Rolling in the Deep: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 2 (27 page)

Daniel glared suspiciously at David. “Whatchu grinning at, fool?”

“My wife and I have a bet,” said his little brother. “How soon a certain tall blonde’s leading you around by da ule.”

Daniel’s face burned. “Your wife thinks her friend is gonna mek ass of me?”

“Oh, hell no,” David said, giving him an odd look. “I do. Melia thinks you’re gonna fuck her blind and send her back home with a broken heart.”

An odd pain clenched in his chest at the mention of Claire returning home, of never seeing her again. Of not having her two and three times a day until neither of them could walk. Of her being hurt when it was over, because of course it had to end sometime…soon.

He moved his huge shoulders restlessly, scowling across at the blonde wahine standing under the palms. She was smiling at Hilo. “She’s a grown woman,” he muttered.

“Yup. That’s what I told Melia,” David agreed. “When it’s over, ’kay den, let her go. She’ll find some other guy, settle down. Give him a house full of blond keikis.”

Daniel had to shove his fists into his pockets, so strong was the urge to slam his fist into David’s smiling face. “That’d be good,” he growled. “Then we’ll all be happy. And I’ll have some peace and quiet to work.”

David nodded. “Yup. Peace and quiet.” He sighed heavily. “Mine will be gone all too soon. Gonna have a keiki crying, keeping me awake. Then he’ll be following me around, wanting to be held and played with. Gonna have to teach him how to surf, how to chant.”

Daniel imagined just running at his brother and head-butting him into the bay, following him in to drag him under and keep him there until he had to shut up. Because David’s words struck home to that place deep inside him that he rarely admitted was there and in working order.
Ka na’au
, his heart. The neglected, scarred center of him that longed for a little family of his own. A
wahine and a keiki—maybe even two or three.

But he was too rough, too harsh. Like a man
ō
, he was better off alone. That way he couldn’t hurt anyone except those who deserved it.

“You’ll survive,” he muttered. He followed David up the dock to the group gathered around the lunch table under the palms.

But what about him? He could let Claire go and preserve his freedom. But would he truly be free?

Claire returned to the lunch table with Melia, but inside she was seething. The Ho’omalu family clearly had secrets that Melia was now in on and Claire wasn’t. It was something to do with Daniel and David too. And their Uncle Hilo—she’d seen the way the three men looked at each other. She couldn’t believe the secret was anything bad, but it was obviously important. Being shut out hurt, badly, because it reminded her forcibly that for Daniel, she was just a quick fling, a tourist, here and then gone.

And that, for her, their affair had already gone beyond that. Damn, she’d fallen for him. With a giant belly-flopping splash. And just like that kind of fool move, it hurt.

She tried her best to join in the conversation and laughter. Hilo greeted them with a smile that creased his brown face under his silver hair. He had the nicest twinkle in his sooty eyes, as if he saw a private joke in everything. He sat next to Grace, who seemed very glad to see him. Must be nice to have company closer to her own age.

David was jovial and talkative too, but Daniel sat with a shuttered face, saying little, and eating much less than he usually did. Claire thought savagely that they had that in common, at least. She barely managed to force a few bites of sandwich down, finally gave up and sipped her iced tea.

When Melia began to yawn and then said apologetically that it was time for her afternoon nap, Claire excused herself too.

She tried to sunbathe but couldn’t sit still. Finally she gave up, tied on her sarong and headed off along the path toward Daniel’s hideaway. She was going to give him what for, and damn the consequences.

When she stepped over the low stone wall, she stopped short. There he stood, in the path, wearing only a pair of swim trunks. “I was just on my way over,” he said, eyeing her warily.

She snorted. “Right. And I suppose you were going to sit and have a drink with me and chat.”

“Well, maybe I was,” he retorted, his heavy brows lowering. “Is that so hard to believe?”

She walked up to him and poked his broad chest with her finger, right in the middle of one of his tattoos. “Yeah, it is, as a matter of fact. All you seem to want to do with me is—is have sex.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Well then, in that case, hate to disappoint you, wahine.”

He grasped her around her hips, and before she could do more than gasp, she found herself hanging over his shoulder, his arm over her ass. Anger and excitement made her heart pound.

“Daniel!” she screeched, wriggling and kicking. “You put me down, you—you big bully.”

He strode along the path. Craning her neck, she saw they were going away from Nawea. “Oh, I’ll put you down,” he growled and nipped at her thigh.

“Ow!” She smacked him on his broad back with her fist. “You do that again, and I’ll—I’ll—oh!” The world spun around her as he bent over, flipping her off his back.

She grabbed at him, but he dropped her—onto the warm, wet sand, squelching with water. The surf washed up around her, bathing her in sun-warmed water and soaking her bikini bottoms. She barely noticed because Daniel came down over her, grasping her wrists in one hand, holding them trapped as his head blocked out the sun.

He bent to kiss her, and she bit at him, her teeth snapping just short of his lip. He laughed and nipped her ear, then her chin, then dove in to rake his teeth along the juncture of her neck and shoulder and to open his mouth on her there, sucking hard.

And just like that, she wanted him. She whimpered, half protest, half invitation, and he took full advantage, using his teeth and tongue and lips on her tender skin until she cried out again, trying to break free of his grip.

“Daniel,” she managed. “You let me go.”

He lifted his head just enough to look down at her, his face flushed, eyes still turbulent. “I would, but we both know you don’t want me to.”

She glared at him, struggling for words to express her tumble of anger and yearning. He reared back, looking down at her. “Ah, fuck, I pictured you just like this,” he said roughly. “On the edge of the sea.”

Claire caught her breath as he cupped her mons, his big fingers splaying over her belly, half-bared by the sarong. “I pictured you like this too,” she blurted. “I mean…I dreamed about you. Dressed like a—a warrior.”

“Yeah? What did I do in your dream?”

“You ordered me to undress for you,” she mumbled.

“And you did, yeah?” He gave her a devilish look.

She shook her head. “No, I woke up.”

“Too bad. I like your little sarong,” he muttered. “But the bikini has to go, sweetheart.”

Letting go of her wrists, he reared back on his knees and then yanked her bottoms off, tossing them on the sand beside her. “Take your top off.”

She hesitated and then admitted to herself that he was right, she didn’t want him to let her go. Her gaze held by his, Claire sat up and unfastened her bikini top and let it fall to her lap. He dropped it on top of her bottoms and then pushed her back in the sand, his eyes running over her.

“Ka nani,” he said. “So pretty. So fucking hot.”

He swept his hands into the foaming surf and then cupped them over her breasts, fondling them roughly, squeezing their fullness and then letting the water and foam run down the full peaks. Bending his head to her, he licked one distended nipple into his mouth and suckled her, hard. He licked the salt and foam from her, and then did the same to her other breast.

It felt wonderful, as did the heated admiration in his gaze as he looked at her, stroking his hands down her nearly nude body. “
My very own pūpū on da half
shell, salted by the surf.”

He wet his hands again, stroking the foam over her thighs, pushing them back and apart, and Claire let him, arching her feet and her back, letting him look at her. His gaze and the heat of the sun on her bare skin were utterly delicious. Her pussy throbbed with such intense yearning she’d die if he didn’t touch her soon. She writhed, digging her fingers into the wet sand.

“Ah,” he approved. “I think I could make you come just by looking at you, tita. You’re ready for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes, damn you.”

“What do you want?” He scooped up another handful of foam and water and tipped his hand to let it dribble down over her mons and her labia.

Claire moaned at the teasing touch. “I want you to—to use your mouth on me. Please, Daniel.”

“
Thought you’d never ask, pūpū.
” He crouched over her and, with unerring skill, licked up through the center of her swollen labia, straight to her clitoris.

She cried out, and he groaned in concert, their voices mingling with the surf swishing around them as he plied his tongue with swift, merciless skill.

She came, pleasure gathering in the knot of nerves under his rough tongue and then shivering outward, suffusing her pussy.

“Your taste—your smell,” he muttered as he rose over her. “
I could eat your pussy every damn day, pūpū. But now, I wanna fuck you in the water. Come on.
”

“Let me taste you,” she invited, reveling in the heat in his eyes as he shoved down his trunks, revealing his cock, as huge and gorgeous as she remembered.

“Oh,
I will, pūpū. But not right now. You’ll like this. Come on.
” He rolled on the condom he’d pulled from his pocket, and tugged her to her feet and into the water, backing up until the waves washed around their hips. He turned her into his arms, lifted her against him with his hand under her bottom, and thrust into her with one powerful stroke. Claire cried out. How could she have forgotten how wonderful it was to be filled by him, all her delicate tissues stretched, the head of his cock lodged deep against the back of her pussy.

Daniel lay back in the water and cupped her head, kissing her hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Their bodies rubbed together, her wet breasts bobbing and sliding against his chest, her legs spread wide around his hips. She grasped his shoulders and hung on, kissing him back as the turquoise waves washed around them and the sun danced on the surface. She loved the freedom, the daring of it. Anyone could come along the path and find them here. The sun was hot on her shoulders and back, the water cool on her legs, Daniel hot and hard in her arms.

Daniel Ho’omalu could be a terrible tease. He showed off, swimming around with her and moving shallowly inside her until she bit his shoulder in sheer frustration.

“Oh, you gonna pay fo dat,” he promised.

He cocked his head and kissed her hard and deep, even as he began to thrust inside her hard and deep. Just as the pleasure was beginning to carry her along in waves that matched those around her, he thrust one big finger daringly into her ass and held her there while he fucked her.

She dug her nails into his smooth, wet hide, but she wasn’t about to let go and lose his cock inside her, not until she came again. Which she did, crying out her joy to the quiet cove just as Daniel flung back his head and rammed into her, arching with a deep, guttural cry.

“Omigod,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath and getting a mouthful of water instead. “Get us back to shore before we drown. And get your finger out of my ass.”

“You like it. Your pussy grabs me like a limpet when I touch you there.”

She splashed a handful of water in his face, and he laughed, letting her go. She was glad to have the water to hold her up—her legs were as limp as seaweed. She dove underwater and then surfaced, tipping back her head to let the water stream from her hair. Then she gave a little shriek as Daniel swept her up in his arms and carried her out of the water.

Claire was completely unused to being with a guy who had the strength to carry her any distance. She wasn’t fat, but she wasn’t model-slim either. As Daniel strode up the path to his house with her in his arms, she melted inside. She felt like the heroine of an action flick, carried off by the huge, muscular hero, in only a sarong.

“Let’s stay out here.” She wanted to lie on a blanket with him in the shade of the trees and listen to the surf.

He shook his head. “Gotta get you inside. Gonna burn your pretty white breasts and your ass.”

They showered, and then Claire wriggled back into her hastily rinsed bikini and followed Daniel into his kitchen. He opened the refrigerator while she looked around at the spare, masculine décor. The bones of this place were great, but he sure didn’t go in for décor.

Maybe that was why the case of figurines on the wall of the room across the hall caught her eye. Daniel handed her a beer, and she took a drink. It was delicious, cold and prickly and refreshing. Holding it, she padded across the hall and took a quick look around. The room was a simple office, a beautiful mahogany desk wrapping around two walls, with a computer, shelves and filing racks. Claire looked back at the display case, also built of some exotic wood and lined with forest-green felt. Against the felt paraded a line-up of familiar characters.

“You have DC and Marvel superheroes,” she exclaimed, delighted. “Superman, and Batman, and Wonder Woman. Oh, and the Green Flash. These are great.”

Daniel leaned against the doorframe, watching her. He smiled crookedly. “When I was a little kid, I thought they were real, like—” He checked himself, shrugging. “Found out they weren’t, damn near broke my heart, but I still watched the cartoon shows and read my uncle’s collection of vintage comics.”

“Oh, that’s so sad that you were disillusioned,” Claire said, smiling ruefully. “Kids believe the darnedest things.”

He shrugged again. “I guess we all need heroes to believe in.”

She nodded. “Yes, we do.” She turned back to the display case, pointing at a figure near the bottom. The voluptuous redhead wore a formfitting green suit and carried a gold trident. “Who is this? I don’t recognize her.”

He took another swallow of beer. “That’s Mira. She was the queen of Atlantis until she was deposed. She was also Aquaman’s wife.”