Chapter 36
HATCH
Icatch Lucy in an instant as she launches herself forward to kiss me, stumbling backward into piling but keeping us both upright.
I grip her waist and haul her to my chest as the entire world narrows down to her.
The feel of her in my arms. The taste of her on my tongue.
The way she’s choosing me instead of running.
Thank fuck.
I seriously thought she was about to disappear on me again—for good, this time—and I was prepared to chase her barefoot to the ends of the earth.
But she’s still here. With me. And I meant what I said. I’m not letting her go anywhere without me.
I’m just glad she thinks I gave her some semblance of a choice.
The whole goddamn world has narrowed to the space beneath this pier and the woman in my arms. The sand is so cold under my bare feet, damp where the ocean’s already creeping back in, that I can hardly feel my toes. But I don’t fucking care. Everywhere my hands find her skin, we burn together.
I spin us around without breaking the kiss, dragging my mouth over hers, swallowing her gasp.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders and lifts up to wrap her legs around me.
I quickly catch her with one arm under her thighs, and press her into the piling, the other arm braced behind her head so the wood doesn’t scrape her.
She’s mine, all fucking mine. Fuck everything else.
She’s not yours.
Yeah? Well fuck you too.
Ignoring that bastard, I kiss her in a way that I really hope tells her I’m not fucking around anymore. It’s bruising and rough, and honest in a way I’ve never been with anyone. No way I can even pretend I have any restraint left.
I break away just long enough to drag in a breath and press my forehead to hers, because the least I can do is warn her I’m a mad motherfucker.
“I’m not going to stop,” I grow against her mouth. “I’ve wanted this for—” so goddamn long—I swallow. “I’ve wanted you since I met you, Lucy. If you let me keep going, I can’t stop.”
“Good.” She licks her lips and looks up at me. “I don’t want you to.”
Then she threads her fingers behind my neck and pulls me in. “Kiss me, Hatter.”
We collide again. The heat of her body seeps through the damp fabric between us, and the solid press of her against me makes my pulse stutter and my cock ache.
She tastes like cherries and sea salt and something underneath that’s just undeniably her. Knowing what tomorrow might have in store, I try to memorize the shape of her mouth, the way her breath catches when my tongue goes deeper, the exact sound she makes when mine brushes hers.
It’s not quite a moan and not quite my name, but it’s needy, completely unguarded, and absolutely fucking wrecks me. It’s the same weak-in-the-knees sensation I got when she smiled at me in the bakery. Apparently that’s my thing with her. The little romantic has me falling head over heels.
My hands slide down her sides, under the hem of her oversized white tee, and the second my palms meet bare skin, she shivers hard against me. Then she takes over, pulling the fabric up.
“Wait, Lucy, we’re out in the op—”
“We’ve got rock walls on each side, and I haven’t heard a soul above us.” The fabric’s up and over her head in a flash. “Have you?”
“Christ.” I bite my finger as a groan escapes me, then I reluctantly answer, “No.”
I’m helpless to stop her when she strips her loose pants next, baring herself in just a black cotton thong and black lace bralette, the cool night air peaking her nipples under the sheer top.
The moonlight cutting through the pier slats stripes across her face, highlighting her kiss-swollen lips, her bright, eager eyes, and even the blush rosying her cheeks.
My jaw locks so tight, it aches, because I am barely, barely holding my shit together.
She tosses the clothes near a piling that’s been dry since higher tides and giggles back at me as she twirls.
“You’ve seen it all before, Hatter.”
“Trust me, bunny. Full, sober consent outside work, just me and you? I’ll never get over that.
” I catch her hand and tug her against my chest, then lift her chin.
“And what I’m about to see? What I’m about to do to you?
I want it only for me. If anyone comes up on this beach, or that pier, it’ll be the last thing they do. ”
She squeals as I carry her over to her clothes and lay her on top of her shirt. The low tide has left the ground damp and cool, probably at least one of the reasons she shivers. I should feel bad about that, but I plan to warm us up just fine all on my own.
Laid out for me, I give into temptation and close my mouth over her lace-covered nipple.
She cries out and her hands fly into my hair, pulling hard enough to spark pain down my spine and straight to my cock.
Her back bows off the sand as I suck, tongue circling, teeth grazing against the hard bud.
I free her other breast and palm it, rolling the bud between my thumb and forefinger while my mouth works the first.
I could stay here—right here. Worship her like this forever and die happy. But the scent of her arousal is thick even in the salt air, and my mouth has somewhere I’ve been craving to be.
My lips drag down the center of her stomach, slow enough to feel every trembling breath, every goosebump that rises in my wake. A kiss beneath her navel. A quick lave of my tongue on her hip. Meanwhile, I wind the elastic of her thong around one finger and slowly draw it down.
“Lift for me, baby.”
She lifts her hips, and I pull the scrap of fabric off and sneak it into my pocket. Then I take my first, unadulterated look at the meal I’m about to feast on, and my mouth waters.
“Fuck, Lucy, you are absolutely soaked.”
The moonlight streaming through the slats above reveals her glistening pussy, pink and swollen, and so wet she’s practically dripping onto the edge of her shirt beneath her and into the sand.
The sight of her spread open for me, flushed and trembling and slick with need that I put there, does something primal to my brain.
I swallow, then mutter too low for her to hear me over the waves climbing the shore. “Yeah, I ain’t coming back from this.”
My hands tighten on her thighs hard enough to dimple the skin because if I don’t anchor myself to something, I’m going to forget to take my time tasting her sweet cunt and bury myself to the hilt so I can claim her.
This could be the last time. Make it count before she finds out who you really are.
I push the thought away and run my fingertips along her seam, sliding through the slickness already gathered there, because she is drenched.
“You’re stunning, Lucy.” I sink my fingers into my mouth and groan that comes out of me is involuntary and obscene as I revel in the remnants of her cherry-flavored kiss mixed with the intoxicating combination that is just her.
My Lucy. “And fuck, so delicious. Is this all for me, baby? What I did for you? The way I killed for you?”
“Y-yes.” Her breath hitches, her cheeks flushing.
“That’s good, Lucy.” I don’t want that blush to go away, so I quickly go back to stroking her, sliding a finger over her clit and making her moan. “That’s a good fucking girl.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you just said that,” she whines, but I don’t pause to analyze that reaction, only making a mental note that she gushed all over my hand, and I suddenly can’t wait a second longer to drink her need for me.
I settle on my knees and cup her ass to slightly spread her open for me and lift her to my mouth.
My first real taste of her as my tongue swipes through her arousal nearly does us both in.
It’s quick and greedy, not giving her time to get shy or nervous or retreat into her head, and her sharp, shattered cry that reverberates back to us off the rocks is the best goddamn thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
I don’t tease. I devour her, making up for every month I searched for her, every night I’ve dreamed of having her safe at my side, and every moment I held back because I told myself I wasn’t allowed to have my wife in my arms like this.
No. Not your wi—
“Fuck that,” I mutter too quietly for her to hear, not that she’s even on the same plane as me right now, too high on pleasure.
My stubble scrapes her inner thighs and she shudders, clawing at my hair, her eyes slamming shut. The sting of her nails only makes me harder and hungrier.
I keep my eyes on her the entire time, collecting every reaction, every jolt of her hips, every micro-shift in her expression.
I want all of it. I want to catalog every single thing this woman does under my body’s command and hoard the memories like the greedy bastard I am.
Because no matter how good this feels, in the back of my mind, the truth repeats like a throbbing cut.
This could be it. This could be over—
“Look at me,” I order, stopping my mind from ruining this moment.
Her eyes open, finding mine, and the connection jolts through us like a live wire.
I hold her gaze as I flatten my tongue and drag slow before flicking hard.
The shocked, gasping cry she gives me shoots heat down my spine.
Her hips chase my mouth, and I reward her with a low growl of approval.
I like that she can’t stay still. I love that I’m the one breaking her apart.
I just hope I can be the one who puts her back together again.
“That’s it,” I mutter roughly. “Give it to me. Let me taste you coming for me, baby.”
She bows toward me, and I gather more of her slickness before I gently push one finger inside her, carefully working her open, but the way she clenches around me makes me curse.
She sucks in a breath as I curl against the spot that makes her spine bow off the sand, easily coaxing her to respond to every movement like I was made for her.
And according to the Fury lore, I fucking am.
But you gave that up.
I had to.