Midsummer Fling

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by Knox, Abby


  “You are a fucking goddess, and your honey is all mine, Penny.” The edge in his voice reveals another level of possessive beast. I am startled, thrilled at the growls coming from somewhere deep and dark inside him.

  I’m so ready to burst with pleasure that my fingers grasp the fitted sheet and yank it free from the top corners of the mattress.

  A wicked laugh escapes his throat while I writhe and buck against his mouth. His breathing rapid, he tells me, “I need to hear you say it. Is this honey for me?”

  “It’s all for you, only you,” I reply, barely getting the words out because I’m being made to see stars with the way his mouth is working me over.

  I scream out his name when my release slams through me.

  Shockingly, he keeps going. Is it possible to die from feeling too good? If it is, I’d be fine with that, at this moment. Josh continues to drink every bit of me until I’m so spent I have to beg him to stop.

  I still haven’t caught my breath by the time he’s got me wrapped in his arms, sharing my taste with his kisses.

  “Delirious,” I sigh. “You’ve wrecked me and now I’m delirious.”

  Josh smooths his palm over my breast and tummy. “That’s too bad because I thought we could take another trip today.”

  I erupt into giggles. “Please no ship museums.”

  “I promise,” he chuckles, feathering kisses over my neck, chest, and face.

  “Lighthouses?”

  “Not unless you want to.”

  “Not really,” I say, stroking his hair and tracing my fingertip along his hairline.

  “What would you say to a friend tagging along with you to Mackinac Island for the day?”

  * * *

  Driving down to Saint Ignace to catch the ferry, I find myself staring at him and smiling.

  “This is so nice of you,” I say. “Please let me give you gas money.”

  He waves me off and glances at me briefly with a smirk. “Nah. I’m really in the mood for some of that peanut butter fudge.”

  I have to smile to myself as I make a note to buy him a whole chalet full of peanut butter fudge.

  We arrive on the island a few hours later and it’s just as lovely as it is in the photos. Horse-drawn carriages, turn-of-the-century architecture, ice cream shops on every corner that spell the word “shoppe.” Everywhere I turn, the scent of chocolate is carried on the breeze.

  I’m carrying my mom’s box of ashes inside my backpack. Josh and I enjoy ourselves, exploring the island, shopping, lounging on park benches, listening to the clip-clop of horse hooves. At the same time, I scout for just the right spot to spread Mom’s ashes, but every place I come to is crowded with tourists.

  When we come to the Grand Hotel, I fully expect Josh to sneer at the whole idea of taking a tour.

  To my surprise, he’s eager to join me. And I think, because this man seems incapable of faking pleasure, he enjoys the tour.

  “You know, it’s not that bad,” he says once we’re shuffled back outside the front entrance to keep the constant flow of tourists going. “You were right. It’s pretty cool,” he remarks.

  I squeeze his arm and rise on my tiptoes to kiss him. “You could have wandered off to do your own thing and let me take the overpriced tour on my own,” I say.

  “Listen,” he retorts, “I might be a bit of an oaf, but there is no way in the gods’ green earth I’m letting my woman tour the Grand Hotel by herself just because I’m too much of a cynical cheapskate. Please ignore the ravings of that idiot you met four days ago.”

  He holds out his arm for me to take as we walk.

  “Okay, but I met you 15 years ago,” I remind him.

  We stroll around the grounds while Josh turns on a Mid-Atlantic accent out of nowhere, using it to point out made-up points of interest. “And over here we have the pelican that attacked Christopher Reeve on the first day of filming Somewhere in Time. He became so put out he threatened to quit unless the pelican was shot and put into a stew.”

  “Stop,” I say, holding my hand over my stomach.

  Josh replies. “I can’t believe you of all people never heard that story. It was a huge uproar. Here’s the kicker: the director tried to play it off as a joke, and was later horrified to learn the chef on set had carried out Superman’s demands. That night the entire camera crew ate pelican stew and all died of food poisoning.”

  “This is neither true nor funny,” I say, laughing so hard I snort.

  “It’s true. Well, not totally. One of the crew lived to tell the tale, but he was never right in the head after that.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” I say with a cackle.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never heard of the curse of Somewhere in Time.”

  Our afternoon’s entertainment continues until we’ve wandered so far from the island’s main attractions that we’re standing on a short, rocky cliff overlooking a majestic expanse of the lake. The whole world shifts under my feet. This is it. This is where I lay my mom to rest.

  I hear seagulls, feel a cool breeze, smell the chocolate wafting down the hill, but all I can see and feel is my mom’s spirit. I take her remains out of the backpack.

  When Josh sees what I’m doing, he grows solemn and quiet. “I’m ready if you’re ready,” he says.

  Making sure I’m facing away from the wind, I gingerly open the box, lift out the bag, and open the small perforation. I hold it aloft, and ashes fly out of it, catching on the wind and whipping across the water.

  I save half of her for myself and secure the bag inside the box, returning it to my backpack.

  Unceremoniously, I look up at Josh, whose eyebrows are knit together. “Alrighty. Let’s go,” I say.

  He rests a hand on my shoulder to stop me, and I see his face etched in worry.

  I’m about to ask him what’s wrong, but suddenly my throat is blocked and all that comes out of me is a great, chest-heaving sob.

  “There it is,” he murmurs, pulling me in close, wrapping his arms around me until I have no tears left.

  And this, among the hundred other ways he has guarded me, strived to understand me, and loved me unconditionally, is why I’m someday, somewhere, going to marry the funny, gangly kid who was my first kiss.

  Epilogue

  One year later

  Penny

  All of the guests at our wedding seem confused about why Joshua and I are getting married at a small fishing resort on Lake Huron at the end of a rickety wooden dock, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  I have my dad and stepmom here, Joshua has his mom and grandparents. Gretchen and Matthew have since become great friends of ours, so they’re here with their kids to witness the nuptials. Aside from the fact that this is their resort, they are solely responsible for bringing us together.

  The tugboat captain from across the channel, it turns out, is ordained to perform weddings. This officiant is a no-nonsense sort of fellow and Joshua and I are declared married after what seems like the quickest ceremony in history.

  After we share our first kiss as husband and wife, Joshua makes me yelp by picking me up in his arms and carrying me over his shoulder toward the reception on the shoreline.

  The keg is tapped, the campfire is lit, and there are enough hot dogs and bratwursts to choke a bull moose.

  My dad is so happy for us he almost has my stepmom overlooking many details that would normally horrify her at a wedding, namely the tugboat captain entertaining the children with terrible tales of shipwrecks. And fart jokes. Lots of fart jokes.

  Instead of cake, we have splurged on hiring a local dairy to bring one of its trucks to scoop out ice cream in every flavor imaginable. Instead of the ceremonial cake cutting, Joshua feeds me vanilla praline, and I feed him his favorite, rum raisin.

  When everyone is properly toasted, and children are being carried off to wash the campfire smell out of their hair, Joshua has a surprise for me in our cabin.

  In the bedroom, hanging on the hook on the wall is an E
dwardian-style dress. I’m confused by this, but I put it on anyway and check myself in the mirror.

  “Let me see you in your dress,” Joshua says through the door. “Just a minute,” I say. “This is even fancier than my wedding dress, you know. This calls for a Gibson girl top knot.” I pin up my hair. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do.

  When I come out of the bathroom, Joshua is standing there in front of me in a tan pinstripe suit from the same era, complete with a pocket watch and a bowler hat. “Joshua, what in the world have you done?”

  “M’lady,” he says, offering me his arm. “Your getaway vessel awaits.”

  By the time we check into the Somewhere In Time themed room at the Grand Hotel on Mack Island, I am sobbing my eyes out. All my makeup is ruined.

  The room is even more beautiful than the photos I’ve seen of it. The vintage blue wallpaper, lush red fabrics, and an enormous bed that’s fit for royalty.

  Josh holds me against his hard chest, my body still heaving sobs. “I never imagined my wedding night would include this many tears,” he teases, edging me out of my overwhelmed state.

  He lets me go long enough to fetch me some water to drink. He hands it to me and says, “Here, you’d better hydrate.”

  I laugh and dab my eyes, then take the glass and drink it down. “I’m not taking the dress off. So you’ll just have to dick me in it, husband.”

  “Damn, I love you,” he growls, taking the empty glass from me and plonking it down hard on one of the many antique surfaces in this room. For a moment, I wonder if the furniture here can handle us. When my man turns back to me with the expression of a hungry bear, attacking my mouth with deep, frantic kisses, all thought about the fancy furniture flies out the window. The tears are gone and I’m mewing with desire.

  His fingers fan out over my ass cheeks, and I can’t get enough of it, moaning my appreciation into his mouth.

  “Eyes on me, baby,” he whispers.

  I lock my gaze on him because I cannot think of anything I’d rather do.

  “I’m going to go real slow. You gonna go slow with me?”

  “Yes, Joshua.”

  His jaw ripples and his voice has gone husky. I don’t believe he could go slow right now if he tried. He speaks through gritted teeth. “I’m going to enjoy every inch of you and make you come again and again.”

  I run my fingers through his soft hair, drinking in his kisses and enjoying the feel of his strong fingers gripping my ass cheeks. His hard length pressing against me through the pinstripe trousers gives me an idea. “You know,” I say. “This room is gorgeous, but almost a little too fussy for my taste. What do you say we get real nasty in it?”

  “I dunno what else there is to do in here.” His hot breath warms my neck as his hand travels up to fill his grip with my breast.

  “First, lie back on the bed so I can say thank you,” I order, turning the tables.

  Taken aback by this turn, Josh obeys. Straddling my husband and running my hands over his stomach, I gradually open one button of his shirt at a time.

  “Baby,” he rattles. “You’re the most precious thing I have in this world, and I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

  Biting my bottom lip to keep from crying happy tears again, I unbutton him faster, and he helps me tug off his shirt, vest, and jacket. My lips cover one of his nipples and my thumb is on the other. He whispers my name, eventually going incoherent the longer I kiss and tease him.

  Sitting up and looking down at Josh, I consider my next move. “What are you up to?” he asks, his chest rising and falling urgently.

  I slide off of him, quickly unfastening and unzipping his trousers. His cock springs free, hard and ready, when I yank down his trousers and his boxer briefs. I do as he says; my eyes stay on his while I kiss and lick the tip, as well as when I finally take it all in. He lets go of a string of filthy, rasping curses that I don’t think the Somewhere In Time room has ever heard before inside its walls. Cupping and squeezing his tight balls, I let his dick slide back out of my mouth.

  “Baby,” he rumbles.

  “Just a sec,” I reply, giggling, sliding my tongue down until my mouth is exactly where I want it to be. “I want to try the salty balls.”

  “Penny. Fuck!”

  After I’ve tasted and ravished him, I sit up and straddle him again, licking my lips, letting him watch me roll my head back and drag my hands over my breasts as I grind against his hard length. “Baby. Come on. Please? Take off your dress and let me look at all of you.” It’s the “please” that has me nearly falling apart, my core slicking with lust.

  Instead, I slink off the bed, turn away, and hold my arms up. “You do it.”

  With one tug, my beautiful dress is over my head. Also gone in seconds is everything I’m wearing underneath. He even unties the top knot in my hair. Josh swiftly spins me around, leaving me gasping for breath while he covers my mouth, my breasts, my whole body with his desperate, messy kisses.

  I’ll never get tired of the way we pleasure each other. I hope we never run out of surprises. “I still can’t believe we found each other after 15 years,” I say.

  Not just found, stepped up and claimed what belonged to us. We were meant to be together from the beginning.

  “You’re my sweet Pigtails. We would’ve found each other somehow,” he replies, shedding what’s left of his fine suit on the antique chair.

  Josh lifts me and tosses me back onto the mound of pillows as I laugh in surprise.

  “Just promise me you don’t have a penny in your pocket,” I say.

  He kisses me deeply, hungrily, settling his body between my legs, his heart beating against mine, sharing the same breath, the same thoughts, the same soul. Never taking his eyes off me, Josh sinks his hard length into my core, all the way to the hilt. I’ve never felt so full, so adored, or so treasured.

  “I’ve got all the Penny I need right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  About the Author

  Abby Knox lives a dual life. Fantasy Abby would love to live on a farm with goats, bees, chickens, donkeys and alpaca, making her own soap, yarn, honey and cheese. Reality Abby has no desire to do actual farm work. So, the ever-pragmatic Reality Abby keeps Fantasy Abby happy by putting her into adorable little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope you enjoy her sweet, sexy — sometimes a little over the top and weird — storytelling.

  Keep up with the latest news with Abby’s newsletter!

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  Also by Abby Knox

  Need more stand-alone short reads and novellas?

  Check out Abby’s other titles!

  Marrying Up

  Shacking Up

  Maid for the Billionaire

  Made for Marriage

  Doctor Dave

  Officer Max

  Fighting For Dylan (book four in a six-author MMA series!)

  Hot Off The Press

  The Halloween Bet

  The Christmas Pickup

  Saved for Me

  Matched for Me

  Off-Season Stud

  * * *

  In the mood for a beachy rock-n-roll combo?

  Beach Avenue Babes

  His Vinyl Vixen (a stand alone for the rock ’n’ roll nerd in all of us)

  Her Hi-Fi Hunk (Dusty and Jed from His Vinyl Vixen)

  * * *

  The Greenbridge Academy series

  Swim Coach (book one)

  Grumpy Dad (book two)

  Benefactor (book three)

  Headmistress (book four)

  Queen Bee (book five)

  Bake Sale Queen (book six)

  The Very Good Boy Duet

  Fencing Her In (A bad neighbors to lovers story. With a lot of dogs. You need this in your life.)

  Doing Him Good (An insta-love, sowing-his-wild-oats whirlwind romance.)

  * * *

  Need more?

  From the Small-Town Bachelor Romance Series<
br />
  (each can be read as a stand-alone, but if you want to read in order … this is the order)

  Take Me Home

  Game Face

  Written in the Stars, a special Christmas edition

  Walk With Me

  Stay the Night

  I’ve Got You

  Come And Get It

  * * *

  The Windy City Holiday Duet

  Pumpkin and Spice

  Comfort and Joy

  An excerpt from Off-Season Stud

  How it all began…

  Matthew

  Matthew looked around the woman’s A-frame office. The cabin was rustic and minimalist, and he suspected the rest of the cabins would be also. This place will suit my needs just perfectly, he thought.

  As long as I can keep my phone turned off, I’ll have all the peace and quiet I need.

  When he had pulled up to the property just a few minutes ago, he had been pleased with the views of the river and Ferris Island, the quaint hand-cut swing on the dock, and the staggering lack of traffic on the main roads.

  The water looked tranquil. It would be the perfect spot to finish out his sabbatical from the university and complete his research paper on post-disaster health epidemics in developing countries.

  The owner of this establishment was going to be a problem, however.

  He took one look at her—Gretchen—and knew he would have a hard time getting any work done.

 

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