When I looked at him again, I knew he could read my filthy thoughts in the way his face had lost any kind of humour, the fierce furrow of his brows and the stern set of his eyes which was slowly grazing up and down my body – both intense yet admiring. And in that moment, the tension oozing between us was palpable.
I wanted to run to him, to wrap myself around his body and devour his face. To kiss him in the ocean for so long, that the sun went down, and we could hide under a mask of darkness. To tell him things without saying any words.
Take, take, take.
I wanted to recreate the other night, only here, in the dip and pull of the water, but I knew I couldn’t with people around. So instead, I shook the thoughts clear and forced a smile across my face.
“Don’t splash me,” I sulked, slowly walking into the water. It wasn’t warm, but against the harsh Australian sun which still had a kick even this late in the afternoon, I enjoyed the refreshment for what it was.
“We don’t have to go any deeper than here,” he called from where he stood up to his waist, knowing I was scared. The waves weren’ttoo strong, but being this deep still wasn’t without fear and I focused on him as I waded beyond my knees.
I was wearing a black full piece, nothing sexy about the choice of attire, but I saw the way he drank me in and it sent a sharp thrill through me, my body begging me to take some initiative. Ignoring the desire pooling between my legs, I focused on anything but the way my skin sizzled the closer I got to him. As if I was attuned to everything he did and in turn my temperature rose just being near him.
When I was close enough, he reached for me and I took his outstretched hand. There was nothing sexual about the way he pulled me into him, pressing my back to his front. It was more protective, comforting. He knew this was not a space where I felt entirely safe and as he had been doing since I arrived, he was reminding me he was there in a way he knew I would respond.
Throughtouch.
“Just jump when the wave meets us.” His instruction was steady in my ear and my skin erupted into goosebumps that I could only half blame on the chill of the water. He lifted me, mimicking his words and I moved against him as we pushed up from the ocean floor with each wave. I held his arms which were wrapped around my stomach, my legs settling between his.
“Just don’t let go,” I begged, although I could have easily done this on my own. Playing damsel in distress was okay if it meant he held me like this, and as we settled into a jump and wait game, my fear evaporated as I focused on the break of the next wave. Focused on every movement he made, the effortless grace he exuded as he moved us forward and back, holding me tighter if the wave was bigger and loosening if it was smaller – but never letting go.
The beach was empty. A family a little further down, but otherwise it was just us and the occasional dog walker who ventured along the sand, their footprints the only reminders they were here until the ocean also took those away. But it wouldn’t have mattered ifthere were hundreds of people around us, because with his body encasing my own, it was only him, me and the ocean. And when he unexpectedly brushed my wet hair over to one side and placed three kisses in the crook of my neck, anything even close to reality melted away. My ear dropped to my shoulder, giving him space to continue. My grip on his arms tightened, his hold around my waist pulling firm, only when a wave came a few minutes later, he loosened his grip, moving his hands to my hips so when I jumped, my whole body slid up and down the length of him.
I felt his chest vibrate through my entire body and my nipples formed taut peaks.
God.
I grabbed onto his hands and followed their path as they slowly moved from my hips, down my thighs, before returning to grip my waist, lifting me over the next wave. The glide back down his body was salacious, finishing with a press of his hips into my backside, the effect of this oceanic dance on him obvious.
He held me firm ensuring I couldn’t escape, and with each jump, he moved his hands to somewhere new.
“Tell me to stop,” his voice was rough and pleading, his hands contradictorily resting just below my chest, waiting for me to halt whatever this was. Only I wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Taking hold of his hands, I placed them over my heavy breasts and pushed my hips back into that thick cock I’d been thinking about way more than I had any right.
“Never,” I breathed, and with another jump of the wave, he lowered us back into the water, a growl rumbling in him and his hands now a ferocious flurry across my skin. He brushed up and down my thighs, skirting around where I wanted him most, before grazing my chest through my cozies, only stopping to grip my hips and lift me above the water before grinding me back down his body, a little firmer each time.
The feel of him pressing into me from behind only increased my need and I reached down grazing my own hands across the material of his swim shorts, wrapping around his back to hold him firm. The feel of his mouth against my neck was electric and when he simultaneously sucked my skin and finally brushed his fingers across my pussy, I moaned. I felt the tight rigidity of his body, the change of his touch, the passion in the increased pressure.
His fingers dipped beneath the elastic trim of my swimwear and within seconds, he was exactly where I wanted him, his finger teasing my swollen clit. His other hand was splayed against my stomach, his feet still lifting us over each gush of water as he increased the movements of his hand.
“Fuck, your pussy feels too fucking good,” his deep voice held a rasp which made my eyes roll back and my legs open wider.
“Youfeel too fucking good,” I confessed, although it didn’t feel like an admission so much as an unleashing. I’d done a terrible job hiding my attraction for him and under his touch, I was putty.
Malleable.
His to do as he pleased.
And I was a happy little piece of playdough, ready to be played with.
Any fears of being in the ocean were squashed as the strap of my swimwear was pulled down and he was massaging my chest with one hand, the other vigorously moving between my legs. Every single part of my body was awake, alive, climbing. Everything adding to the intensity of my pleasure. The water running up and down my chest, the feel of his thighs under my grip, his lips whispering praise and pleasure against my neck. The flick of his touch against my nipple before moving to the other with the perfect amount of pressure. And when he pressed a finger inside me and used the palm of his hand to grind against my clit, I was a goner. The forbidden hunger of our bodies as we again crossed every line we’d ever made, blurring thelines of our friendship, was too much to ignore. He called for me in ways no one ever could or would and my instinct was to respond.
Unabashedly, I pulled him into me, rocking his arousal against my arse as every jump up against the water brought me closer to release.
“Oh, jeez, I’m close already,” I panted, reaching down to grip his wrist working me to climax. The strength of his hands was heaven under my own, my fingers grabbing his shorts in a knot as I unabashedly brought him against me in quick thrusts. My moans were low enough that the crash of the waves washed them back out to sea, but his praise in my ear would forever remain in my memory.
“Feel so fucking good,” he groaned, and the smoky scrape to his words was enough to send me over the edge and I shattered underneath his merciless touch. My hand again reached for his, feeling his strength as he slowed his movements, his kisses lighter yet somehow deeper against my skin. I floated back to the ocean, my breathing still ragged and my grasp still firmly holding him against me as if when I opened my eyes, this bubble would burst. And I wasn’t quite ready to let go.
