Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(13)

I come off his dick. “You can go harder,” I say, my voice already hoarse. “I’m holding your cock at the base, so you won’t go too far.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, his fingers restless in my hair and his hips making little movements as if dying to push his cock back in my mouth.

“You won’t.” I lick his dick. “And don’t get too carried away because I want you to come on my face.”

“You are an angel sent down from heaven.” I laugh and he strokes my face. “But we’re on the beach, away from a bathroom.”

“I’ve got wet wipes in my trouser pocket but don’t mix them up with the confetti box in the other pocket or you’ll give the guests in the hotel rather a shock.”

He snorts, and then, considering the matter sorted, I bend back to my task. When everything gets nice and sloppy, and his moans grow louder, I wet my finger and slide it tentatively under his balls while still sucking.

“Yes,” he groans. I run the pad of my finger over his hole, and he gives a choked grunt. “Fuck yes,” he says.

I wiggle my finger in a little, being careful without lube. His channel is warm and tight, and he doesn’t feel the same need for care, because he pushes back on my finger and then into my mouth. I crook my finger and draw hard on his cock, and he groans.

“So fucking close.”

He pulls out, eyes dazed and locked on me, no more cares for potential onlookers on the beach. “You too,” he pants, fisting his cock.

I nod frantically. “God, yes.” I unzip my trousers and pull out my cock. Then, resting one hand on the sand, I arch back on my heels, wanking myself off.

“In your mouth?” he checks. “I’ve been tested, and I’m clear of everything.”

I nod, my mouth watering at the sight of his fat club of a cock in his big hand.

His breathing picks up, and he closes his eyes. When he opens them, his gaze is fierce. “Open your mouth,” he commands, and my balls draw up at the tone.

I open my mouth obediently, and he crouches over me, shuttling his hand over his cock. His hand jerks, and his face contorts as he grunts and come shoots out over my chin and into my mouth. I lick my lips, and he stripes my face with more shots.

Lightning shoots down my spine, tightening my buttocks, I come too, spilling onto the sand with breathy moans.

For a few moments, there’s only the sound of our pants and the surf hitting the sand. Then he stirs. “Hang on,” he orders, and I wait obediently as he grabs the wet wipes from my pocket. “Close your eyes.” Again, I obey and smell the scent of aloe vera as he wipes my face carefully. “Okay, you can open them,” he finally says.

I do, and his face is all I can see. He hesitates, still bending over me, his gaze dipping to my mouth. I arch encouragingly until he kisses me with a groan of surrender. When our lips part, he’s kneeling in front of me, our dicks still wet and hanging out.

He grimaces. “We’d better go in. Are you done for the night?”

“Well, I’m young, so I’ve probably got another couple of rounds in me.”

He snorts. “No, are you finished with the wedding?”

“Oh, that. Yes, I’m done.”

“Then come back to my room.”

“Really?”

He shifts awkwardly. “Yes, really, but preferably without that look of stunned disbelief.”

“I’ll try to get rid of it, but I’m not sure of my chances of succeeding.”

He leans in. “Good, because I want a go at those two rounds.”

I gulp. “Let’s go. I like a man with a plan.”

His laughter mingles enticingly with the sound of the waves, and he pulls me to my feet. I’m expecting a brisk brush down and then heading back for the next bout of sexing, but instead, he hugs me. It’s a simple hug with no groping, but his body is big, his arms warm and tight, and I’m knocked out by the emotional punch.

There’s something so romantic about being in his arms under a Caribbean moon that it makes warning bells ring. It doesn’t stop me from following him back to his room, though. I might be pretty, but I’ve never been wise.





The early morning sunshine stripes the hotel bedroom floor. I stretch, enjoying the tenderness in my arse from the shagging Lachlan gave me after we retreated to his room. It’s safe to say he doesn’t lack stamina. I turn my head on the pillow to look at my bed partner. He’s lying facing me on his side, and his face looks young and peaceful. I hesitate, my instinct to touch him warring with my brain, which is saying this is just another hookup.

I settle for blowing him a kiss as I ease out of the bed. I’m quietly gathering my stuff when my phone chimes. I look at it and nearly exclaim out loud. Shit! I’m late for my bloody flight.

I race back to my room, nearly tripping over my untied laces. I throw my stuff into my case, and, with an equal lack of care, throw myself into a taxi. I spare one glance back at the hotel disappearing in the rear-view mirror and then look resolutely forwards.

An hour later I’m slumped in my seat in Departures, idly watching the brightly dressed crowds milling around and contemplating my chances of scoring a decent cup of tea. My phone rings, and I do a double take as I look down at it. Lachlan Moore is calling me. Startled, I let it ring a few times, considering whether I should answer.