9. In the Cove
9
IN THE COVE
MAL
I wasn’t usually on such a hair trigger.
On an ordinary day, the sight of a woman at the tiller of a sailboat wouldn’t turn me on, generally speaking. But there was something about Prentice at the helm of that boat that was so . . . magnetic.
I’d done my best to listen when she was teaching me about sailing, but a lot of it went past me because I kept watching her lips form the words.
I tried to match her interest in how the wind was moving and how we could plot a course to get where we wanted, but the breeze had picked up some color on her cheeks, and I wanted to run the side of my thumb across that color. Test the silk of her skin. Feel her warmth.
Her pants weren’t designed to attract the male eye. They were some kind of cotton like khakis, I’d guess, although they were blue. Baggy. But when the wind blew and the fabric formed around her hips, pulled tight against those world-class thighs, I spent the entire trip out to the Sound with a semi.
A semi threatening to go fully hard.
Then she started dropping shy hints about staying out past curfew, and I had to fight to remain a gentleman.
The exhilaration of damn near surfing an entire sailboat through the storm was a partial distraction, but when we were finally tucked into a very cozy cabin and she began peeling off layers . . . I heard a refrain that beat like my heart. A riff I thought I’d outgrown with adolescence.
How far would she let me go?
How far would she let me go?
How far would she let me go?
And then she agreed that maybe I should kiss her, and I lost track entirely of how far we’d get and got lost instead in the warmth of her waist under my arm, of the fragile line of her jaw against my fingers, of the soft wonder of her lips.
My only goal was to restrain the brute in my brain. I must not paw her. I must not rush her.
Her kiss was just like Prentice herself: uncertain at first and then strong. Determined. The kiss of a woman who had been bullied often enough to have finally put her foot down. She knew what she wanted and had no interest in settling for something else.
As her shyness melted, my urgency rose, along with my cock. Impolite but undeniable. I was pressing my groin into her without conscious thought, desperate for the heat and tightness of her.
“Okay,” she said thickly.
Please don’t make me stop. Please don’t. I kissed down her neck in the hopes that it would forestall any attempt to slow things down, but she didn’t let me down.
“Wet jeans—off—keep the berth—oh—dry?—”
I’d gotten to her collarbone, but once I realized what she was saying, I focused long enough to lift my head. “Take off my jeans? You want me to take them off?”
The smile was so soft, so wicked, that I kissed her again. Even if it would stop her from telling me to get more naked, I needed to taste that laughter with my tongue.
And it was good.
So good.
I got pulled into an eddy, like there was a whirlpool going on. I was a leaf caught in the backwater, circling endlessly and ignoring the power just over there. I wanted to fuck Prentice. I wanted to make love to her, make her moan, taste her—but this kiss. Oh, this kiss. More of this. I needed it.
The arms she had around my neck meant her breasts were mashed up against me, which made me relax and tense up at the same time. She was running her fingers through my hair, sensations that sent shivers down my spine. I was holding her with the rhythm of my heart, beating all the way down my arms to my fingers, down my spine to my cock, over my thighs down to bare feet that no longer felt the cold or the wet.
“Mal,” she sighed. I lifted my head so I could watch her lips form whatever words she wanted to say. “You can’t even stand up straight, can you?”
“Huh?” She was right. I had to crouch, but so what? Why did that matter?
“Get out of those jeans. They’re sopping wet. Then we can lie down.”
Lie down. Yes, I really wanted to lie down.
She was right, though. The situation got extremely awkward. There was no sexy way to skin out of soggy jeans. They fought my attempt to kick them off. I had to struggle to free myself, and I came very close to headbutting Prentice, who was having a slightly easier time with her cotton pants.
I got distracted once I realized her legs were emerging from the cloth. Long, silken thighs. Lovely calves. An impossibly fragile knee. Damn, I wanted to kiss that knee.
Which was when I realized through the thick adolescence of my skull that once out of its tough denim prison, my cock was going to make a pretty bold entrance.
But Prentice—ah, Prentice. Her loose pants had come off with less argument than mine, and now she slid backward onto the bunk, her loose T-shirt just covering her crotch and those stunning legs.
Those stunning, naked legs.
There she was.
I think I said something stupid. Probably, “Oh my god.” I sat abruptly and flailed around until I finally freed myself from the prison of my jeans. Then I just curled helplessly to the side, ending with my mouth kissing the incredible artistry of her kneecap.
Yes, it was a little odd that I couldn’t keep my mouth from her knees, but legs had long been my weakness, and hers were . . .
How could anyone walk on something so delicate? So strong and long and perfectly curved? I slid my hand behind her knee, feeling the most secret flesh, the crease, the heat, the vitality of her, and lifted her leg enough to be able to get at the whole knee.
I could—I knew I could—bend that knee just a little further. Slide her shin over my shoulder. Open her to my greed, my curiosity, my hunger.
But that would be wrong. That would be too fast. That would be assuming she was as ready as I was to travel up those perfect thighs to the center of her. Like a secret, a treasure. Someplace to explore and taste and touch and smell, a place I couldn’t live in but could visit if I was very careful. If I did all the right things.
I surrendered her knee. I kissed the other knee in passing. And I lifted away to crawl up the small space to lie on my side beside her. There wasn’t a lot of overhead room, but I instinctively measured the space and knew.
There was enough room. There was.
“I got a little carried away,” I said. “Your legs are so gorgeous.”
“Don’t apologize.” She rolled onto her side to smile at me. “It felt really good.”
“Yeah?” Maybe I’d get to do that again . . . and more. Play it cool. “Are you chilly? Is there a blanket or something?”
“I’m not cold.” She had one arm bent under her head. The other hand reached out and traced along my lower lip. “Look at how far I had to go just to get you alone. I’m sorry everyone got in our way last night at the gala.”
I kissed the fingers that stroked me. “Would you have invited me in if your mother . . .”
She winced. Wrong person to mention, and I definitely agreed. “I would have. And I decided that I’ve got to move out as soon as I can!”
“I hear you. Archer leaves tomorrow to be with his girl in LA for a week, but even without him there, that place is too gross to take you. This boat is a godsend.”
Her smile was so wide and happy that I found I was kissing her again.
“Mal,” she murmured, against my lips.
“Mm?”
“I want to feel your hands on me.”
“Where?”
She took my wrist and slid my hand up from her waist. I held my breath as she’d moved me until I was cupping one tantalizing breast. “Here,” she whispered.
Oh, I could do that. I probably should have said it out loud, but my focus had shifted.
“A breast is a miraculous thing,” I said, sitting up on my elbow to see better. “Look at this curve. It’s perfect. It fits my hand like they were built to be together. And at the tip—oh, that’s so—mm.” I kissed her breast through her T-shirt.
The pebbled texture was mouthwatering. What color? I was mad to know. “Is this nipple pink? Caramel? Will you show me? Show me, Prentice.”
She wriggled to pull her shirt over her head. I should have waited to let her get her bra herself, but the sight of that much skin pushed me over the edge. I hooked a finger in the cup and drew it down.
And uncovered pink. Perfect. As good as the shape of her breast felt to my hand, the tip was made by great good fortune to exactly fit in my mouth. I licked her at last, and she shivered in my arms.
But the greed was still clamoring for more. “Roll toward me,” I whispered. “Let me get the hooks.”
She turned to me trustingly, and for once, I unhooked a bra without confusion or delay. Thank you, god of bras.
She turned back and drew off the straps, and there she was before me, dressed in nothing but a tiny pair of pink panties. I got briefly dizzy from the rush of blood to my cock.
But no time for dizziness. I had two breasts that needed my attention. My heat. My caress. I learned her torso. I kissed from her lovely neck down her sternum and then around the curve of each breast. I sucked at the tip lightly at first, and then harder when her fingers tightened in my hair.
“More,” she sighed, and I was more than happy to obey. I sucked harder. Licked harder. Her breathing quickened, and she plucked at my shirt. The rain thudded against the deck overhead, endless percussion fading into background noise.
“Let me see you, Mal,” she said. “Take this off. I want to see you. Your shoulders, your chest, your?—”
I yanked my shirt over my head, banging an elbow on the bulkhead but feeling no pain. I turned back to her, but she put out a hand to stop me.
“Wait just a minute? Lie back. Please?”
I couldn’t imagine anything better than touching Prentice, but if she wanted to return the favor, I had no interest in stopping her.
She rose on her elbow and turned to me. “You’re”—she stroked a hand across my chest—“really gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” Could I take her wrist as she’d taken mine? Slide her hand down to where I wanted it the most?
Not yet. Not yet. Be cool.
She stroked the length of my neck and ran her hand across my shoulders. That seemed to please her, so I kept still.
I couldn’t help the shiver, though, when she leaned down and pressed a wet, openmouthed kiss on my nipple. “Just returning the favor.” She smiled. “Does it feel good?”
I smiled, hoping to hide how tightly I was biting down. “It all feels good.”
“But this isn’t especially nice?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
“That means no,” she said. “I bet I know what would feel good.”
She slid her hand down my stomach toward the tent in my boxer briefs and I had to—I had to—stop her.
“Hang on,” I groaned. “Tell me what’s happening here.”
She looked up, her blue eyes wide with surprise. “It’s not obvious?”
I chuckled. “It’s hopeful, very hopeful. But a few awkward sentences can avoid some unhappy consequences, you know? So tell me . . . are we going to make love? Do you want that?”
“I really do.” Her pupils were dark, making her eyes dewy and huge.
“Thank god,” I said. “I have condoms, and I don’t have any infections that I know of. I had a regular checkup two months ago and I was clean, but I’ve had two partners since then.”
“You have?” She sat back, thinking. “Do I want to know who?”
It was her right to ask. “One was a woman I dated at the conservatory. A cellist. I took her to Chicago to see our gig there. Our reunion didn’t end with hearts and flowers, and we went our separate ways. The other was a lot sluttier, I’m sorry to admit. A woman in Pennsylvania came to one of our gigs and announced that she wanted to fuck a star. Would I oblige her? I was single, she was single, I used a condom. It was over way too fast, and I’m ashamed to admit it to you now.”
“Does that happen often?”
I shook my head. “It’s been a few years since I was into groupies. Back when I was more indiscriminate, I thought we were just fucking for fun, but it turned out that too many of them were hoping for romance. So I stopped picking them up after that unless things were absolutely clear. It’s just mean to lead them on, so I leave that to Archer. Or I did. He’s a one-woman man now.”
She looked at me and nodded. “That’s like you, to try to protect people.”
“Protect them? You mean condoms? Because that’s to protect me too.”
“No, I mean you being worried that someone was hoping for a relationship, so to avoid hurting any of them, you gave up all of them.”
“Well, not all of them.”
“She doesn’t count. I hereby declare that she doesn’t count. You’re clean, I’m clean, we’ve got condoms, and I’m on the pill. We’re both consenting adults. I want you and have wanted you since I was a girl. Can we be done with the awkward part now?”
She looked serious and a touch annoyed. She made me laugh, so I sat up suddenly and pushed her back. “Yes, we can, but the price is, you have to let me worship these legs for a few minutes first.”
“Oh,” she said. “Oh, that feels—oh, all right. If you must.”
“I must.”
This time, I treated myself to her foot. A kiss to the instep. This one, now that one. A nibble at the ankle bone. This one, now that one. I flexed her foot gently, admiring how easily it moved. Like this for bare feet, like this for those sexy stilettos. She was a miracle.
A soft, warm slide up the long length of her calves, both hands summiting together. At last, back to the knee.
Supple. Soft. Tender and defenseless at the back, smooth and round and fascinating at the kneecap. I pressed a kiss to each crease and then gave in to my baser nature, sliding her knees over my shoulders so I could kiss slowly up the insides of her thighs.
“Mal . . .” she sighed.
“What?” I murmured. “You don’t want?”
“I want. I want bad. But you don’t have to.”
“Shh. If it isn’t obvious, I want to. Just give me a little time, if you don’t mind. Please let me?”
“Oh. Well, okay, then.”
Her thighs perfectly fit the curve of my hands. I kept those long legs close together, allowing only for the width of my skull traveling up, until I reached the forbidden territory past the crease at the hip.
“Mal.” Her fingers worked in my hair, and I assumed she didn’t need a response. I gave her one anyway.
“Prentice,” I said. Then I inhaled luxuriously, learning the rich, delicious perfume at her very center. The most private, the most secret, the most delicious fragrance. “You smell so good.” I teased a finger along the crotch of her panties, pleased with the heat I could feel. “So very good.”
“Ohhh . . .”
I kissed at the apex over the cloth and then breathed hot air onto her. She gasped, so I did it again, the moisture of my breath dampening the fabric. My wandering finger slid off center and underneath the elastic.
She shivered as I stroked along the silken skin—the secret, private, intimate skin. Shell pink? Rose pink? Would she darken to a forbidden, welcoming red? I shifted so I could tug the fleeting modesty of those panties down her gorgeous legs. They disappeared into the well. But I came back right away to see the wonder I’d unveiled.
So beautiful. Creamy skin parting to show the blush beneath, the true pink growing more intense as it descended. “Gorgeous, Prentice. You’re so lovely.”
Her exhale was a small grunt, and her fingers tightened in my hair. Could I see this secret place slick and shining? I dipped one gentle finger inside her to test her response, and found her sizzling hot and slickly wet. Oh, to bury my cock in that paradise.
But first, I drew out the slickness on my finger and slid it gently upward, painting her with her own excitement. She gleamed in the low light. I was unable to resist. I tasted the shine I’d painted on her.
Better than the scent. Richer. More addictive. She tasted like danger and secrets and the thrill of adrenaline and raw desire. I needed more.
More.
More!
I went too fast. I was sure I did. Far too soon, my fingers were in her, and my tongue was flicking against her clitoris. I should have taken longer, but her fists were pushing against me. Her breath was panting. Her sighs had become moans. I drank her arousal like a vampire, lying on my own steely cock and glorying in the volcano that was Prentice.
“Mal,” she gasped. “Oh, Mal, do that, just that. Oh god, I think—oh, oh, helllllo?—”
And then her thighs were locked tight around my head, her hands pressing my head down, while her body shook and she uttered a little scream.
I almost came from her orgasm. It was so intense, so exciting. But at that moment, it was only polite for the gentleman to allow the lady some time to come down. I kissed her beautiful thighs, hoping it wouldn’t be for the last time, and moved up on the bunk to gather her in my arms and let her breathing slowly return to normal.
“Mmm,” she moaned. “I mean, um, wow. That was . . . oh. Oh, Mal.” I felt a little aftershock tremble through her, which made me grin in satisfaction.
“That was okay?” I asked, looking for some praise.
“Oh, Mal.” She pushed back from my arms and rolled to her back. Go on. Tell me how good I was. “Get a condom,” she said instead.
I was startled. “Yeah? You want a little time first?”
Her grin was lazy but predatory. “I’m not done. And you haven’t gotten started yet.”
Ooh. Not done, huh? Well, let me see if I can address that situation.
Her panties were draped over the ice-cold puddle of my soggy jeans on the wet floor. But so what? My wallet was still there.
“I have some if you can’t find yours,” she said.
There was nothing that turned me on faster than preplanning.
“I’ve got it.” I stripped out of my shorts, and she sat up to get a look at my junk. Vixen.
“Shit. All of you is big, huh?” I preened proudly. “You’re going to need to go slowly at first,” she said.
“Want me to wait? Do you need more time?”
She lay back and opened her legs, a wanton invitation that made my balls throb. “I’m as hot and wet as I’m going to be. Just go slowly so I can adapt to you.”
“Like this? Me on top?”
“Stop talking. Come on. Do me, damn it!”
Her impatience was sriracha sauce on my libido. No more talking. Got it.
I got the condom on. Instead of crawling up to meet her, I caught her by her spectacular knees and dragged her down to me, where I stood in a crouch, bare feet pressing into our discarded clothes in the footwell. She gasped, one hand going to her breast, where she pinched the peak with more pressure than I would have dared.
So, you need me to go slow, huh? Okay. I can grit my teeth and go slow.
I centered on her with just my hips, proud that I didn’t have to use a hand to seat myself at her entrance. She gasped when she felt the head of my cock against her. Once I had her looking at me, I pressed in slowly, pulling her onto me with my hands behind her knees.
She closed her eyes, but I refused to go any further until she was looking at me again. Only an inch or so in, my cock was trapped—far too little of me wrapped in the vicelike grip of her heat and slickness.
But open her eyes she did, and then she nodded at me, so I pressed in farther.
This speed would kill me. I’d have a heart attack from going so slowly. I wanted to bury myself in her. Sheath myself in the tight, dark walls of her tunnel. Mine deep. Relieve my tension, my stress . . .
But until she gave me the nod, I had to wait. Had to watch.
When she was ready, I slid in further, pressing against the resistance of her swollen, slick tissue.
“Wait,” she gasped. “Wait just a—God. God, wait.”
I nodded, knowing she couldn’t see me with her eyes closed. She could probably feel it. We were joined so tightly, she must have felt my movement.
It didn’t take long—only an eternity—before she opened her eyes and nodded. “More. Do more. Go slow.”
It took an agonizing length of time to get me fully inside her, close enough for my balls to brush against her ass. But I finally said, “That’s it. No more.”
“Thank god. Hold on. Oh god, you’re huge.”
That was the sort of thing most men would want to hear, but if I were a little smaller, I’d be fucking her already. I waited, trying and failing to think of something to distract me. Tribal drumming cadences. Tesla panel gap. The Marvel Cinematic Universe. Nothing helped.
“Out a little and then back. Try just a— oh. Oh god. That’s . . . so big . . . again. Try again. Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. Ah. Further out now. And baaack . . . Out. And in. Do that for a bit. Oh, that feels so good, Mal. Mal.”
Her eyes opened, and I knew she was seeing me. She’d adapted to me, and now she was watching me as I fucked her. Slowly, torturously, but I was fucking her.
The thrust-and-pull was getting easier. She was still pulling at me with every withdrawal, still almost resisting me on the way back in, but the slickness was working. Without conscious thought, I began to dip my knees as I settled to the rhythm. The tempo picked up. I threw my head back, my nose almost brushing the hatch above, to revel in the sensation.
Prentice grunted and then moaned, “Yes. Yes, that’s it—there. Do that.”
I didn’t know what I’d done to please her, but she wasn’t telling me to stop. That was enough.
“More,” she said at last. “Can you do more?”
I shoved on her thighs, pushing her back up the bunk far enough for me to get a knee down. I slid back into her on a gasp, picking up the tempo and diving deep into her. Hold off, Mal. Hold off. Build to that crescendo slowly. Don’t force it, it’s coming. Steady beat. Steady beat until ? —
“Yes! Yes, more!”
Slide the beats per minute up. Sink in deep and hard. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.
“Mal! My god! Mal!”
I found her clit with one hand. I tried to be gentle, but my hands were trembling, and I landed pretty hard. She gasped and her ribs lifted. I ground down hard. Hold on. Hold on.
She screamed, her body jittering around me.
Thank god. Thank fucking god.
I let go. Fucked her deep. Came hard. Roared at the release shooting out of me.
Thank god.