turned away and closed her eyes.
"Don't do that."
"What?" she whispered, still not looking at him.
"Don't hide from me." When she didn't look back at him, he buried his fingers back inside her. She was surprised at the quick flare of pleasure, and her eyes snapped to his. Her mouth fell open.
"That's better. You didn't do anything wrong. They did. They should have made sure you were satisfied before they took their own satisfaction." He slid another finger in, and her walls stretched to accommodate the tight fit.
She gasped, and her eyes slid shut on a low moan. "I didn't tell them I wasn't satisfied."
"You don't need to. We can feel it."
"What do you mean?" she asked breathlessly. His fingers slid back and forth at a maddeningly slow pace. She should be self-conscious. Here she was, cradled in Everett's arms under the starlit night. Her breasts were still exposed, her hand was still wrapped around his now hardening erection, he was driving her wild with every slide of his long, thick fingers, and all while having a conversation.
"It means…" He flicked her nipple with his tongue. "I can feel when you're turned on. By how wet you are. And when you come, I feel it when your muscles lock on my fingers inside you. You squeeze me like a vise. It's hot."
"Are you going to make me come again?"
"You bet I am."
And he did.
12 The Fall
He hadn't managed to stop thinking about the night on the beach two days earlier. The memory of her gasping and bucking as he pleasured her over and over was permanently seared on his brain like a brand. He’d carried her into her room later that night, left her there, and took his place on the couch. He hadn't managed to fall asleep, so when a text came in looking for his help, he took out his tablet at three in the morning and got some work done. By five, his gritty eyes were finally ready to close.
They both woke late the next morning. He wondered if she struggled with sleep as much as he did. Hopefully, he hadn't woken her when he opted to work.
Their adventure generator had shown them mercy the previous day. Shy the next morning, it took a bit for Corrine to look him in the eye and return to the easy intimacy they’d shared before. They started off with a sail on a catamaran. Big clouds floated through the sky, giving them several reprieves from the sun. Between that and the SPF 70 Corrine insisted on, they were well protected.
He took every opportunity to hold her hand and kiss her. On the boat she snuggled up to him as she snapped picture after picture of the surrounding islands, waterfalls, and a school of dolphins that kept pace with them for a good portion of their trip. It was late afternoon before they made their way back to the bungalow. They’d brought back takeout Chinese to share on the deck.
That was when she suggested they go in the hot tub, and his dick sat up and said, "Hello!" He waited for her, lounging on a chair in his swim trunks, next to the stone-encased bubbling warm water. She came out wearing a tiny white string bikini that covered just about nothing on her golden body. The swell of those pretty breasts he could still taste made his mouth water. Yeah, he knew what she was doing, but he wasn't falling for it. If she wanted him in her bed, she would have to say the words.
Torture, pure torture for the rest of the night. She climbed into the hot tub, giving him a revealing view of her perfectly toned ass and the barely there Brazilian-cut bikini bottoms that weren't much more than a thong. He kissed her over and over with his arms braced on the edge of the hot tub on either side of her. Not touching. Her tongue warred with his. It took everything in him to keep his hands off her hot little body when all he wanted was to peel those scraps of fabric off her and plunge into her so hard she sobbed for him.
Needing to cool off, he told her about his family. His mother defied explanation, so he focused on his dad. He told her about his cancer and meager insurance. About how, after finding the best cancer specialists in the country, his dad was making a full recovery. Then there was his sister Emily, her husband Mike, his two nephews, Michael Jr. and Trevor, one niece, Morgan, and a second niece on the way. They grew faster than weeds, a constant reminder that not only was he working himself to death, he was missing out on their childhood.
He noticed the wistful look that crossed Corrine's face when he talked about the kids and his pregnant sister. "Do you want kids, Corrine Anderson?"
"I do. I thought I would have one by now. Now I don't know if I'll ever have them."
"Why not?"
"Hard to do without a man. A faithful man."
And just like that, her eyes turned sad. When her fiancé cheated on her, he not only landed a decent-sized dent in her confidence, she thought he took away her dreams of a family of her own. If Everett had his way, she would share those dreams with him. It was crazy to feel that way after three days. Absolutely! Did it make him doubt his decision? Not a chance!
Today marked the halfway point of their trip. He had been awake since five, putting out even more fires for clie
nts. No matter how he tried, he couldn't put it off. He didn't like making clients wait. If they didn't understand something, he preferred they contact him rather than attempt to handle the problem on their own and screw something up that he later had to undo.
Shortly after six, with the crisis averted, he lay on the couch, two fans whirring to keep him cool. He thumbed his way through the pictures he’d taken on vacation so far. He had a handful of scenery photos, but the ones he wanted to see were the ones of Corrine. He’d captured her several times when she wasn't paying attention.
At the botanical gardens, touching her nose to a bright burst of color, she inhaled deeply, with those beautiful eyes closed. Another of her standing on a wooden fence clicking her tongue to a beautiful fire-engine-red bird with a bright yellow beak. On the catamaran, her dark waves dancing away from her face in the tropical breeze. She was stunning. Especially over the past few days, ever since she had lost the pinched look on her face.
The one blemish on their trip was the night they fought. It wasn't like him to lose control of his mouth. Watching her make all of her decisions based on her mother's wishes grated on his nerves. Her mother wouldn't get away with the way she treated her when he was around. And he would be around.
He found the selfie they’d taken on the catamaran. She sat between his legs, leaning back on his chest, with those sexy lips turned up in a brilliant smile. Just looking at the picture, he could smell her intoxicating vanilla scent mixed with the coconut sunscreen they wore. He leaned into her in the shot, his face pressed to the top of her head, his arm around her, her hand resting on his.
Before he could think better of it, he texted the photo to his mother. The woman made him crazy sometimes, but he loved her. She and his dad had always been his biggest supporters. They’d always been there for him, no matter what, supporting both his math league competitions and wrestling matches equally. He hadn't been the easiest child. He knew his parents didn't know what to do with him or his IQ, but never once did he feel unloved or unwanted. Corrine's parents should have given her the same gift.
His phone pinged with an incoming text.
Mom: That's Corrine? She's gorgeous!
Everett: Yes, she is.
Mom: How long have you been seeing her? And why am I only finding out now?
Everett: Met her Saturday night.
Mom: WHAT??? You went on a trip with her after knowing her less than 24 hours??? Have you lost your mind?
Everett: It's very possible I have, in the best kind of way.
Mom: Are you in love with this girl?
Everett: I think so.
Mom: Does she know?
Everett: No.
Mom: Does she love you?
Everett: I don't know.
Mom: Has she tried to make you over?
Everett: No. She's not like the others.
Mom: I want to meet her. Invite her to dinner here for when you get back.
Everett: I'll see what I can do.
Mom: I love you honey!
Everett: Love you too Mom.
He heard Corrine stir in the bedroom. Sliding on his glasses, he headed to the kitchen and started making them breakfast. By the time she came out, he had just finished sliding sizzling sausage links onto her plate and was dishing out scrambled eggs with sautéed mushrooms. His eyes drifted shut when she slid her hand up his spine.
"Mmmm, that smells good," she said.
Turning her face up to his, he kissed her deep. The silky slide of her tongue with his was an instant turn-on. He pulled back, and his eyes roamed her fresh face. Her pink lips shone with moisture after their kiss, and all he wanted to do was pick her up, carry her to her plush bed, and strip her bare.
"I can only smell you." He buried his face in what was becoming his favorite spot along the curve of her neck, under the shell of her dainty ear. Delighted when she shivered at the contact, he nipped her there, not particularly worried about leaving a mark. He wanted to mark her. Mark her as his. This territorial feeling was brand new to him, and he wasn't hating it.
"You're wearing your glasses again," she said as she tilted her head, giving him better access.
He stiffened. "Is that a problem?"
"Not at all. If anything, they make you hotter."
His clenched muscles released and he tried to hide his sigh of relief. Glasses should never have been a big deal, but each of the previous women he’d dated wanted him to ditch them altogether which just wasn't possible. He struggled with dry eyes. He ditched the contacts when he could, for his own relief.
The women he had dated previously started with the glasses. Then came the suggestions here and there about his shirts, his jeans, and the cargo shorts he loved. He didn't ask for a makeover. He didn't want a makeover. He just wanted to find someone who could be happy letting him be himself.
He brushed his lips over hers. He couldn't tell her how deep his feelings really ran, so he went with the next best thing. "I think I'm falling in some definite like with you, Corrine Anderson." He brushed the hair out of her surprised eyes. "You need to go eat your breakfast before it gets cold. We have another adventure waiting for us.”
13 Exposed
Corrine finished the delicious breakfast before Everett, so she put her plate on the counter and ducked out of the room. "I'll be right back."
She took out her sketchbook and slid it to him at the table before moving in to clean up the kitchen. Filling the sink with hot, soapy water, she stole glances at Everett as he studied each sketch, his face unreadable. She tried to focus on the dishes, but when he pushed his plate aside without finishing and laid out the book before him, her heart beat in a heavy staccato in her chest.
Afraid of what he was thinking, she started to chew at her thumbnail, a habit she had broken as a child, at her mother's insistence. When he calmly closed the book, but didn't look at her, her nerves frayed and she started in on the other nail.
The sound of his chair scraping back made her jump. He carried his plate to the counter and pulled her thumbnail out of her mouth.
"Is that all you have?"
"Well, no. That's just my latest sketchbook." She couldn't read the look he was giving her. His intense stare made her itchy.
"How many more are there?"
"Twenty or so."
Everett gave her an incredulous look. "Why the hell are you working for Ross and Dunham when you have the makings for your own jewelry line?"
She turned away to scrape off his plate. "It's not that easy."
He grasped her arm and turned her back to him. "It really is, Corrine."
"Creating my own line takes money. A lot of money. I have some saved, but if it doesn't work out, I'll have spent all my savings, and I'll be out a full-time job."
"How much do you have?"
"Three hundred thousand."
"What are you estimated material costs?"
"Depends on how big I want to make my first line."
"If you put together fifty pieces?"
"Materials will run upwards of two hundred and fifty thousand. I don't have to tell you it doesn't leave me a whole lot of wiggle room to hire additional hands, reserve booth space, and pay for the packing and display materials."
"No, but it's doable."
She watched him run a hand through his unruly waves. She laid her palm over his heart. She could feel his agitation in the tempo vibrating under her hand. "Why are you mad at me?"
He raised her hand to his lips. "I'm not. I'm frustrated. Your work shouldn't be sitting in a pile of books somewhere collecting dust."
"I have a trust fund, but I don't get it until I'm thirty. My mother will never agree to give it up now. Especially not for this. She tolerates my job at Ross and Dunham. She certainly doesn't brag to her friends about it."
"I don't understand. When we were parasailing, you told me she taught you to go for your dreams. Why the change? Why is she so damn unsupportive and judgmental?"
Corrine shrugged and looked away. "We d
on't know. My sister and I got older, and slowly, over time, the criticisms crept in. She had to control our clothes, our hair, and makeup. She tried to control who we made friends with. She's big into appearances, and she's very insistent."
"Listen, I don't want to fight, and I feel like I'm one step away from putting my foot back in my mouth."
"That's my fault, and I'm sor—"
"It's not your fault. I could have found a tactful way to say what I did. Just hear me out."
She nodded and kept her eyes on his, determined to not overreact to whatever he might say.
"You need to shake the hold your mother has on you. You have one shot at this life, and it's your life. Something else…I want you to consider an investor for your line."
"I would consider it, but how will I find one? I don't have any pieces to show them to prove I have talent."
"No, but you have some pretty incredible sketches. I think I know a couple people who might be interested. I'll speak to them."
"I can't ask you to do that."
"You're not. I want to do this. Your talent shouldn't be wasting away in sketchbooks."
"I'm afraid to get my hopes up."
"I know, but I'll be here right beside you, the whole way."
"Why?"
"I thought I told you before, Corrine Anderson." He slid both hands into her waves and held her head while he sipped at her lips with loving kisses. He was a head holder. God, she loved that about him. Nothing was sexier than a guy who held your head while kissing the air right out of your lungs.
"I'm in serious like with you. When we get home, I'll still be in serious like with you. You're stuck with me."
She sighed, opening her eyes to find him watching her. "I like the sound of that.”
He showered, dressed, and tried to stop grinding his teeth in frustration. As sensitive as Corrine could be, he made it a top priority to rein in his growing temper. At some point soon, he would be meeting Lanelle Anderson. Resisting his growing urge to throttle her would be an exercise in patience.
Corrine had no idea how much talent she had. He already knew two people off the top of his head that would be excited to see the sketches. Tension rolled off her in waves, as she waited and watched his every reaction to her sketches. So, as hard as it had been, he schooled his features while a damned fireworks display went off inside.