Chapters 4-6 Beautiful Mine

CHAPTER 4

Whitney

“We meet again,” he says, still smiling. My estrogen starts flowing at the sight of that smile and those eyes. I couldn’t stop it now if I tried. 

“Hello again.” I step into the elevator. He looks—and smells—freshly bathed as well and I have a sudden vision of him naked in a tub. God. Between that and the fact that there’s apparently no escaping this guy, I completely forget why I was trying to escape him to start with.

The doors slide closed with a soft thud and the little space grows even smaller. I don’t stand too close, but I certainly would’ve stood farther away if I’d never met him before. The car begins its downward journey and my stomach swoops more than usual.

We start giving each other that wondering look from before. He’s still smiling, and there’s a smile teasing the corners of my mouth too. In spite of being freshly bathed, he didn’t shave. He still has that cute scruff on his jaw.

“You’re staying here, too?” I ask.

He turns toward me a bit and leans one shoulder against the back wall. Oh man. Just like when he turned toward me at the table, this little movement makes things feel more familiar. But this time it’s just us. In this little box. I like it. “I heard this is the best place for the weary Camino pilgrim.”

I adjust slightly so I can lean against the wall as well. I really can’t help it. Because it seems like this is the moment we’ve been building to all along. “That’s what the guidebooks say anyway.”

“Do they?”

“Don’t you have a guidebook?” The car already starts to slow, dammit. I don’t want to walk away this time. I want to linger awhile.

“I’m not the guidebook type,” he answers, as we come to a stop. “I’d rather just ask around. But I think we have more important matters to discuss.”

The elevator dings and the doors open. Neither one of us moves. My heart is thumping in anticipation. “Do we?”

“Yes. You’re about to go your way and I’m about to go mine, but clearly the universe thinks we need to talk some more.”

Thump, thump, thump. Now it’s my turn to give a slow smile. “The universe, huh?”

“Okay.” He grins. “It’s me. I think we should talk more.”

The doors slide closed and we both ignore them. We’re just leaning against the back wall, giving each other smiles that have an edge of heat under them. “So, Whitney,” and damn but I do like the way my name sounds on his lips. “Are you game for dinner?”

I might just be game for anything, I think, but what I say is, “Sure, Connor. I’m game.”

After discussing options with the hotel’s concierge, we settle on a little restaurant just a few blocks away but still off the beaten path. It’s a favorite of the locals, something Connor specifically requested.

We’re walking along a side street, away from the heavy activity of the busy streets we’ve left behind. His nearness is as stimulating as it’s been all along, if not more so. The physical attraction is a little startling, actually. But now that I’m out of the magic bubble of the elevator, my previous reservations come back to me: his involvement in the disturbing conversation I heard, and the fact that this is fleeting, whatever this is.

Part of me just wants to enjoy the flirtation and not worry. What does it matter anyway, if it’s temporary? I can live with temporary.

In fact, I’ll have to. Connor’s already going to be part of my Camino memories. There’s no preventing that now.

But if he’s the kind of guy who has so much disdain for women, do I really want to be doing this? Whatever this is? It’s the last little thing giving me pause.

“So,” I say, trying to sound casual, “those guys I saw you with before. Are they friends of yours?”

“I wouldn’t say that. We met on the trail, but didn’t talk much.”

“But you talked some?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He’s giving me a searching look. I try to keep my expression light. I don’t want to accuse him of anything. I just have to know what he thought about what I heard, and if he was participating.

“They were being assholes,” he says firmly. “The little I heard was more than enough.”

Relief floods through me so strongly I have to wonder at myself. I didn’t realize how important it was to hear him say what he just said. I shouldn’t care so much. I barely know him. I could end this little outing any time, if I needed to, and go about my merry way.

But I’m glad I don’t need to. Really glad.

“I was kind of hoping you were going to go all gangsta on their asses though,” he says, and I laugh. “You looked like you wanted to.”

“I did. I thought you were part of it.”

“No fucking way. I don’t get guys like that. Don’t they have mothers?”

Damn, now he’s making my heart go all squishy. I know it should be a given, but there’s still something so endearing about a man who genuinely respects women. “Your mom wouldn’t let you talk like that, huh?”  

“It’s not just that. It would never occur to me to talk about women like that. I mean, how can you have women in your life and not realize they’re amazing?”

“Your mom must be pretty cool,” I say, and he nods. “You said you have a sister too, right?”

“You may as well throw my cousin into the mix. She’s practically a sister.”

“So three awesome women in your life and you’re convinced we’re all amazing,” I tease.

He gives me a most delicious sideways glance. “Aren’t you?”

The heat from that look spreads through my body and blooms on my cheeks. Damn, this guy. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

We’re approaching a small intersection and he smiles at me before glancing at the signs. “I have no doubt. Here, it’s this way.” He points, indicating we need to turn to the right, and puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me, just for an instant. It’s not creepy or too much. In fact, it’s just right, and gets my chest fluttering.

“So where are you in the family line up?” I ask, keeping my eyes on him more than on the sidewalk in front of me. I notice he’s doing the same thing.

“My brother Rayce is three years older than me, then Lizzy’s next. She’s two years older.”

“You’re the baby, then?” How adorable.

He groans. “Yeah. They still like to rub it in, too. But Corrine is younger than me. Does that count?” He looks so hopeful, I have to laugh.

“Wait, is that your cousin? Was she raised with you?”

“No, but she lived nearby for most of the time we were growing up so we spent a lot of time together. Plus,” he raises a finger like he’s making a point, “she lived with us for a bit when we were in college.”

I play along. “Hmmm, maybe that counts since you guys both lived at home when you went to college.”

“Well…” he says, slowly, like he doesn’t want to say whatever comes next. “We were just home for breaks,” he admits quickly, and I laugh. “But we were both working for my folks, so…”

I shake my head. “I think you’re pushing it. You really don’t like being the youngest, do you?”

“I’ve been accused of that a time or two.”

We come to a corner and stop, looking at the street signs. “Wait a minute…” I think back to the directions we’d been given. “Did we go too far?”

He seems confused too, and looks back in the direction we just came. “Ah, yeah.” He points. There it is: the deep purple sign with white script. We’d walked right by it.

We look at each other and start laughing.

“Whoops,” I say, as we head back. “Maybe we should pay better attention.”

“You’d better stop being so distractingly beautiful then.”

I glance at him. He didn’t say it like a slick compliment, but rather a simple statement of fact. He’s still half-laughing at our mishap, actually, and I can’t help but feel flattered by his off-handed sincerity. It’s nice to feel pretty, too, since my no-makeup-hiking-boot-Camino style is about as plain as it gets. I feel anything but plain around him though.

We make it back to the restaurant, a tiny little alcove of a place with a dark, alluring color scheme, glass jars with candles on the tables, and an aroma that gets my mouth watering. It’s not very busy—we’re well ahead of the dinner rush since people here eat so late—but it does seem to be a place for locals since there’s not a pilgrim or tourist in sight.

As we settle at a table in a back corner, I have to wonder if the hotel concierge sent us to such a romantic atmosphere on purpose. I guess we were kind of giving each other looks when we were at the desk.

Connor’s giving me another such look right now. It gets a heat going, deep in my core. And he’s so fucking scrumptious. Seriously, looks this good aren’t even fair to normal humans.

At this point I want to just rest my chin in my hands and take him all in.

Oh, god. Take him in. I should not have thought those words because my mind’s in a completely different place now.

I straighten, grab the menu, and hope I’m not blushing too much. I glance at him and he winks at me before turning to his own menu. If he keeps poking me with those winks of his, I’m going to have to ask him to poke me with something else.

I try to focus on the menu and soon realize I’ll have to rely on my rudimentary Spanish for this one. “I can read maybe a quarter of this.”

“I can help if you want.” Connor glances at my menu. “I’m fluent.”

“Are you? Have you spent much time in Spain?”

“Yes, some. I also took Spanish in school, but I figured out pretty quickly it’s a little different here than what we learned in class.”

“I’ve noticed that too. I just took one year though, so it’s been interesting. I tried to refresh my memory before I left, but…” I wave at the menu helplessly.

“Here.” He puts his menu down and gently turns mine so we can both look at it together. He leans in closer. I do too. “These are the soups and salads.” He points, going down the list. I’m not looking at the menu though. I’m facing it, because I don’t want to be too obvious, but I’m looking at his face.

As I take in the angle of his brow, his soft lashes, the way the candlelight flickers over his skin… I’m back to wondering again. He glances at me briefly, then realizing what he saw, looks again. I could’ve quickly dropped my eyes to the menu and pretended I wasn’t watching him, but I don’t. He keeps his eyes on mine and I let our gaze linger, faces close, flame dancing quietly nearby.

A moment passes. It’s short. Just a moment. But in that moment, whatever draw we’ve been feeling toward one another mingles with something deeper. I think about what he said earlier, about the universe wanting us to talk more. Does it? Because something’s happening here, for sure.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the waiter approaching. We both glance at him, then lean back in our chairs, still watching one another.

The waiter asks a question in Spanish and I pick up enough to know that he’s asking if we’re ready to order.

I think Connor’s about to send the waiter away since we haven’t finished going through the menu yet, but I’m feeling bold and up for anything. “Surprise me.”

He gives that half-smile of his and my heartbeat thickens. He quickly glances through the rest of the menu, then places our order in what sounds like flawless Spanish. The waiter nods and collects our menus. We hold a silent gaze for a moment longer, then he leans closer, one forearm on the table, and asks quietly, “What brought you to the Camino, Whitney? Was it all you’d hoped?”

“More.” So much more. “I’m so glad I’m doing this.” He’s listening, really listening, making it easy to want to share. “It wasn’t a spiritual thing, exactly. It was just something I’d always wanted to do but never had the guts to do. And…” I shrug. “Life’s been a little unbalanced lately.”

“How so?”

We pause as the waiter brings two glasses and a bottle of wine. He and Connor talk for a minute, and the waiter gracefully pops the cork and brings the end to each of us so we can smell the bouquet. They’re both talking so rapidly I catch only a few words, but after our glasses are poured and the waiter leaves, Connor explains that he asked them to select the wine based on our entrees.

I take a sip, enjoying the full, robust taste. It’s amazing. Something I’ve learned about Spain is they definitely know their wine.

In spite of the interruption, our previous mood has been altered only slightly. “You were saying you feel unbalanced…” Connor prompts, leaning in again, and the intimacy of our conversation is restored.

“Yes. Sometimes. My life kind of revolves around my work. I don’t mind it, mostly.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a placement specialist for the Kendrick Refugee Outreach Center, there in San Francisco. We find homes for orphaned refugees.”

His eyebrows raise. “No kidding. That’s great.” 

I nod. “I really love it.” And I do. If only it weren’t so heartbreaking so often.

He’s watching me carefully. “But?”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah. Okay. I do love it, but sometimes it’s really hard. It just… hurts to see those kids hurting. You know?”

He nods, listening.

“My boss keeps telling me that I get too attached to the kids we serve. She sees what it’s doing to me. I’ve tried, but man, some of these kids are so sweet. It’s hard not to care about what they’re going through.”

It weighs on me more than it should. It’s the reason there’s an old lady in me, to tell the truth. But what I do also makes me feel needed and I’m good at it.

“The work we do is rewarding, but… I wish it didn’t hurt,” I confess. “I know that sounds terrible.”

“It doesn’t sound terrible.”

“Plus, I’m kind of afraid to close my heart too much. I mean, what if I start putting up walls and can’t stop and then I become one of those people who doesn’t care about anything? There are people like that in the system. I see them, and I get it. If you care too much, it can really tear you up. They’re just trying to protect themselves. I don’t blame them. But I still don’t want to be that person, even though I’m getting all torn up. You know?” I didn’t mean to say all that. It just came out.

“You sound like my mom.” He nods, like he really does understand. “She has a big heart too.”

I smile. I like that that’s what he sees. It makes it sound nicer than it sometimes feels.

“She’s had that kind of struggle, too. She says she tries to remember what she can control, and what she can’t. Instead of not caring about the stuff she can’t control, she tries to care most about the stuff she can.”

I like the feel of that, and it makes sense. The stuff I hurt about the most is the stuff I can’t control: the tragedies these kids have already seen, the fact that they have to start over in a strange new world and struggle with grief, and language barriers, and culture shock. I don’t want them to have to go through any of that, but I can’t change it. And, ultimately, it’s okay that I care. I’ve already decided that.

But if I try to focus my caring on what I can do—trying to place them with a good family, and directing that family toward resources that can help them with the other stuff… Well, that’s the part that always feels good. That’s the part I live for.

I smile at him and he smiles back. “That’s a nice perspective. I think your mom’s right.”

“She usually is. But don’t tell her I said that.”

I laugh. “Want to see some pictures of my kids?”

For a second he gets this stunned look on his face, then he says, “Oh! The kids you help.”

I nod, laughing. “Yeah, definitely no kids of my own yet. These are good enough for now.” I pull out my phone. I haven’t had service for most of the walk, but I’ve taken plenty of photos and have checked in with my parents when I’ve been in the big cities, something I’ve yet to do here in Santiago.

I flip to the album I keep for work and start going through it, Connor and I leaning close together again so he can see. Mostly it’s me posing with the kids, or with their newly-formed families. I’m sure it all looks the same to him and probably isn’t that interesting, but his willingness to look and listen only adds to his attractiveness.

I tell him their names and ages, where they’re from and where they are now. Most are scattered all over central and northern California but I have a few living in Oregon too. I linger a little longer on the kids I really got attached to, the ones I still keep tabs on even though that’s “outside my job scope,” as my boss would say.

“Since these aren’t my real kids, I don’t feel guilty about admitting I have favorites.” Connor smiles broadly. If he’s bored, he’s hiding it well. “This one, Nadim, is my very favorite. I placed him with a childless couple down in Swan Pointe. They’re really neat people. I really like them, but Nadim I love.”

My heart squeezes at the sight of him. In the picture, his face is right next to mine because when I knelt down to take the picture with him, he threw his arms around my neck and hugged me so tight through the whole thing.

“He’s a pretty cute kid.”

“So danged cute. And he always has this big smile on his face. That actually made me worry about him at first. ” I lower the phone a bit and we look at one another, staying close. “I mean, he lost his whole family. I was concerned he was maybe blocking things and urged his adoptive parents to get him into counseling right away, which they did. He seems to be doing okay though. He has his moments and it’s been plenty hard for him too. But he’s really doing great, all things considered. He’s even on a Little League team and has picked it right up. He’s one of their top batters.”

I feel like I’m bragging about my own kid, which I know some people can find annoying, but Connor just grins at me.

“I know he’s going to carry what he’s been through for the rest of his life, and we can’t help that. But… I think he’s a success story too, and I don’t know that it’s because of anything we’ve done. I’ve thought about him a lot and I think he’s just a strong kid. He smiles so much in spite of everything because that’s how he copes and because…” I hesitate, not wanting to repeat the words Connor just said to me, but it’s true. “Because he just naturally has a big heart.”

“See?” Connor lays his hand on my wrist and squeezes gently. “A big heart’s not so bad after all.”

I want to lay my hand on his. In fact, I want to lean right in and give this man a kiss. But the waiter comes with our food, and we have to sit back again to give him room.

I smile, taking in the aroma of the dishes on the table. Steak medallions for Connor and what looks like salmon on a bed of black rice for me. “I’m glad Nadim didn’t lose that big heart. After everything.”

“Me too.”

“So what is all this?”

“Seared salmon,” Connor says, gesturing to my plate.

“Mmm. Good choice.”

“And tenderloin cutlets with herbed potato slices.” He indicates his own plate.

“Wow. That sounds good, too.”

“That’s what I thought. I was hoping we could share a taste?”

“Great idea.”

We each start cutting a bite of our food. “Thanks for indulging me. With the pictures, I mean.”

“Not at all.” He gives me an amused look, like he hadn’t done anything extraordinary to deserve thanks. Maybe he didn’t. But there’s too much bad in the world not to appreciate good things and good people when you come across them.

He finishes cutting and brings his fork across the table to me, offering me the first bite. I smile and take it, our eyes holding for a moment, the heat rising in me again, and the delicious flavor of the tender meat and its tangy sauce bursting on my tongue.

I close my eyes, sit back slightly, and moan. God, it’s incredible. “Mmm,” I say, opening my eyes after a moment.

“Good?” He’s watching me. His fork is suspended in midair, apparently forgotten.

I smile and get a bite of my dish for him. He holds my eyes. As I feed him, watching his lips slowly slide over my fork, I decide it’s the most erotic thing I’ve seen him do yet.

I hope it’s not the last.

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Chapter 5

Whitney

After dinner, Connor comes back to the Santiago de Compostela with me for the second Botafumeiro ceremony, even though it wasn’t originally in his plans since he’d been at the pilgrim’s mass this afternoon as well. We hustle inside, running a bit late since we lingered too long at dinner.

Which was amazing.

Being with Connor is giving me such a high, even approaching this incredible cathedral feels better than it did earlier, which I wouldn’t have thought possible. As a bonus, during dinner he told me he’s continuing his Camino tomorrow just like I am. His boat is docked in Muxia, which is just a bit farther up the coast from Finisterre, where I’m heading.

We didn’t exactly make plans to walk together tomorrow, but when he found out I don’t fly home until Saturday, he gave me another slow, slow smile.

When we go through the broad entry and into the nave, it’s standing room only. The afternoon mass had been full, but this is bursting at the seams. The pews are packed, and the outer perimeter, which is meant to be a walkway, isn’t much better. The opening music has started and we’re hovering in place, glancing around for a place to land.

“Looks like we’ll have to stand,” I say quietly, leaning close to him so he can hear.

Connor puts his hand on the small of my back and whispers in my ear. “The view will be better around that side.” He points down the outer aisle to the right. “Let’s try to squeeze through.”

I nod in agreement, liking the feel of his touch and hoping he’ll stay close. He doesn’t have much choice. As we navigate behind the crowd of pilgrims standing along the outer aisle, he’s right behind me, though he did drop his hand. Dammit.

We work our way closer to the transept, where the Botafumeiro will be performing its act. “Right here,” he says quietly, pointing to a small space next to a woman in a blonde ponytail. She gives a welcoming smile when she sees us eyeing the space next to her.

As I settle next to the woman, I wish Connor and I were still touching. Soon enough, I get my wish. As the mass continues, more pilgrims enter late and a few end up squeezing in next to us. We shuffle a few inches to make room. Connor and I end up pressed close to each other, his hand on my back again. My left arm and hip are connected to his right shoulder, chest, and thigh. We settle in this way, and linger.

Just so you know. I. Am going. To hell. Because I’m officially feeling zingy in places that prolly shouldn’t be zinging when you’re in church.

Maybe if I were Catholic I would at least try to focus on the mass, but no. Apparently I am a weak and lustful woman. The longer the mass goes on and the longer I’m standing right up next to him, the weaker my resolve and the worse things get. My mind’s really running away from me now. I’m back to envisioning Connor naked, but there’s no tub in my imaginings this time. It’s just him and me and those hands of his all over my body. Did I mention that in this fantasy I’m naked too? Way naked, people.

Even when the priests lower the massive silver incense burner, I’m completely distracted. The priests add the incense on top of the burning coals in the Botafumeiro, but I’m the one burning. I wonder if Connor can feel the heat coming off my body. Or am I feeling the heat coming from him? My entire left side is hot and humming where we touch.

The priest gives the giant censer a push and steps out of the way as it starts to swing. The priests with the rope give it a tug so it bounces higher. Its swing widens on the rope. We do have a good view, Connor and I, and I have to turn my head to the right to follow its path as it swings past. When it comes back I turn my head to the left, toward Connor.

My eyes leave the Botafumeiro and land on him. He’s not looking at it either. He’s looking directly at me. In my peripheral vision, the censer swings back down and out of sight behind me. His eyes are holding mine. He glances at my lips for a brief moment. There’s that subtle gasp from the congregation that means the Botafumeiro is reaching new heights. My heart is pounding.

Again the giant censer comes into my peripheral vision, swinging up high behind Connor. I don’t look at it. I can’t take my eyes away from him. I really, really want him to kiss me, and he looks like he’s about to. Right here in church!

The smoking censer swoops back down and out of my vision. His eyes drop to my shoulder and he leans close. For a split second, my heart leaps in anticipation of a kiss. As soon as I realize he’s not going for my lips, but rather getting next to my ear so he can whisper something, disappointment drops through me.

“I shouldn’t be having thoughts like this in the middle of a mass,” he whispers. His breath tickles my ear and sends shivers over my skin.

He pulls back only the tiniest bit, staying close, following the curve of my jaw. His mouth comes near and I turn my head just a bit, to bring my mouth closer to his. The massive censer speeds past. He presses his lips to mine. Everything else falls away. I hear nothing. My breath catches. My heart flutters against my chest.

I kiss him back, exhaling slowly, pressing my lips against his. My left arm curls around him, my fingertips brushing his shoulder blades.

It’s a brief kiss, a stolen moment, and it leaves me smoldering. He ends it gently, but stays close, holding my eyes. My awareness expands again. All these people around feel like an intrusion. I want to be alone with him.

He gets next to my ear again, his soft scruff rubbing gently against my jaw. “Want to get out of here?”

I nod. I’m going to hell anyway. Ditching out of church isn’t going to change anything.

There are people everywhere. In the hall. In the courtyard. On the street. In the hotel lobby. We’re walking close, my hand in his. The memory of our kiss lingers on my lips like a physical presence. I just want to be alone with him. I want him to kiss me again, longer this time. Deeper.

As we wait for the elevator in the hotel lobby, two other people are waiting as well. Connor and I look at one another. No longer a wondering look, this is a look of desire.

The doors open and we all file in. Connor hits the number 7 as we enter, then pulls us into the back corner. We let go of hands and slide arms around waists instead. One of the men hits the number 3 and the other says, “Quatro, por favor.”

It takes forever. Connor looks at me, his thumb subtly rubbing along my side, making my nerves dance. I’m taking in those blue eyes—god, they’re so intense—and running my hand slowly up his back… then slowly down to his waist.

Second floor.

He leans close to my ear, to whisper something I thought. Instead he plants a soft, hot kiss just under my earlobe. I want to close my eyes and lean my head back, but the people. I hold my breath, scoot closer, tighten my hold on his body.

Third floor.

The car stops. The bell dings. Connor and I watch the doors expectantly. It is an eternity before they finally bloody open and the first man steps out.

We’re faced forward now as the car finally starts to move again. We keep a sharp eye on the digital number above the door, watching as the three changes to a four, eager for the last occupant to leave the car so we can finally, finally be alone.

Fourth floor. Connor’s hand spreads on the side of my waist, pressing firmly, holding me to him. The bell dings and I’m hardly breathing. The doors slide open and there is a quiet moment of panic as we see there’s a woman and her child on the other side, waiting to get on.

The man leaves, the two start to get in before realizing this car is going up when she wants to go down, and they mercifully step back to wait for another car.

As the doors begin to close, seconds away from giving us our privacy, our hold on one another tightens. As soon as the gap in the doors disappears, he angles me back against the wall, his body in front of me, pressing against me. He cups my jaw with one hand, my lips part slightly, and he pauses.

Only for a moment.

Just long enough to hold my eyes and make me see him before his lips are on me and my arms are around him and his body is against me hard. Good lord. Our kiss deepens and the warm taste of him heightens every nerve in my body. I put my hand to his cheek, caressing the soft whiskers.

Mere seconds pass when already the bell is dinging and the doors are opening to the seventh floor.

He backs away, eyes on me. I take a shaky breath. He takes my hand again and leads me out of the elevator on weak legs. We take quick steps down a long hall, my hand in his and my heart pounding the entire way. As before, when we were walking to the restaurant, our eyes are on each other more than on the floor in front of us.

We stop in front of a door at last, but he brings me in for a kiss. Our lips are soft. They open slightly so our tongues can briefly brush against the other. And again.

He breaks our kiss and gives me another intense look before turning his attention to the door and the keycard. When we go into the darkened room, he leads me to the nightstand next to the queen-sized bed. As the door closes behind us, the light from the hall steadily narrows, then disappears. When he leans toward the lamp, there is a moment when it is all shadowy silhouettes and a sliver of midnight blue through the tiny crack in the curtains. His body is close and I would contentedly keep us wrapped up in the dark like this if he wanted to.

A metallic click precedes the soft bloom of light from the lamp. This is good too, because now I can see his handsome face and the shape of his broad chest underneath his tee.

He pulls me in and kisses me, bringing his hand into my hair at the base of my neck. Now that there’s nothing to hold us back, I take him in deeply. Our tongues play together. Our grip on each other tightens. His hand slides down my back and to the curve of my ass.

Every passing second, every movement, increases the heat in my core. My entire body is buzzing so hard, it’s all I can do not to attack him like a crazed lunatic. I don’t know if it’s him or the fact that it’s been so long since I’ve been with a man like this or both, but I’m already so wet and aching, I fear one touch in the right place will push me over.

He brings his hands to my face, cupping it as he kisses me. “We stop when you say stop,” he says breathlessly. “We don’t have to do any more than you want to.” My face is in his hands as he continues kissing me fervently.

I nod, barely hearing him. “Okay.” I’m kissing him back, arms around him, hands roaming.

“I mean it.” He stops and pulls back enough to look me directly in the eyes. He’s smoldering, but he’s serious.

I nod again. “I know. It’s okay. Don’t hold back.”

At that, he doesn’t. He backs me against the wall until I’m pinned, my heart pounding in my throat and his hard rod pressing into my upper thigh.

A few inches over and you’ve got me.

Practically squirming, I kiss him hard, gathering up the material of his tee to lift the hem. He backs up and removes his shirt in one smooth movement, muscles flexing. Oh yeah, I’m definitely grateful for the light now. I put my hands on his pecs, exhaling in appreciation and taking him in.

His movements halt for a moment. I glance up at him, blood coursing through me and hands still caressing his chest. Except for his slight panting, he’s perfectly still, watching me. I return to his chest, rubbing my hands over his firm shoulders.

He exhales and cups my face again, kissing me intently. I bring my arms around his neck and press against him, feeling his torso against mine. There’s too much between us. I want my bare skin on his.

Hurriedly, we both reach for my shirt at once. He gently pushes my hands away and lifts my shirt off himself. I start to go for my bra, but he pulls my hand down to my side, firmly holding it in place as he undoes the hook with his other hand. I let out a tight exhale.

Releasing my hand, he slides the straps down my arms and his eyes fall to my breasts. My bra drops to the floor and he cups the underside of both breasts in his hands. I exhale shakily. I feel like a teen again, trembling at every touch.

His thumbs rub gently over my nipples. Then he brings his eyes to mine and does it again. My mouth is slightly open and he puts his mouth over me, tongue tasting me. I grip his firm biceps and moan lightly.

He breaks away, dipping down to me. I arch my back to meet him. When I feel his wet mouth on me, I close my eyes and throw my head back.

Too long. God, it’s been too long. I forgot how good this feels.

His arms tighten around me, hands spread wide on my back. I run one hand down his back and one into his hair. He teases my nipple, circling it with his tongue before taking it back into his mouth. I watch him move to the other side, squeezing  me while his mouth sucks and pulls on my nipple.

Suddenly, he pulls away. “Oh, shit.”

“Whaa?” Which is all I can manage. What I’m thinking is, Why the fuck are you stopping?

He straightens and looks at me, a mixture of heat and dismay on his face. “I didn’t… pack for this.”

I blink at him. What?

“I don’t have protection,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” I’m not on anything either, thanks to my non-existent love life. “Oh, shit.”

“Exactly.” He pauses for a second then holds up a finger, looking determined now. “I’ll take care of it.” He gives me a quick kiss then grabs his shirt from the floor. “I’ll be back in five minutes.” He kisses me again, then wrestles his shirt on. “Two.” He kisses me again. This time he cups my face in his hands and lingers, kissing me deeply and eagerly.

Pulling back but staying close, he looks into my eyes. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry,” I say heatedly. “I won’t.”

He kisses me once more, then hustles out the door, leaving me alone in his room, shirtless and breathless. “Ahhhh….” I breathe out, half swooning, half collapsing on the bed. “Oh my god.” I sit up, putting my hands in my hair. I’m so tingly and flushed I can hardly think.

One glance at my hiking boots changes all that. I hop up and hurriedly unlace them, tucking them in the corner away from the bed, along with my socks. I take my shorts off, too, but leave on my underwear, even though they’re not exactly the sexiest thing I could be wearing. Plain cotton, but at least they have soft lace trim and a cute pattern.

I took a bath just a few hours ago, thank god, but I still want to freshen up my feet. I’m probably being paranoid, but taking off hiking boots just is not as sexy a feeling as kicking off heels. I dash into the bathroom and flip on the light. It’s too bright after the soft light in the main room. I grab a washcloth and quickly wash my feet in the tub and pat them dry.

I check my appearance in the mirror, hastily fussing with my hair. Even though I wasn’t really able to style it earlier, its natural wave works to my advantage and it actually looks pretty good. My face has a vibrant flush, too, thanks to Connor’s magic touch. God. And, since I’ve always detested shaving and got the full-body laser treatment a few years ago, my legs are smooth and I’m fully groomed.

I quickly grab the little container of lotion, wondering how long it’ll take him to track down condoms in a foreign country, but I already hear the keycard in the lock. Heart leaping into my throat I throw down the lotion, flip off the too-bright lights, and hustle to lean casually against the door frame of the bathroom. I manage to put a relaxed, sexy expression on my face before he enters the room.

He comes in, takes one look at me and freezes, the door halfway open but shielding any view of me from the hall. The heated expression on his face warms me right up again. As he releases the door and it slowly swings closed, I can’t help but notice he’s empty handed.

“Did you strike out?” I’m trying not to sound like I’m pouting. Which I may or may not be doing. It’s not an important point, really.

“No,” he says distractedly, eyes still taking me in. “I got a couple.”

Thank god. “Just a couple?”

His eyes swing hard up to mine then and I give him a wicked grin. He takes three decisive steps forward, removing his shirt and tossing it aside, then scoops me into his arms. I hang onto his neck and he kisses me—the tip of his tongue brushing the tip of mine—as he carries me to the bed.

He lowers me and releases me just above the mattress. I land with a soft bounce. He doesn’t join me though. He kneels at the foot of the bed, hooks his hands around my upper thighs, and yanks me down until my ass is right on the edge. Right under him.

Now it’s his turn for a wicked grin. Good thing, because I can barely breathe. Arms still hugging my upper thighs, he brings one hand down the front, scoots the damp crotch of my panties out of the way, and exhales like I’m the most desirable thing he’s ever seen.

Then slowly, so slowly, he dips down to me. His soft, wet tongue brushes the base of my folds. It slides up slowly, covering me with heat and moisture. My eyes slide shut and my hips relax open. I let out a slow exhale, matching the slow advance of his tongue up my seam. My core trembles in anticipation before he gets there. When he touches my aching clit I exhale sharp and loud, arching my back.

Oh god.

He tightens his embrace around my thighs, and circles the wet tip of his tongue around my clit before flicking it directly.

Oh god.

He sucks on it gently before rubbing the flat of his tongue side to side over the tip.

Oh god. This, this, this.

My breaths come short and hard. My channel is hot and aching, my legs are spread wide, my head is back, my mouth open. It’s been so, so long and it all feels so good I almost can’t handle it. I’m almost embarrassed to come so soon but with his tongue on me like that, it’s a force I can’t stop. It grips me hard and I’m trembling and moaning in a mind-tilting climax.

I curl in, shaking and helpless, and he keeps pleasuring me, making a sound like he’s enjoying it more than I am.

Not possible. My entire body is flushed with pleasure. It’s thrumming through my skin and still he continues, keeping me coming. I gasp for breath. I think my heart stops for a second. I throw my head back, crying out, arching myself up. He grips me hard against his mouth.

I bite my bottom lip. “Ffffff…”

Translation: Holy Fuck.

At last, my climax breaks and releases me and I come down in crashing waves. When he finally takes his mouth off me, I’m weak and panting on the bed.

He slowly comes to a stand, watching me.

“Uuuhhhhhh,” I say.

Translation: You are divinity.

There’s that half smile. And those incredible, smoldering blue eyes. And that chest. His muscles are flexing as he undoes the button of his shorts. I want that chest all over me. I want to take a little bite out of it. Or a big bite. I want—

“God, is that thing real?” I say suddenly.

He’s slipped down his shorts and briefs—or boxers, I wouldn’t know because it all came down together—and the sight of his cock has brought me up on my elbows, gawking.

“You’re about to find out.” He slips off my panties and drops them on the floor.

“Uuuhhhhhh….”

This is porn star perfection, right here, and it’s either going to break me or deliver me to the highest heaven.

“I’ll go slow,” he says as he opens the condom wrapper and rolls it on.

Did you get a king-sized one? I want to ask. As I fully take in his length and girth, I want to say, Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie. But I keep my trap shut, because if I open it, the only thing that’s going to come out is, Uuuuhhhhhh.

As he slowly crawls onto the bed, I scoot backwards to give us more room. His eyes are locked on mine the entire time. They stay on me as his bare body rests on mine, as his weight settles on me so deliciously, as his hand comes into my hair and grips a handful gently, as he lowers his mouth to mine.

His tongue is warm and slightly tangy with my taste. The way he kisses me stokes the blaze inside me. I caress his back and squeeze his waist with my legs. I’m open to him and he’s somewhere down there. Not touching me yet, but I sense him. I flutter with anticipation and nerves, wondering if I can handle him.

He dips his hot mouth to the crook of my neck, sucking the tender skin gently and making my nerve endings dance. I run my hands over his firm ass, squeezing eagerly. Still tasting my neck, he tugs slightly on my hair with one hand, and rubs my breast with the other.

And still he’s not touching me down there. I’m throbbing. I angle my hips up, hoping to feel him. His cock just barely brushes against me and I exhale with brief satisfaction. It turns quickly to aching frustration. I want more.

My hands go into his hair as he kisses me, his tongue thrusting deeply, making that ache in me go higher and higher. I angle my hips up again, still a little afraid of his size but wanting him. The way he’s working me up, it’s almost more than I can stand.

He pulls away and looks me in the eye. He slowly traces his hand down my chest, down my side, over my inner hip as he reaches between us for his cock. My breath catches. Still holding his eye, I briefly kiss his lips, leery and ready and so, so wet for him.

The head is right at my slick entrance. I exhale briefly, then hold my breath again. He very slowly presses against me, opening me slightly, then wider. Deeper and wider and he’s going so slow. My mouth parts slightly. As he comes fully past my entrance, stretching me more than I’ve ever been, almost to the point of pain but feeling so good, my eyes slide shut. He’s in enough to be able to release his cock and his hand comes back up, cupping the underside of my shoulder. His massive width slides deeper in me, and I let out a slow exhale, tilting my head back.

The fullness spreads down into me. Deeper. He pauses. My eyes flutter open. He’s still watching me. Being careful. Not wanting to hurt me. But he has the same expression of pleasure on his face that I feel.

“More,” I whisper.

He complies. My eyes close again as he stretches me harder. He reaches so deep I feel a sudden zing and let out a small gasp. He halts.

“More,” I demand, eyes still closed. Relaxing the base of my muscles so he can slide in more, he dives deep until I’m completely full with him. “Oh god, yes.” I exhale with a previously-unknown satisfaction.

And then it starts.

He pulls back some, making me tremble with pleasure, then comes back in and fills me again. He pulls back again, then rests his forehead on mine as he comes in quicker.

“Oh yes.” I gently dig my nails into his back. He rocks back, then in. Out, then deeper.

Our exhalations increase their pace with our movements. Our kisses and caresses increase with intensity as he thrusts and rocks me. I claw at him. Throw my head back. Kiss him hungrily.

We cling to one another and our whole bodies move together with his thrusting. I’m climbing steadily. The pleasure in me pulsing as I clamp down on his cock. And he’s so rigid inside me. The muscles in his back are tightening. Even his thighs, against mine, are getting firmer as he climbs too. His breath is hot and short in my ear.

The rising flood of ecstasy within me gathers into a tight core, trembling and straining. He lets out a desperate groan, waiting for me. “I’m so close,” I gasp.

“You feel incredible,” he says thickly, increasing his speed. Hitting bottom.

“Yes, yes. More.”

He lets loose. Pounding me fast and hard and startling me and pushing me up, up, up and over the edge. My orgasm explodes. I’m contracting and gasping and out of my mind. He grips my shoulder hard, thrusting me fast and furious, making my toes curl and my eyes roll back in my head. His movements are suddenly erratic as he moans in my shoulder and pulses inside me.

I tuck my forehead hard against his neck and whimper over and over as I ride it out. As I start to come down, I gasp against the continued pulsations in my body. At last I’m released, and as I start to relax my legs, I take a deep breath.

He comes up on one elbow, then cups my face in one hand and kisses me. He pulls away, we both exhale hard, and he slides gently out of me.

“Give me a minute.” He kisses me again before climbing off the bed.

He heads for the bathroom and I close my eyes, my blood coursing hard through my veins. Uuuuhhhhh, I think. Damn.

He climbs back into bed. I look over at him as he flops onto his back. He’s still panting a bit too.

“Man,” I say, and he looks over at me. “What in the hell took us so long?”

He laughs and I smile too, but I close my eyes, still trying to catch my breath.

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Chapter 6

Connor

Oh, fate did me good, this time.

Earlier today, when I saw Whitney standing outside the elevator, I was done holding back. When fate puts someone in your path four times, you don’t fucking argue.

Anyway, there’s no harm because we’re both well aware of the fact that she’s leaving in a few days. No expectations, no disappointments. Right?

As I watch her over there, eyes closed and slightly panting, face beautifully flushed, I’m as intrigued as I was the first time I saw her. She’s beautiful, strong willed, and caring. Listening to her talk about her kids was endearing as hell. You don’t come across a woman like this every day.

Not that I’ve been looking. In fact, I’ve been doing the opposite of looking.

Yet here she is, in my room. I play again in my mind the image of her eyes rolling back in her head as she took me inside her for the first time. I hear again her sigh of fulfillment. I think about the way she asked for more. And god, she was so wet and tight and moved under me just right.

As satisfying as it was to be with her, it wouldn’t take long to be ready again.

She opens her eyes and looks at me. Her smile pinches at my heart. I smile back. She rolls heavily onto her side and sighs, still watching me. “You,” she says slowly, “are crazy hot.”

I laugh and go onto my side too, tucking one arm under my head.

“Like, irresistible,” she says.

“Thank god.”

She grins wider. “And your cock is the eighth wonder of the world.”

I laugh and put my arm around her waist. I scoot her closer. She was too far away. “You were pretty fucking awesome yourself.”

She tucks her head onto my shoulder and snuggles in. She’s pinching at my heart again, which is maybe a dangerous thing. I allow myself to sink into it anyway, trying not to sigh like a schoolgirl. It’s been a long time since I’ve held a woman like this. A long time since any woman made me want to.

There have been hookups, sure. But those were different. This is nice.

“Do you have any siblings?” I softly stroke her upper arm.

“No. I’m an only child.”

“I used to wish for that when I was kid, every time I fought with my brother.”

She laughs lightly against my chest. “Don’t you get along?”

“No, we do. And we mostly did when we were growing up too, but we had our moments.” I’m actually pretty tight with my siblings and can’t imagine life without them. “Did you like being an only child?”

She shrugs lazily. I trail my fingers lightly on her skin, finding her softness soothing. “Yeah, I had plenty of privacy. Anyway, it’s all I know. I wanted a little sister when I was a kid, but once my parents divorced I gave up on that idea.”

“How old were you when they divorced?”

She comes up slightly and gives me an amused smile. “So many questions.”

“I want to know more about you.” I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. And I do. I could ask her questions all night.

It’s not the only thing I could do all night with her, but anyway.

“I was seven,” she says, settling back into my arms again and rubbing her hand on my chest. “During the school year I lived with my mom and saw my dad on the weekends, then we kind of switched during the summers. It was hard at first, but they were good about keeping the drama to a minimum, thankfully. They never put me in the middle of anything.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“No step-siblings?”

“Nope. Just me. I don’t even have any cousins.”

“What?” My hand stills for a moment. “None at all?”

She shakes her head against my chest.

“Wow.” I rub her arm again, running my fingers down past her elbow and up again. She’s still caressing my chest, my stomach, my side. “Small family.”

“Yeah. I think that’s partly why I get so attached to my kids. Is Corrine your only cousin?”

“Oh no. I’ve got a ton. She’s the only one close by though.”

“There in… where’s your family from?”

I’m purposefully vague about that with people in general, just in case the subject of my parents’ “hotel” ever comes up. The Rivers Paradise Resort is no hotel. In fact, it’s on the global map as a top destination. In addition to our many California devotees, we get tourists from all over the world.

My parents’ business isn’t a secret, exactly, but I get bored with answering the same questions over and over again. And, frankly, the resort put me into the limelight enough when I was a kid. Articles about “the Rivers family” are mostly limited to the local papers and magazines—unlike articles about the resort itself, which are usually national or global in scope—so it was really nothing more than homegrown celebrity. But still. I don’t miss the scrutiny one bit. It’s the same reason I’m vague about how I make my living. I prefer to fly under the radar on that one.

At dinner, I felt kind of funny about not speaking up when Whitney told me about the little boy whose adoptive family is from Swan Point, but as she went on with her story, I figured I could let it slide. However at this point, now that she’s asking, giving “Central California” as an answer doesn’t feel quite right. “Swan Pointe.”  

“Where Nadim is!” she says.

“Yep.”

“Do you know Gerard and Abigail Sanders? They live kind of up in the hills there.”

We know a shit ton of families in Swan Pointe, but they’re not one of them. “No.”

“Huh. Still! Small world.”

“It is. It’s funny the people I’ve run into. When I was in New Zealand, I ended up having drinks with a man who used to teach where my mom went to high school. He didn’t think he ever had a class with her in it, and when I called her later she confirmed it. But she remembered seeing him around campus.”

“Oh wow.”

“I think that was my closest connection. Well, except there were the twins I met in Curaçao. A brother and sister, and he works for my uncle. He made me swear not to report back how smashed he was though.” I laugh a bit at the memory. “Maybe that was the closest.”

She comes up on her elbow again, this time resting her chin in her hand. “I think it’s so cool, all the places you’ve been.”

“Is this your first time outside of the United States?” I trail my fingers down her back.

“No. My dad took me to Vancouver the summer before sixth grade.”

I try to picture her has a little sixth grader and smile. “Did you do the whole Victoria Gardens thing?”

“Yeah!” Her eyes light up. “It was cool. Have you been there?”

I nod. “Sort of. Freshman year. One day I was—”

“Wait. Freshman in high school or college?”

“College.”

“And where’d you go?”

“CSU San Marcos. I picked a school on the coast so I’d have a place nearby to dock my boat.”

“Of course.” She grins. “Go on.”

“So one day, I was fed up with papers and tests and, oh my god, boring lectures, so I hopped in my boat and sailed up the coast, not knowing where I was going or when I’d be back.”

“You just… hopped in your boat?”

“Yeah. Right after class.” This was back when I just had my little Catalina sailboat, which had been a graduation gift from my parents. They were going to get me a car, like they did for my siblings, but I asked if I could get a sailboat for the same price instead. “Anyway, so I sailed up the coast for hours, feeling like I could just keep going forever, you know? But then I came to this marina that looked interesting so I stopped. I didn’t realize I was in Canada by then.”

“You didn’t know where you were?”

I shrug. “It’s all right. I always figure it out eventually.”

She gives me a look that’s half perplexed, half amused, half impressed. I realize that’s three halves, but believe me, I’ve seen this look a lot so I’m not questioning the math.

“Well, they weren’t too happy about me pulling in without a passport so I had to turn around and go back. By that point I’d cooled down enough though, so I just went ahead and went on home.”

“What do you mean ‘cooled down’? About what?”

I sigh. “I was just… frustrated a lot back then. I thought college would be better than high school, but it was worse. The classes were more interesting, kind of, but I think because I had so much more freedom, it just made me pull at the leash even harder.”

Whitney settles into the pillow, one arm under it, and gives me a thoughtful look. I can’t stop touching her, so I run my hand along the gentle curve of her waist and hips. “The leash?”

I may as well come out with it. “Yeah. The leash. Whatever it is that keeps people in one place, I don’t like it. I have to move. I have to see what’s on the other side of the horizon or around the next corner.”

“You do have itchy feet, don’t you?”

I smile. “For as long as I can remember. It made me a bit of a daredevil when I was a kid, but my dad helped with that.”

“How so?”

“He likes adventure, too. My mom says I get it from him, but she says it like it’s all his fault, so I don’t know if that’s a good thing.” Whitney laughs. The sound of it lightens my chest. “Anyway, he taught me how to be smart about things, and not so reckless. He taught me how to sail and climb and took me down my first Class 5 rapids.”

“Wow.”

I nod. “My dad’s in his fifties but you’d never know it to look at him. I’ve never seen him shy away from any challenge. He’ll make damn sure the rope line is laid out correctly, but when he’s done, his ass is rappelling down that cliff like it’s nothing. He’s had his share of injuries, but I totally have him beat. I was such an impulsive kid, without his guidance who knows if I would’ve even survived childhood.”

She laughs. I’m joking, but only kind of. I really was a stupid kid.

Still smiling, she closes her eyes a bit. I see the exhaustion on her face, but she’s fighting it. She opens her eyes and gives me a contented smile.  

“Are you getting tired?” I ask.

“Just a little.”

“Long walk tomorrow.”

She hesitates, then scoots in closer, but keeps her eyes on me. She slips her arm around my waist and I wrap my arms around her too. She smiles gently and I run the back of my fingers down her cheek. “You’re coming with me?” she asks softly. “Right?”

I smile. “Hell, yes. I’m gonna follow you all the way to Finisterre, if you’ll let me.”

Her smile broadens and I lean in to kiss her. My dick’s been in a state of semi-arousal this whole time, but as our kiss lingers, and then deepens, it comes roaring to life. Our embrace tightens and her leg slides up my thigh and hooks over my waist.

I half groan, half growl (two halves) and roll on top of her. She giggles lowly and wraps both legs around me. Her soft moistness is against my pubic bone and the blood flow’s really going now. My cock is raging hard.

“I want you inside me again,” she whispers, then gently nibbles my bottom lip. If I were a cat, I’d be purring.

“Oh really?” I run my hand up her side and to the full cup of her breast. “You want some cock, you naughty girl?”

“Not just any cock. Yours.” My heart’s pounding.

“I don’t know,” I say calmly, a smile emerging as I dip my head to her neck to taste her soft skin. God, she tastes incredible. “We only have one condom left. We may have to pace ourselves.”

Pace ourselves, my ass. I could climb on board right now. But I want to do more than warm her up first, I want to make her molten. I want her to be more than ready. I want her to squirm.

“We can get more.” She sucks on my neck, sending chills through me. I clutch her shoulder and hold her tight.

“Or… I could make you come with my tongue.” I kiss her shoulder, then trail hot kisses down her breast. She takes a shaky breath, her hips adjusting under me. Seeking.

There you go, sweetheart.

“I’d want more,” she says.

I grin before taking her into my mouth. Her back arches and I flick the hard tip of her nipple with my tongue, my cock throbbing. She whimpers. “Then after my tongue,” I swing to the other side, “I’d make you come with my fingers.”

She moans and I take her in, sucking her firmly.

“I’d still want you.” She’s panting now. Her hips are angling up to me. Asking.

“Greedy girl,” I say smiling.

“Yes,” she breathes, tugging on my biceps, trying to get me to come up and in position. She moves her hips again and this time I feel her silky softness against the length of my shaft. Fuck, I’m gonna lose my resolve. But I keep a cool tone.

“You want it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She reaches for the condom on the nightstand, taking it eagerly. “Fuck me, now. Please.” She brings her mouth to mine and takes me just as impatiently. Damn, this woman knows how to kiss. We’re practically fucking with our tongues. I hope she’s ready, because there’s no resisting her now. I grab the package, tear it open, and roll the condom on. Angling above her, I grab the thick base to guide my tight cock.

I don’t know if I found her entrance or if she found me. She’s just as wet as she was the first time, but I don’t go as slow. She’s tugging on my hips, kissing me fervently, angling up to meet me. I kiss her firmly, then pull away just enough to watch her face as I slide in. Her eyes roll back and her lips part. Soft ecstasy washes over her beautiful face. She exhales long and slow, and I exhale with her. She’s amazing. Fucking amazing.  

We kiss and caress and start to move together. She’s taking me so deeply, I don’t know where the hell she’s putting it. She’s so hot and tight around me. I hook my arm under one knee to spread her harder. She gasps, then says, “Yes, yes.”

It’s such a turn on, giving her this much pleasure. I’m greedy, too. I want more.

I bring her knee up over my shoulder and she throws her head back, moaning.

“Do you like that?”

“God, yes.” Her eyes are pinched shut, her breathing short and tight. I brace myself on both hands and abruptly increase the rhythm and pressure, taking her harder. “Oh fuck, yes,” she says, but I don’t speak. She’s so hot and feels so good, it’s taking all my concentration to keep it together. Her slick core is driving me wild. Her moans are making me crazy. I want her to come all over me.

I’m pounding her hard and she’s bucking against me as if it’s still not enough. She’s gripping my biceps, nails digging into me. “Fuck, Whitney.” I drop my head and close my eyes, almost losing it.

We’re both panting and groaning. My cock and my entire body are clenched. I’m desperate for release. At last she clamps hard on my dick. Her body curls inward and she cries out. Her orgasm pulses around me and I grit my teeth, my pleasure spiking high and furious but me holding out, wanting to give it to her hard and steady until I feel her first release.

The pleasure balloons around me as she comes, and when she takes that first gasping breath, her core relaxing temporarily, I let go. I drop my chest to hers and the lights burst behind my eyes as I come again and again. She clutches me tighter, pulsing around me, and my whole body shudders hard.

When it’s over, and we’re tucked back into each other, and our bodies are still, and her breathing is quiet and deep, I have to wonder.

Did fate really do me a good turn?

Or is this one going to tear my heart out?

You’ve been reading Beautiful Mine.