Where Sea Meets Sky

He grins at me for a moment, then his mouth hardens and a dark, fiery cloud comes over his eyes. “You have no fucking idea,” he says, his voice low and rough enough to cause the hairs on my arms to spike up and a rush of warmth to flood my core.

Suddenly his hands are on me, one sliding around my waist, tugging me to him, the other going into my hair, making a fist and holding tight. His mouth covers mine, soft and wet and wanting, and all the muscles I worked so hard for in my legs suddenly go limp.

Damn him, I think as his tongue fucks my mouth, sliding in feverishly as my own tries to keep up. I’m vaguely aware that we’re standing in the middle of a country road, halfway up the hill to a place where we will have no privacy.

Josh seems to think the same thing. He pulls away, long enough for me to inhale sharply as I try to catch my breath, and tugs me to the side of the road, to a crop of trees. He spins me around and lifts me up until I’m pressed back against the smooth bark of a tall beech tree.

I wrap my legs around him for stability, but he pushes them away and starts undoing the fly of my shorts. In seconds he’s pulled them and my thong down to my ankles, then I kick them off into the bushes. Part of me thinks he’s moving too fast, part of me thinks he’s not moving fast enough. My body aches for him and as soon as he undoes his jeans and takes his cock out, my cunt aches as well.

There is no time to admire him under this soft sunshine. He poises the head at my opening and pushes in just as he bites down on my neck, groaning. I’m lucky I’m wet, because he’s as long and wide as I remembered, and he drives himself in deep with one hard thrust.

I suck in my breath, my body trying to accommodate him, to accommodate the fact that Josh is fucking me against a tree in broad daylight. I’m still not sure how we went from arguing to this, but it feels so fucking good, I don’t care. The muscles in his back are tight under my fingers and my other hand disappears into his hair, tugging on the thick black strands until he moans against my skin, deep and guttural. I wrap my legs around him tighter, pulling him so he’s inside me to the hilt and I can feel the tickle of his balls against my ass. There is something so incredibly sexy about that.

He pulls out, slowly, and I can’t help the moan that falls out of my mouth.

“Wait,” he says, his voice manipulated by sex and desire. “You’re still on the pill, aren’t you?”

I know he’s seen me taking them every morning. “Yes,” I reassure him. “Though it’s a bit late to ask; what if I had said no?”

He grins at me, breathing hard. “I’d pull out right now and come all over your tits.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

“Oh trust me, sweetheart, you’d like it.”

Sweetheart. He’s using that term again like he did in Vancouver. This is Josh’s sex talk. I love this side of him.

He slams back into me and I let out a gasp.

“You okay?” he murmurs against my mouth before thrusting hard again. It feels like he’s trying to nail me to the tree.

I half-mumble, half-groan something and readjust my hold on his neck and back. I just want him to keep going.

He does. Each pump is controlled and hard, slow and teasing, coming out until I feel empty inside and heavy and swift coming back in.

“Do you feel me?” he whispers into my ear, his breath warmth, voice gruff.

I can barely nod. I feel everything.

He thrusts again and again. “How do I feel?”

“Good.” I can’t tell if I’ve said it or just thought it loud enough. My eyes close and my head starts to bang against the tree trunk.

His thumb goes to my clit and slides up and down with each thrust. “How about now?”

My body is expanding, greedy, hungry, spurred by the hot, heady pressure on my clit. He rubs his thumb expertly, slickly, and it’s making me insatiable.

“How do I feel now?” he repeats, determined for an answer.

“Oh god, Josh,” I groan out, “just keep fucking me.”

He bites my ear, tugging at it. “Just tell me. I want in deep. Do you want me deeper?”

“Yes,” I cry out, my nails digging into him.

“I want you to feel me.” His voice is now more hard than breathy, like he’s determined to pound me within an inch of my life. “I need you to feel me. Feel me fucking you, my cock so fucking deep you’ll never get enough.”

His dirty fucking words and his heavy hitting are doing a number on me. That, combined with his fingers and the fact that we’re having hard sex on the side of the road that anyone could drive down at any moment, means I am seconds from coming. I can feel that wave coming, ready to flatten me to the ground and pull me under. The tide inside me starts receding as it builds.

“Keep going, please,” I cry softly as the pressure builds to the breaking point.

“Always,” he answers and the wave crashes. My whole body shudders, shatters, and I’m swept under that delicious riptide. As I tumble, my cries and moans and little utterances of orgasmic nonsense fill the air. I’m not sure which way is up and I don’t care if I sink or swim.

Josh comes loudly, too, his thrusts harder and faster, and I can feel the heat of him as he pours inside of me. “Fuck,” he utters. “Fuck. Oh Jesus, oh Gemma you . . . you . . .” and his words fail him. He doesn’t have to continue. I understand. I feel the same.

When the wave loosens and I pop up for breath, I realize I’m a sweaty mess, holding on to him like he’s a life raft keeping me afloat. He stares at me with a lazy, heated gaze and a smile tugs at his lips. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">