“Baby, you’re so wet. So wet for me,” he said against my breast as he worked his fingers, tunneling deep, curling until he struck the place that made me go wild. He sucked my nipple in rhythm with his strokes as he fucked me with his fingers, making me scream. I shook all over, shrieking his name over and over, “Tommy! Tommy!” as he dragged it out, drawing the pleasure out so long I was breathless from it. As it tapered off and I could start to catch my breath, the sneaky bastard rubbed his thumb across my clit and made me jerk and scream and drench his hand again as I came even harder the third time. I rode his hand until he withdrew it, because I was greedy for every drop of pleasure.
He slid down my body, tasting the film of sweat on my skin as he buried his face between my legs, licking, sucking my outer lips, circling my clit. I wept with the force of my release as he tasted my wetness and then sucked my clit again. I bucked on him, and he loved it, lifted my hips and held me in place, saying, “that’s it, baby, ride my face” as I came and came. “God, you taste so good. Like heaven,” he said.
When he sat back on his heels, he looked me up and down. I was sweaty and flushed, my hair tangled. I was laid bare before him and didn’t even care how disheveled I looked. I reached for him and pulled him down over me on the bed. He stretched out full length and ran his hand up and down my body, a slow caress as he learned my curves again. If I had filled out, gained a few pounds and a couple of stretch marks, he didn’t say a thing except how beautiful I was to him. I hooked a bare leg over his, buried my face in his chest. I let myself blush about how he had told me to ride his face, how he had tasted my juices after making me come so effortlessly, so hard and so many times. No other man had come close. Not even a battery-operated boyfriend had managed to give me more than one orgasm a night.
He held me close, and I bit his shoulder. Not hard, just enough that he knew I’d bitten him, “That was incredible,” I whispered. He groaned and rubbed against me. I felt his size, his rock-hard length that was more like a pipe than anything else. I had thought he’d split me in two the first couple of times we did it. Even so, I was probably the only girl in America who still fantasized about her first time because it was that good.
“You make it so easy.”
I flung a leg across him and tackled him onto the bed. He was laughing, flat on his back.
“I’m all yours, Liza,” he said.
I sat up on his stomach. His abs. I shoved his shirt up and ran my hands over his muscled chest, traced the curves of ink and stripped off his shirt. Then I put my mouth on those tattooed sleeves, the ships and skulls and chains inked on his skin. I tasted and kissed, covered every inch of his arms from his neck to his wrists. His hands wound in my hair, lush, massaging my scalp, tugging just a little bit and giving me a sensuous sting from time to time, a sting that ran right between my legs. He bumped his chin against my cheek and caught my mouth with his.
“I made you scream,” he said. “I love it when you come so hard you scream high and loud. I’m gonna make you do it again.” I shuddered at his words, wicked and filthy. And true. I’d felt the heat, the deep sense of release. I wanted him, wanted more, greedy and desperate again already. I’d never have this chance again. So why not go until we collapsed? I didn’t care if I got weak or tired. I didn’t want to quit. I wanted to stay up all night, fuck until the sun came up.
He sat up, his face so close to mine. It took my breath away.
“You know,” he said archly, his hands on my breasts, “if you lived in a cabin at the resort, I could sneak over and show you a good time every night. I could be your wakeup call. Would you like that? Waking up with my mouth between your legs or curled up behind you making you feel good before you even opened your eyes.,” he said, naughty and irresistible.
He lifted his head and pressed his mouth to mine.
I felt myself melt, liquefy in the incredible heat of his possessive kiss. It was hard and punishing in the best way, and I rocked against him, letting him know how wet I was. He lifted me off of his lap long enough to get his pants off. Then he sat there, proud, thick cock jutting out, as big around as my wrist, and making me ache with want.
“Tommy,” I said, wrapping my hand around his cock, my lips parting, “I need to—"
“What?” he said, urging me on, his hand in my hair.
“I need you everywhere. You’re making me crazy.”
He grabbed my face, my messy hair and all, and he kissed me hard and wet and deep.
I held onto him fiercely, his arms like steel around me. That huge erection poked me in the stomach, and I rocked, rubbing up against the length of him as I held onto him. He made a sound that let me know it felt too good.
“I want to get you off,” I said against his ear, licking it.
“Not unless I’m inside you. Raw. Nothing between us. Just like before.”
“Just like before,” I agreed.
He lifted me onto the bed, laid me out like a feast before him. I stretched my arms above my head, not ashamed, not self-conscious of how I looked older, different from the skinny young girl he had known years ago.
“You are so beautiful,” he said. “I’m the luckiest man.”
I looped my arms around his neck, felt his muscular leg between my thighs. I tilted my head, accepting the hot kiss he slid along my jaw. I wrapped my leg around him, ran my hands down his inked biceps.
“It’s not just a wheel, is it?” I said, peering closely at his tattoo, a tangle of chains and shapes, “It’s the Ferris wheel.”
“I wondered if you’d notice,” he said, looking almost bashfully at me.
“You put that there because of us?”
“Yeah. I got this idea in my head, after my first big wound healed into a scar, that I wanted my body to be a map of everything I didn’t want to forget.”
I nodded, tearing up. He hadn’t hated me. If he had really despised me for leaving him, he would never have etched the memory of that moment in time on his skin. I felt relief pouring through me, redemption even. I kissed his arm, right where that Ferris wheel was outlined on the inside of his bicep. He kissed my temple and then my hair. His hands roamed my bare skin, caressing, plucking, teasing until I turned and kissed his lips.
“I love you, Tommy. I never stopped,” I gasped. He leaned his forehead on mine, his breathing ragged.
“Are you serious? Do you mean that?”
“Yes. I’ve never loved anyone else but you, all my life,” I said, swallowing hard.
“Then you’re still mine,” he said. There was something in his voice like awe, and he stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers so tenderly that I had to bite my lip to stop from tearing up again. I didn’t want to cry.
Then he kissed the corner of my mouth. “I’ve never stopped loving you either.”
Tommy fastened his mouth onto my nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through me. He took his time, teased me until I was a little crazy and scrabbling to hold on to his shoulders or his hair or his arms by turns. He knelt between my legs and lifted my thighs until they spread across his lap. My hips were off the bed, propped high on his legs. He bent forward and that huge, jutting erection slid against my opening, making me say his name, “Oh, Tommy!”
“Just wait,” he said, gritting his teeth.
He breached me then, the head of his cock parting my folds, dipping into me, tunneling in as I caught my breath, trying to relax around that big shaft as he worked his way into me one inch at a time. There was always more of his cock, wider and thicker and longer than I remembered. I’d told myself for years I had just thought he was well endowed because I was inexperienced. But I had been right the first time. There was no denying it now. Not when it was practically splitting me no matter how slow and gentle he was, no matter how wet he had me, how slick his own flesh was. I took short, panting breaths as I spread my legs even more to try and make room for him. How had I held him all at seventeen years old? At thirty-one I was gasping for breath and trying to adjust to his size.
With a groan, he seated himself in me fully, one long, deep thrust. I felt him go still and saw the set of his jaw, how determined he was not to move until I was ready. The muscle in his jaw ticked and I saw the tension in his arms and shoulders. I reached for his hand, grabbed for it, and he laced his fingers with mine. His eyes met mine, that piercing blue-green unlike anyone else’s I’d ever known. As his gaze held me, his hand gripped mine, I felt my body relax around him, melt and then grip him. I stretched one of my legs out and grinned at him. It felt so good to have him inside me again, and it felt even better knowing it was Tommy, seeing how it affected him to be with me again.
“Please,” I said. “I’ve missed this.”
He let out a sound of relief that was almost a roar. I saw the tension loosen in his body as he started to thrust. Every stroke of his cock in my body seemed to light up nerve endings that had been asleep for way too long. I felt like thousands of Christmas lights were switching on and that my skin should be glowing with the warmth and pleasure that built inside me. It was a luscious, decadent heat that kindled slowly as he fed the flames with each caress, each stroke. I reached for his face, pushed up on my elbows and touched his jaw and cheek. So handsome, so completely mine. I sighed, satisfied already with the pure joy and the love I felt for him. This night was perfect. I had to let him know. Because he had already given me so much, more ecstasy than I’d ever known. He deserved his own release with no holding back.
I lay back again, canting my hips to take him deeper. He held my thighs and slid out of me deliberately, thrusting back in all the way, making me cry out with the shock of pleasure. His thumb found my clit and gave me the pressure and stroking I needed, picking up speed to keep pace with his powerful thrusts. He pistoned into me, sweat gleaming on his face. I was gasping with every thrust because of the intense bliss sweeping over me. It was like being airborne over a waterfall, being free of gravity as he came, pumping his hips frantically into me, his head thrown back so I could see the tendons standing out on his tanned throat. I screamed with my release because it felt so incredible to come with him inside me, to clench around him and grip him tight.
When he rolled off of me and sprawled on the bed at my side, I grinned a little at how hard we were both breathing, how fiery and fierce our reunion had been. We caught our breath, but a shiver still ran through me, a final trace of the soul-shaking orgasm I’d experienced in his capable hands. Seeing me shudder, Tommy reached for me. I was pulled into his side, my head resting on his chest as he held me. There was no way I was the least bit uncomfortable after the trip to paradise, but he was so attentive, so caring that he reached for the bedspread to cover my legs.
“This mattress sucks,” he said.
“That is so romantic,” I laughed. “Will you repeat that so I can put it in my diary?”
“Definitely,” he said with a wicked grin. “This mattress sucks. But you were amazing.”
I looked up at him.
“I like being here with you,” I said, making a ridiculous understatement.
“Me, too,” he said, kissing my hair, “You are the sweetest thing I have ever known. I feel like I should thank you, because if you hadn’t let me in this room, I would be alone at home right now.”
“On a better mattress, I assume,” I teased.
“Yes, but in a much worse bed, because it wouldn’t have you in it. I want that, though. You in my bed. So that needs to be arranged. I haven’t brought you home, shown you my cabin, taken you in my bed. I like the idea of waking up with you beside me in my bed.”
Then he gathered me close and held me. I remember starting to drift off to sleep and trying to stop myself, because I didn’t want to miss any of our time together. Not after all those years apart. But I slid into a deep sleep. When I woke up, I was lying in Tommy’s arms, convinced I’d died and gone to heaven. A slow smile crept over my face as I nestled against his chest.
When I opened my eyes to the sun filtering through the grimy window, I shifted in the bed and felt him beside me. I turned my head and realized he’d been holding me all night long. He was spooned up behind me with his bare, tattooed arm draped over me, hugging me close. I couldn’t help smiling. Knowing we’d slept the whole night together, that he’d stayed in my bed, held me in his arms, had to be the best feeling in the world. My heart soared. I couldn’t figure out how I’d gotten so lucky. No one deserved this much joy. And there was nothing better than this. There couldn’t be.
Chapter 19
Tommy
Just like that, I was addicted to her all over again. It only took once. I woke up with her in my arms, and it was like everything that had gone wrong and everything broken or scarred had been put back together, repaired and healed. She was back where she belonged. With me.
At work, I could touch her shoulder or the small of her back as I went by. She gave me her smiles, even ran up and hugged me one day when I got there a little early and she was on a break. After that, I came to work early every day. We’d have coffee together, sitting at the booth way in the back, her thigh pressed against mine. Liza’s smile was megawatt and beaming all the time. It made me feel so strong, so powerful that I could make her this happy. It was so simple. We’d been apart when we should’ve been together. We were both to blame, and we both wanted to move forward.
I was restless to move forward. I wanted her living in a cabin on the property—preferably in my cabin with me, but I knew not to push her or act like I was controlling her. She’d rebel against that and move to a tent out in the woods or some other damn thing to prove how stubborn she was.
As for stubborn, Connor had taken to her and even promoted her to head day cook. That sucked for me because I worked evenings most of the time. When I asked to switch, he gave me the most aggravated look, like I was the stupidest person imaginable. I just wanted to work on the same shift as my girlfriend. It sounded childish, but it was the only thing that dampened the perfection of those first weeks back together.
She would wait for my text that I was off work and then meet me at my cabin or I’d go to her motel room. We spent every night together. There was no choice in the matter. I couldn’t sleep without Liza, without the warmth and weight of her in my arms. It felt like I hadn’t slept this well in ages. I was so relaxed, my body looser and even my yoga practice had improved. I didn’t run out of patience with silly college kids at the bar, and I even got her to join in for the Irish dance a couple times a week. There was nothing like swinging her around in my arms to the familiar strains of the Irish music and moving with her to the beat. Patrons loved it when she was there, when we were beaming at each other like some fairy tale couple. We even ended up on Instagram a couple times as #cutestcouple in the pub’s feed. Being with her again made everything better.
But I still had the tiniest reservation when it came to her—she was keeping something from me. Every time I told myself I was being suspicious and that was a bad habit, something else would happen like when she freaked out about having our picture on social media together. If she weren’t hiding something, why would she care? We were happy, and some tourists thought we were adorable together when we were dancing. It was good promo for the club, and it added happiness to the world. I wanted to confront her, but some small part of me was chicken shit. Because I’d never been so happy, and I didn’t want to wreck it.
I was sure of two things here. One, that Liza had a secret. And two, that I probably didn’t want to know what it was. I’d have to find out, obviously, but I had a sick dread of what it could be. I could only ignore it for so long. But being with Liza, waking up with her, working with her, sleeping together—it was a potent thrill that I didn’t want to lose.
She got in the habit of staying after her shift to grab a bite to eat at the bar and spend time with me. Most days I barely got to talk to her then because the place was always so busy. Part of me just wanted to be alone with her. Forget the tourists and the bar and everything else. Just take her to my cabin and
pull down the shades. It wouldn’t be a bad way to spend a few weeks. I slid my eyes to her as I served a drink. She was smiling at me, picking at her sandwich and just looking as happy and tanned and bright-eyed as could be. I loved seeing her at ease and I loved how she looked at me, like I was the greatest thing ever, and like she just couldn’t believe our good luck. Truth was, I couldn’t either.
After I hustled another round of drinks for a bachelorette party and took them a pitcher of my special sangria on the house to celebrate, I leaned on the bar across from her and kissed her cheek. Nothing showy, nothing conspicuous, but I couldn’t resist touching her, letting her know she was mine. Her eyes softened and her hand covered mine. That moment was so warm, so sweet. I felt completely connected to her, with our heads together and her soft laugh.
Yet something bothered me. It was the military man in me that couldn’t let his guard down. That high alert state I’d grown so accustomed to maintaining was a way of life. There was a man in a booth looking her way. He was by himself, just a soft drink and his phone. And his eyes weren’t on the screen or people watching unless you counted staring at my girlfriend. I pretended I didn’t see him and went to check on some customers. I took a group pic for the bachelorette party and convinced a couple who seemed to be in an argument to try an appetizer. I didn’t like unhappy people at the pub, especially when I could help. All the while, I kept an eye on that guy in the booth. The guy who, at the same time, was keeping an eye on Liza. He wasn’t obvious about it, but even when he was messing with his phone, his eyes would flit above the screen to watch her. Had I not been highly trained in reconnaissance myself, I wouldn’t have noticed it.
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