And then the pressure starts to build, thick and hot and sweet, and I know I don’t have long. I lean forward, and he raises his head, capturing my mouth in a wet and sweaty kiss. My tits bounce harder, and he slaps one of them, a beautiful spike of pain that makes me cry out and brings me so close to the edge. Then, when I don’t think I can ride him any harder, sweat pouring down my spine and into my eyes, I lean back, exposing my chest to the sky.
“I dreamed this,” Pascal says thickly. When I look down at him, he’s staring at me like he can’t decide if I’m real or not. “I dreamed this very thing. You fucking me like this, filled with light. All this light that came onto me.” He trails off and closes his eyes, biting back a groan.
Then he dips his fingers to where I’m wet, rubbing the edge of his cock, and circles my clit hard.
That’s all it takes.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I cry out as the orgasm crashes over me like a tsunami. I’m drowning in it, goose bumps and sweat covering my skin as I’m brought to another place again, up so fucking high.
It’s enough to make me stop rocking—I can’t feel my legs—but Pascal has a strong hold on my hips, and he keeps me moving up and down, fucking me into his cock, and it’s not long before his thick throat is arching back and he’s coming with a long and helpless groan.
“Jesus,” he grunts. “Oh fuck is right.”
I can’t help the lazy smile on my lips, watching as the orgasm rolls through his body. It’s a dream to see Pascal come undone like this, his torso slick with sweat, his hair messed up, his chest rising and falling with the power of his orgasm.
But I can’t sit like this all day. I slowly ease myself off his cock, his cum running out of me, and then collapse on the sand beside him, catching my breath.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but he rolls on his side to look at me. “Are you okay?” he asks.
I turn my head and give him a small smile. “I’m more than okay.”
He reaches for me, brushing the hair off my face. I love it when he does that. “I didn’t want to hurt you . . .”
“It was fine, Pascal. It was better than fine.” I pause, licking my lips, my heart still knocking around in my chest. “I don’t know how to process it. But I’m glad it happened.”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “It was about time, if I’m being honest.”
“If you’re being honest,” I repeat. “You don’t realize how honest you actually are with me. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
He raises a brow as if to say, I don’t?
I laugh. “Okay, maybe you do.”
Then his smirk flattens out, and a serious look comes across his brow.
“You’ve made a huge mistake,” Pascal says, and my heart slows to a loud boom-boom, fear creeping back in. I stare down at him, at his sated, heavy-lidded eyes that are sparking with intensity, the firm determination on his jaw. “You’re mine now. Every single inch of you is mine. That just sealed it. There is no escaping this.”
I swallow the sawdust in my throat. I can tell he means it. I’ve never had anyone look at me the way he is, like I’m a possession, something he’s dreamed of and finally has. I wouldn’t mind it, either, if only . . .
If only he had been part of the plan.
And this is why I should have listened to those voices instead of letting my hormones guide me. Because there will be consequences for what we’ve done; I just don’t know what they are.
But I know they won’t be good.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, running his thumb over my cheek. “But I’m not backing off either.”
I manage a smile, closing my eyes at his touch. “I know.” I hesitate. “I don’t want you to back off.”
And that’s the truth. No matter how messy this is going to get, no matter how much this might hurt the both of us, I don’t want him to back off.
At least not while we’re here.
I’m good at pretending.
I can pretend that there’s no other world beyond this.
CHAPTER TWELVE
PASCAL
The sins of the father don’t determine the sins of