Page 82 of Love What's Left
Gabriel
My mouth lands on hers. Desperate. Starving for her.
She opens for me like a flower in bloom, and I shudder at the feel of her tongue and her body entwined with mine. Her arms curl around my neck, and I palm her breast through the silky fabric of her bikini top, her nipple a tight little bead under my touch. I slide my other hand down to grip her ass and pull her against me, my erection stroking against her clit through our clothing.
She moans into my mouth, and I swim us toward the ladder positioned against the wall of the pool and under the blue triangular sails stretched above. Once I have her safe from the possibility of prying eyes, I lift my mouth from hers, then ease her to sit on an upper rung. Her breaths come in rapid little pants as I unwind her arms from my neck and place each of her hands on the railing. She holds on, then blows out a surprised gust of air when I slide my palms down both of her thighs, spreading them wide around my hips. I move down to tuck her feet behind the lower rung. “Can’t have you floating away.”
When I can focus on her body without fear of her going under, I explore, my mouth and hands roaming. Owning. Too hungry to stop.
Every night, we go to bed with three feet between us. Every night she reminds me to stay on my side, then, sometime after, she wraps herself around me in her sleep while I respect her boundaries and keep my hands to myself. I’ve lost the ability to distinguish between heaven and hell. Nights with her are both.
Now, she wants to use sex to drown out pain. It never works for more than the minutes it takes to find release. Then it’s over, and you think and you regret.
Please don’t let me be her regret.
Her teeth sink into the corner of her bottom lip. Memories bombard me. Of my fingers pressed into her lush, wet curves as I braced her against this ladder and sank inside her. Pool sex was dumb sex. There was always a little too much friction as the saltwater washed away her natural lubrication, but every once in a while we didn’t make it to one of the lounge chairs or inside the house. Sometimes, she grabbed me by the dick and laughingly coaxed, “Here. Now.” And I squeezed her ass, tore off her suit and feasted on her.
I trail my lips over her neck with tiny nips and sucks, the water salty, her skin silk beneath my tongue. I braided her hair for her this morning. Not because she needed me to do it, but because we both constantly seek excuses to touch each other. Now, I wind that rope around my fist and push the triangles of her swim top aside to get to the pretty brown nipples hidden beneath.
My mouth closes on one. I flick it with my tongue then suck with the exact amount of pressure that always drives her insane. I could obsess over these breasts for hours. The feel of her on my tongue.
She groans low in her throat and rests her hands against my shoulders.
I delve inside her bottoms and push the fabric to the side with questing, confident fingers. When she squirms, my rock-hard cock flexes in my briefs, and I smile against her skin.
She isn’t as slippery as I need her to be—not because she isn’t aroused—but because the water fights against us. That’s okay. I know how to work her, even here. Even now.
Gently, gently, I dip a single finger inside the snug heat of her and press my thumb against the hard bud of her clit. I crook my finger and massage that place she loves, and, just like that, she’s a silky slide against my palm. I collect what she gives me and use it to circle her clit.
A wordless cry falls from her lips, and I glance down to see her toes curled up tight as her body bows toward mine. I find her mouth with mine and swallow her sobs of pleasure. They’re mine, and the last thing we need is for security to hear her and rush out, guns drawn, looking to save her from me.
I lift my head. “Cover your mouth.”
“Wh-what?”
“Put your hand over your mouth unless you want your guards to come running when you scream.”
A startled wheeze escapes her. “I won’t scream.”
“I promise, you will.” I grin and slide two fingers back inside her. “If it turns you on to have an audience, go ahead. Maybe they’ll learn something. Class is in session.”
She squeaks a laugh, then moans when I move. “Oh God.”
“Gabriel. Not God. Honestly, are you even paying attention?”
She thrusts against my hand.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I fill my lungs with oxygen and sink beneath the surface, using the ladder to control my descent. Her hands clutch my shoulders, then her fingers wrap in my hair.
I’ve got approximately ninety seconds before I run out of air. It’s an ambitious mission. Usually, I prefer a slow build.
I tug her bikini bottoms to the side and start with a nuzzling kiss, then I seal my lips around her clit. She squeals, then yanks on my hair, dragging me upward.
I break the surface of the water, searching her face in concern, then scanning our surroundings. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Color paints her beautiful cheeks. She thinks I can’t tell when she blushes, and I love it more because of it.
“Nothing’s wrong. You just—You can’t do that,” she says.
