by Rachael Wade
The sound of a condom wrapper tearing filled the small space, and before my breathing had time to resume its natural speed, he lifted me up again, onto the stove, easing into me. The luscious, full feeling coaxed another loud moan from my lips. I wrapped my legs around him and he turned us, slamming us against a cabinet door. Pieces of paper and plastic rustled around our feet with the collision. My back smacked the door with a thud, a tackle box and containers of cereal falling from a shelf above, their contents scattering to the floor, narrowly missing our heads.
“That was the sexiest damn thing I think I’ve ever heard in my life,” he groaned against my mouth, his tongue finding mine as he adjusted our position against the cabinet. Thrusting deep, he rocked my thighs up and down as he moved inside me. Chest to chest, skin to skin, we crashed into one another, our breathing an orchestra of low-pitched hums and gasps, a rising crescendo amidst the boat’s serene creaking sound as it swayed.
“Please,” I panted, bracing my hands on his upper arms, “faster. And hard.”
Screwing his eyes tight, a muscle in his jaw jumped, one hand guiding my waist, the other on the cabinet door next to my head, fingers spread wide. “Shit, Emma, are you trying to kill me?”
“Jackson, come on,” I whined, bucking harder into him and yanking his hair. He was so deep, and his stubble grinding against the insides of my elbows as I grasped the sides of his head did nothing to slow down my impending, Earth-shattering orgasm.
And then there was his smell.
Good God, did he smell un-freaking-believably amazing: pear, coconut, sunscreen, and some kind of exotic spice all rolled into one. The man was sex on legs, that’s all there was to it. And right now, he was between mine, and the wait was about to send me into cardiac arrest. “Jackson! Come on, harder.”
His growl was damn near enraged then, and thank the heavens and every celestial being that inhabited them, he picked up the pace and pounded harder into me, wrenching my hands from his hair to pin them above me. “Fuck, you’re demanding. I love it.”
“Yeah, don’t stop, just don’t stop.”
His breath grew ragged at my words, rapid gasps bursting from his lips. He kept working me up and down the cabinet door, riding me harder and sending me thrashing against him in fragmented waves, my body bowed against him.
“Come on, beautiful,” he urged, sending me plummeting into a tectonic plate-shifting orgasm that rocked the Richter scale. Dizziness flooded me, and I vaguely wondered if the shouts from my mind-numbing encounter with Mr. Sex on Legs could be heard outside, throughout the marina.
As if reveling in that feeling couldn’t get any better, hearing him approach his climax was utter bliss. The mere sound of his strangled tone as he ascended higher and higher, the tortured whimper that emanated from him as he throbbed inside of me, was about to send me straight to orgasm number two.
“Shit, that’s good, so good...” he gasped, securing me against the cabinet surface, sending sharp, crazed upshots into my now-limp body. “Oh God, Emma,” he howled into my neck, biting down on the skin, voice raspy through clenched teeth. He came hard as he gripped the wall behind me, cupping my ass with his free hand while he rode it out. I gave him every last drop, let him take all of my pleasure, and was turned on all over again at the sight and feel of him falling apart against my body. He sighed heavily as he stilled, the most delicious sounds rumbling in his throat. “Can you stand?” he asked, gently setting me on my feet. My knees gave out and he caught me, slipping one strong arm around the curve of my waist.
“Barely.”
“Good. I’m a man of my word, then.” A lazy grin coasted over his lips and he bent and scooped me up into his arms, carrying me over to set me down on the sofa.
“What a relief.”
He cleaned up and grabbed a large, fluffy throw blanket, grinning down at me as he draped it over my body. “Lucky for you, I’m also a good cuddler.”
“Oh?”
“At your service, baby.” Drawing back the blanket, he slipped underneath it, rolled me on my side, and pulled me against him. His chest rose and fell against my back until it resumed steady, peaceful breathing. “Mmmm, I love you, Emma Pierce.”
I glanced back at him, his satisfied grin and drowsy eyes making me smile. “Jackson?”
“Hhhmm?”
“I love you, too.”
Prying one eye open, he laughed, kissing my hair and nuzzling my head deeper into the crook of his neck. “What a relief. Sleep, Pumpkin. You’re mine now.”
Chapter 9
The sunrise warmed our faces with luscious tangerine and rosy coral rays as it broke over the Gulf’s soft gray horizon. My gaze traveled the length of it, mesmerized by the seemingly endless stretch of the ocean. The cool sand felt good between my toes, the fuzzy flannel blanket wrapped around me like a cozy cocoon. Jackson sipped coffee over my shoulder, my back to his front, his jean-clad legs aligned with mine as I sat between them.
The beach was quiet and deserted, only the sounds of pods of dolphins breathing as they ascended for air along the shoreline. I’d spent the night in Jackson’s boat, determined to catch the sunrise and have breakfast with him before I headed back to my place for the weekend. Jen’s obituary sat heavy in my pocket, a horde of rocks weighing it down. I was determined to read it with him by my side, maybe even read it out loud to him, or have him do the honors—I still wasn’t sure which was the best way just yet. All I knew was the flimsy piece of paper that held those words was growing impatient, and after the week I’d had, it wouldn’t wait much longer for me to confront it.
I also needed to clean up my apartment, get ready to return to work on Monday, and let Whitney and Carter know what was going on before they thought I’d lost my mind again and went on another grief-induced self-destructive mission. I ran my fingers down Jackson’s lean forearms as he rested them around my waist, unleashing a secret, giddy smile. Jackson Trouble Taylor.
Okay, maybe I had lost my mind again.
“I love catching them this early in the morning,” he said, his voice following the dolphins’ direction. “They’re so close.”
“Amazing, aren’t they?” My smile spread as I watched the pod move parallel to the shore. “They’re travelling and foraging right now. See that pod to the east?” I pointed in the other direction. “They’re milling—another type of social behavior.” I paused for a beat, aware my inner marine-animal-loving geek was threatening to take over. I couldn’t help it. I was shooting for an internship working with marine mammals at the Seattle Aquarium. I’d had the privilege of doing dolphin field research on the Gulf in preparation for my major’s core classes, and I was desperate to put those studies to work elsewhere. My dream to teach others about conservation and work closer with the animals would eventually come to fruition.
If I got accepted into the university program, anyway.
“I could watch it all day,” I continued. “I used to, actually. It was my favorite thing—getting up early and going for a jog here. I’d turn around at the lighthouse and jog back, then stop at this spot when the sun would come up, to watch them swim by.”
“You don’t do that anymore?”
“Nah,” I shrugged, wrapping the extra throw blanket tighter across my chest, “it was me and Jen’s thing. We would jog here together before work every morning.”
“It can still be your thing. Maybe you’ll resume the routine again someday.”
“Maybe. By then it might be too late, though.”
“Too late?”
“I mean, I might not be here on the island much longer if I get accepted into that school out West.”
Jackson’s chest stiffened against my back, his fingers tensing around my torso. “Oh. Right.”
I decided to change the subject. “Do you dive or snorkel?”
“I fish. Never bothered with dive certification. How about you?”
“I’m not certified, either. I do love to snorkel, though. We should drive down to the Keys for a weeke
nd and go.”
“I’d like that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his clenched fingers relaxing again. He set his coffee down and rested his cheek on my shoulder, his mouth warming my earlobe. “You sure you don’t wanna stay with me today? I have to help John on his dock at 3 o’clock, but other than that, I’m free. I can make you dinner and we can sleep under the stars tonight. If you stay, I’ll make you feel good...” He nuzzled into my neck, biting down playfully while he squeezed me tighter against him. His feet found mine, overlapping and pinning them to the sand. “Or I can make you feel good right now...”
“I’d love to stay, but I have so much to do this weekend. I have an exam to study for, I have to clean, and I—”
“Fine. You leave me no choice, then. Lean back, baby.”
I shifted my head to gaze back at him. “Huh?”
“Lean back.”
I obeyed, thankful for the blanket’s concealment, and rested my weight against him and my head to the side of his shoulder. He kept one hand planted firmly over my abdomen, and the other gently glided down between my legs, first petting then teasing me through my jean shorts. My body responded, every part of me melting into his touch. God, he was insatiable. “You’re so good at that,” I hummed, leaning into his hand, feeling him harden against my back. It further spurred my arousal and I wanted nothing more than to taste him.
“I should take you right here,” he whispered, his mouth pressed tight to my ear, breath harsh and uneven. “Make you never want to leave.”
“I don’t want to leave.” I reached around and stroked him, rubbing with my thumb in linear, smooth motions. It was so easy to get lost in him, to forget the mountain of chores that awaited me back home, and the obituary in my pocket that beckoned to be read. His hand brushed roughly against my clit before reaching up to palm my breasts, making it even more difficult to breathe, to think straight. Nothing mattered when he touched me. Only him. Only us. Every caress of his hand, every sweep of his fingers, reminded me of what I’d missed out on over the past three years. To know I’d wasted time with Chris, then time fending Jackson off while he sought strings of meaningless hook-ups, when what he really wanted was me, was almost painful to think about now. I wanted to make up for every moment I lost with him, every girl’s name he called out that wasn’t mine, every sunrise I missed that I could’ve witnessed with him.
Like this. Like now.
Covering his hand with mine, I guided him firmly across my nipples and then swiveled around to face him, straddling him with my legs, keeping the blanket draped over us.
“Quite brazen of you, baby,” he snickered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I feel so proud. I’ve created a little hellion.” He slipped his fingers through my hair, pulling me against him until there was no space left between us. I felt around his pocket for a condom, finding one and tearing it open, unzipping his jeans beneath me. He moaned, reaching down to grip himself, eyes alight with pure fire as he gazed down to watch me roll it onto him.
“I don’t care who sees.”
“But there might be killer germs in the sand. And seagull poop. What if you run out of hand sanitizer and you get infected or—”
“Shut up and fuck me, Jack.” I silenced his laughter with a kiss. It morphed into a groan and I yanked my shorts down. He tugged with me, his breath picking up against my mouth, no more humor in his eyes.
“Oh, I like you bossy.” He lifted my waist and slammed me down forcefully. I cried out from the pressure, savoring the feel of him, loving the way he guided my hips as I began to ride him, first rocking them slowly, then faster and more desperately when his restraint started to wane.
His arms tightened then loosened around me, his elbows finding the ground as he leaned back to let me have my way with him, lips parted and eyes trained on mine. They lowered to my breasts and I shut my eyes. His stare was too intense, too penetrating.
His legs spread apart farther beneath me, and the throbbing strain of his erection swelled with building pleasure, the head pulsing against my insides like a primal, beating drum. “Mmmm, you have great tits, Emma.” He kept his weight on one elbow and leaned up with the other to reach for my small curves again, his thumb grazing a nipple through my t-shirt. “So beautiful, I could watch them all day.”
I forced my eyes open and found him with his head rolled back, Adam’s apple bobbing as he worked to swallow between ragged breaths. The sight sent my desire spiraling, diving and then climbing back up, higher and higher. His waist pumped harder beneath me and his throat muscles flexed, his panting growing more labored, fingers still rubbing my breast. I reached out to grip his shirt, eyes crawling up his firm stomach to his full bottom lip. I wanted to climb across him, bend down, and latch onto it with my teeth.
“I love you, Jack,” I choked on the words, the emotion building in my throat as quickly as my climax. “Love you...so...much.”
His eyes opened and head lifted up, and he pushed off the sand to crush me to his chest, leveling us, chin to chin. “Say that again,” he growled, rolling his hips firmly, capturing every blunt slam of my body with a soft grunt. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I love you.”
The cerulean of his eyes sliced into me, and his voice roughened. “Tell me.” He rolled his hips again, his thrusts transforming into punishing strikes.
“I’m yours,” I whispered.
“Again.” Another sharp blow, then another, relentless and without mercy, his fingers reaching to pull on my hair, tilting my head back. “Come on, Emma. Now.”
“I’m yours, Jack. All yours.” I began to ride him harder, matching his ardor and accelerating pace with equal weight.
“That’s right, baby, don’t stop. Oh, Em, don’t...don’t stop.”
I clung tighter to his chest and shoulders, his t-shirt bunching between my fingers, continuing to whisper the words he wanted to hear against his neck, my voice cracking in urgency. Pulling back, I scooped down to taste his tongue and kissed him deeply, then gave in to my urge to bite his lip. His fingers grinded into my hips then, pummeling me up and then down onto his lap so hard I almost drew blood.
“Ah!” I shrieked into his mouth, tugging tougher.
He delivered another swift blow beneath me and I released his lip, my body bowing against him, head falling back. His mouth found the hollow of my neck and I lost myself in my orgasm, feeling him come with me, his arms stiffening and wringing me out to dry. He took all of me, leaving not an inch of pleasure unclaimed.
“I love hearing you come, Emma,” he spat through gritted teeth, hips stilling as I slowed above him. “But I really do think you’re trying to kill me.”
“Ha, maybe I do hate you after all.” I slumped against him and released a sigh. He touched his lip and peered down at his fingers. “Checking for blood?”
“You’re like a vampire bat vixen. Damn, I was starting to worry you’d go for the jugular after the lip.” Heaving a heavy breath, he leaned back again, heels of his hands in the sand. My weight went with him, but I rolled over before his back hit the ground and sprawled out next to him, against the blanket, tossing an arm over my eyes to shield them from the morning sun.
“I can’t help the effect you have on me.”
“And that effect is?”
“As if you need me to define it. What, you want a demonstration?”
“No, I just had one, but I’d love another one. Your pussy is heaven. Better than all the pumpkin pie in the world.”
“Well, isn’t that the compliment of the year. Be still, my heart.” I pulled my arm from my eyes and reached over to squeeze his cheek, where his dimple dipped into his stubble. His smile was as luminous as my own, his thick, dark lashes framing his baby blues beneath the golden sunlight.
“Oh, shit!” He broke our heady connection, catching something off in the distance. Straightening, he tucked himself in and zipped his pants. “Where are your shorts?”
I lifted the blanket an
d snatched them up. “Right here, relax.”
“Look! It’s Miss Stein, coming this way!” He pointed to my left, blue eyes bulging.
I jumped and scrambled to slip them on under the blanket. “What?!” Miss Stein? Why would she be strolling the beach this time of the morning?
“Hurry, Em. She’s coming over here to bust you for stealing her favorite shower scrub brush.”
“Scrub brush? What?” I snapped the button of my jean shorts and scanned the beach in both directions, searching the distance for the old woman who was recently on the receiving end of my wrath. Just what I needed after the bird-flipping incident, for her to find me naked and fornicating with the island’s infamous wild child in a public place, in broad daylight.
Okay, this was worse than the bird-flipping.
I pulled the blanket tight to my lap and craned my neck to look around some more. Jackson’s earnest tone dissolved and his chest started to shake in fits of laughter. He fell onto his back and gripped his abdomen, the howls of amusement taking over his ability to speak. “Oh, that look is...priceless!”
My lips scrunched tight in realization and I turned to whack him on the head, my traitor grin forcing them apart and seizing them into a reluctant smile. “Jackson Taylor, you little shit!”
Sitting up, he ensnared me in his arms and worked to suppress his cackling. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re so fun to razz.”
I squirmed against his grip with false conviction, giving in seconds later to laugh with him. “You’re an animal.”
“Can you blame me?” He dipped his fingers beneath the inseam of my jean shorts, along the line of my panties and over my wetness. He pulled them back and sucked them. “You know, on second thought,” he said thoughtfully, “the pumpkin pie comparison is a little optimistic. Maybe it’s better than all the apple pie in the—”
“That’s it!” I turned to wrestle him, but he flew to his feet and darted toward the ocean, his laughter roaring as he sprinted. I chased him along the shore, but I was no match for his speed. He stopped short just as I reached his heels and charged forward, lassoing me into his arms and lifting me off the ground. I squealed and he pinned me to his side horizontally, spinning me around until my dizziness coaxed more uncontrollable, hearty bouts of laughter from my stomach.