Salt Water Wounds (Oyster Cove #1) by Jennifer Foor

it to happen, because there’s no way I’m able to stop. Our first kiss is slow, mindful, but above all a hint of everything I’ve forgotten. She maps her way back down my arms, attaching her hold on either side of my waist. Her fingers tuck into the back of my belt, making sure I’m unable to easily pull away. Her mouth beckons me, the slip of her tongue teasing mine. My limp hands finally lift to come around her tiny midriff to rest right above her perfect ass. I tuck them down into the back pockets of her soft shorts and keep them there.
    I move my head away for a breath, taking her in before crashing back into a more powerful kiss. My tongue finds hers, desperate and wanting. They mingle together, setting a dynamic pattern as they rub and play. With each stroke I’m withering away into a pool of desire; a place deep within that I thought would never see the light of day again. She’s breaking down my walls by the second, forcing me to be the man she needs, and the one I’ve refused to show anyone for years.
    This is what I need. It’s what I want.
    I pick her up, her legs wrapping around me as I carry her toward the railing. She sits there, still holding me with her bottom half, while her back presses against the screen walls. I won’t let her fall. My hold is too strong for that to happen, besides the fact that I’m enjoying myself entirely too much to have it ruined.
    With full trust in me, Perry begins to unfasten my pants, quickly shoving her hand down into my boxers to get familiar with the hidden part of me. She moans against my lips when my hard predicament takes her hand by surprise. Her heels dig into the back of my jeans, shoving them down to expose me. I lift her t-shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it on the wet deck. Her breasts are perky, the nipples standing at attention as the cold, wet rain trickles over her skin. Each time the lightening strikes, I capture my own personal photograph, etching it into my memory for a later time. It’s been forever since I’ve seen a live naked woman. I rake in the idea of my lips being places they shouldn’t. We kiss again, this one almost hungry, as if we’ve both been starved. I lose myself in this one, my knee pressing between her legs to imply my intentions. She grinds against me, and it’s that type of permission that leads the way for her bottoms to be torn from her legs. I want her naked, wet, and ready for my taking. She’s awakened the beast inside of me, and now that it’s happened, there’s no stopping me. I’m raging. I’m unhinged. It’s fantastic. I’m out of control.
    While I absorb all that is occurring, Perry scoots from my hold and squats, finally falling to her knees. I try to back away to give her room, but she takes me by the ass and pulls me closer. Her eyes are fixated on mine as she licks my fully erect shaft. My legs are shaking, the nerves finally coming into play. This woman wants me. She wants every single part of me that’s been too broken to operate. She’s forcing me to want this, and as she takes me into her mouth I’m exasperated and unable to find a single reason this can’t happen.
    It only takes a few strokes before I’m unable to hold out. I grab her by the hair and steadily pull her away to prevent something I don’t think she’ll appreciate. Her body comes up and her next kiss tells me she’s open to whatever comes next. Her hand secures my package, while she backs up into the railing where she was before. I know what she wants, and as I try to focus on anything but what we’re doing, I lift and let nature takes it course.
    In my past I’ve never had a hard time getting turned on, but imagine holding out for years on end. This build up doesn’t allow for restraint. The second I slip inside I feel myself coming undone, and as I let out a moan sure enough to wake the household, I sit up in my bed and realize it was all a dream.
    I’m still alone. The storm is rumbling the house, but everything