Page 48 of Take Hold of Me

I breathe in his words, trying to understand them, but my body still squirms in his arms. Bringing my lips to his corded neck, I kiss my way down to his shoulder. He does not move his hands, yet his heart pounds beneath my ear to an increasingly faster rhythm.

Inhaling his fresh, clean scent with a light sprinkle of ocean salt, I hold my position. Not a movement, not a kiss. I lay on top of Wills, the only thing moving between us is our accelerating heartbeats.

He half-chuckles, half-groans. “Yes, Ems.” His hands resume their exploration up my legs, ending on my exposed butt cheeks. With hard fingers, he traces the outline of my thong, ending by squeezing my ass and pushing me forward onto his zippered-covered cock.

“Mon Dieu.”

He steals my words with a kiss that is so out-of-control it would put a hurricane to shame. His tongue puts me in a sexual frenzy while his right hand makes its way to my pussy. Moving the slip of wet material to the side, his long finger eases its way in, learning my sex. He outlines every intimate part of my body with just the one digit, earning gasps and moans from me.

“Open your legs wider, Ems.”

I obey without hesitation. The finger makes its way inside me, all the while his left hand traces the cleft of my ass. When his thumb taps on my clit, his mouth seizes mine and steals my moan. I am helpless in his arms, an instrument for him to offer me pleasure. He directs me to rock against his hand by squeezing my butt.

My breathing becomes erratic, gasping for air and for more of him.

“That’s it. Just feel.” A second finger joins his first inside me, his thumb working my clit like I was born for his attentions.

“Oui.” More words are beyond my abilities.

A shimmer starts at my toes and fingertips, all sensation focused on my very core. I am owned by Wills. An earth-shattering orgasm is almost at my reach. “So close.”

His hand clutches my ass, followed by a finger sliding between the cheeks. He penetrates my rear entrance with the tip of his finger—no one ever has done that before—as he presses on my clit. I detonate in his arms, the white-hot stars behind my eyes obliterating the real ones above us. His lips seal over mine as I voice how much pleasure he has given me, so that only he can hear it. Own it as his.

Boneless, I collapse on top of him, the hammock rocking to a wild beat. His fingers remain inside of me, wringing out every bit of ecstasy from my body.

The breeze picks up the bottom of my dress, rustling the fabric. With a gossamer touch, it lands on the back of my legs, zinging electricity in its wake. When I shift my legs to prolong the single-most euphoric moment of my life, his hardness prods at my apex. He is still encased in jeans.

Recovering some of my wits, I drag my hands down to his belt. “I need to help you out.”

His hands cover mine, causing me to lift my chin and meet his eyes. It is too dark here to tell if they are light or dark blue—or stormy with passion. He does not say anything, so I go to work unbuckling his belt. After opening the button at his waistband, I unzip the fly. The head of his cock strains against his underwear.

I lick my lips in anticipation of tasting him.

Without warning, he twists and turns us so that I am under him. My hands are caught between our bodies and the hammock swings with our motion. His arms bracket my face so that all I can see is his gorgeous face and chiseled jaw, which is set to a hard angle.

“Wills—”

“Shh,” he whispers in my ear, kissing my neck.

From a distance, several voices come into auditory focus. At least four, maybe six people make their way toward us, judging from the noises they are making. I become all too aware of where we are and how exposed we are. Make that, how exposed Wills is. Except for my feet, I am barely visible. Once again, Wills is protecting me from public scrutiny. I undulate my hips, contacting with evidence of his raw desire for me. Even in his state, he keeps me safe.

“Ems.”

My name sounds as if it were a warning. He does not want to draw attention to us. After what he did to me with only his hands, I resist the urge to torment him more. Instead, I press a soft kiss on his lips and promise, “Soon.”

The rowdy group walks within feet of us, totally unaware of our hammock. The whooshing of something being stuck into the sand reaches my ears. While we lay together, immobile, one guy shouts, “Let’s get our Beersbee on!”

I try to contain my mirth but fail. A giggle escapes.

The man on top of me whispers, “Think something’s funny?”

I nod and reach up to kiss his jaw but his body remains taut. “Let us go to my suite.”

After another full minute, he rolls off me and onto his back. The group has moved away somewhat, totally immersed in their game so they do not notice the roll of our hammock. A lit neon disc sails within the group, followed by cheers.

Next to me, Wills huffs. “I need a minute.”

I want to offer him relief, but not here with an audience. I also do not want him to get himself so under control that he does not spend the night in my bed. My eyes stray to the stars above. “Look at that constellation,” I point to a grouping that resembles an erotic orchid. “Looks like a Georgia O’Keefe flower.”

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