By Marie Nate
There was something in the air. Maybe it was the freedom to finally go outside. Or perhaps it was waking up and going to sleep to the roll of the waves of the ocean. Or even the warm white sand on the beach. Whatever it was, it was working. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other at all; it was like they said everything they’d been unable to say to each other during the pandemic with their hands. And lips.
That first night, after the long drive down to the coast and settling into the villa, she had walked down the beach and stood still, listening to the waves of the ocean crushing into the shore. And there he had found her, transfixed, the full moon reflected in her eyes and her breath one with the crashing waves. Her body in sync with the water, her mind transported to a place he knew not. But there was one place he wanted to take her, and take her he would.
Wrapping his arms around her slim waist and pulling her in to his chest, he dipped his nose into her neck as she tipped her head to the left and offered her neck up to him. Her scent… different, yet the same. She smelled faintly of orchids and jasmines, and a hint of cocoa butter that could’ve easily been missed but not by him.
His nose picked every note off her skin, even her sweat from the drive down. He could smell her pheromones too, her lust, and that scent stirred his own. She was here, in his arms at last, heart beating in her chest, pulse steady beneath the spot his lips were lightly grazing. He felt her breathing change slightly and instinctively knew she was coming back to the shore.
She wrapped her hands over his and drew in closer to him, closing her eyes to feel his warmth engulf her. Such a simple gesture, yet so profound that he stirred and she felt his twitch on her backside. That one move was likely more powerful than any form of nudes she’d sent him throughout the lockdown period. She smiled.
“It’s so beautiful out here,” she said, her voice low and full of emotion.
“It is,” he replied, lightly kissing her neck, and added “You’re beautiful.”
She chuckled, a low melody that rose from her belly and made its way up her chest, lighting up her face and out her lips. He liked that sound, almost as much as he liked the sound she made when he was deep inside her.
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Sir,” she chided, pushing herself deeper into him.
“Oh I bet it will get me everywhere I want to go, Ma’am,” he teased back, grazing her neck with his teeth. He heard the low intake of breath and knew. She was rising to the occasion, just as he was in his pants. He kissed her neck, sucking the spot his teeth had just left, before he went in with a vampire bite. She gasped louder and lifted her hand to cradle his face to her neck.
Welcoming the encouragement, he slipped his left hand under her crop top and cupped her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He grinned at this discovery; this naughty minx of his. Always ready for him. He liked that. He found her nipple and pinched hard, the way she liked, and she arched her back to push her breast into his palm as she moaned into the balmy night.
Turning suddenly, she faced him, her pulse quickened. Her eyes shone under the moonlight, lips slightly parted, caramel skin glowing like the goddess Oshun had been born inside of her. She looked him square in the eyes, taking note of his wet lips and knew exactly what she wanted. It was rather tragic it had taken them so long to get to this point in time, but here they finally were, and there wasn’t going to be another moment wasted.
“Kiss me,” she whispered urgently. He needed no further invitation. His left hand on her chin tilting her head back so she looked up at him, her full lips a succulent offering of desire presented to the god Hermes himself, he kissed her. Gently, at first. Brushing his lips against hers, then sucking on them; first the lower one then the top one, then ran the tip of his tongue over each of them. When his tongue touched her lips she opened up to him, eager for him to taste her, but he wasn’t there yet.
“Patience, sweet baby,” he whispered against her lips, alternating between licking and sucking them. Then, slowly, he molded his lips to hers then introduced his tongue into her mouth, while his left hand held the nape of her neck, his right went down and cupped her ass, effectively pulling her body so close to his that they looked like a marble Renaissance statue. She moaned into his mouth as her tongue rose and danced with his own while she laced her fingers on his neck.
Whatever restraint he held on to swiftly flew into the wind; he was fully erect and aching for her. He deepened the kiss even more, grabbing her ass with both hands and kissed her fervently. She matched his fervor, standing on tiptoe and pushing even closer, wishing there was nothing between them. Her hands traced his head, neck and shoulders, feeling his skin and muscles ripple under her fingertips.
Breathing hard and detangling slowly, he rested his forehead on hers, both their breaths ragged and lips flushed. He closed his eyes thinking of how bad he was about to sin with her and how good it was bound to be, and breathed a prayer of restraint silently, then to her, and to all the deities of lust, he whispered:
“Forgive me Father, for what I’m about to do. Repeatedly.”
Game on. She slid her hands down to his chest and released her ass from his grip, taking his right hand into her left.
“We should put that confession to use, and go do some sinning,” she chided, then pecked him on the lips before leading him to their villa. They had hardly walked up the steps to the glass door than he turned her to face him once again, lips crushing hers and demanding a duel with her tongue. All the sensuality he held on to at the beach was left where their footprints lay, illuminated by the moonlight. He pushed her into the door and slid her thighs around his waist. She obliged and locked her ankles above his butt, her fingers on his neck and shoulders, her lust matching his. Oh, this was going to be hectic.
He walked in carrying her over his hips and propped her on the edge of the table; there was no time to get to the bed. Well, not just yet. He was, quite literally, aching for her. He had to have her, right that instant. Hooking his thumbs into the waistline of her sweatpants, he pulled them down her legs and discarded them. In one fluid motion, he found her crop top and discarded that too.
He found her lips again and poured his lust into her, kissing her and breathing harshly between her moans. Her legs around him, he reached his hand down to her dripping vagina and plunged his middle finger into her. Oh, how wet she was! How ready she was for him! He moved his finger in and out, added his index then went deep and flexed. She moaned and leaned back, engaging her core and not leaving his lips.
“I wanna see you baby. Let me see you,” he said, pulling back and looking at her, goddess-like, eyes hooded with lust, skin lightly shimmering, nipples dark and distended, pussy pink, wet and ready. For him. His. Fuck. His siren. Double fuck. He took his own clothes off, dropping them somewhere close to where he’d dropped hers. After taking his sweatpants off, he didn’t come back up fully. He knelt between her legs and worshipped her in the best way he knew, kissing her lips just as he’d kissed the ones on her face. She tasted wonderfully of mixed berries and pineapples, his sweet little tangerine baby.
“Oh baby. Oh fuck,” she moaned and breathed, holding on to the edge of the table while his lips and tongue lavished her with attention. His hands, lips and tongue spoke a language that was yet to be transcribed, a language understood by only the two of them. She wanted him, needed him, and it’s like her body communicated this because that very instant, he stood and faced her, pulled her close enough to him to slip inside her and still keep her butt on the table.
His lips found hers again and she kissed him, tasting herself off him, while his dick finally made its glorious return back into the hall of her walls, to loud cheers and adulation in the form of her moaning and clenching around him.Pulling out slowly, and plunging back into her, he savored her. The way she deserved to be savored; she was exquisite; by no means average and designed to be enjoyed intentionally. And she was his, his alone.
“You are mine, my sweet little tangerine baby,” he whispered against her lips in between kisses and thrusts.
“Yes I am,” she assured him. Because in that moment, and in every moment that preceded that one, he owned her.
He leaned her back and started moving faster, knowing the time it took to get to this moment would’ve made her orgasms closer and faster to acquire. He watched her as he lost himself inside her, listened to her body speak to him, and when her orgasms – for it was a double – came, he was ready. Her breath caught as she held on fast to the table and to him, head thrown back in ecstasy, moaning his name and worshiping him with her own body as he did hers.
Her voice hitched higher and she called out his name more, quivering, while waves of endorphins and oxytocin flooded her bloodstream and raced all the way to her brain. This was his mothetfucking moment. Thrusting faster and harder, he lost himself inside her and gave her his seed, his essence, heart thundering under his ribs and breathing deeply. Fuck. He emptied himself all the way into her and, pulling her into an embrace, her legs still intertwined above his butt, he held on to her and she to him. Breathing heavily like they’d both just run a marathon, bodies covered in sweat, sex in the air. He was home.
“Oh, I missed you, my love.”