The beast in my chest was fully awake now, and it wanted to press further. Demand the name of every fucking man who’d touched her so I could pay them a nice follow-up visit.
It took a good amount of willpower, but I caged those desires.
I was putting her on edge, and I didn’t want to waste our last day in Hawaii focused on insignificant people.
I may not be her first, but I would damn well be her last.
Because once I took her, I would never let her go.
“I see.” My voice softened into velvet again. “And when was the last time someone touched you like this, Stella?”
I stroked her breast, mapping out the soft swell with my palm before I grazed a thumb over her nipple. It hardened instantly, and a smile ghosted my mouth at her sharp inhale.
“I…I don’t remember.”
Beads of sweat bloomed high on Stella’s forehead when my touch roughened, and I pinched her nipple hard enough to elicit another, even sharper gasp.
Her hand shot up to grasp my wrist. “Christian.”
My name fell off her lips in a sweet, breathless plea, but it might as well be the shot from a starting pistol.
One word, and the full force of my desire snapped from its leash.
I wanted to swallow the sound of my name from her mouth, see if she tasted as sweet as she made it sound or if it was dirty and wanton, like sin made verbal. More than that, I wanted to bury myself inside her, paint her with my cum, and ruin her so thoroughly it made the fall of the angels look like child’s play.
I would never make it to heaven, but that didn’t matter as long as she ruled beside me in hell.
Stella was made to be my queen.
Towering cliffs bracketed the beach, their steep walls worn smooth by the elements, and a gasp escaped Stella’s throat when I pushed her against the nearby rockface.
My cock throbbed in sync with my pulse as I hooked a finger inside the string-tied waistband of Stella’s bikini bottom and tore it off with one sharp tug.
A tortured groan rumbled in my chest at the sight of her already wet and glistening for me. She looked like a mythical goddess against the dark rock, all sinuous limbs and brown skin. Jewels encircled her neck where I wished my hands were, adorning her, caressing her, owning her.
The throbbing intensified until it was all I could see and hear.
I wanted to fall to my knees and worship her with my mouth. To touch her, taste her, fucking drown in her.
Every need and fantasy rushed through me at once, but there would be time for all of them later.
I finally had her in my hands, and I wasn’t going to rush any stop along the way.
“You’re fucking drenched, Butterfly.” Lust rendered my voice unrecognizable as I dipped a hand between her legs. Her head fell back against the wall, and a moan scattered on the wind when I played lazily with her clit, circling and rubbing the swollen bud until her juices slicked my fingers. “Do you like this, hmm? Being spread wide and finger fucked where anyone can see you?”
No one would. And if they did, I would kill them before they could leave with memories of her naked form embedded in their brain.
Stella was mine and mine alone.
She was panting so loudly the sound almost drowned out the roar of my pulse.
I’d never lost control during sex. My previous encounters had been transactional, outlets for physical release and nothing more.
With her, I was undone before we’d even begun.
“I asked you a question, Stella.” The silkiness of my statement betrayed the ruthless game I played with her arousal, pulling her to the edge and withdrawing just before she tipped over the edge. “Answer me.”
“I…” Stella’s pants reached a fever pitch when I pressed against a particularly sensitive spot. “I don’t…”
“Wrong answer.” I collared her throat with my other hand, pinning her against the rocky wall while I pushed her legs wider with my thigh. I kept the pressure of my thumb against her clit and slid a finger inside her tight, wet heat.
Desire flamed hotter with every inch deeper I went and every pant of her breath against my skin.
I wanted to swallow every gasp and feel every sigh against my lips until I consumed her and made her mine in every fucking way.
“I’ll ask you again.” I pushed my finger to the hilt and withdrew it slowly, wrangling the loudest moan from her yet. “Do you like being finger fucked out in the open like a good little slut?”
Stella squirmed, her body instinctively rebelling against the onslaught of sensation, but her struggles were futile against my iron grip.
“Yes.” Her admission spilled out as a choked sob. “Please…oh God…”
Her head tipped back again as I dragged my fingers out and rubbed a lazy circle on her clit with my thumb before I slammed them back in.
Stella wasn’t a screamer, but her little gasps and whimpers were the sexiest things I’d ever heard.
She writhed against the rock, her lids heavy and her mouth half-parted in a ceaseless moan. One hand splayed against the rock while the other fisted my hair hard enough to sting.
Lust soaked the air so thoroughly it would only take a graze to light the match on the gasoline of our desire.
Thin sheens of sweat that had nothing to do with the tropical heat misted our bodies, and the open nature of it all—the wind on my back, the ocean mere steps away—only heightened the eroticism.
There was nothing artificial about this moment. It was real and raw and so fucking perfect I wanted to keep us here forever, troubles in D.C. be damned.
“Scream for me, sweetheart.” I pushed a second finger inside her, stretching her. My cock ached to replace my hands. I was close to losing it, and she hadn’t even touched me. “Let me hear how much you love this.”
The wet, filthy sounds of my fingers pumping in and out of her told me what I needed to know, but I wanted to hear her.
I wanted her to let go.