Frantic, she yanked it over her head without even undoing the tie while at the same time Luke unbuttoned his shirt.
Anxious to remove her skirt as well, Peyton fumbled with the side zipper, her fingers stiff and clumsy in her hurry to get naked.
Once she stood in her panties, she noticed that Luke had already tossed his shirt aside and now stood bare-chested. Her windpipe clamped shut at the sight he made. Godlike. All man and sex and beach god. All hers.
He stared at her body, too, like he also thought she was some sort of beach goddess, his smoldering gaze warming her every pore.
“Luke.” The word tore out of her lips when he came to envelop her in his arms, and a hot shudder racked through her when he pushed his damp, delicious tongue into her mouth again.
“You taste so good, baby…” His mouth continued plundering her as he lowered her to the ground, easing easily out of his drawstring pants. “I’m so hard for you I could go through a wall. But you’ll feel so much better, Peyton. God, I can’t wait to feel you, wet and hot, around my dick.”
She regarded him in a daze, feeling faint with need and desire as she stroked her fingers along the bulging muscles of his back. “Don’t let me change my mind,” she pleaded.
His welcome weight pinned her down, and as she sank into the sand, the pebbles grazed the soft skin of her buttocks and back.
“I won’t let you. You’re mine tonight.”
He edged back to survey her, and Peyton lay there, motionless under his appraisal, awed by the open reverence with which he surveyed her. She felt beautiful. Utterly female. Desired.
He hunched down and gingerly kissed her belly button.
Her pussy felt hot and wet, clenching tight as he licked a wet circle around her innie. He raised his head and smiled as he reached for her breasts. “Was this what you were thinking of—when you sat across from my chair? Were you planning to give yourself to me, getting wet all night just thinking about it?” he rasped.
He covered her breasts, his palms large and careful as they cupped her.
She shuddered. “Yes.”
“Did you want me to kiss these?” He stroked them, kneading and arousing her already-throbbing nipples with his thumbs.
She wasn’t dreaming or fantasizing now. She wasn’t alone, in her bed, imagining his face, his touch, his kiss. This man was touching her for real, was going to have sex with her, right here on the beach. The knowledge gave her a sweet sense of vertigo.
He pinched the peaks until they were hard, sensitive little balls. Peyton forgot to breathe when he bent his head and laved them, one by one, with thorough swipes of his tongue.
His hands felt like warm velvet as he caressed down her thighs, grabbing her knees and parting them wide. His neck and shoulders emanated tension, and the muscles in his arms rippled as he slipped his tanned, muscled torso between her thighs.
He sought the throbbing part of her with one hand and found her. She sucked in a breath as he stroked his thumb up the damp cleft, reaching the tender nubbin above. She stiffened, overwhelmed with pleasure as he rolled the sensitive pearl under the pad of his thumb.
He watched what he did to her. Something primitive and animal glimmered in his eyes as he stared into her sex.
Peyton anchored herself to the ground with her fists and bucked up to his fingers. “Please hurry.”
“So hot for it,” he said in a gentle voice, glancing up to survey her with eyes that glimmered. “God, you’re a vision, woman. Your black hair behind you, speckled with sand. I’ve never tasted something as sweet as you, Peyton. Swear to God you’re giving me a sugar rush.”
“Please,” she gasped.
He bent and tasted from her mouth again, then dragged his mouth down her throat, to her breasts.
“Shh. I’ll take care of you.” He eased one long finger inside her while his thumb moved on her clit, massaging. She moaned and arched, quaking for more.
She usually took on a more active role in the office, but she was floating here, couldn’t move anything except her hips to the rhythm of his hand.
He watched the twisting, jerky moves of her body, his face ravaged by lust. Then his hand left her, and he lowered his mouth to her. She sobbed when he flicked her with his tongue and pleasure ripped through her.
Both his hands stole under her, and he cupped her ass and lifted her to his mouth. His tongue drove in deep. Deeper. Flicking. Tasting. Devouring.
Peyton’s head fell back on a very indelicate moan. She pumped her hips and her spine arched in a silent, desperate plea for more.
“Luke,” she breathed. She was wanton, at his mercy, and she needed this so much that it didn’t embarrass her one bit. “Don’t…please don’t stop.”
Her legs began to shake. Her belly quivered as her womb contracted. Luke grumbled something against her flesh. The soft vibration of his words mounted her higher to the peak.
He rested a hand on her pelvis and opened it wide as his thumb dipped to stroke her nub in slow, teasing circles. A weak sound danced up her throat and got strangled there.
The tension escalated until she couldn’t think. She writhed on the sand, tossing her head side to side, and with a few more sweet, exquisite laps of his tongue, she shattered.
Hot, heady contractions squeezed and shook her, tearing out his name in a breathless gasp.
She lay trembling beneath him, and he came up to cup the back of her neck with his hand. He held her head still as he bent his head and kissed her softly, his tongue lazy, hot, and tasting of her.
Peyton could spend the rest of the night kissing him slowly like this, her body still racked in aftershocks. Her orgasm had not yet fully subsided when Luke reached between her legs and gently inserted two fingers past her wet slit.
Delving deep, he knowingly stroked her G-spot—or something extra-tender and buried deep inside her—and Peyton gasped in surprise and arched her hips again in renewed arousal. He made her burn again. Feverish. Desperate for him. For all of him.
He added a third finger while he continued tonguing her mouth. A mewing sound tore from her throat as she imagined his fingers were his cock, imagined the hot, delicious tongue she suckled was also his cock.
Every wild, pulse-pounding heartbeat as she waited, wondering if she’d be fucked by him, was torture. His expert tongue and fingers rapidly urged her toward another orgasm. A crackling tension built inside her core, twisting and tightening.
Anxiously she thought that she had to seize this moment, now—now before the practical side of her sabotaged her plans. She was used to being in control. She was used to calling the shots in her office, and this sheer torture, wondering whether he was going to fuck her or not drove her half crazy. She rolled on top of him with surprising force, straddling him with her thighs.