by Karina Halle
Another greedy noise escapes my mouth as it sends shockwaves down my spine, making me feel like I’m molten hot, my body running wild now with building desire.
“I’ve been dreaming of this all day,” he says hoarsely, the lust dripping in his voice as he kisses my mouth.
“Is that so?” I manage to say against his lips. “I recall something similar this morning.”
“Not enough for me,” he grunts.
“Good,” I tell him flirtatiously, placing my hand against his chest. “Then you won’t mind if I return the favor.”
I reach down and place my palm against the crotch of his jeans, feeling the hard mass of his erection before I unzip them. I reach in and grab his cock, making a fist, and kiss him madly as I pull him free, pumping my hand up and down his shaft, feeling his hard heat sink into my palm.
He groans, biting his full lip, eyes pinched shut from the sensation. I can’t help but grin, loving the way pleasure looks on his face, particularly when I’m giving it to him.
Then I sink down to my knees and take his cock into my mouth, carefully, wanting to take my time in teasing him, letting him know what I can do for him, how badly I love the feel of him between my lips.
His hands go to either side of my head and they grip me hard, holding me in place as I fist the base of his dick and start pumping him into my mouth, faster now. It’s messy and wet and my teeth occasionally raze along the rigid, veiny length, something I think he enjoys judging by the way he gasps and how hard he’s holding my head in place, like he wants to fuck my mouth into oblivion.
“God I want you to suck me dry,” he says, voice gruff, and a thrill runs through me as he seems to get even harder in my mouth. “Shoot my load straight down the back of your throat.”
Hello, my dirty talker.
I almost stop to tell him that it can easily be arranged, that I’ll swallow him whole, lick him all up, every last drop, but then he suddenly moans and stops fucking my lips.
“Wait,” Anders says breathlessly. “I need to come inside you.”
I pull my lips away from his dick, his skin velvet soft and hot, and get to my feet, shooting him a coy smile. As much as I wanted to finish him off, I’m not complaining about this going in a different direction.
Before I can say anything though, he’s kissing me fiercely, enough so that it steals the air from my lungs, makes my toes curl against the floor, and then he’s whirling me around until my arms are up high, palms pressed flat against the windowpane, my breasts pressed against it.
It is the middle of the day and my breasts are on full display here, spilling out of my bra.
Luckily, there’s no one out in the small bay right now, and the only ones who can see us are the seagulls.
I’ll have to let Anders know if that changes.
But he’s already moving on. With a caveman-like grunt, he roughly parts my legs by sliding his hand between my ass and the back of my thighs. Then he grips my waist as he adjusts the swollen tip of his wet cock against me.
He wastes no time before pushes himself inside me, deep and hard as hell.
FUCK.
I gasp loudly from the feel of him, the tight squeeze that makes me feel short of oxygen. He’s whispering Norwegian sweet nothings in my ear, and I eventually relax as he slowly eases in and out, and my body starts to expand around him, wanting more.
He fucks me thoroughly, pumping himself up into me from behind, more and more, faster and faster, until I’m pressed up against the glass, and I wouldn’t even care if a boat full of divers came motoring across right now, seeing me get royally and thoroughly fucked.
All I care about is this.
All I care about is us.
It’s not long before we’re both coming. His fingers swirl around my clit until I’m lost to him, swept away, like I’ve broken through the glass and dove into the depths below. Then he’s crying out my name, pounding me harder and harder from behind, driving his cock up until he’s letting loose, body shuddering as he pours himself into me.
I feel spineless, boneless, and a little brainless.
This man is going to wreck me thoroughly, isn’t he?
I wake up to a roaring sound that shakes the bed.
I open my eyes to darkness and slowly prop myself up on my elbows, my head swimming with all the wine I had at dinner.
Anders is sitting at the foot of the bed, naked, his back to me. He’s facing the window, which suddenly lights up with a flash of lightning, a fierce forked display across the ink black sky.
“Anders?” I say gently, clearing the sleep from my voice. “It’s a storm?”
He nods but he doesn’t turn around. I can only see the side of his face, but he looks haunted, restless.
I sit up, conscious that I’m naked too, and move across the bed so that I’m kneeling beside him, draping my arm over his shoulder, resting my head there. We both stare out at the darkness, watching the lightning strike, showcasing the waves pounding the shore across the small bay, hearing the thunder rumble and roll, the water sloshing against the building.
“I hate storms,” Anders says quietly. Though it sounds like a simple fact, I can tell it’s something larger than it seems, that it’s coming up from the depth of him.
I press my lips against his shoulder, kissing him gently, holding him tighter. I love the feel of his skin beneath my mouth, how warm he is, both hard and soft. I know why he hates storms. It’s because that’s how he lost his father.
“You must get them a lot here,” I say to him, wanting him to keep talking.
He nods slowly, wiggling his jaw. “Yeah. We do. Doesn’t mean I have to like it though.”
I put my hand at his cheek, turning his face gently so that he’s facing me. His eyes are so impossibly deep, and there’s a storm raging in them too. “You know I’m here, right?”
He stares at me for a moment, eyes searching mine. “Are you, though? Sometimes…sometimes I think you’re already gone. Already moved on in that head of yours. In that heart of yours. Or maybe it’s foolish of me to think your heart was ever truly mine.”
I swallow hard, his words stirring up things I don’t want to feel.
God, I don’t want to feel more for him than I already do. I don’t want to make this complicated, to set us up for heartbreak, when I know he’s eventually going to have to return to the sea and I’m going to go on my way, looking for a version of myself that will never quite appear.
“I’m here,” I say again, feeling stupid, wishing I could say more. Wishing I believed it.
For now, is what I don’t add.
Then I lean in and bring his mouth to meet mine. I kiss him, soft and sweet.
At first.
But the more I kiss him, the more I feel a match being struck from deep within my core, a fire burning brightly, a fire burning for him.
He kisses me back, the storm rolling on, and then I’m lying back on the bed, giving myself to him, wanting him to take me in every way possible.
And he does.
Even though it’s dark, the lightning illuminating the room from time to time, Anders keeps steady eye contact with me as his hands slowly, carefully, skim all over my naked body, treating me like I’m made of porcelain, a sharp contrast to the way he was with me earlier, so rough and wild.
With that same deliberation, he skillfully slips his finger down between my legs and over my clit, through the slick folds and back up and, fuck, I’m soaked for him already. My back arches, my clit pulsing, practically begging for more of that, more of him. His touch alone has the ability to make me see stars and I’m making fists in the sheets.
“How badly do you want me?” he whispers gruffly. Whatever sadness and fear were in his eyes is now gone, replaced by my dirty-talking Nordic god. All pure primal lust.
All mine.
“Badly,” I manage to say, still feeling a bit rusty when it comes to saying what I’m thinking during sex. The dirty talk comes so easily to him.
“How bad
ly?” he says, his finger still working me, teasing me to the point of insanity. “Like you’d die without my fat cock spreading you wide? Like you’d beg me for it? Like you’d beg me to make you come?”
I practically growl in response, my body becoming a tightened wire, back already arching, trying to get purchase from his finger.
But he moves his finger away, a tease, and in the dark I can see his white teeth, the devious grin. He really does want me to beg, doesn’t he?
“Shay,” he says as a warning, voice thick and throaty. The rough tip of his finger comes back and slides back and forth, the wet sound filling the air.
“Yes, yes I’m begging,” I say through a moan. “I want you to fuck me. Come inside me.”
He lets out a sharp hiss. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“You know, there’s something to be said for delayed gratification,” he murmurs, moving his body down me now and lowering his face until I can feel his breath on my clit.
“Don’t tell me this is some metaphor about using the film camera,” I warn him.
But before he can give some smart-ass remark, he touches my clit with the tip of his tongue and I shudder, gasp, my hands moving to his hair now and grabbing hold of his thick, dark strands. His tongue slowly moves up along my clit and back down, as teasingly deliberate as his finger, before he starts plunging his tongue deep inside me, fucking me over and over, in and out.
Shit. He’s good. Too good. My back curls and I raise my hips, trying to get more purchase, to get more of everything that he’s giving me. I want to feel his tongue as deep as it can go.
And he dives in deeper.
God, I can’t believe this still, that this is my Anders doing this to me, turning my world upside down until the stars are in my eyes.
I feel him smile against me briefly, as if he can hear my thoughts, then he goes back to fucking me with his tongue and as I’m clenching for more, he starts pressing it up against my G-spot and before my brain can even make sense of the sensation, a different kind of pressure is building inside of me, like it might split me in two.
My orgasm blindsides me, and I’m yelping, loud enough to wake the other guests before my cries crash with the thunder outside. I’m coming hard, my body torn apart as his tongue feels me from the inside, and I’m just a thread unspooling, over and over again.
“Anders! Fuck!” I cry out, screaming, bucking my hips up into his mouth, my thighs clamping on either side of his face like a vice.
He’s smiling against me before he pulls away, and it honestly takes a moment to figure out where I am and what’s happening.
A room in Norway.
On the coast.
With Anders Johansen.
Fuck, it’s like he just slipped me some of the best drugs in the world.
I hear him chuckle, obviously amused by my state of mind, and I open my eyes to see him move on top of me. In the dim light I can make out the intimidating silhouette of his cock jutting out, see him reach down and stroke himself, and even though I just came, even though I’m still pulsing from my orgasm, I’m insatiable for him to be inside me.
Greedy, even.
“I can feel your eyes burning through me in the dark,” he says, in a thick voice. “Guess I’ll have to fuck you even harder this time. Make you come again. You’re hard to keep satisfied, you know that? Greedy girl.”
I clear my throat, trying to get a better look at him, wanting to turn on the light, though I know the dramatic flashes of lightning and the rumbling thunder are acting like an aphrodisiacs themselves. Nothing wrong with a little drama with your sex.
“Are you complaining?” I ask.
“Not even a little,” he says.
“Then I want you to come inside me,” I say, pushing my self-consciousness to the side.
“Was already planning on it,” he responds gruffly, and I swallow hard in anticipation as he prowls over me like a predator. I’m practically getting goosebumps.
He lowers himself, his cock pressed against my pelvis, skin velvet soft, length rock hard, then his hands are taking hold of my wrists and pinning them above my head. In the flashes of lightning I watch the strain in his massive biceps as he holds me, transferring the weight to one hand as he reaches down with his other and slips his thick hot cock between my legs.
I close my eyes for a moment, spreading my legs for easier access, and when he pushes his dick inside me, it’s like I’ve lost the ability to breathe. I’m wet as sin and yet he’s so big and thick that it’s like there’s barely enough room for him.
“Breathe,” he whispers to me. “Breathe, Shay.”
I open my eyes to make out the feverish glint in his eyes as he stares down at me. I suck in my breath, feeling as he slides himself inside, then I exhale, willing myself to relax around him.
“That’s a good girl,” he says to me, voice both rough and soothing. “Good girl, make room for me. Let me fuck you right.”
He pulls out, almost all the way, then slowly, deliberately, pushes in. I gasp, reminding myself to breathe around him, and then we settle into an easy rhythm. He’s able to push in deeper, though the fact that he has to go so slow is making him shake with tension and strain, and I’m feeling every single inch of his dick until he’s shoved up inside me to the hilt.
“Shay,” he groans, and then he starts swearing in Norwegian. There’s a wildness to his voice, and maybe it’s the storm raging outside, maybe it’s the way we started off, with him full of fear, and maybe it’s his way of working through that, but Anders is transforming into something feral, real and raw. Like a primal being, something born to just fuck until they die. “Such a good girl, Shay. You feel so fucking good. Do I make you feel good?”
I let out a garbled yes. But good doesn’t quite explain it. Good doesn’t encapsulate all that he’s making me feel. This is more than just good. I feel alive. I feel like I’m connecting with him in such a raw intimate way, that it makes every fuck I’ve had before pale in comparison, including when we used to have sex. This is something else, something you don’t just find with anyone.
And yet you have to let this go, unless you find a way to make it work.
Fuck that voice. And fuck that fear.
“Fuck me,” I growl, grabbing hold of his shoulders, sliding my fingers down his back, nails scratching. “Fuck me harder, please.”
A lightning flash shows the surprise on his face, surprise that turns liquid, molten, and before I can do anything, he’s flipping me over on my stomach and raising my ass in the air. He places a hand at the back of my head and forces my face down into the duvet cover.
Then, with a bruising grip, he holds my hips and shoves his cock inside me again.
Tight.
So tight now, I can barely breathe.
“Anders,” I say through a groan, and then he’s moving fast, fucking me wild. He pistons his hips into me harder, slamming against my ass, the angle making him hit me deeper than ever before.
Holy shit.
I can’t even keep my head on straight, I’m lost to the feeling of him, like I’ve been taken for a ride that I can’t stop, that I don’t want to stop. He starts moving a bit faster, the force causing my legs to spread wider and wider across the bed, letting him in. His grip tightens around my wrist and he slaps my ass hard.
Very hard.
I yelp, jolt up from the sharp sting of his slap, back arching.
“Keep your legs together,” he growls. “Tighter. I want you to feel me fuck every inch. I want to imprint the head of my cock deep inside of you.”
Jesus.
Okay then.
He means it. With the hard thrust of his cock as it slides along each sensitive inch inside me, the feel of his hips as they slam into my ass from behind, the way his hands feel around my waist, keeping me bound and in place, I feel him. All of him.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling him, not when he’s fucking me like this.
“You ready to come for
me?” he says, voice gruff, slapping my ass cheeks again, the bed bouncing from our steady fucking. “I want to hear you unravel. I want to hear you like I’ve never heard you before.”
My god.
I mean, does he want me to wake up the whole guesthouse?
But then his fingers slip underneath my hips, finding me slippery and soaked, and it’s all I need to completely let go. A calloused tip slips over my clit and it’s like he pulled the plug on a fucking hand grenade.
I go off like a fucking bomb.
“I’m coming!” I yelp, the orgasm taking hold of me while ripping me apart. He makes a fist in my hair and tugs at it, the pain shooting down my spine as his cock keeps steadily thrusting up into me, my body squeezing around him, ravaged by the endless convulsions that never stop coming.
“Anders.” I manage to say his name before I trail off, before the wave pulls me in every direction and I don’t know what way is up anymore.
“Fuck, baby,” Anders says, voice low and gruff with desperation, and he starts driving in deeper, every muscle in his body starting to shake from the effort. “Such a good girl, taking my cock so fucking good. Oh god.”
He comes, driving in so deep as he shoots his load inside me, Norwegian swear words falling from his lips. He grunts loudly his body finishes, pushed into the hilt again, his balls pressed against my ass, and then he slows, sweat dripping off his body onto my damp back.
“Fuck me,” he says through a ragged groan, his hips pumping once, twice, before he leans forward, nearly collapsing on me. His sweaty chest brushes against my back and he holds his weight off of me with a shaking arm.
“Think I just did,” I manage to mumble into the pillow.
He laughs softly and then slowly pulls out, leaving me bereft and empty without him inside me. He rolls over onto the bed beside me, and I turn my cheek against the covers so that I’m facing him.
He reaches out and brushes my bangs out of my face, just as another lightning flash lights up the room.
But this time, there’s no fear in his eyes.