I swallow hard, his words stirring up things I don’t want to feel.
God, I don’t want to feel more for him than I already do. I don’t want to make this complicated, to set us up for heartbreak, when I know he’s eventually going to have to return to the sea and I’m going to go on my way, looking for a version of myself that will never quite appear.
“I’m here,” I say again, feeling stupid, wishing I could say more. Wishing I believed it.
For now, is what I don’t add.
Then I lean in and bring his mouth to meet mine. I kiss him, soft and sweet.
At first.
But the more I kiss him, the more I feel a match being struck from deep within my core, a fire burning brightly, a fire burning for him.
He kisses me back, the storm rolling on, and then I’m lying back on the bed, giving myself to him, wanting him to take me in every way possible.
And he does.
Even though it’s dark, the lightning illuminating the room from time to time, Anders keeps steady eye contact with me as his hands slowly, carefully, skim all over my naked body, treating me like I’m made of porcelain, a sharp contrast to the way he was with me earlier, so rough and wild.
With that same deliberation, he skillfully slips his finger down between my legs and over my clit, through the slick folds and back up and, fuck, I’m soaked for him already. My back arches, my clit pulsing, practically begging for more of that, more of him. His touch alone has the ability to make me see stars and I’m making fists in the sheets.
“How badly do you want me?” he whispers gruffly. Whatever sadness and fear were in his eyes is now gone, replaced by my dirty-talking Nordic god. All pure primal lust.
All mine.
“Badly,” I manage to say, still feeling a bit rusty when it comes to saying what I’m thinking during sex. The dirty talk comes so easily to him.
“How badly?” he says, his finger still working me, teasing me to the point of insanity. “Like you’d die without my fat cock spreading you wide? Like you’d beg me for it? Like you’d beg me to make you come?”
I practically growl in response, my body becoming a tightened wire, back already arching, trying to get purchase from his finger.
But he moves his finger away, a tease, and in the dark I can see his white teeth, the devious grin. He really does want me to beg, doesn’t he?
“Shay,” he says as a warning, voice thick and throaty. The rough tip of his finger comes back and slides back and forth, the wet sound filling the air.
“Yes, yes I’m begging,” I say through a moan. “I want you to fuck me. Come inside me.”
He lets out a sharp hiss. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“You know, there’s something to be said for delayed gratification,” he murmurs, moving his body down me now and lowering his face until I can feel his breath on my clit.
“Don’t tell me this is some metaphor about using the film camera,” I warn him.
But before he can give some smart-ass remark, he touches my clit with the tip of his tongue and I shudder, gasp, my hands moving to his hair now and grabbing hold of his thick, dark strands. His tongue slowly moves up along my clit and back down, as teasingly deliberate as his finger, before he starts plunging his tongue deep inside me, fucking me over and over, in and out.
Shit. He’s good. Too good. My back curls and I raise my hips, trying to get more purchase, to get more of everything that he’s giving me. I want to feel his tongue as deep as it can go.
And he dives in deeper.
God, I can’t believe this still, that this is my Anders doing this to me, turning my world upside down until the stars are in my eyes.
I feel him smile against me briefly, as if he can hear my thoughts, then he goes back to fucking me with his tongue and as I’m clenching for more, he starts pressing it up against my G-spot and before my brain can even make sense of the sensation, a different kind of pressure is building inside of me, like it might split me in two.
My orgasm blindsides me, and I’m yelping, loud enough to wake the other guests before my cries crash with the thunder outside. I’m coming hard, my body torn apart as his tongue feels me from the inside, and I’m just a thread unspooling, over and over again.
“Anders! Fuck!” I cry out, screaming, bucking my hips up into his mouth, my thighs clamping on either side of his face like a vice.
He’s smiling against me before he pulls away, and it honestly takes a moment to figure out where I am and what’s happening.
A room in Norway.
On the coast.
With Anders Johansen.
Fuck, it’s like he just slipped me some of the best drugs in the world.
I hear him chuckle, obviously amused by my state of mind, and I open my eyes to see him move on top of me. In the dim light I can make out the intimidating silhouette of his cock jutting out, see him reach down and stroke himself, and even though I just came, even though I’m still pulsing from my orgasm, I’m insatiable for him to be inside me.
Greedy, even.
“I can feel your eyes burning through me in the dark,” he says, in a thick voice. “Guess I’ll have to fuck you even harder this time. Make you come again. You’re hard to keep satisfied, you know that? Greedy girl.”
I clear my throat, trying to get a better look at him, wanting to turn on the light, though I know the dramatic flashes of lightning and the rumbling thunder are acting like an aphrodisiacs themselves. Nothing wrong with a little drama with your sex.
“Are you complaining?” I ask.
“Not even a little,”
