On The Beach (Modern Vintage)

25. Bottomed Out Bliss

CHAPTER 25

bottomed out bliss

MICK

A fter dinner, while everyone else lingered over coffee and the buzz of post-meal conversation filled Belle's parents' house, I watched my quarry slip down the hallway. I waited a few moments before I followed, navigating past the family photos and childhood mementos that lined the walls. When I found her, she was in a room bathed in soft light from a small lamp on the dresser.

Her childhood bedroom.

I stood at the doorway and took it in. There was a row of neatly stacked books on genetics and cell biology mixed with dog-eared romance novels (and wasn't that a surprise), a framed high school science award, and a bulletin board cluttered with faded ticket stubs (she was a Taylor Swift fan, another surprise), and a couple of photos. One was of her and Anna, arms around each other, beaming in caps and gowns. The room felt untouched, standing as a quiet monument to a younger Belle. I stepped inside, the old wood creaking under my weight, and she turned, surprised.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" She folded her arms, clearly annoyed that I'd followed her .

"Occupational hazard." I shrugged. "Curiosity and all that." I nodded to the shelves. "Besides, I had to see where Dr. Isabelle Volnay began her world domination plans."

She didn't protest as I took a step closer, glancing at the bookshelf.

"You weren't kidding about being into genetics since you were a kid." I picked out a thick, well-worn textbook that looked like it had been through a war. Code Breaker by Walter Isaacson. "Light bedtime reading?"

She smirked. "I was a kid who preferred CRISPR case studies over fairytales."

I couldn't help but grin, imagining little Belle with her nose buried in a book about gene therapy while everyone else was probably playing with Barbies. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me." I reached out, picking up a small, framed photo off the shelf—a younger Belle with her parents, smiling proudly over what looked like a science fair trophy. "Always a bit of an overachiever, huh?"

She shrugged, a hint of pride flashing across her face. "Let's just say I like winning. And you should be talking. I've seen your resume, Dr. Augustus."

"We're two peas in a pod, Babycakes." I put the frame back down, glancing around. "You know, I think this room explains a lot. You grew up with everything so…organized. Controlled." I paused, looking back at her, softening my voice. "No wonder you'd find someone like me infuriating. But your family has a streak of…."

"Batshit craziness?"

I let out a laugh. "Yeah. But I like it. I like it all very much."

She gave me a soft smile, and for the first time, she looked a little less guarded, a little more like the Belle I'd seen on the island, her hair wind-tousled and her eyes full of fire.

"Babycakes, why aren't you giving me the fucking time of day?"

"It' s not you, Mick."

"Please," I groaned, "not the old it's me and not you nonsense."

"It's not nonsense," she protested. "You…"—she looked so fucking vulnerable—"hurt me."

"I know."

"And you think you can drop into my life when it suits you and throw me off balance. I hate that you think you can interfere in my life when you waltzed out without so much as a second thought."

I leaned back against the dresser, watching her, trying to gauge where she was going with this. "You think I'm going to waltz out again?"

She looked at me, a flicker of vulnerability behind her usual confidence. "Yeah, since you said again , which means it wasn't the first time."

The words hung for a moment; I could see how much I hurt her, how much it cost her to let her guard down, even a little.

I'd fucked up. When she confronted me about my identity, I should've been honest and told her my truth.

"You scared the shit out of me," I admitted.

"And you think it was a stroll in the park for me? I fell in…I…got attracted to someone so different than me. And then I find out…."

"What?" I persisted.

"That you were making fun of me."

"Never."

"That's how it felt." Pain shone in her gorgeous eyes.

"Belle, I know I messed things up." I cupped her cheek. "I get it. But coming back here, working with you—I'm not here for the fucking science. I'm here because I want to be with you."

She looked away as if the idea was too much to absorb. " This is my world, Mick. This life is what you left behind. How will it work when you're still that guy on the beach?"

I shook my head, stepping closer. "Maybe I don't fit perfectly into either world anymore, but then, Babycakes, neither do you."

Silence settled over us, and for once, she didn't push me away. She looked scared, hopeful, frightened, full of desire.

It's been fucking weeks since I tasted her, so I took her mouth and savored. Holy fucking hell. Yes, this was it. This was the woman; I thought when I sucked her tongue into my mouth, heard her moan, and felt her wrap herself around me.

Fireworks!

"Belle," I groaned and cupped her ass, ground against her like a teenager with a hard-on.

One minute, we were arguing; the next, we were pulling at each other's clothes. This was chemistry . I was certain of it because I'd never had this before, never had this desire to stay inside a woman, claim her.

I lifted her dress off her body and got rid of her underwear; all the while, I kissed her, sucked on her bottom lip, and thrust my tongue into her mouth, reveling in her response to me. I squeezed the curve of her ass and slid a hand over her naked pussy.

"You have too many clothes on," she gasped.

She was right. Too many fucking clothes.

She helped me get rid of my shirt—though her wandering hands distracted me to the point that I hauled her ass onto the bed and stood watching her while I undressed.

"Stay there."

Her eyes glinted with mischief. "But then, who'll take care of that ."

She looked at my erection concealed by my underwear as I took my pants off. "Oh, you'll take care of it, Babycakes."

She was about to rise when I shook my head. "Stay where I left you, or I won't let you come."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Yep."

"And you think you control my orgasm?" she challenged.

"I don't control it—but I know what you need me to do to get you there."

She smiled. "True."

I parted her thighs when I was naked and looked at her slick pussy. "Oh, Belle, you're so fucking beautiful."

"My eyes are up here."

I looked at her and grinned. "So, they are, and they are very beautiful too, but down here, you're exquisite."

I traced her thighs with my hands, enjoying her smooth, shapely legs.

"Have you been getting yourself off?" I asked her.

"Yes."

"You have a toy?"

"Yes."

"But not here." I nodded toward a bedside table.

"No."

"Touch yourself, Belle."

We didn't have time for what I had in mind, not when her family was right outside the door, metaphorically and literally. But it had been so long since I'd been this close to her, and I wanted… everything .

"Mick, I…."

I took her hand and placed it on her pussy. Her hips moved, and it was erotic as hell. "Look at me."

She did.

I stroked myself as I watched her fingers on her pussy. "You're getting close," I said in wonder, "So fast."

"It's…."

"Slow down, Babycakes. Oh yeah, touch that clit, don't pinch it, Belle." She'd come that way, and I wanted to prolong this just a little longer. Just a moment so I could savor in case she didn't let me back between her legs again for a while.

Her hips surged, and I pumped my cock.

I couldn't resist it. I slid a finger inside, and she shuddered. I stroked her G-spot, but before she could release, I pulled out and spread her juices on her nipples. I leaned down and suckled first one and then the other hard nub. She moaned.

"Shh," I whispered. "You have to be quiet, or everyone will know what we're doing here."

They probably already did. But now that I'd met Belle's family and found out they were all a little nuts—I didn't think it would matter. How I thought Belle was serious and boring, I had no clue. That was her lab persona; the real woman was…well, fucking amazing.

"You want me inside you?" I asked.

"Yes," she breathed without hesitation.

I couldn't wait. It had been too long. I draped myself over her; the desperation to be inside her, tempered by love, the need to make this special for both of us, to make it a homecoming of sorts.

I slid inside her and groaned. "Perfect."

Her legs immediately went around my flanks, and her eyes were on me, hot, aroused, affectionate, indulgent.

I kissed her because I couldn't help it. She was the most adorable woman ever, and I felt this need to fuck her and hold her all at once.

"You stretch me so well," she murmured.

"It's because you were made for me." The guy with the horns on my shoulder raised both eyebrows, Seriously? Made for me? What's next? You wanna write poetry? Just fuck her asshole.

I ignored my go-to reaction to feeling this emotional high because it wasn't fucking when it was with Belle. We made love.

"Tell me," I demanded as I pumped into her, glorying at the feeling of my impending release, feeling her pussy flutter around me, indicating she was about to orgasm.

She moaned and cried out my name.

"Tell me," I repeated.

"Mick," she protested, and it came out as a whine.

I slowed down when she was pleading with words and actions for me to go harder, deeper, more .

"I love you," she whispered.

The floodgates opened, and I began to slam into her, hard repeatedly. Her childhood bed squeaked, and I didn't give a shit who heard us. Let them know. I wanted the world to know.

"Give it back to me," she cried out as she began to convulse around me, pulling me with her to the other side of the little death.

"I love you, Babycakes."