Runaway Girl

by Bailey, Tessa

  I lean in and take her mouth in a slow, thorough kiss, enjoying the way her hips roll faster, betraying how turned on she is by the kiss. My woman. “How did you appear out of thin air and do this to me, huh? Get me so hard. Get in my head. Make me so fucking hot.” I bat her right ass cheek with my palm, listening to her moan as the smack lingers in the warm sea air. “Look at you. Sexiest woman on this fucking earth,” I grit out with absolute sincerity. “Every time you move, I get closer to coming. You’re pulling on every hard inch of me with every tight, little inch of you. Feel it, Naomi?”

  Her nod is unsteady as she does exactly that, forcing a roar up the back of my throat. “Y-yes.”

  “Do you?”

  Blue eyes land on mine. Pools of lust and uncertainty warring together. “I want to drive you crazy, but I’m not sure how.”

  My heart twists, ripping my voice to shreds. “Watching you get off is what’s going to drive me crazy. Every time.” I’m connected enough with Naomi to know she needs me to be confident enough for both of us right now. To take charge. She’s begging me to do it with her eyes, and on the verge of losing my seed to the sexy glide of her pussy up and down my cock, I can’t keep my dominance at bay for another second. “Beautiful, sexy woman.” I kiss her until she’s gasping into my mouth. “That feel like a cock that needs you to take it easy?”

  She shakes her head, breath accelerating. Thighs widening, hips scooting closer.

  “Nah. It’s big and sturdy for you, isn’t it, baby?” I bite her bottom lip and drag it through my teeth, ticking my hips up, up, up. “Thick enough to fill you. Hard enough to pump your hips on it as fast and long as you want.” I smack her ass hard. Once. Twice. “My maker put it there for your pleasure, baby. Go get some. I love you fucking me. I love it.”

  Her right hand leaves my shoulder and hesitates between us, a moan already resting on her lips. “I want to touch myself. I want you to see me do it.”

  My lower body surges up without orders from my brain, lifting her and plunging back down on the seat, the bottom of my spine twisting like wire around a spike. “Do it. Oh God, do it. Rub your clit while sitting on my dick. Tell me what it feels like.”

  I know the moment the pad of her finger makes contact because her pussy seizes up around me, her head falling back and exposing the column of her gorgeous throat. I’m caught between needing to look down and watch her fondle herself and licking every inch of her neck. In the end, I alternate between the two, rolling my hips as her pace picks up, her fingers creating a furious friction right where she needs it. In no time, she’s riding me like a fucking cowgirl, her pointed nipples moving in a delicious up and down bounce inches from my mouth. I’m groaning in an uncontrollable way, my rasp of her name unrecognizable. “Naomi.” I raze her chin with my teeth. “Talk to me.”

  She heaves a strangled sound and plasters herself closer, taking her fingers from her clit in favor of wrapping both arms around my neck. “I’m going to come,” she hiccups, grinding herself on the base of my cock. Hard. Without shame. Totally abandoned and so beautiful I can’t get a decent breath. Watching her in awe, I bite down on my lip and command myself not to bust. “You’re smooth and thick. It’s so good.” Her voice shakes against my mouth, her sexy ass pumping in my hands. “You could overpower me, but you’re not. So big and rough underneath me, letting me. Just letting me…God.”

  Naomi’s scream sounds like a miracle, shattering the breeze and making the sunshine seems brighter, hotter. The pressure around my cock turns rhythmic, hot moisture leaving her and coating me—and if I wait another second to give her what she asked me for, it’s not happening. I stand on legs that feel strong and brittle at the same time, searching through a haze of lust for somewhere to pin her ass while I fuck her into another dimension. Need to. Need to. The boat engine is covered by a leather-covered hatch and I lunge for it, slapping her backside down on it, bearing down on her while she’s still in the midst of her orgasm, earning myself more screams.

  I rear back with my hips and pull out, just to the tip. God knows where I’m finding the willpower to hold back and tease when I’m on the verge of emptying myself, but I do it, leaving myself poised for a plunge at her entrance while I lean down and suck her nipples, one by one.

  “Jason!”

  “Don’t worry, beauty queen, I’m going to let you have it back.” I wrap a hand around her throat and squeeze lightly, shaking my head when her lips pop open with a feminine sigh of pleasure. Anticipation. Goddamn, she’s a wonder. “You still want to be used? I’ve got that for you.”

  Her belly lifts and hollows, her back arching as I lick the flat of my tongue over her nipple. “Yes. Yes, please. Please, Jason. Now.” I ram into her and she orgasms again. That pussy milks me like a dream, her thighs around my hips in vise grip. Her hand flies out to smack me across the face, connecting hard, but not enough to faze me. It’s a reflex she doesn’t expect, because even as she shakes through her climax, her eyes are wide, searching on mine. “I’m sorry, it’s just…so intense, I didn’t mean to—”

  I lick a path up to her mouth and take it in a bruising kiss. There’s apology in the way her tongue tangles with mine, but I won’t allow that. She’s got needs and I’m her safe place to express them. “You want to goad me into losing control. You want that hard fuck you requested from your man, don’t you, baby? Do it again.”

  She breathes hard for a moment, then lays her palm against my cheek. The slap is light this time, but when I pull out and thrust deep with a growl, she does it harder, her blue eyes flaring with excitement. Maybe a little disbelief at her own actions.

  “Good girl. Get excited for this cock.” I capture her wrists and pin them out wide on either side of her. “You’re my tight little sacrifice now. Aren’t you?”

  Naomi nods, her eyes unfocused, face bathed in sunshine. “Please.”

  “Wrap your thighs around me and hold on.” My hips begin to slap down in time with my grunts, my neglected cock tunneling in and out of her wet heat. “I don’t come like a gentleman.”

  Her naked body slides up and back on the leather engine cover, vibrating with each savage drive, faster and faster, the give of her pussy blowing my mind. Jesus Christ, the pain in my stomach increases to the point of agony, the buildup of heat in my balls forcing me to grit my teeth on a shout. So slick and snug. I want to live here. I never want this to stop, but I’m at the end of my rope, desperate for relief. Relief that’s going to be so sweet and fulfilling, I can already sense it in every nerve ending, every fucking hair follicle.

  I love you, baby. The words clog my throat, but I manage to keep them inside in favor of chanting her name like she’s my own personal savior and I was sent to appease her one earthly weakness. My mouth finds hers and I taste her breath, revel in her moans, memorize the incredible texture of her tongue, keeping myself balanced on the edge of orgasm while I fuck her in a frenzy, screams building in her throat, eventually releasing into the air and clashing with animalistic smacks of our sexes. “Fuck. Fuck!”

  I take her right hand, which I’m pinning, and smash it against my cheek. Naomi’s head is thrashing from side, incoherent words falling from her mouth, but she takes the hint and connects her palm to my cheek, the exhilaration on her face driving me higher. “You’re not going to stop me from taking what I need from this pussy.” I release her other pinned hand and capture both knees, jerking them wide as I change the angle to grind on her clit, surprising her into a back-arching sob. “Such a lady. So sweet and polite. Until her pussy gets stroked the right way, huh? Now she’s just a greedy girl with her thighs open for Jason’s cock.”

  Her hands burrow in her blonde hair, strands wrapping around agitated fingers. “Oh my God. I can’t. I can’t…” Blindness steals through her eyes. “Harder. Please. It’s too much.”

  The final ounce of control I was holding on to is obliterated when she hits that third peak, her voice hoarse from overuse. Knowing I gave that satisfaction to her, seeing how unusua
l it is for her to get this much pleasure from a man, it sets me fucking loose. Mentally, physically. I’m flying. My body flattens her on the engine cover, my knees wide, planting on any purchase they can find while my hips hit a wild pace, pounding her without mercy as her screams echo in my ear.

  My release is a flood that roars through me, creating a rush of white noise in my ears. My muscles tighten to the point of snapping before they unlock and I shudder violently, my lower body a war zone of pleasure and pain. Need and fulfillment. There’s a harbor in the storm, though, and her body is already wrapping around mine, needing me back, making the violent pleasure we’ve inflicted on our bodies a glorious thing we share, instead of something to combat. God, it’s so good. My cock is still jerking with aftershocks, moisture spurting from the tip while I groan into her hair, my hips still moving in fucking motions all on their own. Her lips move over my cheek and I turn into them, inhaling through a long kiss, sensing her need for an anchor and giving it to her. Giving everything to her.

  How am I ever going to let this woman go?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

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  Username: LittleMissMorbid

  I’m not trying to be a downer, guys, but they should probably drag the bottom of the closest lake, right? Guys?

  Guys?

  Naomi

  I’m going through the motions of making dinner, but I feel like I’m watching the movements of my hands on a movie screen. I’m only half conscious of the knife sinking into the asparagus, cutting on the purplish-white ends. Rinsing them. Putting them in the sauté pan. I have a roasted chicken in the oven and a lemon risotto on the back burner, too, a feat I never would have been capable of accomplishing a month ago. If only I could relax enough to enjoy it.

  When I reach up to retrieve olive oil from the cabinet, the sore muscles of my stomach pull and I stumble forward against the counter with a closed-mouth moan. Oh my God. My hot shower did nothing to soothe my aches, apparently. I really did have sex with Jason on the boat. I am actually now in his kitchen, waiting for him to clean up while I get dinner started. Sex is likely to happen again. I am in this reality where it’s understood that I’m going to bed with a big, bad Special Forces diver with a secret tender heart.

  Sex. Going to bed. Ha.

  Ha.

  What happened on the boat was not sex. It was…

  What the heck was it?

  It was a claiming. It was unapologetic fucking. Yes, fucking. Grunting, vigorous, worshipful, ruthless fucking. He was hot for me. My body. The way I tweaked my hips made his jaw drop, made his eyes go molten. My words alone almost brought him to climax. My breasts made him growl. He was so incredibly hard between my legs. Hard for me. Naomi Clemons. I’ve never been so confident in my abilities to please a man, because the results were right there on display where I could devour them with my eyes, catalogue them in my memory bank.

  Spank bank.

  I snort into my wrist, laughing at the wayward thought. Not so long ago, I wouldn’t have allowed an acknowledgment of something so inappropriate. I definitely wouldn’t have applied it to a situation involving me. But here we are. I have a spank bank now. It’s a done deal and I wouldn’t mind making another deposit. I snort again and propel myself into drizzling olive oil. It’s one thing to acknowledge my spank bank, another to dwell on it when there’s dinner to be made. The silly smile lingers on my mouth until I realize my pulse is still bobbing and weaving.

  It fades and I swallow. There was more than sex today. There was connection. A meeting of something far deeper inside both of us, and I think that’s why I’m walking shell-shocked through Jason’s kitchen with my ears ringing. I’m too afraid to explore what made tears leak from my eyes today when it was over and Jason was holding me close in his huge embrace. So close. I’m too afraid to examine what made my heart feel like a helium balloon in my chest when he held my hand as we drove home in silence, our eyes meeting every so often across the truck’s interior.

  My life can’t change course because of Jason and this thing between us. I’m already so far off the original track that it’s going to be a struggle to get back on. Daughterhood. Possibly wifehood. Socialite status awaits me in Charleston, in case I forgot. I have a little bit of time left in the hourglass, though. I’m not down to the final grain yet. So can’t I put off thinking about reality a little bit longer? Is that so bad?

  Jason is leaving. My life is elsewhere and vastly different from this one. We are both aware of these truths. They are not changeable. So what is the point of stressing over them now when the next week and a half can be a fulfilling close to my adventure? Maybe…maybe I was meant to be an adventure for Jason, too. That possibility makes me feel a little breathless. If I go back to Charleston with the confidence in myself that I can be someone’s adventure, my purpose for running from the church will be achieved.

  Will that ever be close to enough after Jason?

  The kitchen’s back door opens and Birdie walks in, forcing my troubling thoughts away. Hesitating in the doorway, she sends me an arch look. “Hi.”

  “Hello! How did you keep busy today?”

  She closes the door slowly, chin tucked into her chest. “I might have…met some friends for gelato.” When I stare back at her with an open mouth, she gives me a grudging half-smile. “So…you’re cooking for us.”

  “Yes, well…” I gather my hair and throw it over a shoulder. “I didn’t get a chance to run to the store today and Jason…when I saw him in the driveway a while ago…he mentioned he had ingredients just lying here unused. And frankly, I was flat-out sad thinking of you having to eat his cooking day in and day out—”

  “It finally happened, didn’t it?”

  My cheeks smart, spatula frozen in my hand. “Beg pardon?”

  Birdie leans on bent elbows over the island, eyebrows ticking up and down like a hungry cartoon cat. “You and Jason finally did the damn thing.”

  “Birdie Bristow.”

  Her laughter rings through the kitchen. “Must have been good if you’re cooking him dinner.”

  If I harass this asparagus any more, we’ll have to eat it in shreds. “This is simply not a conversation we should be having.” I set down the cooking utensil and turn, trying to look casual. “Just out of curiosity, what gave you the impression that the damn thing was done?”

  Birdie’s lips jump. “You have beard burns all over your neck.”

  I smack my hands over the offending skin, knowing my face is red as cherry pie filling. “It could have been sunburn.”

  “But it’s not. It’s Jason burn.”

  I groan up at the ceiling and try not to giggle. “Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable to talk about your brother in such a manner?”

  She shrugs, ducks her head. “A little. But I’m happy enough to get over it.”

  “Happy?”

  “Yeah.” Vulnerability flits across her features. “I guess I’m pulling for you guys.”

  My stomach hollows out. “Birdie…I have to leave after the pageant. Nothing is going to change that.” I swallow. “If there was a world where I could stay, you would be enough on your own to tempt me into it.”

  Her smile warms in degrees and stays there. I return it across the island, marveling over how close I’ve become to this girl who was a stranger to me until recently. This amazing girl I never would have known unless I’d taken a leap. This is proof that following your gut is never wrong. I’m going to keep on taking leaps, I vow to myself. No matter what happens in this life. No matter where I go or what commitments I make, I’m going to keep this one to myself. I’m never going to settle for being unhappy. I’m never going to be someone who is settled for. I’m more than that. The girl looking back at me believes I am…and I hope I’ve helped convince her of the same.

  Down the hallway, the door to the bathroom opens and the bottom drops out of my stomach. Jason’s heavy footsteps eat up the distance to the kitchen and he comes into view shirtless, board shorts ri
ding low on his hips. His gaze swings from me to Birdie. Back to me with a slow wink. “Need some help?”

  Birdie props her chin on a fist. “You could get her some cream for her Jason burn.”

  Pausing in his reach for a beer inside the fridge, his low chuckle reaches my ears a second later. “Maybe I like it right where it is.”

  Jason’s sister lets out a crack of laughter.

  I whirl back toward the stove. “You two are…” With a creeping smile, I change tactics before I know what I’m about. “Exactly right. It compliments my eyes. I think I’ll leave it.”

  An arm wraps around my waist and I’m lifted up on my toes, a laughing male mouth finding the curve of my shoulder, a bearded kiss warming me there. Tingles ripple down to my toes, leaving me weightless and covered in goosebumps.

  “Hey, hey, whoa. Being aware of the goings-on and seeing them are two different things,” Birdie whines from behind us, although I can hear the amusement in her tone. “I’m launching a formal protest.”

  I wiggle out of Jason’s grip and try to subdue my smile. It doesn’t work whatsoever, so I face the stove and continue to mutilate the asparagus. “Not so cocky now that I’ve called your bluff, are you?”

  A glass of wine is set down on the counter beside the stove and I look up to find Jason’s absently returning the corked bottle to the fridge. “Oh,” I breathe in a simpering voice I used to have reason to feign. Not anymore. I’m in full simper mode. “Is that…”

  “Don’t ask me if it’s the right wine, beauty queen,” he drawls, without looking at me. Like a cool cowboy. “Just assume.”

  “Oh,” I breathe, hot moisture pressing behind my eyes. “Thank you.”

  My voice wobbles on the you and Jason’s head snaps up. Tilts. There are a thousand things in the way he looks at me. He knows the wine is important, but he’s a little irritated that I still didn’t expect him to get it right yet—which is so this man’s personality. Or maybe he’s irritated that I have cause to get emotional over someone remembering what I like. What I choose. Or it could be he hates the fact that I’m crying at all. Mainly, the way he looks at me says he’s totally content trying to figure it all out. Just content to stand there with me and get to the bottom of everything in my universe. I’ve never felt more seen in my entire life.