Chapter Two
Lisa
His hand is large and warm around mine and I savor how good this feels after not having this kind of touch for so very long. He leads me down along the water where the waves lap at the sand and never releases my hand. We walk in silence for a while as the water washes over our feet as it breaches the shore each time. Thank God I’m not at the stumbling drunk point, I’m only at the no common sense and sharing too much information point of my drinking.
His brow furrows, as he inquires, “Why are you here alone, Lisa?”
“Honestly? Well, I was widowed a little over a year ago. The last year has been hard, but last week I got some more upsetting news and decided I’d had it. I needed a break from well-meaning friends and family. And from the vultures that want a piece of Matt’s estate. And from the pitying looks I get from anyone who has heard the story. I also applied for a job down here and have an interview this week in Orlando.”
“You’re not seeing anyone?” His surprise is genuine.
“No. Like I said, it’s been a hard year.”
Garrett stops walking and because he’s still holding my hand I stop, too. He tugs on my arm a little so my body flattens against his and our lips meet. At first, I’m shocked. My mind tries to comprehend the softness of his lips and the slight tickle of his goatee, so I’m stiff to start out, but it doesn’t take me long to warm up. I savor the kiss. It’s a connection I’ve missed. It’s smooth, sexy, perfect. He slants his head allowing him to go deeper and my response is immediate as I explore with my tongue.
Just as my libido is waking up from its long nap, he pulls back a little and whispers, “Is this okay?”
Something about that flips my switch. I don’t answer him. I just snake my arms around his neck and kiss him this time. It’s full of passion and need, almost as if I’m trying to erase this whole year’s worth of heartbreak and disappointment.
My hands glide over the contracting muscles of his back in slow motion, savoring every masculine inch of him while he wraps one arm around my waist to hold me tighter. He moves his other hand over my ponytail and tugs the hair tie free. My strands cascade down my back and he slides his hand up into the hair at my nape helping to control the kiss.
Everyone has tiptoed around me for the last year and stopped treating me like a real person. Most are afraid that they’ll hurt me somehow, like there could be more damage done. This is what I need, passion, and an unapologetic, forceful energy.
Just as the kiss reaches a crescendo, where you know that you have to quit or it’s going to the next level, a throat clears behind us. Embarrassed, I jump back a little. Garrett chuckles and grabs my hand to steady me. I look behind us to find an older couple giving us the evil eye. I give a repentant shrug as he pulls me aside so they can pass.
My heart is hammering in my chest still which I’m certain has more to do with the kiss than just getting caught making out like a couple of teenagers. Instead of kissing me again, he lets go of my hand and pushes loose tendrils of my hair away from my face. His thumb runs across my cheek, the movement so light it sends shivers all the way down my body. The fingers continue their gentle survey of my skin moving along my neck, over my bare shoulders and down my arms. I close my eyes immersing myself in his tenderness and the heat he’s building between us. When his hands come back to cup my jaw on both sides he stares right into my eyes, seeming to burn right through me he whispers, “You are so incredibly beautiful.”
I’ve been told this before, but there is something about the way he’s looking at me, like he’s cataloging everything he likes from top to bottom not missing even the most miniscule thing. That kind of attention from this particular man is melting me. His face moves closer, his lips so close I feel his breath feather against mine. His subtle moves have my body burning hot, from the inside out.
I can’t hold back any longer, so I close that tiny distance between us. Pressing my lips to his, I lick the seam, begging entrance and he doesn’t hesitate, opening for me. He lets me take what I want, what my body says I need. My arms wrap around his shoulders, my fingers trail along the trimmed hair at his nape. It has a slight prickly texture, but was so soft. He releases a soft growl and our kiss grows hungry again like we are both starving and we’ve found the feast. His hands shift from my back to run up my sides, over my rib cage until they reach my breasts. He cups his hands under the fleshy weight, around the nipple, but not touching it. My tight peaks are dying for his attention but he continues to tease me, grazing the edges, never making direct contact.
He’s drawing this out, making me wetter with each brush of his lips and touch of his hands. His lips break from mine and trail down my neck nipping and licking, creating little stings that enhance the pleasure of his mouth on my skin. His fingers work the buttons of my dress and they slide inside and over the lace of my bra. A whimper escapes from the back of my throat and my head tilts backwards. I’m lost to the wet heat of his mouth as it encloses around my covered peak. He’s teasing first one side with lips and tongue and even a little teeth before he moves to the other side.
I must be holding my breath because I’m feeling a little dizzy when he stops abruptly. He lifts his head and holds me tight against his chest. I can’t quite figure out what’s going on so I stand still waiting for…I don’t know what. Is he changing his mind? Does he want to stop? Dear God, please don’t let him stop. My body is like an inferno. He can’t leave me like this.
Leaning down to whisper in my ear he says, “Jogger. Just hold tight.”
My lust-addled brain wonders what that means. I can’t quite figure it out until I hear the telltale cadence of a jogger’s footsteps approaching and then receding.
“Where are all these people coming from?” he murmurs right before he takes up where he left off. Tired of holding back, I become more brazen in my exploration of his body by running my palm down his tight abs. They contract under my fingers. I continue following the happy trail and graze my fingers over his straining erection. He groans and I smile against his lips. I grip him the best that I can through the shorts and begin to caress him up and down keeping my pace slow. Acting on instinct, his hips flex against my hand and it seems that his control snaps.
Garrett’s movements become a little jerky before he grasps my wrist, removing it. Then he maneuvers me a little further up into the sand, away from the surf. Despite this raging inferno building between us, he still seems to have enough thought to pull me down to the ground as careful as possible. However, as soon as my back makes contact with the grainy sand, he’s on me. My senses are fogged by alcohol and lust in its most primitive form.
I can feel the coarseness of his goatee as he licks and sucks a gentle line down my throat. I’m on my back next to him while his hands caress the outside of my thighs and under my dress to the curve of my behind. He squeezes the flesh with his big, strong hands. He runs his hand back down my thigh and hitches it up over his leg, changing direction his hand travels on the inside of my thigh to my wet center. His fingers glide along the damp seam of my panties with just enough pressure to make me whimper.
As his fingers move my panties out of the way to stroke the soft flesh, his lips suck and lick my earlobe causing my body to shiver. When I open my clenched eyes a million little stars twinkle in the heavens above us. It’s like a scene in a movie. In a brief moment of lucidity, I wonder if we are giving anyone a show until I feel one of his thick fingers enter me, and then all rational thought leaves me again. The burning feeling is back and it’s spread from head to toe.
My mind has now stopped working and my body has taken over. Instinct and lust are running the show like a tightly wound Broadway stage director. I push my hand under the waistband of his board shorts seeking his rock hard flesh. I grip his warm shaft in my fist realizing that my hand can’t fit all the way around it. I pump him with the smoothest strokes my fevered hands will allow. He lets out a soft groan and slides a second finger into me while circling my clit in the perfect rhythm with his thumb.
His kisses become harder and more fervent as I continue to work him. At the same time, he’s building my orgasm to a fevered pitch, almost the breaking point, I’m ready to go over the edge when he pulls his hand away and pushes my dress higher. I almost cry at the loss. Needing, wanting, dying to finish. My mind tries to peel its way out of the lusty fog to recognize that I’m on a public beach having one of the hottest moments of my life where anyone can see us, but it’s not working.
Halting my thoughts once again he crawls in between my legs, eyes connected with mine and I’m so glad there is enough light for me to watch his face. He unbuttons more of my dress exposing my straining breasts against the red lace bra. With a gentle touch, he trails his fingers over the scalloped edges along the swell of my heaving mounds and pulls the fabric down under my right breast, trussing it up. His tongue peeks out and swipes the beaded tip. Restless, I mewl for more. His shaking fingers tug the lace on the other side exposing that breast too. Instead of a swipe of the tongue this time, his lips close over my nipple and he sucks hard. I cry out begging him for more.
His impatience must be growing along with my own because instead of divesting me of the bra or going back for more he lowers himself and aligns his clothed hardness with my exposed softness. His elbows are on both sides of my head as he grinds against me hitting the necessary spot. I’m feeling needy and out of control, wanting this so bad that I yank on his shorts trying to get them down. He sits back on his heels breathless and asks, “Are you sure? You want this?”
I know I should take a moment to think about this. I’m a grown woman on a public beach for goodness sake, but I run my eyes from his down the length of his body admiring every exposed inch and realize I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care if we get caught. I just want a piece of the sexy photographer crouched in front of me. His eyes study me like a predator does his prey. I throw caution to the wind hoping to silence my inner dialogue and say, “Yes. Yes. Please.” I know I sound desperate. I’m almost begging, but I just don’t give a crap right now. I haven’t felt this good, this awake, or this alive in a long, long time.
He hooks his hands in the sides of my panties and rips them off as easy as if they were made of paper, tossing them aside. I let out a surprised squeak realizing that Matt never did that. He was never so overrun with lust for me that he’d rather rip my panties off, than take the time to pull them down my legs.
Garrett glances around like he’s just remembered that there could be people nearby, raises his body up, and drops his shorts to the ground. He is outlined by the moonlight giving the moment a dream-like quality I know I’ll never forget.
Before I can think, or even breathe, he’s back down over me, his knees spread wide as he enters my channel with a strong thrust. I arch my back in ecstasy and wrap my legs around his waist. His groan vibrates through me and I lean up to suck the soft flesh of his ear lobe between my lips and run my tongue down his neck. My hips rise to meet him as he pumps into me over and over and over again. I can feel the swell of the climax that is sure to consume me building quicker and more powerful than I knew was possible. I’m fighting it, praying for it to last longer, but the pressure and excitement consume me and I come apart under him. There is a burst of light behind my eyes as my body is writhing out of control, clenching him from within as I scream out his name.
“Garrett! Oh God, Garrett!”
My nails have scored his back I’m certain, but he doesn’t say a word. He just keeps slamming his hips into me, hitting that secret spot within and dragging my orgasm out into oblivion until he comes, hot and pulsing inside of me. His body collapses on mine. His face is buried in my neck, where he continues to lick and kiss me tenderly while we both catch our breaths.
My senses start to return as my breathing calms and my world stops spinning. I’ve never in my life done something like that and instead of being alarmed, I feel relaxed and free. I’ve never been a risk taker or a fly by the seat of my pants kind of gal. I may be sorry later, but for now I see why so many people are. I release a relaxed sigh and caress the soft stubble of his hair. After a few quiet minutes, where all the world feels right he stands up and puts his shorts back on. He pulls me to my feet, and helps to brush the sand off. I adjust my clothing and put myself back together.
Garrett is the first to speak as he grabs my hand leading me back toward the hotel.
“I’m sorry I attacked you.” He gives me a sheepish look that should annoy me, but instead I find endearing. How upset could I be with him when he just gave me the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had?
I surprise him by smiling and saying, “Nah. I’m okay. I think I wanted it just as much as you did.”
He studies my face for a moment, shakes his head like he wasn’t expecting that answer, smiles back, and continues leading me back to the resort.
We don’t say much following our encounter, but right after I push my sandals back onto my feet he takes my face in both of his hands and kisses me with lips so tender it makes my heart ache a little. It’s the kiss you’d expect from a longtime lover, not some guy you just met and screwed on the beach. So, for that one brief second I pretend that he’s the longtime lover not just some guy. Then I take a step back and let reality enter my thoughts again because I don’t want things to be too awkward for us.
I’m sure this is common place for him, even if this is my first such encounter, so I paste a smile back onto my face and tell him goodbye. I waltz up to the bar, grab my stuff from Maxi the bartender, and walk back to my room without looking back at him. This feels a little bit like what I’d guess the walk of shame to feel like. I should be freaking out. The guy didn’t use protection, who knows where he’s been before, and he came in me. This leaves the possibility for disaster, but instead of worrying about that I fill up my whirlpool tub and soak, thinking about the sexy, stranger with the beautiful pictures and the super-hot body.
