The Secret That Shocked De Santis

He stepped back and shrugged off his jacket, spread it wide and placed it on the sand. He pulled her to stand just in front of it, then dropped to his knees.

She stifled a gasp as she looked down at him. To have such a gorgeous, powerful man like this kneeling before her...

He smiled, as if he understood the riot of emotions plundering her nervous system—anticipation, disbelief, power, arousal. Before she could speak he reached up and cupped her breasts in his hands, and then bent forward to kiss her belly. She reached out and put her hands on his shoulders for balance. Watched. Felt. Trembled.

As he kissed his way across her stomach he worked her shorts down over her hips, taking her panties with them, until she stepped out of them and was naked. Her legs were quivering. She wasn’t sure she could remain standing much longer.

He obviously knew, because he leaned back on his heels and looked up at her, his eyes very blue and wide. ‘Lie down for me.’

He tugged on her hands as he spoke and somehow she just melted to the ground. He pushed her shoulders, pressing her onto his warm jacket. He knelt above her and kissed her. Starting back at her mouth, he kissed every inch of her skin, his fingertips dancing lightly, providing a teasing accompaniment to the pleasure of his lips and tongue. Her face, neck, breasts, abdomen, thighs... Slowly he worked his way down until she was twisting beneath him. Willing, wanting and unable to wait.

She arched up as finally he kissed her there. The erotic sensation of his breath against her core almost sent her over. Then his tongue swirled into her sex.

‘You’re so wet,’ he muttered. ‘And you taste so good.’

His hands firm underneath her, he lifted her to him. She didn’t want him to stop because, no holds barred, he was all but feasting on her. Her fingers twisted in the hot sand, the granules slipping through her fingers, and she threw her head back, closed her eyes against the harsh sunlight. She arched, grinding against his wicked tongue as she teetered on the edge.

But then he suddenly broke the explicit suction. ‘Your name, my little pirate?’ he rasped.

She gasped. He had to be kidding. ‘You’re the damn pirate.’

He fixed his mouth to her again and pulled.

Oh, please. Yes. Please.

Her eyes almost rolled back in her head.

But he stopped and asked again. ‘Your name?’

‘Don’t stop,’ she sobbed. ‘Don’t stop.’

‘Tell me your name and I won’t.’

‘Stella,’ she muttered. ‘Stella, Stella.’

Her head thrashed as he went down on her once more. The unbearably blissful sensation hit, turning her sob into a scream. She roared her release to the sky and sea. And to him.

Long moments later she realised that he wasn’t even naked. That he’d only removed his jacket. And now he was leaning over her, that smile in his eyes.

She sat up. Her fingers shook as a sudden ferocity overtook her. She needed to know him the way he did her. But the pearl buttons on his shirt were tough, and he laughed at her impatient muttering. Finally she spread it wide, and when she touched him he stopped laughing.

‘That’s it. Kiss me better, Stella.’ He groaned, bending his head to catch her lips with his briefly. ‘Make me feel better.’

Relief that this wasn’t finished sent need surging through her bones. She didn’t stop to wonder at his words. As incredible as that orgasm had been, she wanted more—and for once in her life she was getting it.

His skin was hot and smooth, yet she could feel the powerful muscles lying just beneath. The sprinkling of hair on his chest was a delight to her fingertips. She traced the path arrowing down to his waistband. She experimented, licking his flat nipple, teasing the tight little centre with her teeth—as he’d done to her. It had been such sweet torment, and she wanted to trick him the way he had her.

Suddenly it wasn’t playful. It was pure animal passion. He might be big and strong, but she was agile and lithe. She kissed him all over, relishing the way she could explore him. Letting her, he rolled onto his back, pulling her astride him. She lay sprawled, intoxicated by a sense of power. Then she moved, kissing him to the heavens and back.

It was so physical. He pressed against her, grinding against her bared, open core. She pushed down to meet him, the rough, wet fabric of his trousers an almost painful friction against her flesh.

‘We cannot do this,’ he growled—a gravelly roar of frustration and anger.

‘Why?’

He breathed hard, thrusting against her body. She couldn’t help it—she writhed against him again. He suddenly flipped them both, pushing her hard into the sand. She moaned, aching for all that pressure—aching to feel him naked against her, pressing right into her and filling that gaping need.