by Cathryn Cade
Until he let go of her mouth and bent her back in his arms to nuzzle his way down her throat. His lips were soft, his tongue clever, his breath hot. "Fuck," he groaned. "This bra needs to come off. Wanna see your gorgeous tits. Wanna taste 'em."
Shelle froze. Oh, God. Take off her bra?
Well, why not? She could just say, 'Okay. But only one side, 'cause you know ... ugly scar.'
But then she pictured the ugly welt the biker's knife had left just under the cup of her bra.
"No!" She pressed on his chest and dropped her legs, demanding to be let go.
He released her enough to let her feet splash into the water. "What's wrong?"
The moment her feet hit sandy bottom, Shelle shoved back away from him. She turned her back, hunching her shoulders, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. "No," she repeated, shaking her head. "No. I don't want you to see the way I look."
He was silent for a moment.
"You mean the cut on your tit?"
She nodded, her throat closing up, the painful prick of tears behind her eyes. "It's so fucking ugly."
She could hear the water swishing as he moved behind her. She waited, for what she wasn't sure. Rejection or... something else. Reassurance, from a man who was nearly a stranger?
"Hey," he said, his deep voice a soothing rumble. "'S all right. That's over now, and you made it. You're here, and you're one of the toughest titas I've met."
"What's a tee-ta?" she asked, not looking at him.
He made a low sound that could have been a laugh. "Local phrase—Pidgin. Means tough girl, tough woman. Means don't mess with this one, she'll come back on you, lay down a world of hurt."
"Right. If only," she said bitterly. "I'd like to lay down hurt on those assholes. Like to stomp them into the ground."
"Believe me," he growled. "So would I. Any man treats a woman that way deserves to get back worse."
That was nice.
But it didn't erase her scar. "It's still ugly, though."
"I hear you," he said. Acknowledging her distress. "But I'll tell you something else. When I look at you, I don't see any ugliness. I just see a gorgeous woman who had a bad thing happen to her. Left a mark, yeah. But that's all it is. One mark on a body that is so sexy a man can’t even see anything but goodness."
She felt him move in behind her, felt all that heat and power replace the coolness of the water. With the late afternoon sun on her head and shoulders, and his heat against her back, she felt surrounded, as if she'd walked into a furnace.
Or maybe some of that heat was coming from inside her.
"This okay?" he asked, his hands resting carefully on her hips. She shivered at how good it felt, and nodded.
"Good. How about...does it hurt when I do this?" he asked, his voice rumbling through her, his breath hot against her temple as he slid his hand up and cupped her breast. With only a thin layer of bra between his hot, calloused hand and her skin, heat arced instantly, and her nipple puckered into a stiff point, begging for more.
"No," she breathed. "Doesn't hurt. It...feels so good."
He made a deep sound of approval and squeezed gently, plucking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "To me too, tita."
"Mm-hmm." She pressed her shoulders and her ass back against him, pushing her breast into his hand.
"How 'bout this?" His other hand slid down over her belly, and between her thighs, cupping her mons. "Feel good?"
Shelle was beyond speech at this point. She moaned, her legs quivering like jelly and her pussy clenching with sheer need in his possessive grasp.
He responded by letting go, grabbing her hand and pulling it behind her, between them. "That feels good to me—real good."
Holy hell, yes it did. She had his cock, that long, incredibly thick shape she'd been admiring secretively for two days, in her grasp. She squeezed, and stroked. Mm-mm, so thick and hard, covered in velvety skin, now slick with water.
With a muttered curse, he yanked his trunks down, freeing himself to her touch.
Then he slid his fingers into her panties again, and this time he didn't waste any time. He stroked, he pressed, he delved, and before she quite knew what had happened, Shelle's legs were parted, a thick, calloused male finger deep up inside her, while he plied her clit with his thumb, and fondled her breast with his other hand.
She spiraled down into hot, naughty bliss so quickly she had no time to do anything but hang on and go with it. And as her pussy clenched around his fingers, he groaned, deep and rough, and pushed into her hand, working himself roughly in her clasping fingers. Then he stiffened, and heat pulsed over her back, over her hand.
Slowly, he relaxed, and then guided her backward, into deeper water. He fell back into the water, with her in his lap. The cool water rose around them, and Shelle rolled onto her back. For a few moments she allowed herself to just float with him, reveling in how good her body felt. Her mind empty of everything except satisfaction with herself and the man at her side, she gazed up at the puffy clouds in the blue sky, the palm leaves waving lazily.
But of course reality intruded.
Wait, what was she doing? Holy hell, she'd just had grope sex with a guy she barely knew. A guy she was working for, and staying with, both of which made it quite possibly the stupidest thing she's ever done.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"Hey, tita," Moke said from a short distance away, his deep voice lazy in a way she'd really like, if she let herself. "What's the matter?"
"I'll tell you what's wrong," she said, turning over in the water and glaring at him. Ugh, how dare he look so hot right now, his eyes heavy, his wide mouth tipped up in a smile that made her want to kiss it.
She smacked a sheet of water toward his wet, handsome, annoying face. "For all I know, you're a regular petri dish of STIs. Which means I'm an idiot to even think about—you know."
He snorted. "Could say the same, wahine."
"Yeah? And what's that one-a vah-heenay?" He better not be calling her sex names.
He surged upright in the water, bright drops streaming down his face and shoulders. "Relax, it means woman. You always so prickly after fooling around? What happens after a guy fucks you—you go full-on rager?"
This time, she made sure the sheet of water she sent his way caught him in the face. And when he merely laughed, she went after him, vaulting through the water to leap on him. A clumsy leap that resulted in both of them going under, but at least she was on top.
He planted a foot on the bottom and surged upward, carrying her with him. His arm clamped around her ass, he held her up, only her lower legs and feet in the water.
She supported herself with her hands braced on his shoulders. They were a smooth bulk of hot wet muscle under her hands. "Put me down, Moke."
He scowled up at her, his fierce look belied by the laughing gleam in his eyes. "You so tough, make me."
She grabbed a handful of his wet hair and yanked. He grimaced, and his free hand smacked her ass, hard. It stung. She let out a yelp, and kneed him in the chest.
He fell backward again, bearing her with him, and she landed face first, getting a mouthful of salt water. He let her go and she staggered to her feet, coughing, her hair streaming over her face.
"Truce," he said, holding up his hands. "And FYI, no STIs on this guy. Got tested last month. Haven't been with a woman since then."
When she didn't answer, busy shoving her sopping hair out of her face, he nudged her leg with one big, bare foot. "How 'bout you?"
She laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I got tested, all right. After I caught my boyfriend bonking my neighbor, the stripper."
He shook his head. "Dumb shit. No accounting for taste, eh?"
When she stared at him, he tipped his head. "Babe. He was bangin' another bitch when he could have you? Nah-uh."
He swam toward her and rose to pass close to her. He leaned close, and spoke in her ear. "You want more, I got condoms in my bedroom. Just sayin'."
Then he walked up
onto the beach, and bent to open the cooler. He grabbed a beer, opened it, and tipped his head back to drink. His throat worked smoothly as he drank. Damn him, even that was sexy.
Her feet moved, carrying her up through the shallow water and onto the hot sand of the beach, to the shade where the big, white cooler sat amongst the loungers and small tables. A variety of tropical flowers bloomed in big pots.
She barely noticed the elegant surroundings. Her focus was on the big man standing in the shade, his wet skin dappled by sun and shadow, every heavy bulge of muscle and hollow highlighted enticingly.
When she walked up to him, he slowly lowered his beer. He held it out her, and she took it and drank. The beer was cold and prickly, and she drank down the last of it, then lowered the bottle.
He took it and dropped it into a bucket by the cooler. Then he reached for her, his gaze on her mouth. "Bet that'll taste even better on you," he said, his voice a sexy rasp.
"Yeah, bet it does." She went into his arms, and let him lift her up against him. Their lips met, his parted, his taste tinged with beer. His tongue swept into her mouth, and he grunted, deep in his chest.
"I was right," he muttered. "Now wrap those legs around me. We need to get to the condoms."
Her body agreed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the nearest available skin, his throat as he carried her up across the lawn.
He broke into a jog.
"Drop me and die," she warned, hanging on as they jolted through a screen door and through the house. "No! Nobody's carrying me up those stairs—I'll walk."
He let her down a few stairs above him. "All right then—go."
She turned and hurried up the stairs. At the top, she turned her head, and found him watching her ass. "Tita," he said, his gaze fixed on her ass. "Love the way you loco-mote."
She rolled her eyes, but this time she did it smiling.
Moke followed Shelle into the bedroom she was using. When she turned to him, he had his hands on the waistband of his wet shorts. "Prob'ly should shower first," he said. "That is, if you like oral."
Her pussy spasmed, and her knees tried to emulate jelly. Shelle sucked in her lower lip, and nodded. "I like oral."
His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared, even as he grinned, that wide, flashing smile of his. "That's good. 'Cause so do I.”
It turned out she liked it even better when it was his mouth on her. Holy hell, the man could use his tongue for a lot more than talking.
After the fastest shower of her life, Shelle stepped out, arms raised to wring water from her wet hair. She froze, eyes wide. Moke stood there. He held her towel up before him in both hands. He looked down at her naked body, and growled, a low rumble in his chest.
"Please tell me you want my mouth and my hands all over you," he said. "'Cause looking at your sweet little snatch, my mouth is watering."
Her breath escaped her in a rush that was more of a whimper than a sigh. He looked up into her eyes and smirked. "That a yeah, wahine?"
It was more like a 'hurry up and get your mouth on me before I die of need', but it was definitely a yes. She nodded, and reached for the towel.
When she took it, she looked down, and her brain fogged. She was looking for the first time at a naked Moke, and thank God, thank his goddess Pele, thank all the angels and saints—anyone who may have had a hand in his creation.
He was ah-maz-ing.
For a man as big as he was, he was beautiful in a raw, earthy way. Every part of him was hewn with a bold hand, from his head to his big, brown toes. And in between. His shoulders were broad and blocky, his arms and legs thick with muscle, his torso a tapering slab of golden brown male, not with the minute ridges and hollows of a bodybuilder, but of a man who was strong, who reveled in his strength and used his body to work hard...and to play.
Her gaze fastened on his cock. Her eyes widened, and her mouth watered. He was ready, that was for sure. His cock stood up and out from a nest of black pubic hair, twitching with eagerness. His balls hung heavy below, more proof that here was a virile male in his prime.
He made that deep growling sound again, and palmed himself, his big calloused hand giving his cock a firm squeeze, as if to keep it in check. "You keep looking at me, tita, I'm gonna cum just from that."
"No!" she blurted, her gaze flying back to meet his. She wanted that inside her. She wanted to taste it, explore him with her mouth and hands the way he'd promised to do to her.
He grinned wickedly. "Don't want me to waste it? Neither do I, so come here, and let's get to it."
The towel slipped to the bathmat, as Shelle followed him from the bathroom. She felt off-balance, light as a glossy bubble, and yet languid, her body preparing itself for what was to come.
And watching his bare ass as he sauntered from the bathroom before her, that was no hardship. God, he was squeezable. Hard, round buns and thick thighs, even his legs were sexy. And his back—she probably couldn't even get her arms around him all the way. But they ached to find out.
He stopped by the bed, and she ran into him with a gasp. Their warm, damp skin slicked together, and his scent filled her nostrils. Clean and yet musky, quintessentially male. Himself.
He put his hands on her hips, and turned her so her back was to the bed, then pushed, urging her to sit. She plopped down on the edge, the sheets soft under her bare thighs. He followed her down, dropping to his knees before her. His dark eyes met hers, a glow of sheer naughty intent lighting them. His palms smoothed over her thighs, and he pushed them slowly apart, making a place for himself.
He leaned in, tipping his head to brush a kiss over her bare breast. Her nipples, already stiff with arousal, tightened further, and her breasts swelled. "Mmm-mm," he grunted. "Sweet titties. My favorite, right after pussy."
She gulped. “You sure you don’t mind the…you know, scar?”
In response, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the mark on her breast, then looked up into her eyes, his hot and hooded. “Not even important, tita.”
His gaze fell to her sex, and Shelle felt it like a physical touch. She lifted her hands and rested them on his forearms, solid and corded with muscle, fine hairs soft under her fingers. "Lay back," he instructed. "Want your legs over my shoulders."
"You do?" Shock and excitement shivered through her. Oh, God. He'd be able to see everything.
He answered by sliding his hands under her thighs, and lifting. Shelle fell back on her elbows, her eyes wide, lips parted as he did exactly what he'd promised—lifted her legs and shouldered under the crook of her knees, so that her calves rested on the hot satin of his massive shoulders.
And so he was in the perfect position to nuzzle his face against her mons, and inhale deeply. "Mm-mm. Fuck, you smell good. Best smell in the world."
And since his breath as he spoke was hot and moist on her inner thigh, she felt as well as heard his words. She shivered, her pussy clenching, her thighs tightening on him. "That's right," he approved, nuzzling his face into her. "Hold me tight, baby. Make sure I eat you out good."
A blunt finger traced the seam of her labia, and they both heard the succulent sound of her soaked flesh eagerly accepting his finger. He parted her folds, and leaned closer. Then the rough velvet of his tongue swiped up the furrow of her labia, and Shelle moaned as pleasure shot through her.
Taking this as approval, he thrust his finger inside her, and licked her again.
He left no morsel of her untouched, and held captive between that spearing finger and his quick, clever tongue, Shelle clung to him with her thighs, pressed her heels into his back in entreaty and quivered under his mouth, waiting for him to find her swollen, eager clit.
When he did, she stiffened like a bow, pleasure building until it imploded in exquisite quakes of sensation. "Moke," she moaned. "Oh, yes. Oh, God, don't stop. I...oh, I'm coming. I am."
He grunted his approval, and caressed her through it, until she fell back panting, her legs slipping off his shoulders.
He turne
d his head, swiping his face off on his shoulder, and then crawled up over her, elbows planted beside her shoulders. He smirked, his mouth soft and damp from her, his eyes full of heat. "You ready for me now?"
She hmmed in her throat, but reached up to press on his chest. "I want you in my mouth first."
He groaned, his face tortured. "Don't know if I can hold out."
"I don't care." She traced a tiny circle on the plush mound of his pec. "Maybe I wanna make you lose control too."
He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "You want me to suit up?"
"Um, no." Might mean she was stupid, but she trusted him. And she wanted him in her mouth, just as he was.
Without another word, he rolled to his back in the bed, pulling her with him so she ended up astride him, her drying hair falling like a curtain to one side of their heads. He filled his hands with her breasts, and rocked up under her, his cock nudging her belly. It was hot and silky. It made her mouth water.
"Bye-bye," she breathed. "Going down."
She crawled backwards until she was face to face with his cock. He smelled so good, and when she stroked her face on him, his skin was even softer than she'd expected. The head, dark and flushed, was spangled with a drop of pre-cum.
She licked it off and he groaned. "Fuck, grab hold of me," he said, reaching to wrap her hand around his turgid girth. "Now work it, baby. And take me in that sweet mouth. Torture me with that little tongue of yours."
When she complied, he groaned again. "Fuck yeah. That's it. Work the tip, harder. Suck it down, far as you can." Which wasn't very far—she was no deep throat, and he was big. But none of this seemed to matter to him. He panted his way through another moment of her ministrations, and then broke. "Fuck," he ground out. "Enough. That's all I can take, unless you wanna swallow my load."
Erm…maybe not. She lifted her head to find him already reaching for the condom he'd tossed on the other pillow.
"Another time, yeah? Now, I wanna fuck hard. Can't do that to your mouth, so come on up here and ride me."