He's the One (8 page)

Chapter Five

H
e tasted the same,
Ella thought dazedly, like heaven on earth, and in the water as they were, their
bodies being gently battered by the rise and fall of the swelling waves, she pressed
closer.

At her movement, James groaned, low and throaty, and then he was inside, his tongue
tangling with hers, his taste hot and sweet and so right she felt her eyes sting as
she opened to him with a low murmur of acquiescence.

He shifted in the water so that she was flush to him, her breasts mashed to his chest,
her soft, giving belly pressed to his hard, ridged one, her legs entangled with his.
She’d always loved the way she felt so small and protected in his embrace, and that
hadn’t changed. Neither had the fact that he could still thoroughly ravish her mouth
with a skill that rendered her completely witless.

And only when he’d accomplished that did he rip his mouth from hers. “God, El. You
feel so good.” This was punctuated by hot, little, biting kisses along her jaw to
her ear, which he nibbled while breathing with thrilling unevenness, all of which
combined to make her eyes cross with stabbing lust.

“I can’t stand anymore,” she gasped.

“Here.” He lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me. There. Oh yeah, like that. I
can’t get enough of you,” he muttered as a wave washed around them, lifting them up
and then down on the endless tide. “Just can’t.” Holding her head still with one hand
fisted in her hair, his other slid down her spine and into her bikini bottoms, squeezing,
molding, pressing her against his shorts, thin and wet now, hiding nothing, especially
not the hot, pulsing erection nudging between her thighs.

“More,” he growled, palming one butt cheek and then the other before dipping his fingers
between and exploring there.

“
James
—”

He cut her off with his lips and teeth and tongue, coming at her hard and fierce,
still holding her head in place as if afraid she’d pull away.

Fat chance. She couldn’t get enough, either. Slippery strands of her hair caught in
the stubble on his jaw, stabbed into her eyes, clung to their shoulders, releasing
the scent of her shampoo in the air along with the tangy salt from the ocean spray.

Inhaling her as if he wanted to gobble her up whole, James sank his teeth into her
earlobe and pulled lightly as he exhaled slowly, raising a delicious set of goose
bumps along her flesh. Lifting his head, still holding hers, he stared down into her
eyes, then at her lips. When she licked them to get the last taste of him, he groaned.

All while his fingers gripped her bottom hard, grinding her against him, his hips
moving, moving, moving, in a slow, snug, rocking motion that had her whimpering in
helpless delight, gasping, sobbing for breath as she squirmed to get even closer.
Her skin felt too tight, her heart too full as he drove her toward climax with nothing
more than those maddening, increasing oscillations of his hips.

When he pulled back for air, breathing fast and shallow, Ella nearly died. No stopping!
She moaned low, a protest deep in her throat, and slid her fingers into his hair,
trying to bring his mouth back to hers. Her hips were still rocking, her heart still
pumping, her nipples had shrunk to painful, tight little ball bearings that ached,
ached
for his attention. Between her legs she felt hot and desperate, and with him holding
her open, spread to his rocking hips, his erection within easy access of every critical
nerve ending she owned, she couldn’t stop, just couldn’t stop.

“James.” The word was a mere whimper, dark and disturbingly needy, and in another
time and place she might have spared the time to be horrified to hear herself begging,
but not now. Now she needed him, hard and pulsing, needed him to tear away her bikini
bottoms and his shorts, needed him thrusting into her, taking her over the edge, now,
now, now. “
Please
. . .”

“Yeah, I’ll please.” He rasped a thumb back and forth over her nipple, then drew his
hand down her belly to do the same over her bikini-covered sex, outlining her in slow
precision.

“Ohmigod.”

“Here, Ella? Now?”

“Here,” she panted. “
Now
.”

He dragged her out of the ocean. She thought maybe he intended to take her inside
the cottage, but apparently it was too far away because the moment their calves were
free of the water, he sank to his knees and brought her down with him.

Their hands fumbled for purchase, hers skimming over his glorious body, touching his
shoulders, his flat belly, his thighs . . . between them.

His were no less desperate, his fingers spread wide as if to touch all that he could
with every sweep of his hands.

She tugged down his wet, clinging shorts.

He bit her shoulder.

She licked his Adam’s apple.

He growled and tumbled her all the way down to the sand, spreading her legs and making
himself at home between them, cupping her bottom and pulling her forward in a quick,
hard movement that settled her more completely against his straining erection before
he covered her body with his and kissed her, hard and wet and deep. She tried to get
her hands between them, to draw him inside her, but he manacled her hands in one of
his and drew them up over her head. Towering over her, he stared down at her. “You’re
not going to rush me. Not after six months of this, getting hard at the mere thought
of you beneath me like this.”

Then he sank his fingers into her hair, drawing her head back, forcing her to arch
beneath him so that he could drag his mouth down her throat toward the curve of a
breast. His handling of her was presumptuous and aggressive and she didn’t care. She
knew what he could offer her, knew how far he could take her, which was further than
anyone had ever taken her before. And she wanted to go there,
now
.

Water and sand swirled around them in the dark, dark night as he tugged her bikini
top off and tossed it aside before dipping his head and capturing her nipple in his
mouth, lashing the tender tip with his tongue.

Stars burst in her vision, but she had no idea if they were the real ones hanging
in the sky above them or only manufactured in her head from what he was doing to her
as she cupped his head in her hands and held him to her.

Water lapped at their feet with each wave. She loved the weight of him, thrilled to
the way he thrust a thigh between hers, spreading her, holding her open as he lifted
his head and blew hot breath over her wet nipple. “I missed the taste of you here,”
he said.

“Keep tasting, then.”

Curling the fingers of one hand around the bikini tie on her hip, he tugged until
the wet, stretchy material popped free. Then he was scraping the bikini bottoms off
her. “I missed the taste of you everywhere.” His knuckles brushed her trimmed pubic
hair, the very tips of his fingers just barely skimming over her folds as he kissed
his way past her belly button. “But I especially missed the taste of you right”—he
nipped at her inner thigh, brushed his nose over the center of her and then kissed
her—“
here
.”

Ella gasped and tightened her grip on his hair.

“Mmm.” He kissed her again, using his tongue this time to circle her clit, and her
entire body bowed, tightened. She was going to come, thank God, but then he pulled
back a fraction of an inch, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders. “
James
.”

“Still here. God, El.” He nipped at her other inner thigh again, then a little higher,
moving tantalizingly close to where she throbbed for him, for release—

Yes
.

But the man only danced his tongue over her, moving half an inch to the right. Frustrated
beyond speech, she gripped his hair tight and tried to direct his head.

“Easy,” he murmured as a wave teased just past their knees.

Easy? She’d give him easy! Again she gripped his hair and shifted his head and felt
a puff of air in the right spot.

He was chuckling. Bastard.
Rat bastard
. “Goddammit, James, do me!”

“I intend to. My way.” He took her with his mouth then, by turns soft and gentle,
demanding and aggressive, and yet when she was a quivering, desperate mass—which took
all of two minutes—he pulled back again. “Anyone else ever make you feel this way?”
he murmured, nudging her legs even wider with his shoulders, cupping her bottom in
his big hands, making himself at home while she let out urgently needy, panting sobs.
“Ella?”

“No one,” she admitted in a strangled voice, crying out when he finally sucked her
into his mouth, his own uneven pants against her captive flesh sending her even further
onto the edge. “No one,” she managed to say. “But you.”

He rewarded her by moving to the preciously correct spot, unerringly laving at her
with his tongue in the rhythm he knew she needed. Each heartbeat, each breath, shoved
her closer to the unrelenting, building heat threatening to consume her, and she went
willingly. Her fingers slid out of his hair and went to his shoulders, roped with
lean muscle as he bent to his task. Her skin tightened, her muscles began to shake.

“Mmmm,” he murmured, lapping her up like cream, sliding two fingers deep inside her,
stroking her both inside and out now, in a way she couldn’t have resisted if she’d
tried.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she panted as water lapped at their lower bodies.

“I won’t,” he promised, and then she was coming, bursting apart at the seams really,
with the water hitting her at mid-leg now, the dark night sky drifting over them,
and James doing as he promised, not stopping, licking her more softly now as he held
her frantic hips, slowly bringing her back to earth.

Her hands fell to the wet sand at her sides as she fought to catch her breath. “My
God. What was that, a hurricane?”

His hair brushed over her as he turned his head and kissed her inner thigh. “Hurricane
James.”

She laughed breathlessly. “F-5 strength. I think I have sand in all my parts,” she
said, but then the laughter caught in her throat because James surged up to his knees,
gripped her hips in his hands, and stared down at her with burning eyes.

“I have something else to fill you with,” he said, and in one smooth, controlled thrust,
buried himself to the hilt.

Her pleasure-filled cry comingled with his. Wrapping both her arms and legs around
him, she tipped her mouth up for his crushing kiss as he began to move. Water continued
to lap at their feet and calves, the sand warm and giving beneath them. The light
hair on James’s chest teased her nipples as he stroked her smooth and sure, then harder,
grazing her already sensitized, wet flesh with each flex of his hips.

Then he tore his mouth from hers and lifted her hips higher for the thrusts she couldn’t
get enough of. The breath plowing in and out of her lungs, she felt her body tighten
again, but she struggled to hold back, to wait for him.

“No, you don’t,” he growled, and spread the fingers of the hand on her hip so that
he could glide his thumb over her clit.

She exploded again, from an even deeper, darker place than she had before, and even
as she let go and cried out his name, she knew. God, she knew.

She was still hopelessly, helplessly in love with him.

 

 

When she came back to herself she realized he was still hard as iron inside her, holding
himself rigid. He hadn’t come. She ran her hands down the taut, damp, quivering muscles
of his back.

“Don’t,” he choked out. “Don’t move, don’t touch.”

“But—”

“Don’t talk, either.” He buried his face in her hair and took several long, gulping,
deep breaths before speaking in a tight, guttural voice. “I don’t have a condom.”

He was barely clinging to control, and a burst of warmth and affection for him nearly
overcame her, so much so she could hardly breathe. “But I do.”

He lifted his head, his eyes black and glittering.

“In my purse,” she said.

They both craned their necks and stared at the little beach cottage, a good hundred
yards away.

“Fuck,” he said tightly.

“We can do that,” she said coyly.

He met her gaze, his unwavering and no-holds-barred dark and hungry. And
not
playful, not at the moment. “One condom isn’t going to cut it,” he growled. “Not
tonight.”

Good thing she was flat on her back because her knees went rubbery at his thrillingly
rough tone. “Then we’ll have to get creative, won’t we?”

With a groan, he rolled off her to his back and tossed his arm over his eyes. “You’re
going to kill me. Give me a second.” His chest rose and fell rapidly as she watched
him fight for control. A fascinating sport.

And arousing. His chest, defined and delineated with lean, hard muscles, heaved with
each breath, his flat, ridged belly quivering. She straddled him, murmured “Shh” at
his low, tortured groan, and slid down that delicious body. “Let me get started on
that creativity,” she murmured, and ran her tongue up the length of his rock-hard
penis, swirling it over the tip.

James groaned raggedly, struggling with that control she always admired but wanted
no part of at the moment. She
wanted
him to lose it.
Wanted
to watch. Just as he’d watched her. And she had the advantage of knowing that
this
act was one of his favorites, guaranteed to take him over the edge. She licked him
again, then raised her head and surveyed him, sprawled out before her, back bowed,
body drawn tight as an arrow, his face a mask of both pleasure and pain. “Want me
to stop?” she asked softly.