by Kade, Teagan
You are one lucky son of a bitch.
It was the greatest day of my life—great Cuban food, salsa, Bar None putting on a kick-ass spread. Cocktails flowed, questionable choices were made, but it all worked.
“Shouldn’t we be getting back to the resort before it gets too dark?” Winter questions.
“I don’t care,” I reply, moving to pull aside the top of her bikini bottom. “I need you.”
We kiss, the breeze cooling on our bodies as they melt together. Her bare chest presses against me, nipples hard in the open air.
A wave rushes over our feet, the bubbly foam tickling our toes. Winter laughs, free and unrestrained. None of that fear remains from when I first found her on the beach so many moons ago.
I kiss her neck, moving to the soft mounds of her breasts. She reaches down and hooks the crotch of her bikini, shifting her lips to my ear. “I want you inside me,” she whispers, her voice mixing with the ocean and breeze until they’re indecipherable from one another.
I push her leg aside and shift against her. When I enter her, she gasps, her mouth forming a perfect oval before me, her toes curling against the sand.
I ease out and run forward again into the wet, warmth of her sex. She moans and I swallow it with a kiss, drawing back to watch the way the sensation shifts inside the opal cages of her eyes.
The water rises and falls around us, pulled forward and swept back as I move inside her. I never tire of this, of the way her body welcomes me.
Another wave rushes in around us, high enough to tease my thighs.
Hand on my side, Winter breaks the kiss and leans forward to look at the ocean. “I can’t tell if the tide’s going in or coming out.”
I ease myself back and run forward right into the hot depths of her pussy. “Oh, it’s definitely going in,” I reply, letting her adjust to my size.
I thrust harder, ramping up the speed and depth of my strokes until she’s mewing and moaning beneath me caught between the sand and the hard plane of my body above.
I wait until I see the red in her cheeks growing, feel the way her body blooms in need.
“Oh, God,” she moans. “Yes, yes.”
But I can’t let her come—not yet.
I draw away and pull her up, flipping her onto her hands and knees in the wet sand. She stretches forward with her arms against the side of her head, her swinging breasts kissing the water that rushes between us.
She laughs as we start to sink in the sand. “We’re not going to be washed away, are we?”
“Not on my watch,” I reply, plunging into her again.
I brace a hand on her hip, the other on the small of her back, and stroke again, hitting her G-spot just right.
She groans against the sand, moving to thrust back against me while the wind whistles and the oceans rears up again, everything in motion—organic.
The surf swells around my ankles, but I press on, filling her over and over until her cries are loud enough to drown out the ocean itself.
Winter looks back as I pound into her, her back arching and adjusting the angle of entry yet again, the velvety walls of her sex closing in around my cock.
I grit my teeth, staving off my own release.
Ahead of us, the cliffs rise like rocky onlookers, a goat trail running up the side anyone could use. If they were to stand on top of the cliffs we’d be exposed, the next viral hit soon forgotten. It adds a delicious thrill to the encounter, knowing our heated act here could be uncovered at any moment.
“Yes,” Winter moans, drawing out the ‘S’, her head falling back down between her arms, hair falling to the sand.
I wonder if she’s looking between her legs, can see my cock as it runs deep into her body. The thought brings me to the edge, all the willpower I have required to stop myself from losing control.
But that’s what she does to me. My life used to be so ordered, so predictable, but Winter came in like a whirlwind and upended it in the best way possible. I don’t know where I’d be without her.
The sun’s setting, the water and sand growing colder with every passing moment.
I can feel the heat leaving my shoulder blades, can imagine the bright orb of the sun slowly bobbing below the horizon. Overhead, the sky burns pink and orange, a fiery blanket above.
I’m tied to the ocean, can sense a large wave rising up behind us. It smashes into me from behind, washing over us. Winter shakes with the chill of it, gasping aloud as the sand slips away around her knees.
I thrust harder and harder, angling myself for maximum sensation, the two of us continuing our slow descent into the sand. The surf crashes over us again, Winter’s hair whipping over her back as she lifts her head.
I know we won’t be able to stay here, but I also know how close she is to release.
I shutter my eyes and take her with all the energy I can muster, gripping her hips tight. My breathing hitches in anticipation, her moaning rising to a sharp crescendo. A wave hammers me from behind and I’m thrust to the very end of her, to the molten core of her sex.
It undoes me. I tense, unable to hold back any longer. With a groan I thrust into her a final time and let go.
It sends her over the edge. She stiffens, shivering before falling into a violent series of convulsions that grip and release my cock in quick succession.
I don’t know how long we stay locked there in ecstasy, slowly letting our orgasms ebb away.
A rogue wave knocks me back into reality and I pull out, helping Winter up and out of the surf, running up the sand until we both collapse on firmer ground laughing and struggling to breathe.
We watch the burning sky together, our fingers locked. Winter’s swimsuit is still bunched up around her waist, her nipples a hot red in the fading light, the tips of a poker that’s been sitting in the fire too long.
I know I’m getting hard again, and I know she can see it.
Her free hand reaches over, stroking me softly, almost an afterthought.
I turn to her with a half-smile. “So eager.”
She grips me a little tighter. “And you aren’t?”
I have to laugh at that. “You know me. The mere mention of sex has me at full mast.”
“Sex on the beach, though… That’s something you don’t do every day.”
I reach over and touch her lips lightly, trace them out with the pad of a finger. My only reply is to roll us over and kiss her again, my lips crashing down on hers hard while the world grows cold around us.
She lets a soft moan escape her mouth as I bite down on her lower lip, pulling back and letting it free.
“What now?” she asks, her voice strained with desire.
“Now, my love,” I reply, “we dance.”
She places a finger on my lips, holding me away. “There is one thing I forgot to mention.”
“What’s that?” I ask, already eager to be inside her again.
“I haven’t been taking my birth control.”
We’ve been discussing this. I smile, the thought of having a child with this woman, the love of my life, more than my heart can take. “Even better.”
WINTER
FOUR YEARS LATER
“Got you!” I shout, rolling another snowball in my mitten and aiming it into the distance where Archer and our three-year-old Willow are hiding, giggling away in some big snowy conspiracy.
“Watch out, Mommy!” comes Willow’s tiny voice.
I see her stand and fling a snowball. It goes wide, Archer pulling her back to safety and the two of them continuing to laugh and plot.
I take a moment to look around. I never thought I’d ever see the snow, but here we are, in the Australian High Country, flakes of snow falling slowly from the sky like time itself is playing catch-up. Yes, Australia has snow. Who knew? It’s incredibly beautiful, made more so by the company I’m sharing it with.
“How about his one, Mommy?” Wren, the second of our triplets, hands me a snowball, though it’s more of a square than a ball. “Thank you, h
oney,” I smile.
“What about mine?” squeaks Weslee to my right, the third of our three. “I take her snowball, almost as big as her head, cradling the collection to the ground and pulling the girls close. “Now, let’s get Daddy and Willow good, shall we?”
It’s on—the great snowball fight the girls have been talking about all week. Yes, we are over three-hundred miles from Sydney, from home, but Archer’s always coming up with random trips like this, whisking us away into the middle of the night to the extraordinary natural gems this country has to offer.
It took a lot for Archer to pull strings and get us over here, especially considering we are still in witness protection, so to speak. Generally, sending a witness overseas is a no-no because they tend to stick out like a sore thumb in the homogeneity of the population, but Australia’s so multicultural it hardly matters.
Besides, I’d already testified, the cartel had already been broken down and disbanded, more cartels no doubt fighting over the territory. I was assured the danger had passed, that we could lead normal lives, but I don’t think I’d ever really feel safe in the US anymore.
Most people in witness protection aren’t angels. They’re criminals the American government wants to keep close tabs on, but not me, not Archer, so we were given some slack—even if Archer did need to tug on every string he had. The sheer volume of information I provided was enough to buy me leeway with the authorities, however, and that’s what did it.
Through a friend, Archer managed to find himself a lifeguard position at Sydney’s famous Bondi Beach. After that it was a simple case of packing up and shipping ourselves over—not that I had much to pack.
The triplets arrived six months later, all at the same time, all jostling for position inside me. Watching the way they act, I think the girls are going to be just as competitive as their dad.
I’ve never really seen Archer get perturbed by anything, but when the doctor announced we were having triplets, all identical girls, Archer went pale as a sheet. I think it took a solid week before it all sunk in we’d soon be a family of five.
The birth—my god. I thought my poor vagina was going to explode. I kept yelling down through gritted teeth, “One at a time, guys!” but the girls were too eager to get out and explore the world. That sense of wonder pervades everything they do. They’re so naturally curious about, well, everything.
Of course, naming them all ‘W’ names sounded like a cute idea at the time, but it has made rather life interesting when you’re trying to call across the house.
They’re active, energetic, blessed with good genes and the most adorable little faces you’ve ever seen. They look at me at night with their big blue eyes and I just want to die from cuteness overload. I look at them and I see Archer—I see the man who saved my life.
We’ve even had my father over to visit. It was quite the operation, very covert, but he loved the girls and, after a firm handshake and stare down, Archer too. Archer’s like that. Give him five minutes and he’ll charm the pants off even the most un-charmable of individuals. It’s gone a long way here.
I watch him playing with the girls. He’s a golden standard of a dad, tackling domestic duties with aplomb and getting right into the Aussie DIY spirit. Our house is modest, barely big enough for the five of us, but it’s a home. That’s all I ever wanted. I think it’s all Archer ever needed.
“Got you, Dad!” Weslee squeals… right before a snowball smacks her square in the face. I hold my breath waiting for the waterworks, but they never come. She simply giggles and goes about scooping up another.
They’re resilient, my girls, just like Yours Truly. I’m teaching them to be strong and independent. I know with Archer by my side they’ll be able to achieve anything, though I’d love to skip forward another ten years to see how he does with periods and boyfriends. I’m pretty sure he’s going to forbid them from going outside when they grow breasts.
Defeated, Archer and Willow return to our side with their hands up.
I shuffle the girls along. “Go on, girls. Go and play.”
They dart off lightning quick back into the snow, rolling around and laughing like a bunch of sugared-up snow bunnies.
Archer snakes his hands around my waist, squeezing me tight. “Getting a bit cold, isn’t it?”
“There’s a fireplace back at the cabin, you know.”
He kisses his way up my neck. “A bottle of wine chilling in the fridge, a cheese platter, a rug, a handsome man to make love to you all night long…”
I reach behind myself and find his cock firm as always when it’s pressed up against me. “We wouldn’t want the girls to hear now, would we?” I tease.
“I can be quiet,” he whispers. “Remember Robbie’s place?”
“That was not quiet,” I laugh.
“The question is, can you be quiet?” he continues.
“Hmm,” I purr, taking up his hand and slowly slipping his middle finger into my mouth, sucking on it before letting it free, “I’m sure you could find something to put in my mouth.”
“Mmm-mmm,” he groans back, “what did I do to deserve you?”
“You did save my life—several times, as I recall.”
“Well, you know what they say—guard hard, or go home.”
I bring a finger to my lower lip. “Funny, I thought it was ‘beaches be crazy’?”
He laughs and smiles, that smile I know and love, the smile of a husband and a father, a man without equal, a man who basically pushed me out of a plane. “It can be whatever you want, and it will, because we’re here, we’re together, and we’re not going anywhere but up.”
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About Teagan Kade:
Teagan Kade thinks talking about yourself in the third person is silly, just like her collection of snow globes and rare manga. When she’s not being silly, she’s hanging out with her own Brock and two children in the south of Australia, dreaming of new characters and torturous ways they can get themselves into trouble. Teagan loves hearing from her readers, all of whom are as dear to her heart as salted caramel cookies. Shoot her an email at: [email protected]. She doesn’t bite.
www.teagankade.com