Dirty Obsession (Dirty 1)

“Thank God,” I say, grabbing it from her and ripping it open.

I don’t waste time in thinking about why she had a condom in her bra, if she was planning on using it with Wes. I roll it on my dick before sliding my fingers under her panties. I feel the moisture, that I caused, immediately cover my fingers as I find her entrance and slip them between her folds. She moans, and it is a beautiful sound that I never thought I would hear.

I spread the liquid up over her clit, and she bites my lip to keep from screaming. As it is, her screams are loud enough that I’m sure everyone within a square mile can hear her.

“Fuck me, Asher. Make me belong to you.”

I slip inside her, and it’s heaven.

“I’m never leaving again,” I groan as I move inside her.

“Fuck, I don’t want you to stop—ever.”

I fuck her against the sand as the waves crash against us. I thought I was in love with the ocean and beach before, but now, I know I will never get enough of it. Not after I’ve had her here.

I thrust and move and build us both until neither of us can hold out any longer, no matter how desperate we are to make this moment last forever.

“Jesus Christ, Asher!” Sloane cries as she comes.

And I come right along with her.

I collapse on top of Sloane, feeling every inch of our bodies pressed together. “You’re mine now,” I say. I don’t add forever. Despite how much I want this to be forever.

Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t want her forever.

We both hear the sirens in the distance at the same time. I jump off of her and grab her hand, pulling her up and holding her close to me, like I’m going to be able to protect her against the police.

Not likely.

I scoop up her dress off the sand and hand it to her. I pull up my pants and grab my shirt and beer, and then we both start running toward the parking lot.

I don’t know why we are both running like the police are going to come arrest us. From a distance, we look plenty clothed for the beach. She’s wearing her bra and panties that could easily be mistaken for a bikini, and I’m wearing shorts. But, still, we run like we are running for our lives.

When we get to the parking lot, I don’t give her the chance to go back to her car. Actually, I don’t even see her car in the parking lot. Instead, I pull her straight to my truck. I open the passenger door and help her inside before running around to the driver’s side and jumping in. I turn the key to start the truck up, but of course, it doesn’t start.

“Shit,” I curse.

I jump out of the car and bang the top of the hood. It still doesn’t start.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Sloane rolls down the window. “It sounds like a problem with the starter. Have you checked the wires?”

I don’t question how she knows so much about cars. Of course I’ve tried it before. I’ve had plenty of experience with getting cars to start. But I humor her and try it anyway. To my surprise, it starts right up.

I jump back into the truck and peel out of the parking lot. I start heading back toward my shack on the beach just as the sirens begin to get loud enough that I’m sure they are right on top of us. I glance in the rearview mirror and see the police heading into the parking lot we just vacated.

Sloane laughs and exhales at the same time. It’s a nervous laugh, more like a release after the tense moment we just had. She begins to put her dress back on and then buckles her seat belt as I drive.

“I’m sure the police weren’t after us,” she says.

“Maybe,” I say, trying not to lie. I’m sure they were after us. Or at least me.

“Still, it was exciting nonetheless.” She dusts off sand from her body. “I’m going to be getting sand out of places for weeks.”

I laugh and relax a little, watching her try to dust off sand out of her hair and body but to no avail.

“It’s not funny,” she says with a smile. “You should look at yourself. It’s going to take you at least as long to get rid of all the sand.”