Come Away with Me (With Me in Seattle, #1)(70)

I can’t take my eyes off of him.

Seeing his mouth on me is the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed.

His hands are kneading my ass. His right hand, still supporting my weight, slides closer to my center. He dips his littlest finger in my wet core and flexes it and pulls it out and as his mouth resumes its delicious torture, he slips that little finger right… there.

His molten blue eyes are looking up at my face. I’m so overwhelmed with sensation it’s weakening. That finger is moving slowly in and out and the feeling is unimaginable. It makes me feel just a little dirty and wanton and oh so hot.

His presses his nose on my clitoris and it’s all over. He’s pushing all my buttons – literally – and I fall apart, shuddering and pulsating, coming over and over. It just doesn’t seem like it’ll ever stop.

He pulls his pinkie out of me and kisses up my pubis, my belly, over my breasts and finally, my lips. He’s pinned me against the wall again with his body because without him, I would collapse onto the floor.

“Please,” I mewl, not recognizing my own voice.

“Anything, baby.”

“Fuck me.” His gaze finds mine and it darkens.

“I just did,” he murmurs against my mouth, brushing his lips back and forth.

He grips my hands in his again and holds them over my head.

“Fuck me on that bed.” I kiss him.

“Please.”

He holds me against his chest and twirls us across the short floor to the bed. He tears the duvet away from the sheets and guides me down onto it.

“On your stomach, baby.”

I roll over flat on my stomach and he’s suddenly covering me, his hard cock pressing against my buttocks, his chest hair tickling my back. He kisses the very center of my neck and follows my spine down, paying extra attention to the tattoo in the center of my back.

“Why does it say ‘Love Deeply’?” he asks.

“What?”

“Why this tattoo?”

I have to blink and pull some brain cells back together to answer his question.

“Because that’s what I always wanted, to love and be loved deeply.”

He nuzzles the tattoo with his nose.

“You are, Nat.”

“I know.”

I feel his smile as he resumes his journey down my back. He kisses my butt, one cheek at a time and then sweeps his lips across the tattoo on my right thigh, under my buttock.

“And this one? Why does it say ‘Happiness Is A Journey’?”

“Because it was a long journey to travel for me to be happy again.”

“Oh, baby.” He parts my legs with his own and runs a finger from my anus down to the clitoris, making me angle my behind off the bed and into the air.

“Ah, Luke.”

He grips my hips and slides into me, burying himself inside me as far as he can.

It’s glorious. I feel full and happy and sexy and so loved.

He slaps the cheek that was ignored when he had me pinned against the wall, and starts to move in and out of me, slamming into me hard, over and over.

I grip the sheets in my fists and cry out as I feel the familiar pull of the muscles around his cock and my legs clench. He grips my hips, almost painfully, as he slams into me once more and comes violently, erupting inside me.





Chapter Twenty-Three


I’m standing on the deck of our gloriously beautiful hut, pointing my camera down at the water snapping photos of the brightly colored fish. I take about a dozen photos, then look up and snap some shots of the island. It’s almost sunset and I can’t wait to get some photos of the palm tree silhouettes in the sunset light.

“Hey, baby.” Luke wraps his arms around me from behind and buries his nose in my neck. “How are you?”

“I think I’m going to be a little sore tomorrow, but I’m good. I forgot how exhausting snorkeling is.” I smile and turn to face him.

He simply takes my breath away.

He’s shirtless, wearing only black shorts that hang off his hips in that sexy way, showing off the muscles that form that V that run down and disappear in the fabric. He’s caught some sun while we’ve been here, turning his skin golden.

My mouth goes dry every time I look at him.

And because I can, I raise my lens and snap his photo. He smiles, shyly, and I take another.

“I love taking your picture.”

“I’ve noticed. You’ve had that thing pointed at me more than anything else in the three days we’ve been here.”

“That’s not true.” I laugh and he takes the camera out of my hands and suddenly I become the subject. “Hey! I’m on the wrong side of that lens.”

“Turnabout is fair play, baby. Give me that sweet smile.” I lean back on the railing and pose for him playfully, cocking one hip to the side and planting my hand on my sarong-covered curve.

“We have to come here often,” he murmurs as he continues to snap photos of me.

“Why?”

“Because I love watching you walk around all day in a bikini. I get to see your tattoos.”

I smile and turn away from him; my left side exposed to him, and raise my left arm up next to my face, looking back at him through the crook of my elbow.

“Take a photo of this tat, and you can look at it any time you want.”