As her feet sunk into the soft sand, the top layer still warm from the day’s sun, cooler beneath, she considered that he didn’t really know her. Of course, he didn’t need to. Theirs was, by definition and design, a short fling. Full of kinky sex and fun, but nothing else. It hadn’t really bothered her before this moment.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked into her silence. “I meant it as a compliment.”
“Not wrong, exactly.” They’d walked down the beach a ways, deeper into the shadows, out of range of the resort lights. “It’s just that—I’m on vacation, so of course I seem uncomplicated. But that’s not who I always am.”
He stopped and set down the basket on a ridge of dry sand, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply. At first his lips were gentle, but they turned fierce quickly and her body thrummed with excitement, liking the edge. Her annoyance transformed into desire and she returned the kiss with equal intensity.
“This is who you are.” He muttered the words against the skin of her neck as he licked and bit his way down it, tugging down the straps of her thin sundress. Taking her hand, he put it on his hard cock, straining against the light linen trousers he wore. “And this is who I am. Nothing else is important. Yes?”
“Yes.” She hissed out the word as his hot mouth found her taut nipples, answering more the sweet pleasure than anything else. Letting it swamp her, she gave herself over to it. He stripped her and himself and she let him lead her, naked into the warm water.
They stood knee deep in the gentle surf, skin to skin, clinging to each other as they kissed and touched with hungry caresses. How she could want him so much, after the many, many times he’d already
sated her, remained a mystery. But she craved his touch and he seemed to need hers, by the way he growled under his breath as he kissed and bit at her.
Pulling her into deeper water, he lifted her onto his hips and she sank onto his rigid latex-covered cock, with a sigh of delight. The ocean swirled around them like a third lover, caressing every inch of her skin. He pumped into her, staring into her face, the frustrated energy in him rolling into her, stoking her higher. In that position, his cock hit her exactly right and she couldn’t hold back.
“I need to come,” she gasped.
“Then do it. First of six. Do it now.”
As if her body heard his command, she convulsed, climaxing while their slick bodies moved together. Before she’d recovered, he was wading out of the surf, carrying her to the shallows where he set her down and moved her onto all fours. Her body still throbbing from the first climax, she sobbed with pleasure when he entered her from behind, gripping her hips and pounding relentlessly. She came again almost immediately, with that kind of chain orgasm that just built on the previous one.
As soon as he felt her go over, Miguel pulled out, ignoring her cry of protest, and sat, pulling her onto his lap to straddle him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and steadied herself by gripping his shoulders as he worked her up and down on his iron erection. His jaw clenched with the effort not to come and he held her tightly by the waist.
“Again,” he demanded. His mouth clamped on her breast and she whimpered, unable to stave off the orgasm he wrung from her. This one seemed to carve out from deep inside and she screamed when it released.
He stood her up then sank to his knees, tonguing her. She gripped his hair, uttering a wordless protest as he worked her clit with relentless determination. Astonishingly, her body responded with increased heat, her thigh muscles tensing under his clawed fingers, riding up another wave.
Miguel lay back in the sand, pulling her down with him. She moaned when he entered her, but gave in when he draped her legs over his and held her tight to him. With his muscular thighs, he pressed her legs together. The position created unbearable pressure on her slick passage and clit. She thrashed, but he held her compressed and she came apart, splitting at the seams, biting his shoulder as she did.
No surprise, he rolled her onto her back without withdrawing, continuing his motion. She came again. Or continued the same orgasm, she wasn’t sure. But he must have thought so because he took her ankles in a strong grip and levered them up to her shoulders.
She cried out at the deep pressure, digging her nails into the sand, unbearably penetrated, while his dark face stared down at her, the veins in his temples throbbing, his jaw tight.
“Last one, Roo. Give it to me. Now.”
With a wail, she did, holding nothing back, dissolving past her skin and into blackness.
* * *
When she came back from the little death, as the French so accurately call it, Miguel lay beside her on the sand, still breathing hard. She hadn’t been aware of him coming—or of him rolling off her, for that matter. His eyes were open and he stared at the starry sky as if it had offended him somehow.
She touched his hand and he jumped, as if startled to find her there. Quickly, he smiled, and twined his hand with hers.
“I had planned on that being more romantic,” he confessed. “I brought a blanket and everything.”
“That’s all right.” She squeezed his fingers. “Though I may be digging sand out of my bits for days.”
He winced. “Dammit. I’m sorry, Roo.”
“Two apologies in one night? This must be some sort of record.”
“Clearly this is not my day.” He sat up, brushing off the sand. “I should get back. There’s some paperwork I need to look at. I have a plan for tomorrow night, to celebrate.”
“What are we celebrating?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “So nice to be on vacation. It’s New Year’s Eve.”