Hot & Sticky

Chapter Eight

West

We pulloff the main road and rumble down my little sand-swept drive behind the dunes. When my shack comes into view, I hear Taylor gasp next to me.

“Oh,” she whispers.

I turn, half expecting a look of dismay. I mean, it’s not an MTV beach house or anything fancy. It’s a fucking surf shack and not much else. But when I turn, I’m startled to see her grinning from ear to ear.

“This is where you live?” she asks, her face glowing.

I grin. Shit, I want her. Badly. I can still taste her sweet little cunt on my lips, like candy and honey. I want her all over again, ten more times, right here and now. And her actually looking like she’s amazed by my little surf shack is actually making me want her even more.

“It’s not much,” I grunt as I pull the truck up out front and kill the engine.

“I love it,” Taylor breathes quietly. “I mean, I really love it. This is so perfect, West.” She beams when she turns to look at me. “I can’t believe you live here!”

“Well, this is home,” I chuckle. We step out of the truck, and I grin at the bounce in her step. Half an hour ago, she was a shaking, shivering mess. Now, she looks calm and at ease. It could be that she’s processed the gun violence she witnessed. But it could also be that I just made her fucking scream with the wildest orgasm I’ve ever even imagined a woman having.

I grin to myself, replaying the way she just about levitated off the seat, her thighs clamped around my ears and her pussy gushing her sticky wetness over my tongue. I groan, and my cock is instantly thick as hell and rock-hard in my shorts. I watch her saunter towards the shack, and my eyes drop to her tight little ass.

Shit, I want her. Now.

“It’s kind of a work in progress,” I say, clearing my throat and at least attempting to clear the filthy desires for Taylor from my head. “Someday, it’s going to be a real home.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean,” I shrug. “I do love it. But someday, it’d be nice to have room for more.”

Taylor turns to, biting her lip. “More, like for two?” She blushes instantly and looks away. But I keep looking, and when she turns back, she blushes deeper catching me staring at her.

“For two,” I growl. “Hopefully for more, though.”

She swallows. “What, like a whole harem of girls?” She tries to say it offhand like a joke, but I can definitely catch the hint of bitterness in her voice. Also, she’s dead wrong.

“No.” I shake my head, moving towards her slowly. “No, I mean more room for one woman, and one woman only.”

She blushes, chewing on her lower lip. “And the more?”

I grin. “A family.” I shrug, looking past her at the ocean. I grin and bring my eyes back to her. “I dunno, it’s just what I think about. I know at your age, or hell, at my age, people don’t really think about—”

“I do.”

I blink, startled when she whispers it.

“Oh?”

“All the time,” Taylor says softly. “I know it’s…” she blushes. “It’s corny, I know, and I don’t know any other girls my age who legitimately wish for kids and a family and all that. But I can’t help it.”

“It’s not corny,” I growl. Hell, I’ve had the same damn thoughts since before I even joined the Marines. Maybe it’s because my Gramps raised me with an old-school, old-world mindset, but having a family, and kids to raise, and a wife to take care of and protect? Shit, that’s the dream.

I growl, moving into her before I can even stop myself. My hands slide over her hips, pulling her close, and suddenly, I’m kissing her. It’s soft at first—tender, and sweet. But it grows deeper and hotter, until she’s moaning into my mouth and I’m seconds away from ripping her clothes off and making those kids with her right here in the dunes.

But slowly, we pull back. My hands stay on her hips though, and my eyes blaze into hers.

“You’re going to stay here,” I growl. “For as long as you want.”

“Okay,” she whispers breathlessly.