Eye of the Storm (6 page)

It felt right, doing for him what she’d never done for any other lover. Tangling her fingers in his soft pubic curls, she cupped his balls, rolling them gently between her palms while she used her tongue to map the velvety surface of his cock, each vein and ridge and pulsating inch of the shaft. Every inch around the ridge of the corona. She sucked the plum-like head of him, eagerly tasting his essence. When she backed off and lapped at the dimpled slit at its tip, he grasped her head and lifted it, forcing her to meet his glittering gaze.

“I wanted you to get me hot. Well, whether it was what you said or the feel of you giving me what you’ve never given anybody else, or a little bit of both, I’m on fire. My balls are ready to burst. Come here. My turn now.” He drew her up the length of his body. “Sit on my face. I’m hungry.”

He’d never let her grow hair here again. Her wet, swollen labia felt satiny to his tongue, gave him easy access he’d never considered as a benefit when examining a woman who was shaved. Of course he never examined
them
with his tongue. He licked the slick folds now, loving the taste of her honey, loving more the knowledge that her cunt still wanted him. Her rigid little clit, always sensitive, seemed to swell more when he took it between his teeth.

When he reached up and found her breasts she whimpered, sinking down on him. He opened his lips and sampled more of her glistening flesh, flailing her swollen clit with his tongue as he tugged on her nipples. He loved the sound of her breathy scream that carried even over the booms of thunder in the distance.

She squirmed on him, as though wanting more, then rose on her knees. “Fuck me, Sam. Fuck me now. Put your big, beautiful cock in me and make love to me until I can’t hear the roar of the wind. Fuck me until there’s nothing on my mind but you.”

He wanted her on her knees, helpless, her naked pussy gleaming, her cunt and anus open and inviting his rock-hard cock. Submissive, offering whatever he chose to take. But despite her raw plea, he sensed she needed more. To see his face, feel his touch and return it. Taste herself on his lips and drown out the noise of the storm with the wet, primal sounds of mating.

He slid her down his body until her wet slit caressed his eager flesh. “Ride me. Ride me hard, the way you used to do. I’ll chase away the demons.”

When she took him in her hand and rubbed his cock head against her clit, he almost came. He clenched his fists, closed his eyes against the incredibly erotic picture of Marcy straddling him, rubbing his near-to-bursting flesh along the wet satin of her slit. Seating the head of his cock in her cunt, she sank on him until it came to rest at the mouth of her womb.

Hot. Wet. Tight. Her inner muscles hugged his turgid flesh as she rose, then loosened to let him in when she sank back down and sucked him deep into her cunt. Sam grasped her hips, took control of the rhythm. Flexed his hips and drove deeper, harder with each downward motion she made. God, how he’d missed this. Missed her.

“Come for me, baby.”

“Together.” The word came out on a whimper as he slid his hands to her breasts, tugged her tight, hardened nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He’d give her the taste of pain she’d always liked with her pleasure, making her feel him. Only him. He’d drive out the memories of her other lovers. From his own mind as well as hers.

“Oh
yesss
.”

Her cunt clamped down on him, milked him. Her wild orgasmic contractions triggered the surge from his balls to his cock. He shuddered, trying to hold on, prolong every sensation,
savor
how she screamed out his name.

“God, Sam, I’m coming. Hold me.” Her nails dug into his shoulders, stinging just enough to let him regain a measure of command. When she bit his earlobe as though she wanted to devour him, he withdrew until just the tip of his cock felt her scalding heat. Arching his hips upward and grasping her ass cheeks, he buried his cock to the balls. The pressure built, then gave way to the incredible pleasure of impending release. Of claiming her with his seed, useless though it might be.

With each hot burst of come, he made her his. Only his. Her whimpers and moans punctuated his sense of possession, let him know she wanted this. Wanted him. As his climax receded, she collapsed on his chest, holding onto him as though she’d never let him go.

“I’ll never let you go now.” As the storm raged outside Sam held Marcy and prayed. Prayed he’d have the chance to make things right…to make a new start with the only woman he’d ever loved. The woman who might have had sex with dozens of other men. The fact she’d held back, saved a lot of herself for him, spurred his resolve to win her back.

Chapter Four

Through the night the storm raged on, its intensity lessening as dawn began to break. Black skies gave way to gray by midmorning, prompting Sam to believe they would survive. He’d have the chance to get Marcy back. To make things right between them once again.

“Shall we go see if we’ve got transportation home?”

Marcy rolled over, stretched, making him painfully aware they’d only scratched the surface, satisfying needs he’d bottled up for five long years. Longer. “
Mmmm
. I’d rather stay here and escape reality.”

So would he. But he doubted there was much left on Cabbage Key to support life for any amount of time. “Come on, sleepyhead. Get up. We’ve got no electricity or running water and nothing to eat here. There’s no reason we can’t continue the fantasy in the comfort of home. If the
Lucky Lady
’s still out in the cove, and still in one piece, that is. If we’re really lucky, the marine radio will still be working.” He imagined the devastation at the docks would be as bad if not worse than it was here, but he didn’t want to alarm Marcy. After all, the boat could have survived the storm. If it hadn’t, he was a strong swimmer. He could always swim across the waterway to the mainland for help if worse came to worst.

“Okay.” She rolled out of bed, bent and picked up the sodden green mess that apparently was the dress she’d worn to the wedding. “Damn. I itch all over. I’d give a month’s pay for a shower.”

“Come on, then. There’s one aboard the boat, along with some clean clothes. You don’t need to dress. I’m not.”

“But—”

“Marcy, there’s not another soul on Cabbage Key. Everybody else evacuated right after the wedding.” He grinned. “It’s not as though we haven’t seen each other naked before.”

She dropped the dress. “Okay.”

Putting his shoulder to the cabin door, he shoved it open. “Better put on some shoes. The porch is full of broken glass.” Kicking away his wet clothes, he found his wet deck shoes and shoved his feet into them.

“No shoes. My weekender was on the launch when it took off. The ones I was wearing at the wedding got caught up in the muck by the docks.”

“Right. I saw them. It’s okay. I’ll carry you.”

When he lifted her, he found Marcy lighter then he remembered, or maybe it was that he’d grown stronger. Sam loved the feel of her arms around his neck, the naked skin of her thighs and shoulders beneath his hands. The soft whoosh of her breath against his ear. “Hold on. Baby, it feels so good to have you in my arms again.”

A strong breeze tossed raindrops around them. Downed Australian pines, uprooted shrubs and pieces of decimated buildings along the path gave silent evidence of
Kellen’s
power. They were damned lucky. Sam looked toward where the dock had been, hoping to see the
Lucky Lady
moored where he’d left her yesterday.

No such luck. The storm surge had ripped her from her mooring, sent her drifting and apparently tossed the port side of her stern up onto a sandbar.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, baby?”

She cast a dubious look at the boat, then looked at him, her expression full of worry. “Can we get the boat back in the water?”

“I think so, if we wait for high tide. The question is whether we’ll want to once we assess the damage. Keep your fingers crossed that the radio works, and that I can scare somebody up on it.”

“Where’s your cell phone?”

“Overboard, I imagine. I broke it on the trip back here from the mainland.” Sam’s feet sank into muck dragged in by the storm surge. “Hang on. It’s going to be a rocky ride from here on, until we get onto the boat.”

“All right.” Her trust touched him—but then she’d always trusted him to keep her out of danger. The Gulf had been their playground—and the only venue where he’d been superior to her as a kid—at swimming, sailing and
snorkeling
along the barrier islands off Fort
DeSoto
Park. “Just think of this as another Sunday adventure,” he said once he was up to his knees in the murky, debris-filled water and her feet were dangling into it, catching muddy seaweed.

The
Lucky Lady
faced the mainland, its mooring ropes dragging off the bow and stern and tangled in remnants of the dock. Other than sitting at an odd angle, she looked intact. He bent, setting Marcy in the water by the stern ladder. “Let go. Climb aboard and move over toward the starboard side. I’m going to dive underneath her and inspect for obvious damage.”

“Be careful, Sam.”

He dived once, spitting silt out of his mouth when he came up for air. “Looks okay on this side as far as I can tell.” Then he went under again, wishing to God he could see better in the murky water. Feeling his way around, he finally determined after several more dives that even if they couldn’t move, they probably wouldn’t sink. The salesman apparently hadn’t lied when he’d said this boat’s hull would stand up to a hurricane.

Marcy huddled against the starboard side of the
Lucky Lady
, hugging both arms across her naked breasts. “Well?” she asked when he climbed aboard and joined her.

“She’s safe enough. I doubt we can dislodge her before high tide, though. Go on below, you look like you’re about to freeze. I’ll be down as soon as I see if the radio’s working.”

“I-I’ll wait for you.”

“I said for you to go below. Do it. And put on one of my shirts. Drawer below the bunk.” He watched her until her blonde head disappeared through the cabin door.

Treading lightly, Sam made his way to the cockpit and turned on the radio. The crackling noises sounded promising, and soon he made contact with a Coast Guard cutter searching for survivors from a wrecked fishing boat somewhere off Sarasota. “I’ll try to break us loose,” he said before setting down the microphone and firing up the starboard engine.

“Sam?” Marcy poked her head through the cabin door, a worried frown on her face.

“Stay down there. I’m going to try to rock us free. If I can, we’ll soon be on our way.”

“But you got hold of help?”

“No boat as big as a cutter will be able to get into this cove, and nobody’s likely to be manning Coast Guard auxiliary boats in this weather. We may or may not be able to get out of here, depending on whether the channel’s full of silt. But I’m going to try. We’ve got at least one good engine.”

The
Lucky Lady
shuddered but didn’t move. Sam let out a curse, then shut down the engine and went below. “We might as well clean up. We might even find something to eat unless it got destroyed during the storm. We’re going to be here until high tide. At least.”

“When’s that?”

“Late this afternoon. If I can break her loose, I’ll take her over to what’s left of the dock and tie her up for the night. You’re going to be stuck with me at least another twenty-four hours. I’m not trying to navigate the Waterway at night, not with the debris that’s bound to be floating around.”

Her expression softened, and she shot him a smile that reminded him of the old Marcy he’d loved so much. “I don’t mind. After all, you did come back for me.”

“Yeah. I did at that.”

* * * * *

Fresh, cool water sluiced over her body and his in the tiny shower. Marcy didn’t mind, though usually tight places made her nervous. Sam’s presence drove away her fear, made her feel young and whole and…

He lathered her breasts and pussy, following up by taking the showerhead and directing the soft spray on her most sensitive spots. “Hey, turn
about’s
fair play,” she said, taking the hose and spraying his crotch. He was hard, lusciously so.

It took real effort for her to remember why she’d thrown him out…the loneliness when he’d held himself aloof, the humiliation of being accused of unfaithfulness while heartbroken over the loss of their baby. At least now she knew why, though she wasn’t at all sure the explanation should excuse him for having broken her heart.

Decisions could wait. Now she had Sam, and she intended to enjoy every stolen moment until they returned to the real world—their separate lives. Handing him the showerhead to put away, she stepped out of the head and began to dry her body.

“Let me.” Dripping wet, he took the towel from her and blotted away the water, his hands gentle—arousing. Warming her where she was cold, ever so gently, the way he used to when they’d bathed together in the small Miami apartment where they’d loved so deeply.

In the past twenty-four hours they’d faced death and survived. Together. It seemed only right that they celebrate life together too. Marcy sighed, wishing for more than these stolen moments yet afraid to forgive and ask forgiveness. Then she reached up, caressed Sam’s
stubbled
cheeks, drew his face down to meet her eager lips.