Page 74 of One Little Lie
I gasp, and he uses my shocked silence to slip a hand between us. Twisting his hand, he finds my bundle of nerves ready to explode.
“I’ve fucked my hand hundreds of times, imagining it was you, wishing it was you, but it never compared. The memory of you in my head can’t compare with the real thing. Fucking hell, Rylan, you’re so perfect.”
My brain stops working, and I’m no longer capable of forming coherent sentences. “More. Harder, Hatty, please. Harder.”
“You’re going to come, aren’t you, Rylan? Right here in the middle of the ocean on my fucking cock.”
He slams into me at an unnatural pace now, and I’m floating somewhere above consciousness.
“You want me to fuck you harder, baby? But I want to mark you as mine.”
“Yours,” I pant.
“Say it again,” he demands.
“Yours. I’ve always been yours, Hatty.”
He thrusts harder two more times, then swivels his hips so his pubic bone grinds into my clit, and I scream with abandon. I release years of pent-up frustration, pain, and love in a garbled, incoherent scream of ecstasy, and Hatty swells inside of me a moment later. A string of curses escape as he buries himself so deep inside of me, I have no doubt I will feel him in places I never knew I had.
Swirling blue lights and a siren have us both sobering to the moment much faster than our bodies can uncouple.
“Hands up. Release her now,” someone yells from the shore.
Hatty immediately raises both hands.
“Oh my God. We’re going to get arrested. Sh-Should we make a swim for it?”
A boyish smirk plays across his face. “Not likely, baby. Our IDs are on the beach.”
I attempt to slide down his body, but my legs are like jelly, and I sink into the ocean, fully prepared to die of embarrassment.
Before my face even touches the water, Hatty has hauled me back up him and is yelling to the officers on the shore, but I can’t make out the words with the ringing in my ears.
Holy shit. Hatty just fucked me stupid. I try shaking the cobwebs from my head and notice we’re moving toward the shore.
“Sir, we’re, ah … well, we don’t have any clothes on. Would it be possible for you to turn around so she can get out of the water?”
That wakes me from my sex-induced coma faster than a burger after a tequila night.
“Miss? I need verbal confirmation that you’re okay.”
Glancing up, I find an older gentleman who appears ready to die of embarrassment and a young kid who can’t be more than twenty years old trying desperately not to laugh.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, we were, ah, fornicating?”
Hatty’s burst of laughter rings loud in the quiet night.
“Fornicating? Seriously, sweetheart?”
“Jees-us. I’m too old to deal with this kind of shit,” the older man grumbles, but turns, then yells at his understudy to do the same. “Hurry up and get your clothes on. I can’t leave you here.”
Hatty reaches for my hand, drags me toward the beach, and hands me my pile of clothes. We both struggle to pull them onto our soaking wet bodies, and I can sense the officer growing even more impatient.
“Are we going to get arrested?” I whisper, panic setting in now.
“I-I don’t know,” Hatty whispers back. “I’ve never been in trouble before.” Turning to face me, he adjusts my top so my boob isn’t hanging out.
“Was that? Did we? Was that a hate fuck?”
