Divine Solace: 8 (23 page)

She arched full against him, rubbing in frustrated desire
against that barrier of clothing. He gave her a full stroke back, cock against
cunt, but then moved down her body, getting rid of her bikini top so he could
suckle her nipples. That stud in his mouth began its low level hum, stroking
her there, making her writhe and gasp at the stimulation. He cradled her
breasts, squeezed them together, lashed at her nipples, taking that vibration
to the channel in between, while she bucked her lower body.

“Noah…God…” She raked his back with her nails, not expecting
her own ferocity. She choked out an apology, but his gaze scorched her.

“Mark me however you want, Gen. I’m yours.”

Yours Unconditionally
. Who had he meant that tattoo
for? At the moment, it felt like her, Lyda…he was a gift given to a woman,
whatever woman he was with. He was everything she needed. A treasure from the
gods.

He was playing at her navel now, disrupting the intensity by
deliberately tickling. When she pushed at him, he sent her a wicked grin, then
went lower, catching the swimsuit bottoms in his teeth, letting his vibrating
tongue play beneath the edges. When he took those off her, he stood on his
knees, pushed his trunks down. He’d brought a small waterproof container with
him to shore, and he removed a condom from the wallet in it.

“Prepared,” she observed, her voice shaky. “Take the
swimsuit off, all the way.”

He nodded, to both things, she assumed. Standing, he removed
the swimsuit, the sun praising every line of his body. He rolled the condom on
while she watched, moistening her lips.

He knelt between her legs again, met her gaze. “I was going
to make you come with my mouth first, but I want inside you too much, Gen. I
need to be fucking you.”

In answer, she reached for him. He came down, guiding
himself into her wet heat. It had been so damn long. She closed her eyes at the
feeling, shuddering hard as he eased in.

“So tight…” His voice was strained. She could feel the
energy of his body, the desire to thrust, and yet he took his time,
concentrating on not hurting her. The care it took to do that, to step outside
oneself and make someone else matter more, was something neither of her
husbands had given her. Noah gave it to her in ways large and small, and the smaller
things held more significance. Yes, he’d keep her from falling off a cliff, but
the fact he’d give her the last cookie if he thought for a second she wanted it
meant even more.

And that thought was the kind capable of unlocking those
more painful memories. She didn’t want them to intrude, so she lifted her upper
body abruptly, shoving her hips forward and pulling him to her core in the same
motion. The lancing pain of it had her sucking in a breath, her face reflecting
the discomfort, but she wouldn’t let him draw back. She dug her short nails
into his buttocks, feeling their muscled tension as well as that in his thighs,
against the inside of hers.

“No. Please stay. Stay.”

“Sshh.” His brow was creased, eyes concerned as he slid his
arm beneath her shoulders. He kept her close to his chest, holding their upper
body weight on his other braced arm. “It’s all right, Gen. Don’t do that to
yourself. I’m right here. Ease back. I’ve got you.”

He put her back on the towel, bringing his body down with
her, so she was pinned beneath his chest. “Let me just do this.” He put his
hand on her thigh, a nonverbal cue to loosen her lock as he adjusted his hips,
slid back a little, then back in, an easier angle.

“How do you know a woman’s body like this?” Her heart and soul…

“I feel you, Gen. Everything about you is mapped right
here.” He held her gaze, telling her he meant her eyes. “Let me give you
pleasure. Unless…do you want me to force you to accept it?”

As she stared up at him, he let his touch shift, slowly,
deliberately, to her arms, down to her wrists. He moved them to her sides, held
them locked to the sand. When she trembled he saw it, eyes darkening. His
abdomen muscles contracted as his hips lifted, then sank back into wetness, her
cunt slick and welcoming, now lubricated to take him deep, but instead of
ramming in there like a hammer and nail, it was like the Creator bringing
together two body parts, joint to ball socket. Something meant to fit together,
move easily, capable of power, speed, flexibility. Control. Utter, blissful
control. She’d given it to him.

Her clit spasmed, her inner muscles clutching him. “Noah…”

“There’s some of it in you, what you see in me,” he said.
She appreciated the catch in his voice, since she was unraveling. “It’s
different, but there. Lyda really brings it out in you. It makes me crazy hard,
watching you two. Listening to her make you come the other night just about
killed me.”

She writhed against his hold, and his grip tightened,
underscoring his strength. He could make her helpless, and that turned things
in her lower body to molasses, but she also wanted to explore, to experiment.
Lyda had offered her that opportunity, and she wanted to start now.

“Let go of me, Noah. I want to touch you.”

Her voice was hoarse. As he cocked his head, not immediately
complying, she saw the challenging light in his eyes. He wasn’t an automatic
pleaser. He understood when
not
being so accommodating could be a huge
turn-on. The man was an endless puzzle.

“Now,” she said softly. “Don’t make me get rough with you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and her eyes sparked in
answer. He let go of her but curled his arm beneath her again to cradle her
upper body against him, half off the sand as he slid in deeper, more firmly,
making her gasp.

“You may have noticed I like it rough.” His eyes were much
closer now, his mouth. “Do your worst.”

She kissed him, and his lips opened, welcoming her into heat
and demand both. She lashed at his tongue, the surge of hot, needy lust
translating into her sliding her hands up over his shoulders to rake his back
again as he thrust into her, setting off a rhythm she matched with the movement
of her hips. The towel was rough beneath her bare buttocks, her ankles crossed
over the bend of his knees, pressed into the soft sand, their mattress beneath
the terry cloth. His hand tangled in her hair to tip her head back and he bit
her throat, suckling. She pulled loose and returned the favor, biting his
shoulder when he plunged deeper.

“God…” She shoved at him, levered herself up. She couldn’t
hold against his physical strength, but when she made it clear she was going to
insist, he gave way, letting her roll and reverse their positions so she
straddled him. He stared up at her, eyes dark with desire. She felt powerful,
beautiful, dangerous. Those bikini-clad girls couldn’t give him this. Noah
wanted the goddess inside a woman. He hungered for that power, wanted to
worship it, be lost in that wave. A woman had to have known bittersweet pain
and loss, to give him that. She had to understand what love and surrender,
sacrifice and pain, were all about.

Testing herself and him, Gen slid a hand up his chest,
trailing over his nipple. His expression and body went still, a powerful,
combustible force, as he realized her destination. She closed her hand over his
throat, the pulse hammering against her grip. When he tilted his chin up,
accepting the hold, her body hummed in fierce, pleased response.

“Stay still,” she whispered. “Don’t move.”

She rose and fell. Up, tightening all along his sizeable
shaft, then down, enjoying every delicious inch of friction. Her pussy was so
lubricated, she heard the sucking noise on each downward stroke impact. His
breath rasped in his throat.

“Fuck…Gen.”

“Don’t come,” she said. “I want to see you fight it until I
finish.”

“Anything for you.”

Her heart tore free a few mooring lines at that, rising
higher in her chest, the thumping painful. “Don’t…” she said. It wasn’t an
admonishment. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She just couldn’t do this,
couldn’t hold the reins if he broke her heart wide open.

He didn’t disturb her hand on his throat, but he laid one
hand over her wrist, coiled his strong fingers around it, his thumb rubbing her
pulse, an erogenous zone that leaped at the caress. “Ride me however you want, Mistress.”

She returned to that up and down movement, the pure pleasure
of it. God, there was a lot of pleasure to fucking Noah. He moved with her,
anticipated when she needed him to lift his hips to help her impale herself
deeper. He was hard and thick, and he met her demand, the muscles of his face
tightening, then all along his body. His eyes had that feral, desperate light
that told her how close he was.

She pushed herself to hold out. It felt too damn good. She
didn’t want it to end, but more than that, she was feeding on his
self-restraint, his obvious desire to please her on every level, even the
deeper ones most men weren’t even aware were there, let alone expended the
effort to try to satisfy. She was around some of the rarities like Tyler and
Brendan, but until now that had sometimes been as torturous as being stabbed
daily with a dull knife. Why did Chloe and Marguerite have what had eluded her?

No, don’t go there.
This was about pleasure, a
sun-filled day with an exciting man.

Fuck, it had caught her. She’d faltered, despite being so
close to the knife-edge of release. Her body was quivering, fighting her.

“Gen.” He cradled her face, drawing her attention back to
him. Her hand had shifted from his throat, the heel pressed against his heart,
fingers curved into a claw over his collarbone. “Stay right here. You aren’t
lost. I have you.”

Noah pushed himself into a sitting position, adjusting her
so her legs were curled around his hips and she was cinched in closer to him,
his mouth near her breast, his head pressed into her neck. He had his arms
banded around her, one hand curving over her buttock. He took over, working his
cock into her from that more limited movement position, making the sensation
overwhelming. He nuzzled her breast, her nipples pressed high against his
chest.

“Lay your head back like you did when we were sailing. Close
your eyes, feel the sun and wind. Feel me.”

Though she was on top, the power balance had shifted back to
him, easy as the flow of water. She’d needed him to be the one in charge of the
boat for this to work. He’d figured it out, accepted that responsibility
without a pause.

He rocked her, such that she could imagine the lift and fall
of the boat on the water. As he began to do it faster, he set those delicate
tissues on fire, driving everything else away. Now he unleashed his male
strength, holding her, pounding into her, stroking her clit with the motion.
She sealed her mouth over his again, teasing his tongue stud with her own
tongue, kissing him with frenetic passion as the climax surged up. She didn’t
want to break the connection, so as the orgasm swept through her, she dug her
claws into him once more, holding on, screaming into his mouth as he kept
driving into her. She felt the impact all the way deep inside where he was
rubbing against her. He sent her soaring to the freaking moon.

His hand coiled in her hair, holding her tight, fused to his
mouth, his other hand spread over her back, his thumb in the valley of her
spine. He held her so tight, almost bruising. He was hanging on by a determined
thread. Waiting on her to release him.

She stared at him through glazed eyes. Marguerite and Tyler
both loved sculpture and possessed an impressive collection. Some of it was
erotic, because several of Tyler’s friends specialized in that area, but she
wondered if any of them had ever captured a man when he looked like this.
Almost like she imagined he’d look in battle, eyes fierce, muscles rigid, cock
hard. A state where killing rage and lustful need were so close, and a woman felt
a thrilling desire seeing either demonstrated on her behalf.

She slid trembling fingers down his jaw, to his throat, over
his shoulder. Taking her time with it as he quivered, chest rising and falling,
and that look became even more dangerous.

She reached back, bracing her palms against his knees,
lodging herself deeper on his cock, the angle tilting up her breasts. She loved
the frustration in his expression, but also the fact he complied with her
nonverbal cue to keep holding.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now. Uncensored.”

“That I’d kill to fuck your cunt. That’s all there is. The
desire to fuck.”

She trembled at the growling response. “I want to watch you
come. Come for me, Noah. Don’t look away.” Then she braced herself.

He tightened his grip, lifted her, thrust upward. She gasped
at the deep penetration, and then she had to hold onto his legs as he started
pumping himself into her with that singular focus.
The desire to fuck
.
She clung to his expression, to his eyes which never left hers as he hammered
his cock into her, over and over, such that her post-climactic tissues clutched
him, sending sweet aftershocks through her that made her moan. He devoured
every reaction, and then he was coming, his face creasing with the effort,
harsh grunts breaking free. His gaze shifted only once, to her breasts,
quivering with erotic movement because of the power of his thrusts, but she’d
forgive him that since his heated attention sent waves of pleasure over the
nerve endings.

“Yes…” She encouraged him with sighing pleasure. “Yes…”

When he finally began to slow down, rather than flopping
back to the sand like a grounded trout as she expected, he slid his arm around
her waist, brought her to him once more. Capturing her right breast with his
mouth, he sealed wet friction over her nipple, flicking her with the tongue
stud. Arousal feathered through her as she coiled her arms around his
shoulders. She held him to her as he nursed each breast to aching, pleasurable
response again, rubbing a jaw with that afternoon sandpaper texture against her
tender flesh.