Lost in You (16 page)

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The sun went down, disappearing into the fiery lake that was the ocean. We huddled close to the fire and ate Daphne’s pudding like children. I licked the spoon as much as ate from it.

Dorian nudged me with his elbow. ‘See, I told you. This stuff is like …’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she’s into witchcraft. You can’t make something that tastes like this without magic.’

I laughed, licking my lips to make sure I’d gotten all of the rich, decadent chocolate. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re right. But we can’t fault her for being a witch. We can only thank her for this amazing, decadent treat.’

Dorian leaned across and kissed me. He dragged his tongue over my bottom lip and then my top lip. Gently biting me until I sighed, then he kissed me again. Deeply this time.

‘What was that?’ Even my voice was shaking. Something about being huddled so close together in the perfect darkness, being kissed that way, felt more intimate than the average kiss.

‘That was me making sure you had all the chocolate off your lips,’ he said. His white teeth flashed in the navy-blue night. The fire lent him the look of some fabulously handsome devil.

‘Oh, so you were doing me a favour?’ I laughed. ‘Or just stealing my dessert? I think it was the second option.’

He shook his head, feigning offence. ‘I was saving you! It was a favour!’

I snorted and yes, I admit it, stuck my finger in the cup, scraped pudding from the sides and licked my finger. ‘This stuff is like heroin,’ I growled. ‘I’m acting like I have no manners.’

I did it once more but this time Dorian intercepted my finger and licked it clean. ‘I know. And I’m completely out. Thanks for that last hit.’

I shook my head.

‘Favour,’ he reminded me. When I put my mug down he drew me close with a big arm around my shoulders. The heat of him felt nice.

‘Well, thanks for that favour. Boy, Mr Martin, you really saved me.’

He squeezed me and kissed my hair. ‘You are welcome. Anything for you, Clover. Now I was wondering if you’d do me a favour …’

My heart started to pound and I wanted, in that heartbeat, to drag him to the blanket and lie back under him and beg him to take me. Right there under the big Nantucket night sky. Right there by the pounding of the ocean, the heartbeat of the Earth. I wanted to feel sand shift under us as we made love and feel the cool kiss of its grains in my toes when we walked back to the car that was surely out there waiting for us.

‘What’s that?’ I asked.

‘Stay the night with me. Together. I had two rooms reserved just in case …’ He shook his head. Smiled. ‘But I have a large room. It’s all ready. It’s gorgeous. It’s about two minutes off the beach and it has a view but I have to admit …’ Another kiss, his lips pressing to my hair. ‘The only view I really want to see is you all pretty and naked, spread out on a bed of white sheets. Waiting for me.’

I didn’t even think. The answer was easy. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ll stay.’

‘Thank you,’ Dorian said.

‘Don’t thank me,’ I said. ‘Take me to your bed.’

The bed was humongous. Done in white like the whole room. White art on the walls. White rugs on the floor. White-painted barn-wood walls.

‘You need to hose me down,’ I whispered.

‘What? Why?’

I looked at my feet and blushed. ‘We’ve been in the sand. And everything is …
white
.’

‘I was in the sand too,’ he said, pinning me to the wall with his bulk. The heat of him helped to shake off some of the cold from the beach. When the sun was fully gone and the night air cooled, the wind off the ocean was enough to chill you to the bone. My fingers and toes and lips still felt cold. He took care of my lips by kissing them.

‘I feel dirty,’ I said. When he laughed, I swatted him. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘I like that you feel dirty. What shall we do about that? Should I spank you, Clover? Tie you to the bed? If I find a candle can I drip hot wax onto your –’

I stood on tiptoe and grabbed his face in my hands. I liked the scratch of stubble under my palms as I leaned in to kiss him. ‘Stop teasing me,’ I begged. ‘But some of those … maybe.’

‘Maybe?’ He drew back and cocked an eyebrow at me. ‘Which of those?’

‘The … tying. Maybe. I like … I like the idea of feeling you over me and tugging against something. Pulling. But getting nowhere.’ I held my breath as my face heated with a blush. ‘I’ve never admitted that before.’

He pushed himself against me. The hard line of his cock rubbing the soft split of my pussy lips through my jeans. ‘Does that mean you’ve never done any of it before?’

His mouth traced a blazing line from my jaw to my collarbone. My nipples went rigid, my pussy wetter. I gasped a little when he dragged his teeth along the same trail as his lips.

‘I never have,’ I said. ‘Never.’

‘You really know how to poleaxe a man, Clover,’ he chuckled. ‘And since we’re dirty, would you mind terribly if I took you right here?’ His fingers worked the button on my jeans and I shimmied my hips to help him as he pushed them down. ‘Against the wall?’

‘Against –’ But that was as far as I got because Dorian dropped to his knees and tugged at my jeans more insistently. He kissed my hipbone and across my belly to the other. He did it so slowly it was maddening. I held my breath, watching his lips on my skin. Every so often he’d stick his tongue out and drag it along my body.

I held my breath and the pounding of my heart filled my head.

My jeans hit the floor by the bed with a whispered whoosh. Dorian spread my legs with ease. His fingers danced along the soft skin of my inner thighs. He breathed out, hot and damp, against my nether lips but didn’t touch me or lick me. He studied me, peeling me open with just his fingertips. My cheeks blazed with heat as I watched him.

Dorian stroked his tongue over me so that my knees sagged and I pressed my back to the wall. His nose nudged my clit as he thrust his tongue inside me. I spread my legs further as I splayed my hands against the whitewashed wall to steady myself. His hand clamped over my ankles and he held me in place that way. I couldn’t move even if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to.

Strong hands squeezed my feet, moved up to pin my calves to the rough barn wood. His tongue plunging over and over again, stroking across my clitoris to seek out my damp slit. And then back again. The rhythm uncatchable. Keeping me off balance, just enough to make me feel vertiginous. I pushed my head back against the wall to try to stay upright and focused. I felt splinters in the wood catch my hair, scratch my back. Dorian’s hands slipped higher, pinning my hipbones, but they refused to still. They bucked on their own at his wet attentions despite me willing myself to be still for him.

He grunted – a rough, intent sound – and pressed his big forearm to my hips. He pinned me there, putting enough force into his muscular arm to keep me from moving even involuntarily. I was his butterfly pinned to his board and he could do what he wanted with me. In whatever time it took him.

But it didn’t take him long. His tongue dipped and stroked across my sensitive flesh until I was gasping for air like a drowning woman. He nipped me with his teeth and the unexpected flash of pain mingled with the syrupy sweetness of him going down on me was the end.

I came, my fingers scrabbling at the rough wood, my hair a mess across my face and eyes. My body had been unbelievably taut but, when the orgasm hit, all that tension rushed out of me in a waterfall of pleasure.

He sighed, pressed his forehead to my belly and then stood.

‘Now about that fucking,’ he said. He grabbed my left leg and yanked it high. His cock was still hidden in his faded jeans but I felt its blissful intrusion as he pressed against me.

I had gone past damp, leaped over wet and was officially soaked. Standing here, naked from the waist down, wanting nothing more in the world – not even my next breath – than for him to fill me and take me. Make me his. I could forget the Natalies of the world for tonight. Tonight was all about me and him. Clover and Dorian.

I reached for his belt buckle.

Dorian put some space between us. He watched me undo his buckle and I watched too. I saw my hands as if they weren’t connected to me. A little shaky, a little clumsy but purposeful. I’d gotten some sun. My formerly pale skin had a ruddy glow that said I’d probably gotten too much, despite being covered because it was fall. My hair would have some blonder streaks, my cheeks sun-kissed roses in them.

I thought all this as I worked his belt and his button and finally his zipper. My hands were shaking again. I felt like a fucking virgin and just that thought was enough to make me laugh out loud.

‘What’s so funny?’ He smiled at me. The smile touched his eyes and that touched my heart. His big body crushed against mine, trapping my hand between us, as he kissed me so deeply my toes curled on the hardwood floor.

‘I was just thinking that I feel like I’ve never done this before. To be honest, I haven’t done it a lot. But I’m no sacrificial virgin, is all.’

‘I feel that way every time we’re together,’ he said, his lips sliding along my neck to find the place where it met my shoulder. I shivered. ‘It’s not normal sex,’ he said. ‘It’s something … more.’

I nodded. Not knowing how to name it without sounding silly or crazy. So I simply nodded my agreement. This was more than sex. This was what happened when sex met spirit. This was something beyond all the stuff I’d ever done before. All previous encounters felt very clumsy and disposable in comparison.

I found him with my hand as I gave myself over to another rough kiss. I stroked him and then ran my thumb along the slick slit in the crown of his cock. His body moved against mine and he made a noise that humbled me. It was the same noise I made when I simply gave myself over to him. Hearing him make it staggered me.

‘Kiss me,’ I said, even though he already was.

Dorian laughed but kissed me more.

‘I don’t want you to ever stop kissing me,’ I said. I hadn’t meant to, but there it was and I couldn’t take it back. I let the words go and refused to allow myself to come undone over speaking the truth.

‘I don’t ever want to stop kissing you.’

Together we pushed his jeans down and in a mere heartbeat he hiked up my left leg again to part me, open me for his penetration. He dragged the tip of himself against my slick opening. The nerve endings there sang and clamoured. I wanted it to last for ever, this entry, and yet I wanted him in me now. I didn’t want to wait.

I didn’t have to. He pushed against me – into me – so slowly that I felt every nerve ending rejoice at the contact. Heat pooled in my belly, my womb, lower. I arched my hips a little but he chuckled and pushed me flat with his body. When he was in me, still holding my now trembling leg, Dorian stilled. He looked me in the eyes and it felt as if he could see every secret hidden within my heart. I wondered if it was my imagination or if our pulses really were beating in unison. All the worry in my head flew out and I was lost – locked – in that shared gaze.

‘I’m glad you trust me, Clover.’

I said nothing. There was nothing to say. Because I did trust him. One hundred per cent. I trusted him with everything in me despite my knowledge of better suitors who were interested in his attentions. I couldn’t help myself. I’d found in him something I’d failed to find in most – someone to give my trust to.

I nodded and felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I tried to suck in a deep breath but it came out as a sob.

He kissed my cheek and began to move. The sudden naked truth ceased to be as terrifying as I got lost in the motion of our bodies. Dorian slammed me flat with every thrust but it was a roughness that caused pleasure and joy to blossom inside me. It wasn’t aggressive, it was needful.

My fingers skated over his firm, warm skin. I moved forward to meet his driving thrusts. I kissed him when he kissed me, and kissed his body wherever I could when he didn’t. He forced my right arm up and over my head, pinning it to the rough and rustic wall. It seemed to give him leverage, having one leg trapped in his grip and one arm pinned above me. His movements became shorter but his body thrust deeper. Every time he entered me, I gasped. I was short of breath, fuzzy-headed, soaked in pleasure and at his mercy.

I’d never felt better.

I moved my body to meet his and when the pleasure grew too great I simply whispered, ‘Oh, God. Oh, Dorian. I’m –’

His lips cut off my words, his tongue stroked over mine. I came with a whimper instead of a shout because he’d added more pleasure to the fray with his tender attention to my mouth.

‘That was nice,’ he said, smiling. His forehead still pressed against mine. His hips ground back and forth, stimulating my clit, which was almost too sensitive. It was like overload.

‘Let me go. Let me go,’ I panted.

A look of concern clouded his handsome face. I wanted to assure him it was nothing bad but I was still struggling to breathe … to think, to talk.

When he stepped back, I dropped to my knees. I held his hips in my hands, moved my mouth to his cock. I took him that way, soft at first, but when his body surged forward to meet me and he tangled his fingers in my hair, I went faster. I got him as deep as I could, sliding my tongue along his shaft, savouring the mingled taste of our union on my tongue.

I swept my fingers along his hipbones, his thighs, down his calves, so that he hissed, and then back up again to cup his ass and get better leverage. I let him fill my throat the way he filled my head … and, I was starting to see, my heart.

His grip was almost painful and my scalp sang from the pressure. ‘Oh, my sweet Clover,’ he said and he was coming.

I didn’t shy away as I had the one or two times I’d found myself in this position in the past. I didn’t panic or try to pull back. I lapped at him, getting every drop of him that I could, just liking the taste of him and the feel of his silken skin beneath my tongue.

The bathroom was white as well. I sank beneath heated bubbles in a white claw-footed tub. I could get used to this.