4. Rhett
RHETT
I kiss her, and the ground tilts.
Not metaphorically. Not in some vague poetic sense. The world actually shifts under me — stone terrace, warm water, stars overhead — all of it reorganizes itself around the taste of her mouth and the soft sound she makes when my lips meet hers.
I expected this to feel good. I kissed her because I wanted to, because I'd been watching her talk about rescue animals for an hour and couldn't hold myself back anymore.
But I didn't expect the bottom to drop out of my stomach.
Didn't expect my hands to shake where they cup her face.
Didn't expect her to lean into me like she's been waiting for this as long as I have.
She kisses me back. No hesitation. Her mouth opens under mine and her hands find my shoulders, grip hard enough that I feel each individual finger through the water.
The steam rises around us, clinging to her skin, and when I pull back to catch my breath, she follows. Chases my mouth with hers. Kisses me again before I can think.
Her tongue brushes mine and I forget how to breathe.
I move my hand from her face to her waist, fingers spreading across her ribs under the water. Her skin is warm and impossibly soft, slick from the jets, and when I tighten my grip she makes a sound — half gasp, half something else — that goes straight through me.
"Nora."
She hums against my mouth. Not a word. Just sound. Her name on my lips and her hum in response and I realize I've said her name twice in thirty seconds and I can't stop. Don't want to stop.
Every time I say it, she reacts — a shiver, a shift, her nails digging into my shoulders a little harder.
I pull her closer. The water sloshes between us, jets hitting my back, her thighs brushing mine under the surface. She's still on the opposite bench but leaning across the space between us, and the angle is all wrong. I can feel it in the way she has to stretch, the way her balance is off.
"Come here."
She doesn't hesitate. Just moves. Pushes off her bench and crosses the foot of water between us, settles onto my lap with her knees on either side of my hips, and suddenly there's no distance at all. Just her body against mine, wet skin on wet skin, her chest rising and falling.
I stare at her. Can't help it. She's straddling me in the moonlight, water beading on her shoulders, her hair dark and dripping, and the freckles I'd noticed earlier — the ones dusted across her nose and cheeks — continue down.
Across her shoulders. The tops of her breasts.
Disappearing under the water where I can't see but want to trace with my tongue until I know every single one.
"You're staring," she says.
"I know."
"Why?"
"Because I want to remember this." The honesty surprises me. Surprises her too — her eyes widen, her lips part, and I can see the exact moment the words land. "Every freckle. The way you look right now. All of it."
She swallows. "Rhett."
There it is again. My name in her mouth. I kiss her before she can say anything else, before I can think too hard about what I just admitted, and this time when our mouths meet there's nothing tentative about it.
She opens for me immediately, her tongue sliding against mine in a rush of wet heat that tastes like chlorine and the faint sweetness of vanilla ice cream she ate earlier.
Her hands abandon my shoulders, one threading into the damp strands at the nape of my neck while the other fists in my hair, tugging with just enough pressure to send sparks racing down my spine.
I grip her waist tighter, fingers digging into the soft, giving flesh there, and yank her flush against me until the last sliver of water disappears.
Now it’s only her—bare, slick skin burning against my chest, the heavy swell of her breasts crushed to me, her nipples tight little points that drag across my tattoos with every shallow breath she takes.
She shifts in my lap, rocks her hips in this small, testing motion that drags her center right along the rigid line of my cock, still trapped behind my shorts.
The thin, soaked fabric does nothing to dull the sensation; I feel the scorching heat of her pussy molding to me, the subtle give of her folds parting slightly with the pressure.
It hits me like a live wire—everywhere at once. My balls draw tight. My abs clench so hard they ache. A low, guttural groan tears out of my throat and pours straight into her open mouth.
She does it again. No hesitation this time.
Deliberate. Her hips roll in a slow, grinding rhythm that matches the deepening kiss, slick skin sliding, her clit catching against the thick ridge of me on every forward stroke.
I can feel myself swelling, hardening to the point of pain, and from the way her breath stutters I know she feels it too—the exact moment my cock throbs against her bare cunt.
When she finally pulls back, her pupils are blown so wide the blue is almost gone, just black hunger ringed in startled color. Freckles stand out dark against the flush crawling down her neck and across the tops of her breasts.
“Is this—” She stops, teeth sinking into that plump lower lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Can we?—”
I slide my hand up the elegant curve of her back, tracing each knob of her spine like I’m memorizing a map I never want to forget. My voice comes out rough, low, right against the shell of her ear. “What do you want, Nora?”
“I don’t know.” The words are breathless, almost frantic, like she’s losing the fight with her own thoughts.
Inside my head, alarm and raw want tangle together so tightly I can barely think past the roar of blood in my ears.
She’s shaking. I’m the one who’s supposed to be careful.
Yet here I am, letting her grind on my lap like she owns me.
I’m in so much trouble. “More. I want more.”
“Then take it.”
She blinks at me, holding my gaze with those wide, startled eyes while something brave flickers across her face. Her hands start moving—palms dragging down my chest, fingertips catching on the ridges of old ink, skating over my stomach until the muscles jump and twitch under her touch.
I stop breathing the second her fingers hook into the waistband of my swim shorts. The elastic bites into my skin as she tugs experimentally, and the cool night air kisses the base of my cock when she finally works the fabric down just enough to free me.
Her small hand wraps around my length—uncertain grip, but firm enough to make my vision spark at the edges. The contrast of her cool fingers against my fever-hot skin is obscene.
I have to slam my eyes shut because watching her stroke me, learning the shape of me with those slow, curious pulls, is too much. Too raw. She’s naked in my lap, thumb brushing over the slick head of my cock like she’s cataloging every vein, every pulse.
“You’re shaking,” she whispers, voice husky with wonder.
I know. I can feel the tremor running through my thighs where they brace beneath her. “Tell me you want this.”
“I want this.”
“Tell me again.”
“Rhett.” She leans in until our foreheads press together, her breath mingling with mine, the faint scent of her shampoo—something coconut and sun-warmed—filling my lungs. “I want this. I want you.”
The words crack something open inside my chest. I kiss her hard, pouring every silent confession I can’t voice into the brutal press of my mouth.
When I pull back, her lips are swollen and shiny, her eyes half-lidded with lust, and I’ve never needed anything the way I need to be inside her right now.
She lifts up on her knees, one hand braced on my shoulder for balance, the other guiding the blunt head of my cock through her soaked folds.
The first brush of her hot, silky entrance against me rips a curse from my throat. Then she sinks down, inch by slow, devastating inch, her tight walls fluttering around me like she was made for this exact moment of surrender.
The stretch of her is unreal—velvet heat clamping down around me, so slick and impossibly tight that my jaw locks and every muscle in my body screams for control. I don’t move. I can’t.
One wrong shift and I’ll slam her down the rest of the way, chase the blinding pleasure she’s offering before she’s ready. Instead I breathe through my teeth, hands locked on her hips, feeling the faint tremor that rolls through her thighs where they bracket mine.
She pauses halfway, chest heaving, the warm gust of her exhale skating over my collarbone.
The jacuzzi water laps gently at our joined bodies, warm and scented with chlorine that clings to her skin like perfume. Underneath it, I catch the faint musk of her arousal, sweet and heady, mixing with the salt air drifting up from the beach.
My mouth finds the side of her throat, open and wet, tasting the mix of pool water and the unique flavor that’s purely Nora—sun-warmed skin, freckled and flushed.
“You okay?” The words vibrate against her pulse.
“Yeah. Just—” Her voice fractures, shaky and raw. “Give me a second.”
I give her a lifetime. My lips trail lower, sucking lightly at the tender spot where neck meets shoulder, letting her feel the scrape of my stubble while I fight the raging instinct to thrust.
Inside, her walls flutter and squeeze, adjusting to the girth splitting her open. The sensation is so vivid I can map every ridge, every ripple of her cunt trying to accommodate me. My cock throbs in answer, leaking steadily, and I have to bite back a groan that would echo across the empty terrace.
When she finally sinks the final inches, taking me to the hilt until her ass settles flush against my lap, the pleasure detonates behind my eyes. I sink my teeth into the meat of her shoulder—gentle, possessive—to muffle the guttural sound clawing up my throat.
The sting makes her gasp, a broken little “Rhett” that licks straight down my spine.
“I’ve got you.” My voice is gravel and smoke against her damp skin.