Page 27 of Just Desserts in Pelican Point
She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t want you to leave.”
That’s all it takes.
I step closer, closing the distance, and press my mouth to hers. The kiss starts soft—exploratory—but deepens fast. She gasps, clutching my shirt, pulling me in. I press her back gently against the counter, the edge of it biting into my thighs as our bodies align with startling precision.
I break the kiss only long enough to whisper, “Tell me this isn’t a mistake.”
“It’s not,” she breathes, her lips brushing mine. “I want this. I want you.”
That’s all I need.
We move through the house in a tangle of hands and mouths and rising heat, limbs bumping furniture in the dark as she leads me to her bedroom. Her bed looks soft, the sheets carrying a whisper of lavender and vanilla. She peels off my shirt, fingers trembling as they trace the lines of my chest, like she’s trying to memorize every scar, every story.
I want to take my time, mapping every inch of her skin, learning the rhythm of her breath, the arch of her back, the sound she makes when my hands and mouth find just the right spot.
She’s sunlight and heat and softness wrapped around steel, and she opens for me in a way that undoes me entirely.
“I don’t have a condom with me.” I tell her, silently hoping she either pushes me away or has an entire box somewhere in here.
She swallows hard, “I’m clean. I just had my annual appointment last week and I haven’t been with anyone in a few years. I had my birth control shot, then, too.”
Years? The gravity of that word pulses between us. I should go. But do I? Nope. “I’m clean, too. I just had my quarterly check up with the department doctor.”
Her hands stroke across my chest. “Then we don’t need anything, do we?”
I shake my head. “Just you. I need you.”
She smiles and shakes her head, affirming our understanding.
I feel her heart racing as my fingers trace a deliberate pattern along her spine while my other hand grips her hips, pulling her against my hardened body. She clings onto my shoulder, biting my lip, trying to hold back her moans that threaten to escape.
I walk her backwards to the bed and lay her down as she pulls my cock out of my jeans and wraps her hand around me. It’s been so long since someone has held me like this, I have to breathe through the urge to explode too early is overwhelming.
“I need to be inside you, Julie, or this will be over before it begins.” I take myself out of her hands and place my tip to her moist entrance. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, please,” she begs and I don’t need any further encouragement.
I slide into her with one thrust, her body arching to meet mine with a gasp that echoes in the small room. The sound makes my blood catch fire. I move slowly at first, savoring every inch, every moan, every soft cry that slips from her lips as her fingers dig into my back.
“Marcus…” she breathes, head tipped back.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, bending to kiss the hollow of her throat. “Let go.”
She does.
I groan, grazing my teeth over her shoulder as my hips meet hers in a desperate rhythm. My free hand trails her stomach and moves to her breasts, teasing her nipples to hard points. She gasps at the sensation, arching into my touch as I pinch them, her back bowing.
The pressure builds, each thrust becoming harder and more urgent. “Marcus…” she calls out, her voice straining.
I growl low in my throat, going deeper as I pinch her other nipple, rolling it between my fingers.
Her climax hits first—hard and fast—her body tensing beneath mine, thighs clenching as she cries out, raw and unrestrained. I follow seconds later, her name falling from my lips like a prayer, her scent burned into my lungs, her heartbeat echoing against my chest as I collapse beside her.
Now, she lies against my chest, her breath slowing, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin.
I don’t speak. I can’t because something about this—about her—is too much. Too good. Too dangerous for me.
She falls asleep curled against me, and I stay awake long after because I know what happens next. This is the part where I need to pull away because she deserves more than a broken man who still wakes up in a cold sweat at night with blood on his hands. I’m not sure I can be what she needs even if I want to be.
