Lovewrecked - Karina Halle Page 0,71

his other hand goes to my breast. Palms it gently, my nipple already hard through the wet tank top.

I am dying on my feet.

His thumb brushes lightly over my nipple, then rolls it beneath his touch.

My breath hitches as his hand moves up to my shoulder, slides the strap down, before he does the same to the neckline, my breast popping out.

He leans in as if he’s going to kiss me on the lips. His breath smells like honey and vodka, his breathing raspy, gaze hungry. He licks his lips while staring at my mouth, then dips my finger in the honey again and runs the tip of my finger across my nipple.

Fuck.

I gasp as he lowers his head, cupping, squeezing, kneading my breast while he sucks the sweetness off the hardened tip.

Melting. I am melting in his mouth, I am melting between my legs. My head goes back and I stare up at the sky, that early morning sky, my breast thrust forward as he devours me, his lips sucking and pulling, his tongue licking, swirling, teasing.

“Oh god,” I whisper.

I’m going to fall to my knees if he keeps this up.

And yet I don’t want him to stop.

He moans into my breast, then yanks down my top so both breasts are exposed.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs against them, hands full, mouth exploring both, gentle and teasing one minute, ravaging me the next.

Then, he suddenly stops.

I am aching for him.

He pulls back and puts one of his hands to the back of my neck, holding me in place as he rests his forehead against mine. His eyes are pinched shut, he’s breathing hard. Trying to control himself.

I don’t want him to control himself anymore. He’s done too much of that already.

Maybe it’s the vodka. Maybe it’s the honey. Maybe it’s that we’re getting rescued.

Maybe it’s because it’s Tai Wakefield, a man who has me completely undone and obsessed.

But I let go of the honey, the jar falling to the sand. I don’t even care.

I place my hands on either side of his face, his stubble rough, on its way to a full-on beard now.

I wait until he opens his eyes. Looks at me.

“Fuck me,” I tell him, my voice hoarse from pleasure.

I can see the fight in his eyes. The want to say no, the urge to say yes.

His urges win.

So do mine.

In a flash he whips me around so I’m pressed up hard against the palm tree, the rough bark digging into the back of my head.

He’s kissing me roughly, with impatience, teeth, lips, tongue all in a frenzy, creating a hurricane that will gladly consume us. Hands pinch my nipple, they make a fist around my ponytail. They skim over my hips, then slide between my thighs.

The kiss deepens, hot, messy, the kind of kiss that makes my eyes roll back in my head, cause my toes to curl in the sand. It deepens and intensifies, spurring on a hunger on a very thorough level, as his fingers shove aside my underwear, already soaked from the ocean and from my own need.

I’m practically begging for it by the time his finger slides along my clit.

Ah.

What I’ve been dying to feel.

I cry out into his mouth, wanting, needing more of it. My legs part another inch.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against my lips. “You’re drenched.”

“That shouldn’t surprise you.”

He grins. I know he’s remembering my sex dream, while his finger slowly glides along until it slips inside me.

There is no turning back now.

I gasp, a pornographic sound that surprises even me, and I immediately clench around him. Then another finger. Then another.

“How many do you want?” he asks, lips going to my neck now, leaving quick, sharp kisses. “How many fingers until I’m at your pussy’s standards?”

I let out a breathy laugh. “My pussy’s standards are high, but your cock will do.”

“Patience, Gingersnap,” he says, licking up my earlobe, causing me to shiver. He’s found one of many sweet spots with that one. I have goosebumps.

“Think I’ve been mighty patient,” I manage to say.

“Maybe.” He starts thrusting his fingers in and out, slowly. “I want you to come on my hand. I want to know what that feels like. To make you do that, right here.”

My knees are starting to give out as I try and accommodate his straining arm. “Pretty sure if I come on your hand, you might have to catch me.”

“I’m already in a good position to do so,” he says, working me harder. He leans in and takes my