“Me too. Pill.” Sutton wraps a warm hand around my dick and any other argument I might have had evaporates. Her hand is so much smaller, so much softer than mine. A possessive surge rolls through me.
I want her.
I wantallof her. I want to bury myself deep inside her and make her mine.
“I’m going to make you like me, you know that, right?”
“We’ll see.” She gives a breathy little laugh, staring up at me as I hover over her. My cock is throbbing in her grip, desperate to get inside her. I circle her nipple with my thumb, and the dusky peak tightens under my touch.
“So pretty,” I murmur, grinding against her. I press the head of my cock against her heat, shaking with the effort of holding back. “Tell me you need it, Sutton. Tell me your pretty pussy needs this cock.”
She moans. “I need it, you pompous ass. Stop teasing.”
I roll my hips, pushing into her, inch by inch. She moves under me, pulling me deeper.
“Fuck,” I groan against her lips. “Christ, you feel good. So tight and warm and wet.”
Sutton winds her arms around me, her fingernails sinking into my back. I bury myself as deep inside her as I can, pulling out and thrusting slowly, the ache in my chest every bit as desperate as the need building in my core. She pants little pleas of ‘yes’ and ‘harder,’ as she stares up into my eyes. She’s so goddamn beautiful and for this one moment, she’s all mine.
There’s a massive gust of wind and I realize I forgot to close the tent flap. Rain falls on my back and Sutton gasps, closing her eyes against the drops. I start to get up, but she grabs my ass.
“Don’t stop,” she pleads.
I grit my teeth, trying to stay in control. Water streams down my body, dripping all over her and falling in her eyes. I pull out and flip her over on the camping mat, pulling her hips up to meet mine.
Rain runs down her ass cheeks, splashing off her skin as I thrust again.
“Jesus, look at this ass,” I mutter, giving it a smack as it bounces against my hips. Sutton arches her back, gasping and watching over her shoulder, eyes burning.
A tingle burns at the base of my spine. Grabbing her hair, I turn her head to look at me as I wrap the other arm around her waist, my fingers finding that little pearl of hers. Her sex clenches around my dick and she whimpers, legs trembling.
“You going to come for me again, Sutton?” I growl, leaning over her back and driving into her. The harder I take her, the wetter and louder she gets.
“Oh, my God. Yes!” Her cries are swallowed up by the storm, but I don’t miss a thing. She pushes back, round ass bouncing.
“So good. So fucking good,” I say.
Sutton’s eyes go heavy, lashes fluttering as she gets close. My balls ache, drawing up tight. “Jesus Sutton, you’re gonna make me lose it. I’m gonna fill that pussy so full it’s going to be dripping out of you.” Her whole body is shaking. “Look at me when you come, baby.”
She peers back at me through rain-soaked lashes, crying my name as she comes, coating my dick in her honey. The pressure builds, my body tightening like a tripwire until I snap, emptying myself deep in her warmth.
Easing out of her, I collapse on the camping mat, pulling Sutton on top of me. She sprawls over my chest, laughing into my neck as the rain pours down on us. Running my hands over her body, I don’t care that the inside of the tent is soaked. I don’t care that we’re stuck on this island until someone realizes we’re missing. I don’t care that my boat is blown apart, sitting in the shallows of the cove. This is where I belong.
I’ve decided: Sutton O’Brien is mine. I just have to find a way to convince her.
7
Sutton
My life has taken a surreal turn today. Twenty-four hours ago, the most exciting thing that ever happened to me was starting my job at the museum. Now, I’ve survived a boat explosion, been stranded on a remote island, and fucked Dean Carpenter bare-assed in the middle of a historic storm. If that doesn’t scream ‘my life has gone off the rails,’ I’m not sure what does.
The worst part is that I don’t think I want it to go back to how things were before. These little thoughts keep creeping in at the edges. Thoughts like ‘I want to do that again, preferably in a proper bed’ and ‘I never want another woman to touch him as long as he lives.’
Maybe being in the woods is making me weirdly territorial, but the thought of watching skanky tourists try to hit on him down at the docks makes me feel like I could spit nails. It’s ridiculous. It’s not like I have a claim on him just because I got carried away and begged him to bend me over a camping mat.
Eventually, someone is going to come along and rescue us, and then what? I don’t want to be the mousy girl at the museum, hanging onto the memory of that one time Dean Carpenter fucked the bones right out of my body.
His skin is so warm on mine and I wonder how long we can lay here like this before the rain washes us away. Apparently Dean is wondering the same thing. He pats my arm, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.