Key West Lacey Alexander (sad books to read .txt) 📖

could take more of his incredible length inside, she decided to compensate, pressing her breasts around the lower part of his cock while she sucked the head and the few inches below. He slid slick against her sunscreen, and his low moans let her know how good it felt. She worked his hard-on more vigorously as each second passed, aroused by everything—the sun and sand, the slickness of her skin, the silk over steel of his cock, the knowledge that just beyond the palm trees and low dunes, vendors sold hotdogs and sunglasses, and cars sped past on the street.

God, she wanted him to come. She wanted to make him come more than she’d ever wanted it before. She sank deeper and deeper into her task, lost in the heat of him filling her mouth and pressing hard against her soft breasts, almost forgetting they were in public where anyone could come upon them, when finally he said, “Now, baby,” and released a giant groan as she pulled her mouth away because she wanted to see it happen, wanted to feel his hot juices spatter her skin.

She gripped his cock as he came, letting him spray her belly and chest. Her head fell back in pleasure as the warm fluid turned her wet, and when she glanced down, Chris was reaching for her. She leaned toward him and he began to massage the white semen into her breasts, pushing his fingers beneath her leopard triangles to rub it into her nipples.

Through his post-orgasmic fog, he smiled. “When the hell did you get so good at being a bad girl?”

She smiled. “Well, it all started when I met this sexy guy selling cruise tickets. He totally corrupted me.”

“Sounds like my kinda guy,” he said with a wink.

* * * * *

Chris had known he’d have a good time with her at the beach, but he hadn’t known she’d suck him off right there where anyone could see. The unexpectedness of it, and the fact that it had come from Carrie—his angel—made it rival all their other hot encounters in the past week.

Once they’d both rested, he drew her into the water where they alternated between kissing and splashing. When tall waves rolled in, he picked her up and sent her vaulting over them until it became a game.

Hours passed with them going in and out of the water, walking to the street to buy ice cream, resting in the sun on the blanket. He also made sure he reapplied her sunscreen often—not only because he didn’t want her to burn, but because there were so many lovely curves and crevices to be covered.

When the sun began to sink lower in the sky and the vendors and other beachgoers packed up for the day, Chris and Carrie remained, sharing the tropical sunset, holding hands, laughing.

As they walked up the beach, hand in hand, she told him more about her family, and about her bookstore. As far as he could tell, they were the two things she held dearest. He shared more with her about his decision to head south—including the bad breakup that had occurred beforehand—and his hopes that in another five years he’d have made enough money with his boat to buy a quaint clapboard of his own on a quiet Key West street.

Without warning, she turned to him and said, “Thank you for helping me experience all this.”

Despite the abrupt change in subject, he didn’t need to ask what she meant. He only smiled, tilted his head, and said, “So, is there anything you’d like to try that you didn’t get to? Last call for kinky sex,” he teased.

Stopping to look up at him, she took his hands in hers. “Actually, yes, there is something.”

He raised his eyebrows in question, encouraging her to go on.

“Ever since we were snorkeling and you were touching me in the water,” she said, “I’ve wanted to fuck you in the ocean.”

Chapter Fourteen

As if it were meant to be, the waves had calmed with the setting sun, turning to soft ripples on the water that washed in quietly but for their final rush onto the beach.

Chris and Carrie stood waist-deep, their toes in the sand, their wet bodies embracing as they kissed. God, he couldn’t believe this might be the last time he’d have her. Maybe they’d do it again later, back in her room or somewhere else, yet inside him, this felt final, and brutal, like something he needed more than food, water, air.

Their kisses were slow and soft as he concentrated on tasting every nuance of her. He ran his hands over her shoulders and back, her waist and breasts, trying to memorize her body, trying to somehow make it be enough. I love you. Like once before, the words drifted through his head and nearly escaped his mouth—but no, same as every time he’d had such tender thoughts, he knew speaking them aloud was only asking for a more difficult goodbye.

Even so, he hoped she could feel his emotions in his kiss, his touch. As he massaged one of her breasts, full in his hand, he relished her trembling breath, thinking she was reacting as if he’d never touched her before, as if it were the first time. “God, I want you,” he breathed in her ear. She pressed her body against his, tight, wrapping her arms around his back, and they stood that way, the water washing gently around them, his hard-on pressed against her soft pussy through their suits.

Reaching behind her, he untied the back of her top, then drew it over her head, looping the still-tied neck string over his arm for safekeeping. Looking down on the beauty of her bare breasts, outlined by her tan, he closed his hands over them, squeezing, massaging, her soft sighs like a sensual symphony. He bent to taste one turgid pink nipple, moist from water play, suckling it deep into his mouth, relishing the way it