Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
The frigid air nips at my skin as I settle on the cold sand, wrapping my blanket tightly around my shoulders for warmth. Pulling my hoodie over my head provides little warmth against the biting wind. The beach is deserted, which I expected given the hour, and I appreciate the solitude. It’s what I needed. To be alone in my thoughts. My last conversation with Ian ended in a heated argument, leaving me no time to properly grieve what could very well be the end for us.
“What are you doing out here?” Victor’s voice warms my insides, despite the frigid air.
“Just needed to clear my head. But I’m fine. You can go back to the house.” I keep my gaze straight ahead on the vast black sea and not on Victor’s silhouette standing near me.
He does the exact opposite and sits down in the sand next to me. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s not safe.”
“There’s literally no one here. And I’m not supposed to be talking to you. You’re the enemy.” But even as I say it, I know I don’t mean it.
“We don’t have to talk,” he murmurs. “I’ll just sit here with you and watch the ocean.”
“You’re really not leaving, are you?”
“Nope.” He covers his head with his hood and lies down, back flat on the sand.
“Making yourself comfortable?” I tease.
“Yep.” He folds his arms over his chest and closes his eyes.
“Are you going to sleep?”
“Nope. Just listening. Everything is sharper when you close your eyes—the sounds, the smells, the thoughts…”
My mind is a mess of conflict, feeling torn between wanting to be close to him and keeping my distance. Closing my eyes, I try to focus on the calming sounds around us—the crashing waves, the whistling wind, the familiar scent of salt and seaweed. But all I can think about is him—his clean scent, his closeness, and the tangled mess of my thoughts.
We sit there in silence for a while, neither of us willing to break the peacefulness of the moment. But then he shifts, and I can feel him watching me. “You’re going to get sand all over you,” I finally say.
He chuckles lightly, dismissing the concern. “Too late to worry about that. And I don’t care.”
I open my eyes and unwrap half of my blanket. “Here.”
His gaze meets mine, a flicker of surprise in it. “What?”
“We can both use it. It’s a king-size comforter. There’s more than enough room for the both of us. We don’t even have to touch.” I add that last part as a precaution for myself.
“Okay.” He sounds unsure, and if I think about it for too long, I will be too. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
We situate ourselves, a deliberate gap separating us. Underneath the blanket, I wrestle with the desire to close that distance. Instead, I lift my gaze to the moon, seeking its cold, serene beauty as a distraction from the warmth spreading through me just from being this close to him.
We sit in silence again, and this time I’m grateful that he’s not watching me. We needed this break—this time to clear our heads—but it only brings up more questions and doubts. As time passes and the night air grows cooler, an unexpected thought surfaces: I’m not ready to leave the beach, not just yet.
“Is Esme okay?” he eventually asks, breaking the long pause between us.
“No,” I answer honestly. “But she will be.”
He curses under his breath, his guilt evident. “I never wanted to hurt her. But this is all on me. It’s my fault.”
“It’s not all on you,” I say, trying to ease some of the burden off his shoulders. “It’s on me too. I haven’t been the best friend to her.”
His eyes lock with mine, searching, holding. “I’m glad you were there for her tonight.”
“I’ll always be there for her.”
“I know. She’s lucky to have you,” he agrees.
I don’t know about that. “Relationships are hard.”
“Especially when you’re with the wrong person.”
I break eye contact to stare up at the stars; they’re the brightest I’ve seen them in months. “Ian and I broke up…sort of.”
“The fuck is sort of ? You’re still wearing his ring.”
The confession spills out. “We’re on a break. I didn’t cancel the wedding, but our relationship is on pause until I can figure some stuff out.”
“On pause.” He lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “What else is there to figure out?”
“I told him that I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him.”
He blows out a breath. “Shit.”
“I know. It’s so fucked up.” Memories of my parents’ tumultuous relationship surface, bitter and sharp. “But my parents were in love, and look where it got them? They were toxic and codependent, and in the end, their love ruined them.”
“Love didn’t ruin them. Their choices did. Their habits did.”
Damn. He’s right. “Logically, Ian and I make sense. We’re good on paper or whatever.”
He cups my cheek, drawing a sudden gasp from my lips. There’s a war in his eyes—a fire and desperation that nearly pulls me under. “Who gives a fuck how you look on paper? What matters is how he makes you feel…how he treats you.”
The air between us is electric, our breathing heavy as we subconsciously lean in, drawn to each other like magnets.
“We can’t,” I whisper with zero conviction.
“We shouldn’t,” he agrees, his voice deep and husky and dripping with desire straight down to my panties.
“It’s not right.” My hands find his shoulders, my fingertips pressing into his skin as I rub the tip of my nose against his.
“It’s fucked up.” He echoes my thoughts, but neither of us is willing to stop when he drags his hand under my hair to the nape of my neck, causing my hood to slip off.
“So fucked up.” I wet my lips, and it’s all the invitation he needs to lean in for a kiss, but I hold him back with my hand on his chest. “Whatever this is, it can’t leave this beach.”
A flicker of something vulnerable crosses his face, quickly masked as he nods, understanding the boundary I’ve set. Then his mouth is on me, his kiss insistent, his tongue intertwining with mine in a dance of equal parts desire and desperation.
I don’t want to stop, ever. But that’s not how this works. They’ll hate us—everyone. There’s too much at stake, too many judgments waiting to sweep us away.
Kissing Victor is everything and more than I thought it would be. It’s torture in the best possible way. I want him so badly it hurts, but at the same time, I know this can’t last forever. Eventually, we’ll have to face the reality of what we’re doing. But that’s for another time.
Right here, right now, as we lose ourselves in this kiss, I want more. This is our only chance to do this and it not be cheating—technically. It’s a break, not a betrayal. At least that’s what I’m telling myself as he gently guides us down onto the blanket.
We let our bodies do the talking as we grind against each other with insatiable hunger. He could take me right now, yank my pants down and shove his cock inside me, and I wouldn’t stop him. I’m his to take—to fuck. But it’s not what he does. He slows things down, his hardness digging into me with slow, sensual, powerful thrusts. Shit. If he keeps this up, I’ll come just like this. My clit is already pulsing.
His eager hands roam over my body, pulling up my hoodie and shirt up my torso and over my breasts. Electric-blue eyes meet mine as he moves his hands around my back and unbuckles my bra, pulling the satin fabric down my breasts. He lowers his mouth to my nipple, swiping his tongue over the pebbled flesh while rolling my other nipple between his fingers, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.
Good God. If this is a preview of what’s to come, sign me the fuck up. It’s almost too much to handle, the pleasure overwhelming. I’m losing control beneath him, writhing, bucking, and moaning like a cat in heat as he takes turns sucking on both breasts before dragging his lips back up to mine.
Our breaths are ragged as we finally break apart, my lips raw from the intensity of our kisses. “Your tits are fucking perfect.”
A breathless chuckle leaves me. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”
A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face as he runs a hand through my hair. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“Don’t fucking care.”
Without hesitation, he captures my mouth again in a tender yet urgent kiss. It’s like fire and ice melting together, a perfect balance of passion and tenderness. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice husky.
“Make me yours tonight.”
He looks down at me with something like wonder in his eyes, and I look at him with love in mine. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I get to have him, even for only one night.
We take each other’s clothes off, piece by piece, savoring the moment as we trace every curve and outline of our bodies. He’s undeniably sexy, each tattooed ripple of muscle firm beneath my fingertips. When we’re fully exposed, Victor settles between my legs. I’m trembling, not because I’m cold—he has the blanket draped over us—but because of the pure, raw need pulsing through my body.
“You’re so goddamn pretty,” he says, tracing a gentle line down my cheek and over my breasts. His mouth follows the same path, kissing and nipping at every inch of my body until he reaches my most intimate place. “Every fucking part of you is perfect.”
With one long lick of his tongue down my slit, my hips jerk off the blanket. He holds me down with his hands on my hips, then spreads my legs wide. I’m completely open to him, gripping him by the head as he sucks my clit into his mouth. And oh my God.
“Damn, you taste good. I can eat you for days on end,” he says as he works my pussy over, swirling his tongue in an alternating rhythm—fast and slow, hard and soft—bringing me closer and closer to the edge.
“Don’t stop,” I beg.
What I’m feeling and the sounds he’s making as he groans and slurps my arousal, coupled with my moans and gasps, light my body on fire. The stars in the sky pale in comparison to the ones exploding behind my closed eyelids as I climax harder than I ever have in my entire life, self-induced included.
Holyfuckingshit. Every inch of my skin tingles with my anticipation to feel him inside me. My need for him is almost too much to handle, sort of like the size of his cock. But I’m so here for it.
My orgasm has subsided, but Victor’s not done with me yet. He drinks my nectar like it’s the sweetest peach he’s ever tasted before dragging his tongue lower to my entrance.
What is he about to…?
Oh.
My.
Aaaaaaaaghh, yes!
He spears my entrance as deep as his tongue will go, which is pretty goddamn deep. Ohhhh, shit. Hole-lee fuck. Where has this been all my life? Tears sting my eyes as he fucks me with his tongue, shooting sparks of pleasure throughout my body. And when his fingers join the party, playing with my clit, I come so hard I think I might pass out. I’m so wet, it’s embarrassing. It’s also fucking awesome.
My limbs are like wet noodles when he crawls up my body, his mouth glistening with my desire. I weave my fingers through his hair, staring into his intense blue eyes. “Do to me whatever you want,” I whisper, giving myself over completely.
His already dark pupils seem to dilate further. “Oh, I plan on it. You’re mine tonight. It’s time you’ve been fucked properly.”
Fuck yes. He can literally do anything to me, and I’ll gladly take it.
Our mouths collide again in a frantic kiss, with me pulling his hair, probably to the point of pain. His tongue explores every inch of my mouth, and I am lost in the sensation of him. My anticipation reaches a fever pitch as he reaches his hand between us, guiding the head of his hard cock to my slick entrance.
I break the kiss, wanting to see the look on his face when he sinks inside me. With his strong arms bracing him on either side of me, we speak without words, our eyes conveying all that we can’t say out loud.
I love you.
If only.
Maybe in another life.
Goodbye.
With slow and deliberate movements, Victor fills me inch by exquisite inch. I gasp like I’m drowning because I am—in him, in this pleasure, in the turmoil of emotions swirling inside me. I’m deliciously full, fuller than I’ve ever been, as his cock stretches me in a way my pussy has never been stretched before. As he fully seats himself inside me, his eyes slip closed as if also overwhelmed by how good this feels—how right this feels. No matter how forbidden this is, how wrong this is, we’re lost in the moment, consumed by each other, and that’s all that matters.
And then he starts to move. Slowly at first, every roll of his hips making my body buzz with pleasure. Then, thrusting faster and harder, he claims what’s his for tonight, fucking me with a possessive ruthlessness that has my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
“Mine.” He pulls out to the tip before slamming back into me. He does this over and over until I’m a mess underneath him, gripping his ass as he fucks into me.
“Yes. Yours! Oh, God, it’s yours!”
Despite the chill in the air, our bodies are slick with sweat, hot skin slapping and sliding against hot skin.
I’m his, completely, to be used and fucked within an inch of my life—on my back, on all fours, and on my side as he buries his head in my hair and groans my name over and over as he drives into me. And he’s mine as I ride him cowgirl style while he twists a handful of my hair around his fist, and also when I devour his dick with my mouth until he’s pulling me off him because he’s not ready to come.
I never knew sex could be like this—so raw, so free, so uninhibited, so emotional, so…so perfect.
Victor wrings orgasm after orgasm out of me. And once he knows I’ve been turned out, he gives in to his own climax. I’m on top of him again, circling my hips, my nail scraping along his chest as he falls apart beneath me, every muscle in his body tensing as he curses and calls out my name in a delirium of pleasure. His release fills me, slick and warm, with him thrusting upward, wrenching a cry of ecstasy from my lips. Breathless and trembling, I collapse on top of him, feeling his heart race. He tightens his arms around me, and I cling to him desperately, basking in every precious second until the inevitable separation waiting for us.
I wake in Victor’s arms, fitting perfectly as the little spoon. The sunrise paints the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over us. A gentle breeze carries the ocean’s salty scent, and I can hear the distant crashing of waves against the shore. Looking over my shoulder, I find Victor gazing down at me, resting his head in his hand while his other arm drapes across my hip. Even without my glasses on, I can read him clearly—the desire and longing in his eyes, knowing that our time together is almost up.
“How long have you been awake?” I ask.
“I never went to sleep.”
“Never?” I turn around to face him. After fucking like porn stars, leaving no orgasmic stone unturned, Victor made love to me, sweet and slow, until our bodies tapped out from exhaustion. Neither of us wanted to return to the house, so we got dressed and set an alarm on his phone, just in case we overslept. I fell asleep cuddled up to him under the folded comforter.
“No,” he murmurs, brushing off my glasses and handing them to me. “I didn’t want to waste a second of our time together sleeping.”
I gently touch his cheek while looking into his ice-blue eyes, knowing it’s the last time we’ll be this close. “We should get back,” I say reluctantly.
“In a minute.” He pulls me closer.
“In a minute,” I repeat, wanting these last moments as much as he does.