by Lucy Gage
“Ready?” he whispered in my ear.
I nodded.
He gently pulled out and pushed back in, a sedate, leisurely pace, letting me adjust gradually.
“Oh, wow,” I breathed.
“You feel incredible. Hot and soft and tight.”
His words danced into my ears, into my bloodstream, where they rushed to all my naughty bits. My rump pushed up, encouraging him to go faster, harder.
Taking my right hand, he tucked it beneath our bodies. “Touch yourself. It’ll make you come so hard.”
I did as he asked, and he relieved some of the weight off my back by propping himself up on his right hand.
“Fuck, you’re like a vise,” he panted. Shifting his legs, he trapped me between his powerful thighs. “Oh God.”
Incoherent sounds bubbled from my throat. Joseph groaned, riding me gently, a muted paft-paft-pafting as his skin slapped into mine. I worked my fingers harder into my clit, felt his balls lightly tapping against my cunt, right over the hole.
This is so wicked. So fucking awesome. Oh my God, this is fucking heaven . . .
My bones were morphing into gelatin. My cunt was oozing, dripping over my fingertips, as my blood sang a golden tune through my veins.
“Oh God, Joseph!”
He rode me harder, moaning his fucking head off.
Everything within me condensed into an infinite point somewhere between my legs. It grew harder, hotter, brighter, denser, as he started pumping deep into my ass.
“Fuck, Willow!” he cried. “Now. Come for me now. You’re so fucking . . . close . . .”
I fucking imploded, screaming his name, my whole body shaking as my peak flung me far and wide, speeding through a space of brilliance. It was so incredibly mind-blowing, I swore I learned all the secrets of the universe in a nanosecond and then had all of them snatched back on the wind of some divine laughter.
When I could open my eyes, I found Joseph smashing me into the bed under his massive weight, grunting into my hair, shaking just as bad as I was.
“Holy. . . fuck . . .Willow . . . Holy . . . goddamn . . . shit . . .”
Rolling off me, he gently pulled out and gathered me into his arms, spooning me. I was still twitching and shivering. He drew the covers over us. My ass was sore but in the best way possible. I could still feel him in me, a reverberation of the past and the future colliding.
I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t care, either. I was living in the present with my Joseph, and it was all I needed.
People probably didn’t think about a warm tropical paradise when they envisioned Christmas, but Hawaiians throw down the best festivals for the holidays.
Joseph drove us down to Honolulu where the parties were happening. Hand-in-hand, we strolled around, eating and drinking, meeting up with his friends—even some old ones I remembered from back in the day. To those I didn’t know, he introduced me as Willow Pulakaumaka—my last name is FitzPatrick—and made it painfully obvious that we were together.
But for how long? I had an apartment and a career waiting. I had to leave eventually. Every time I thought about it, I shoved it aside to deal with later.
While the storm had passed, it was still wet everywhere, but it certainly didn’t stop anyone from enjoying the party. As promised, there was great live music, and I mentally wrote reviews of the musicians and styles.
After hours of fun, Joseph and I headed back to his place, had another sexy, lingering shower, and then called it a night.
When I woke up, it was still dark outside, and I had to use the bathroom something fierce. As I crept back to the bedroom, Joseph was dead to the world in bed, sprawled out on his back, his face turned to the side where I slept.
Standing at the foot of the bed, I slowly pulled the sheet down, revealing him in all his naked splendor. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his chest.
“Willow,” he mumbled in his sleep, shattering my heart into a million pieces.
Crawling up from the foot of the bed, I settled myself between his spread thighs and reached out to caress his half-erect cock. In reflex, his hips arched.
“I aloha ia oukou Hilo,” he whispered. I love you, sweetheart.
Tears burned behind my eyelids. I love you, too, my heart and soul replied.
Bending forward, I took him into my mouth, gently sucking. His cock surged to life, lengthening, thickening, pulsing faintly. When he moaned, my cunt tingled, and my own juice seeped.
I needed to feel him inside me.
Straddling his waist, I positioned his cock and slid down until there was no part of me untouched by him.
His hands grasped my hips. “Fuck,” he gasped. “I thought I was dreaming.”
Bracing myself on his chest, I rose, setting a lazy pace.
Joseph leaned up, taking my right nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, scraping his teeth over the sensitive bud. Then, he turned his attention to the left one.
“Joseph,” I moaned, my fingertips digging into his flesh.
“Tell me.”
“You feel so good. Perfect.”
His mouth trailed kisses up my neck. “More, baby.”
“This . . .” I could hardly think. My body pumped over his, simply reacting to the way he made me feel. “This isn’t normal.”
“It’s as normal as breathing, as our hearts beating.”
I panted. “No one has ever made me feel the way you do.”
“More,” he whispered. “Give me more.”
“I love you. I love you. I think I’ve only ever loved you.”
He sank his teeth into my shoulder, and his hands brutally gripped my ass, lifting me and slamming me back down over and over. Our bodies slapped together, wet skin to wet skin, but what was going on inside me was a rush, a fucking flood of the physical and emotional melting together so that I couldn’t distinguish between the two. Maybe there never really was a difference when it came to Joseph.
“I will never let you go again, Pulakaumaka.” His harsh voice sounded like a threat. One hand speared through my hair, dragging my face close to his so he could deliver a kiss to burn all others away. “You are mine. You’ll never let any other man touch you. Only me.”
Holy shit. I was starting to peak. Hard.
“Say it!” he demanded.
“I’m yours!” I gasped. “Only yours!”
He punched his hips, the head of him pounding a zing of sweet pain through the center of me. “Tell me you’ll let no other man touch you!”
“No one will touch me but you!”
The fire inside me erupted, spilling into my bloodstream, pulsing my orgasm into every particle of me. I cried out, I didn’t know what, but it felt like his name.
He came with a surge, upon a tidal wave that swept the both of us up and left us shaking, dripping, and wrung out.
“I’m yours, Willow,” he promised. “All yours. I love you, baby. I’ve always loved you.”
At dawn on Christmas Eve day, Joseph dragged me from the bed and drove us to his favorite beach for some surfing. Considering that the last time I’d surfed had been with him, I was pretty damn rusty. He, of course, was a freaking pro, and after a while, I sat on my board in the water and watched him.
Joseph was pure poetry in motion.
A few hours later, we headed to a diner that had once been one of our favorite haunts for a traditional loco moco breakfast—Portuguese sausage, eggs, rice, and fruit.
Looking at the ocean from our table on the porch, I observed how it was such a gorgeous day. It’s so beautiful here. It truly felt like this was where I was meant to be.
Having Joseph to share it with me only compounded that feeling.
But my life is in New York. The things he said last night about me being his, that could’ve been the heat of the moment. Together, we’re very intense. Things we whisper to each other in bed don’t necessarily translate into reality. He hasn’t asked me to stay. If he does, what d
o I say?
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
I turned to face him. More than anything, I wanted to wake each morning and look into those hazel eyes for the rest of my life, not just the rest of this vacation.
“I feel like I’m floating in this endless sea of possibility,” I replied. “As if this is a grace period. Behind me, I’ve left this horrific storm, but I don’t know if I’m caught in the eye, or if I’ve made it out.”
He took my hands in his. “Then let me be the current beneath you, and I’ll carry you to safety.”
Our server arrived and dropped off our loco mocos, breaking the spell that had woven around us.
That night, we went to a party on the beach. There was a whole roasted pig and everything. Bonfires dotted the shoreline as the sun went down, and I found myself full, buzzing on beer, sitting in between Joseph’s thighs with his arms wrapped around me, shielding me from the ocean breeze.
Music and laughter surrounded us. Joy. Singing and dancing and eating.
I closed my eyes and leaned into the wall of warmth. Joseph held me tighter, his face buried in the crook of my shoulder.
“Mele Kalikimaka,” he whispered. Merry Christmas. “Mahalo.” Thank you.
“What for?”
“You gave me the best present, Pulakaumaka.”
“Oh?” I teased. “And what’s that?”
“You kept the promise you made to me all those years ago. You came back.”
My heart tightened painfully, creating a lump in my throat. Ask me to stay. Tell me you want this forever, not just for now.
But he didn’t, and I knew it was because I couldn’t give him an answer.
Soft kisses peppered my cheeks, lips, and jaw. Down my neck to my breasts, lower, lower, between my legs. Slowly, my knees were draped over a broad pair of shoulders, and my fingers wove through some thick-ass hair. A tongue swept along my seam, from hole to clit and back again.
“Ohh . . .” I moaned, arching into the slick, wet feel of his sinful mouth.
“E noho pu oe me au, Pulakaumaka.”
I didn’t know what that meant; My Hawaiian was pretty basic. And it didn’t matter because what was going on between my thighs was obliterating any coherent thought process. It didn’t take long for the orgasm to shiver through me.
Joseph stretched over me, grasping his cock and sliding home.
“Fuck,” I gasped, filled to capacity.
He pinned my hands above my head, holding them in one of his. In the moonlight, his expression was fierce, almost frightening. But I could never be afraid of him. Not in a physical sense.
“Do you like it when I’m inside you?” he whispered.
“I love it when you’re inside me,” I told him.
Bracing himself with his free hand, he pulled back and then thrust into me. “When I’m inside you, I am whole, Willow.”
He pressed into me again, insistent, hard, but not brutal.
“Give everything to me,” he demanded. “I need all of you. I can’t survive without it. Without you.”
“I’ll give you anything you want.”
“What I need.”
“What—” His plunge cut me off, making me gasp. “What do you need?”
“I need you to stay. Promise me you’ll never leave.” He drew back, slamming into me this time. “You know this is your home. I am your life, as you are mine.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him in. “You are.”
Rocking into me, he groaned, releasing my hands and gathering me into his arms. He kissed me as though he could fuse us together. It felt as though our souls already were. His fingers caressed my face, feather-light.
For hours, he made love to me. He shattered me so many times that I couldn’t keep track. By the time he finally came, I was limp, hardly able to lift my head off the bed.
“Don’t go back. Stay with me.”
New York greeted me with an overcast sky and a cold blast of wind as I stepped into the covered walkway to the terminal. Sleet beat an icy tattoo against the aluminum siding, making me shiver.
It was as miserable outside as I felt on the inside.
I had left my heart, my life behind in paradise to come back to . . . this dark, damp, overcrowded place. I smelled the city—exhaust, concrete, and everything else in the mix—not the sweet clean ocean air.
It took forty-five minutes to travel from the airport to my apartment by taxi. I had lived in this tiny space for a little over a year—pretty much since the moment I’d left my ex. Granted, I used to live in a penthouse at the top of a high-rise, but I left the second I could, and this was what had been available.
The stale air whooshed toward me as I opened the door. I hadn’t been in here for a month. It felt dead. I no longer recognized it as my little corner of sanity. It was just a place where I’d once existed.
With an exhausted sigh, I dropped my bag next to the door and stepped inside. Surrounded by my things, I wondered why I’d even bothered with any of it. They didn’t make me happy.
My happiness was a quarter of the world away.
Looking around, I wondered what it would take to make this place my own, and it always came back to the same answer: Joseph.
I’d left him less than a day ago. It felt like I hadn’t heard his voice for ages. It was an ache deep in the marrow of my bones.
I closed my eyes as I pretended I was home. I heard the birds, the rush of water over palm fronds. I felt the warmth of the sun, of Joseph surrounding me. It helped energize me for all that I had to do, now.
I’d made my choice. There was no going back.
Surfing always helped clear my head. There were days I could spend from dawn to dusk riding the waves, and after Willow had gone back to New York, I’d spent nearly all my free time in the ocean, trying to lose myself, forget time.
It had worked. The days and weeks passed in a blur, numbing the void she’d left behind. It had been one month, four days, and sixteen hours that I’d had to live without her again.
In her absence, I could stay in the vast blue indefinitely.
Paddling my board toward the shore, I arrived at the shallows and planted my feet into the soft sand. Today wasn’t a day I would lose time in the waves. Walking to my spot on the beach, I jammed the end of my board into the sand and shook the water off me like a wet dog.
“Augh! Joseph!”
Sitting up, spitting mad, Willow threw a towel at me.
Tossing the towel back in her face, I pounced, soaking her as she futilely struggled beneath me. With one hand, I snatched one of the blankets we’d brought and flipped it over us.
There wasn’t anyone close to us. A couple of other people were surfing about a quarter-mile down the beach.
When I tugged down her bikini bottoms, she gasped. “What are you doing?”
I whipped out my dick and pushed inside her. “Fucking my woman on the beach.”
“Joseph, this can’t be legal.”
“It’s not, which means it’s gotta be quick.”
“You didn’t get enough last night? What about this morning?”
I laughed. “Enough? Never.”
It wasn’t as quick as I’d planned, but I couldn’t fuck her and not make her come. When she did, I clamped my hand over her mouth to muffle her scream. I had to bury my face in her neck to cover my own.
When our breathing and heartbeats returned to normal, I pulled out and adjusted our swimsuits back into position. Throwing the blanket to the side, I didn’t roll off her but snuggled into the apex of her thighs. Looking into her cocoa-colored eyes, I smoothed back a few stray locks of her coppery hair behind her ears.
“I missed you. Every day without you sucked. The only way I got through it was knowing that you were coming back.”
After she’d given me my true Christmas present—her yes to move here and live with me forever in this small corner of heaven—she’d had to go
back to pack her apartment, cancel her lease, and get shit squared away with her cousin and boss, Michaela “Mike” O’Flaherty.
“Same here—except it was cold and gross where I was. At least you had paradise.”
“There is no paradise without you, Willow Pulakaumaka.”
“How do you keep forgetting my last name? It’s FitzPatrick.”
I gave her a quick kiss. “I say we compromise, and you change it to Keoloha. How about that?”
Her grin vanished. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you asking me to marry you?” she whispered, stunned.
“Yeah, I suppose I am.”
“Suppose?”
“Definitely. Be my wife, Willow Pulakaumaka FitzPatrick.”
She bit her lip and nodded. I knew she wanted to say the word, but her eyes shimmered with tears, and she was afraid she’d bust out in sobs if she opened her mouth.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded once more.
I kissed her again, loving the way she trembled in my arms. I knew it was because, like me, she was filled with happiness.
“Mahalo.”
Born and raised in Miami, Kelli Jean traded the tropical heat for the arctic. Now she deals with twenty-four hour daylight in the summer, zero sunlight in the winter, and believes the Northern Lights make up for the mind-boggling amount of ice and snow she has to put up with for seven months out of the year.
She's surrounded by mountains and ocean and sheep, and claims her bizarre sense of humor is what keeps her sane.
The insane don't know they're insane.
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Big Mistake
Copyright © 2017 by Elle Jefferson