My Beloved: A Thin Love Novella(31)
The breeze from the open door stirred through their cottage, disturbed the thin curtains and moved Kona’s hair into his eyes as he moved inside her. Keira thought he looked like some Polynesian warrior god, fierce, mighty with a severe wrinkle between his eyebrows as though the feel of her body, her inner muscles as she clamped around him, was the most delicious mix of pleasurable pain.
“Kiss me, baby. Kiss me like you mean it.” And Keira obliged, tugging at the back of Kona’s hair, taking in his tongue, loving the small bites he made against her bottom lip. “Shit. No, I don’t wanna come yet.” And then he slipped out of her, moved down her body until he was between her legs, using his thumbs to push apart her lips. “I love the way you taste, Wildcat. So sweet, so tangy.” He licked up her folds, lapping all the moisture their bodies had created before he took her clit between his teeth, nibbling, licking until Keira thought she might die from the sensation Kona worked in her. “This is mine, isn’t it, baby? All this,” he said, fingering her suddenly, not preparing her so that the shock and the pressure of his touch left Keira shuddering. “These perfect lips, this pretty *, it’s all for me, right baby?”
“Yes. Oh God, Kona, only yours.”
He climbed over her, dragging those hard, delicious muscles up her torso, rubbing himself against her sensitive nipples before he grabbed her face, making her look at him. “And this…” a twist of his hips and Kona slammed back into her, thrusts deep, penetrating, “this is yours. This is only yours.” Another deep thrust and Kona groaned, echoed the satisfied noise Keira made when he hit her G-spot. “I… I gave you this a long time ago, baby.” And then Kona worked faster, lifted on his hands, massive biceps and triceps shaking as moved his hips, filled her, eyes closed and that severe expression, the one that looked like hunger and pain and pleasure that was almost overwhelming, returned to his face. “All yours, baby. I’ve always been yours.”
Keira woke from her dream, shaking, stretching at the delicious soreness in her muscles, the throbbing ache in her center that told her that had not been a dream at all. The night before had been like every other night that week, where Kona and Keira spent the day on the beach or in the small town with Ransom, enjoying what was really the first family holiday they’d ever taken together. And then, at night, with their son in a cottage two lots over talking smack through his headphones at whoever he played Madden NFL online, Kona took Keira to bed, loving her body over and over and over again. And when she told him she couldn’t possibly, that the stores of satisfaction in her body had been depleted, then Kona proved they weren’t, that she could, that she must and he loved her hard, deep, then sweet and slow.
Coming out of another satisfied stretch, Keira frowned when she didn’t feel Kona next to her. That frown deepened when she looked at the old teak cuckoo clock on the wall that told her she’d slept most of the day away.
She relaxed a little, spotting the single hibiscus on his pillow, then called to him, pulling the thin sheet around her as she glanced into the ensuite bathroom. But he wasn’t there, wasn’t in his usual spot on the porch outside their room either, swinging in the hammock like he didn’t have a care in the world. Then, as Keira reached for her robe, not worried that without the sheet she was totally naked, and returned to the bathroom, she closed the door behind her and spotted the simple white dress hanging on the back of the door.
It was very beautiful, but simple and elegant; a short ivory slip dress with delicate beading sewn into the bodice and a hem of lace that looked to be just above knee length. Attached to the hanger with a white ribbon was a note written in Kona’s messy scribble.
“Wear me.”
And Keira did just that, hurrying to wash her face and brush her hair and teeth before she slipped that delicate dress over her head. The material was soft, and it hugged her perfectly, held her waist but was loose and comfortable against her thighs.
She grabbed the flower off the pillow, tucked it behind her ear, and opened the bedroom door, stepping back from the flower petals that she noticed formed a trail down the hall.
“Follow us,” was written on a card taped to the hallway wall. “Oh Kona, you didn’t,” she said to the empty hallway, following the cluster of white, pink and red flower petals through the cottage, out onto the back porch. The trail continued down the steps and onto the beach.
And there, waiting for her, was Ransom, smile ridiculously wide, eager, wearing a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled midway up his arms and khaki pants cuffed over his bare feet. “Hey,” he said, holding out his hand as Keira walked down the steps.
“Hey,” Keira said back, stretching up on her feet to kiss her boy on his cheek. “Whose evil plan was this?”
Ransom gave Keira a non-committal shrug, winking at her as he offered his mother an arm. “Ready?”
“Definitely.”
And Keira tried not to cry, to ruin the day with a runny nose as Ransom led her away from the house, following that trail of petals down to the beach. He kept his freehand over her fingers squeezing them tight and Keira’s heart swelled at how happy her son looked, how that smile on his face only grew wider as they headed toward the small altar near a cluster of lava rocks back dropped by the crystal blue water and the quiet roll of the waves slipping onto the shore.
She had told Ransom that she had forgiven him for his over-eager gesture of peace with his grandmother the morning after Kona found her on the beach. The boy had never meant to hurt her by the gesture, nor to keep anything from her, and Keira understood that her son’s big, kind heart was in the right place. Keira thought, most of the time, Ransom was the adult, that his age meant nothing when he was the one who always forgave, who always clung to the big hope that every gray cloud was temporary, that the sun would always drive away the clouds.