Chapter 58 #3
I pull his face to mine, urging him on. He strokes the tip of himself over my core, the bead of liquid mixing with the slick between my thighs, and I gasp into his mouth.
His teal eyes lock on mine as he lines himself up and slowly pushes inside, just the tip, before he stops and waits for me to adjust. My fingers dig into his shoulders, and I pull him closer, silently telling him to keep moving.
He pushes in farther and the pressure overwhelms me, pulling and stretching me to take him. My back arches, a cry catching in my throat, as he continues the slow torture, never rushing, and his eyes never leaving me.
I feel like I’m being split in half, the size of him impossible to fully allow, but I know when he is fully seated. His forehead drops to my shoulder, and he holds himself over me, groaning into my skin.
“You feel so fucking perfect.”
He captures my lips with his, and an involuntary tear slides out of the corner of my eye. Concern etches across his face, his brow furrowing the moment he sees it, but I shake my head.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, and he listens.
The strokes are slow and deep as he rocks into me, his lips and tongue caressing mine in the same rhythm.
I close my eyes again and soak up the feel of him, wrapping my arms around his back, and pulling him to me.
It isn’t enough. I want to be closer, to be crushed and overwhelmed by him.
After fighting it for so long, I want to give in, to be consumed by Weston and memorize every inch of him.
My fingers dig into the taut muscles in his back and shoulders, my nails scraping across his skin as I pull him closer, our bodies communicating silently against each other.
His thick arm wraps underneath me, clutching my body to his tightly in answer to my wordless plea.
The sensation between my thighs quickly changes and the pain disappears, just before heat and pressure heighten.
He reaches down with his other arm and hooks it under my knee, wrapping it around his waist, his hips shifting to change the angle.
With the next thrust, I break away from his kiss, crying out as the unbelievable pressure intensifies.
Fire licks over my skin, the heat burning from the inside out.
My limbs are tight around him as he crushes my body to his.
The feel of his hard cock sliding in and out of me pushes me impossibly higher, until I feel like I can’t take any more.
His lips press into the base of my neck, where my pulse pounds beneath the skin, and he grunts softly with each long thrust, growing deeper and harder as I gasp for breath.
Then my body shatters, the muscles in my core clenching around him, eliciting a gruff moan in my ear.
Heat fills me as his hips pulse a few more times before stilling.
My limbs are liquid and my eyes flutter shut, as he gently covers my face with kisses until he finds my lips again, his tongue delving deep into my mouth. The gentle caress of fingertips across my forehead brings out a soft sigh, and he brushes my hair back, his fingers twining in the curls.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his thumb stroking my cheekbone.
I make a low humming sound, keeping my eyes closed and soaking up every remaining sensation I can. He chuckles softly, and the scruff on his chin nuzzles against my jaw.
“Why haven’t we been doing that forever?” I mutter, reveling in the hard planes of his body pressing in to mine.
He laughs, and my eyes fly open to catch his rare smile again. He closes the space between our faces, his movement shifting him still inside me, and I suck in a breath as he mumbles against my lips. “Because I’m an asshole, remember?”
“You can keep being an asshole as long as we get to do that again.”
“Whatever you say, my queen.” He peppers kisses along my jaw until his lips brush my ear, the grumble of his voice making my muscles clench around him again. “Now that I’ve had a taste of you, nothing could keep me from being buried inside you again.”
Pressure mounts as I feel his cock swell inside me again the moment I catch his lips with mine and breathe into another deep kiss.
He breaks away, propping himself up on his forearms. “You can’t kiss me like that or we’ll never sleep.”
A yawn breaks free at the mention of sleep, and I slap a hand over my face. He chuckles and wraps a hand around my hip as he slowly slides out of me, and I wince at the twinge of pain once he’s gone. His feet hit the floor as he gets out of bed, and my stomach sinks.
“Don’t leave,” I murmur, my cheeks heating from embarrassment at how the plea sounds.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, leaning over the edge and brushing his lips over mine.
Before I know it, Weston scoops me up in his arms and walks me over to the tub again.
I nestle my head into the crook of his shoulder and lean into his chest. Exhaustion comes over me in a wave, and I barely move when he turns the water on again, letting the tub fill before setting me inside.
“Slide forward,” he says, and I follow his order, giving him enough room to lower himself behind me. Once he’s seated, he reaches out and pulls my back to his front, laying my head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around me.
I don’t know how long we sit like that, folded together in the warm water. My mind goes in and out of sleep, the heat of the tub relaxing me until I feel the firm press of his lips against my hair.
“How did you find me?” I ask, my question barely a murmur as I try to fight the fatigue. Strong hands move beneath the water, kneading the muscles of my thighs and hips, and I sink deeper into the water, pushing against him and waiting for him to answer.
“I wouldn’t let Sig go alone. She told me what your plan was and where you were supposed to meet, so we went together.
When you didn’t show up—” He pauses and I feel the tension stiffen his body behind me.
Did Weston think I wasn’t going to come back?
Was he really worried I would leave them, even after everything I discovered about Dane?
He lets out a sigh. “I knew something was wrong. I begged the island to bring me to you.”
“And it did?”
I can feel the bob of his throat from where I’m nestled under his chin. “It did.”
I lace my fingers through his where his hands stopped on the tops of my thighs and squeeze gently. He moves us then, wrapping our arms around my middle and pulling me in tighter.
“I told you I’d always rescue you,” he murmurs in my ear. “I wasn’t lying.”
My chest swells as I remember the relief of hearing his voice in that safe house, knowing he had come for me. The island let him. Dawnlin brought him to me, and if there was any doubt before that this wasn’t where I was supposed to be, it was answered.
I tilt my head back and weave my fingers through the hair on the back of his head, lowering his face to mine for one kiss, thanking him with the press of my lips for not doubting me.
“But now I’m begging you,” he says. “Please don’t fucking do that again.”
Repeating his words back to him, I smile softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Weston grabs the sponge and soap from beside the tub and starts lathering it up in front of me.
“Let me take care of you,” he says, and I nod lazily, my eyelids heavy and drooping after everything that happened tonight.
He washes me gently, and I’m surprised to find that I’m not even a little uncomfortable having his hands roam caressingly over every inch of my body.
It’s gentle and relaxing, the complete opposite of the way he can be out on deck when he has to be the captain.
When he’s finished with me, he moves me to the other side of the tub, giving me the perfect view of him as he washes himself.
Rivulets of water stream down his body as he stands and rubs suds over his skin, and I get to gape at the perfection that is Weston.
He steps out of the tub, and holds his hands out to me, pulling me to stand and lifting me out gently, setting me on my feet beside him.
He has a towel a moment later, and dries me off quickly, doing the same with himself before he scoops me up again and carries me back to bed.
He doesn’t bother with the sleep shirt or his pants, he just sets me in the middle of the bed and climbs in behind me. I roll on my side, pressing my back to his front as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close and pressing a long kiss to the tip of my shoulder.
“Are you going to run away in the morning if we wake up like this again?” I say sleepily, not realizing what I said until the words leave my mouth.
“You remember that?” he asks, shock clear in his voice.
I nod and yawn. “I woke up before you did. Are you going to regret it like before?”
“No, Lennox. I don’t regret it.” He pulls me closer, his hand splayed firmly across my stomach, and his arm sliding beneath my neck.
I don’t know how long we lay silently listening to each other breathe before I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, and drift off to sleep with the faint memory of a brush of his lips against my temple, and a mumbled, “Goodnight, Lennox,” against my skin.