“Yo—” I can’t get any words out. He’s fucking me so hard; he’s rattling my brain cells. Shocks of emotions pulse through my body.
I don’t know how he does this. I love sex; I’ve had plenty of good partners over the years. But with Langston, it’s not about where we are, the mood, the scenery, or the position. Just being with him—kissing, licking, fucking, any of it—takes me to a different place. My body is overcome with some emotion I haven’t felt before. I don’t care if I come or how good it feels, as long as Langston and I are connecting.
“Come, baby,” Langston growls.
He can sense how close I am. That growl thing he does, low and vibrating through my whole body, is all I need to come. I explode, and my eyes are seeing shooting stars in the sky above me. I still can’t form coherent syllables, let alone words.
Langston is kissing my swollen lips slowly before he scoops me into his arms. “I hate you so much, Liesel. I hate you so much.”
23
Langston
The sun wakes me as it begins to rise over the ocean. We slept on the top of the sailboat with a comforter snuggled around us. Liesel is still asleep on my shoulder.
I don’t want to move her, but I failed last night. Liesel didn’t admit she loves me. I’m going to have to try something different. We fucked three times last night. Each time was rough and frantic. It was all either of us could manage, but slow, romantic lovemaking is what this task needs; not feral, animalistic fucking.
I inch myself out from under Liesel. She continues to snore as I stand up. Then I run to the small kitchenette to make coffee and omelets.
After whipping up a quick breakfast, I return with a tray of food and coffee to where Liesel is still sleeping. I don’t want to wake her; she looks so peaceful, and in our life, you sleep as much as you can. But every second we fail to get the treasure is another second our son is in danger, so this can’t wait.
I slip under the covers next to Liesel, and then I hold one of the cups underneath Liesel’s nose as I kiss her cheek.
“Good morning.”
“Mmmh,” she moans but doesn’t open her eyes. “Am I dreaming, or is that coffee?”
“It’s coffee.”
Her eyes snap open, and she smiles at me with flushed cheeks.
I frown. There’s a chill in the air; she shouldn’t feel warm.
I brush my hand over her forehead—she does feel warm.
Her lips lean up to kiss mine, and I forget about her feeling warm.
“Sit up,” I tell her.
She moves into the crook of my arm and leans against my shoulder. I hand her the cup of coffee and then move the tray across our laps so she can eat her omelet.
“Wow, I’ve never had breakfast in bed, but I’m not sure I can call a comforter on the deck of a boat a bed,” she says.
“Is that a thank you?”
She grins. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We both drink our coffees and pick at our omelets. Liesel doesn’t eat enough, but I’m not going to try to get her to change her eating habits now. She sets her almost empty coffee mug down on the tray.
“Why are we really here? I know you are doing this, so when you do the fucked up thing the task requires, I’ll have some good memories to pair with it. But we are running out of time. Can we get to the hard part now?” Liesel says.
She’s right; that’s what this whole night and morning have been about. As much as I enjoy sitting here eating breakfast with her, it’s not going to get her to admit she loves me. Hopef
ully, it is giving her warm and fuzzy feelings that might help her get there faster.
I set the tray to the side wordlessly. Yes, this is all about the stupid treasure, but I’m not treating her sweetly because I plan on hurting her. It’s the opposite. I want her to love me as I love her.