Where Sea Meets Sky Read Online Free Page A

fingers up the insides of my thighs. My skin shivers in anticipation and I lean back on the pool table, my cheek resting against the soft green surface. I’d had a couple of one-night stands before; one drunken night on the beach in Napier, the other after a night out at a sweaty club in Auckland’s Viaduct. Neither guy went down on me. Hell, neither guy even really knew I was there. They came, I didn’t—end of story. Sometimes it had been that way with my ex, too.
    But Josh is different. He lowers his head and kisses down along the ridge of my hip bones. I can’t help but arch them up toward him. There’s a moment of anxiety as I feel his breath over my landing strip, tickling what hair is left there. I wonder if he’s going to like the way I taste, the way I feel.
    The moment his steel-laced tongue grazes over my clit though, the worry is gone. He’s good, very good, and soon I’m coming, moaning louder than before. The room fills with the sound but I’m adrift on a bobbing raft, face to the sun, cool water beneath me. The orgasm takes me away somewhere beautiful until his chuckle slowly reels me back in.
    I open my eyes and raise my head to look at him. He’s grinning and undoing his pants but keeping the leather corset around his waist. I kind of like that. He’s staying in character, the opposite of me.
    “I told you I’d make you come,” he says. He slides his pants off and I’m caught between wanting to look him in the eye and at his large erection. It’s hard to focus on one thing. I think I manage to do both without going cross-eyed but in the end the dick wins. He was right about that, too.
    “I never doubted it,” I say. I go to sit up, more than ready to lay my lips on him and give him that blow job I promised, but he’s bringing a condom out of his bag and tearing it open. He throws the wrapper and the bag to the ground and then slowly rolls the condom onto himself. For some reason, there’s nothing sexier than watching a guy put on a condom; the sight of a man’s hands on his dick is a pure lust-inducer.
    And despite just coming, the lust is pouring back into me again, like a dam unleashed.
    The side of his mouth quirks up into that crooked smile. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I’m dying to be inside you.”
    I have a feeling that “presumptuous” is his middle name.
    He puts his hands around my waist and pulls me to him. My legs wrap around him while he starts to guide himself inside. It’s intimate, perhaps more so than I’d like. The lights are on and he stares right into my eyes, and for a moment I want to look away, to break the tension, the intrusion. I’m already exposed and he peers into me like he’s uncovering every last rock. The things I keep hidden deep down. It’s mildly terrifying.
    But I don’t look away. Instead, I tighten my hold around him, my calves flexing.
    He grips the small of my back while he thrusts in, finding purchase. I haven’t had sex for months, and despite how turned on I am, it hurts for that first moment. I close my eyes and he slows.
    “Are you all right?” he asks breathlessly. He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair off my face. His tenderness is jarring.
    I quickly nod and smile. I am all right. I’m more than that; I’m flying. He kisses me and I relax into him, allowing him in further until I’m so beautifully full. The pain is gone and the pleasure builds with each controlled movement he makes. There is symmetry in our actions, as if we move as one, as if I’m not precariously perched on the edge of a pool table at some party. We don’t move like strangers.
    I hold him tight, he holds me tighter, I pull him in deeper, he pushes in further. He thrusts, I rush to meet him. We give and take until I should be close to coming. I move my hand between us, running my finger over the tip of his shaft before helping myself out.
    He grins down at my hand and slowly raises his hooded eyes to meet mine. “I’m not sure if I want