Page 75 of Barefoot Dreams
“Tried what?” But he doesn’t answer my question.
“Is this far enough?”
“For what?” I ask breathlessly, some of the drunken fog lifting from my mind but not enough to bring fear and insecurity and all the questions back.
“To start kissing you.”
“Yeah.” I’m nodding away as my hands crawl up his chest, fisting in the black material of his shirt as his wind around my waist, pressing me deeper into his solid, hard body. “It’s far enough,” I say, and in a flash his lips are on mine.
Sweet…sweet…I moan into his mouth, the pleasure washing over every inch of me as my bones turn into jelly.
Griffin is kissing me. Griffin. Is. Kissing. Me. Oh God. It feels so, so good. It’s illegal to feel this good.
“You’re kissing me,” I pant over the kiss. “Like actually kissing me. Not by a mistake?”
“Yeah, I think I am.” One of his hands comes up my neck. His hold on me possessive and I can no longer support my ownweight. A second later, we crash down on the sand but never break the kiss.
“Aren’t we supposed to talk about something?” I lightly push against his chest but whether to stop him or press him closer, I’m not sure.
“About what?” Griffin lifts off me slightly, those brown eyes were watching me with such intensity, I'd get drunk off that look alone if I wasn't already.
“I don’t remember. But we started drinking because we had to talk. I think.”
“I think so too. But do you want to talk right now?” Griffin asks.
“About what?”
“I have no idea.” He shakes his head, his tone breathless as his mouth crashes against mine once again and this time there’s no coming up for air.
No talking.
“Fuck, Birdy.” Griffin’s groan reverberates over my body. “Your lips. They are even sweeter than that drink. I should’ve just had you. You make me just as drunk. Even more so.”
“I do?” I breathe into his mouth, parting from the kiss just long enough to say the two words.
“Mm-hmm,” he hums and to prove his point he shifts slightly, grinding his erection into me, and I gasp. Even through his jeans and my skirt, there’s no mistaking it. Or his size.
“Oh.”
He only groans in response, pressing into me harder as his palm reaches over to cup my breast. This time he squeezes harder, and I let out a small yelp, clutching his arms.
The world is swimming around me but I’m no longer sure if it’s from all the alcohol in my system or the man on top of me.
Maybe a little bit of both.
I’m not sure who moves first but in a moment my hips are lifting and seeking him out as he grinds into my desperate core with frantic need while his fingers expertly find my nipple through my top and pinch it, sending sparks to my already tingling pussy but I still arch my back, pushing further into his arms.
If this is a dream, I want it all and I never want it to end.
Our kiss turns messy and needy as we frantically dry hump each other. This is madness, somewhere in the back of my mind I do realize that. I realize this wouldn’t be happening on any normal occasion, but I’m too far gone—or drunk—to care.
And then a feeling blasts through me. Something foreign, something I’ve never felt before but something so, so good. My whole body is trembling as a loud moan leaves my mouth in time with the crashing waves of the ocean beyond.
Griffin groans, silencing me with his lips in a messy, messy kiss as his body stiffens on top of mine and then relaxes with a heavy grunt.
Panting, shaking and hot, he lifts up from me, his brown eyes burrowing into mine. “That was…that was…”
“I think you just made me come on the beach,” I finish for him or rather instead of him.
