“Too much? It’s too much. It’s too much.” His words ran together, hips stilling, his stomach shuddering and hollowing inside his T-shirt. “Olive. Sunbeam. I’m so grateful. I’m grateful for every fucking inch you get in that pretty mouth, baby. Swear it.” Another earthquake rumbled through him, more of that salty taste finding the back of her throat. “Fuuuuuck. You have to get up soon. I’m going to lose it.”

If he thought begging would make her stand up, his plan backfired. Watching her boyfriend lose his grip on control was fast becoming her favorite pastime. It turned her nipples to aching spears and amplified the ache between her legs, her wet center quickening and releasing, as if seeking the part of him she eagerly sucked on with her mouth, loosening her lips on the way down and making them tighttightight on the way back up.

“Son of a bitch. Enough.” In conflict with his words, Rory’s hands covered hers, squeezing, stroking, both of them pleasuring him now. “Get up. Get up, turn around and lift your skirt before I blow anywhere but that pussy.”

The sand under her knees had nothing on the grit of Rory’s voice. It was biting, new, exciting. She’d snapped his tether and wanted to know what happened next. So much that she stood up too fast and went lightheaded. Rory caught her mid-sway, holding her with one arm wrapped around her middle, the other still busy on his erection. They looked down, watching the desperate tugs of his swollen inches, breathing fast together. As if reading her mind and knowing she’d regained her equilibrium, Rory turned Olive toward a wooden post and intuition had her bracing both hands on the rough wood, whimpers falling from her lips, anticipation running amok through her senses. Her body.

“Please please please,” she said, hoping he would hear her over the foot traffic echoing from above. “I need you. Now. Now.”

Rory’s mouth pushed against her ear from behind, the sounds of a condom wrapper ripping audible among the muted boardwalk roar. “Told you to lift your little skirt.”

A sob caught in her throat, one hand dropping from the post to scramble back to grip the material and drag it up to her waist, the other remaining braced on the wood. Night air kissed her bare backside, and an instant later, Rory was jerking the thin string of her thong to one side and dragging the smooth tip of his arousal through her soaked feminine folds. He didn’t stop, letting it travel over her back entrance, jolting her with surprise, excitement, but she needed him inside her now. Needed that intense joining like she needed her next breath.

“You’re down too low, baby. Stand on my boots,” he said, grazing her neck with his teeth, the swollen length of his hardness continuing to drag up and back through the moisture he’d coaxed, making just enough contact with her clit to frustrate her, drive her lust to a fever pitch.

Needy, hungry, Olive took two quick steps back, boosting herself up onto his boots and elevating herself those crucial few inches. She’d only managed to brace both hands on the post once more when Rory drove into her with a growl. He caught her scream with the palm of his hand—Pumping. Hard. Four. Times—as her cries turned into a strangled plea for more.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, his hips smacking against her backside as he thrust into her again. Again. “I’m sorry I fuck you like a woman when you’re still half girl. I can’t help it.”

“Don’t help it,” she whimpered into his palm. “Don’t stop. Never stop.”

He let out the groan of a suffering man into her shoulder…and then he braced his feet wider in the sand, taking hers along with them. Leaving her legs spread wider. So wide. Leaving her flesh impossibly open and vulnerable to the thrusts he inflicted, one after the other. His forearm wrapped around her hips and jerked them back so he could grind upward, into her constricting wetness, and Olive dug her toes into his boots, pushing higher, tilting her hips so she wouldn’t miss one iota of the incredible impact.

“You’re so deep, Rory.” Olive didn’t recognize her own voice. It was hoarse and gasping and vibrating. “It’s so deep. So deep.”

“I’d get deeper if I could.” He drove into her and held, held, his hand dropping from her mouth to play with her clit. “I’d get deep enough to become a fucking part of you so you don’t ever forget me.”

Her thighs started to tremble, the glow of her climax growing brighter, rendering her incapable of doing anything but fighting for it. Encouraging it. She wanted to pull apart his words, but the urgencies of her body were too much of a distraction. Almost there.

Rory took another sidestep, opening their shared stance even wider, and one thrust later, Olive cried out into the backs of her hands where they gripped the post. “Rory.”

Tags: Tessa Bailey Beach Kingdom Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net