Beyond Me by Jennifer Probst Page B

that magic place, and my muscles tightened with anticipation, building higher and higher until I felt as I would scream or shatter. I flailed my head back and forth on the pillow and closed my eyes to fight off the pressure.
    “Open your eyes. Don’t hide from me.”
    I moaned as I obeyed, and his fingers moved faster, his thumb rubbing, and then the orgasm hit me, shimmering from the tight coil in my belly and flooding every pore with a light and energy that made me scream at the top of my lungs. I heard him cursing in the background, fumbling with a drawer, but my senses were swamped with too much stimuli, and then I felt his sheathed hard length slide into me.
    “So good,” I cried brokenly. “So good.”
    “You were made for me. Jesus, your body is so tight and hot. I can’t get enough of you.” He worked his hips and drove me right back up, his fingers clenching my ass and holding me still for every stroke, and I gave myself up to him, letting him do what he wanted and take me anywhere. The pressure rebuilt and I shattered into a second orgasm—my ass bruised, my thighs shaking, and throat raw from my screams. He came hard and threw his head back, shouting my name and collapsed on top of my body.
    I had no idea how much time passed before I was able to move. Like coming out of a Rip Van Winkle sleep, the room seemed foggy and my body was limp from use. The scent of sex and a delicious musky cologne filled the air. I wondered if I’d ever walk properly again, or if I was permanently bow-legged.
    “Wanna take a shower?” he asked, stroking back my tangled hair. My ponytail had come free at some point.
    “Yes, please.” I wrinkled my nose. “I’m a mess.”
    “You’re a gorgeous mess,” he corrected, dropping a kiss on my nose. “I have robes in the closet. Get comfortable and meet me on the deck. I’m gonna clean up a bit and get ready to sail back.”
    “What time is it?”
    He grinned. “Almost sunset.”
    I gasped. “We spent the whole day in bed?” I’d heard of couples doing that before but always figured it was an exaggeration. After all, how many hours can you actually have sex? Now I knew.
    “Yep. I’ll take you on a sunset sail. We have some leftover sandwiches and champagne. Meet me upstairs when you’re ready.”
    I watched him climb out of bed. HIs body was a work of supple, defined muscles, a tight ass, and meaty biceps. Dusky tanned skin covered with dark hair. Even his feet seemed strong and sensual. He donned a T-shirt, pair of shorts, and with a wink, climbed the stairs. I slumped back onto the pillows.
    Best. Spring. Break. Ever.
    I took my time getting cleaned up and back in my suit. The terry cloth robe felt snug and comfy. I made my way to the upper deck, and found a small table set up with the remains of our lunch and more champagne. The sails whipped in the wind, and the landscape seemed distant and far, far away. The sun was a giant ball of fire, suspended halfway in the sky, and I gasped at the outrageous beauty. The moment was idyllic, almost from a dream. James seemed to experience similar emotions, because he moved over and wrapped me in his arms. Nothing mattered anymore. It was just us—free and alone on the water, and our boat chasing the sun.
    “Is it always like this?” I murmured against his chest. My cheek rubbed against soft worn cotton, and I leaned into his strength.
    He paused. I waited for him to ask what my question meant. I wasn’t sure myself. But his voice whispered on the wind and drifted to my ears. “No. It’s usually never like this.”
    We didn’t speak for a while. I realized something strong surged between us, beyond the sex, but it was too massive and complicated to analyze now. I worried about so much in my life, I didn’t want to turn my perfect encounter with James into something to pick apart and rationalize.
    We broke apart and sat down. I was starving, and ripped into the rest of the roast beef and salad without taking a breath.