Merry with a Captain (Love Beach, Holiday Collection)

Chapter 2

2

I t was less than a 10-minute drive to the motel, and neither of them said a word. He wondered why she had suddenly gone quiet; it concerned him, and he wanted to make sure this was what she wanted.

She didn't appear drunk, but he would make sure she wasn't so that she could make a proper choice.

The motel sign blinked in front of them as they rounded the bend in the road. Almost there. He jumped when her hand touched his and took it into a gentle grip. He turned his over and curled his fingers around hers.

"All good? This is what you want?" Fletch glanced at her as he pulled up in front of the little cabin that he'd been assigned.

"Yes. No question." She looked at him, the headlights reflecting off the white wooden siding of the cottage and back into his truck illuminating her face.

He searched her features, not turning the headlights off yet, and he devoured her with his gaze. She smiled and undid her seatbelt.

“This is exactly what I want.” She leaned over the center console and pulled his head down to her.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, and her lashes fanned over her skin. He couldn’t resist her slightly-parted lips and met her across the console. They were soft under his, tentatively moving. When her tongue touched his lip, it was his undoing.

Fletch deepened the kiss, her mouth opening wider as he explored hers. Their breath quickened, and when their tongues met, she moaned into his mouth and latched onto him with her arms around his neck.

He didn't want the kiss to end, but this was far too awkward and uncomfortable. They weren't going to do it here. He lifted his mouth from hers.

"Let's go inside." He was out his car door and by hers before she had gathered her purse. When he opened it to help her out, she launched into his arms and this time her kiss was anything but tentative or soft.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, and he wrapped his around her waist, lifting her until they were flush chest to hips.

He was hard, and he didn’t try to hide it. Did she feel his desire for her? Fletch slid his hands under her bottom and carried her across the crushed shell pathway to the door. He had to let go of her to fumble in his pocket for the key so they could get in the room. Cursing to himself, he wished he’d been more prepared. With her back against the door, he found the key and pushed it into the lock. Their combined weight slammed the door open and nearly sent them to the floor.

Fletch swept her into his arms and kicked the door closed, their mouths never parting, her hands pulling at his shirt. The drapes were open to the little deck facing the ocean and the moonlight streamed through the window, casting its beam over the bed.

He let her down, frantic to get rid of their clothes. He'd never been in a situation like this, the kind you saw in movies when a couple rip at each other's clothes as they made their way to the bed. He never had such an urgency for a woman.

“Off, get them off," she whispered against his mouth, pushing against his jeans.

Fletch kicked off his shoes and stood on the hem of his jeans with his heels to pull them down while he busied himself pushing her top off, and then he worked on her jeans. His cock was insistent against his briefs, and when her top was off, he gently ran the back of his fingers up her arms and hooked his pinky fingers underneath the shoulder straps of her bra.

The whole time, he watched Robyn's face. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her head fell back, exposing her neck, and he saw the pulse pounding in her throat. He bent down to kiss her shoulder where the pink bra strap had been only seconds before. He inhaled her scent; exquisite citrus with a hint of spice.

He needed to taste her and ran his tongue from her shoulder, along her collarbone and lower to the rise of her breasts. He flicked the closure of her bra open and it fell away.

This time it was his turn to groan. She was beautiful, just perfection. Her hardened nipples begged to be kissed, and he bent taking one between his lips, suckling on her. Her fingers dug into him, and she let out a small cry as her knees buckled.

He had no trouble holding her, and walked her back to the bed, easing her down until the silvery moonlight cast its glow across her skin. Fletch was unable to draw a breath, he was so captivated by the vision of her before him. He watched her chest rise with every breath. His gaze moved over her body devouring her flawless beauty as if she were carved in alabaster. The only color was her dusky pink nipples and her hair, silvery white, fanned out on the pillow.

Fletch was unable to look away. Even Venus de Milo couldn't hold a candle to this woman. She blinked, breaking him from his trance. The lunar glow caught her eyes, and they shone the most magnificent turquoise. Almost translucent and like a window into her soul.

All these thoughts rolling around in his brain were unlike him. He wasn't a poet, but she inspired poetic words.

“Come here." She raised her hand as her eyes flickered to his briefs. "Take them off,” she whispered.

He did. She watched, her tongue swept her lips. Fletch kneeled on the bed, gently pushing her knees apart. She trembled, and her legs quaked when he leaned over to take the lacy waistband of her underwear between his teeth.

Her hips bucked, and he held them while he pulled the panties down. Slowly, until her curls brushed his nose. He inhaled, unable to get enough of her, and continued to remove the lacy garment until she was fully exposed before him. He leaned back, lifting one leg and then the other to remove the underwear and tossed them aside.

With every new reveal of her body, he was more bewitched. She was a natural blonde, not that it mattered, but her beauty was indescribable. Her skin under his palms was soft, but her calves were firm and muscled and he ran his hands higher up her legs then hooked them behind her knees and lifted them to rest over his shoulders. She trembled, but not from the cold, he knew it was her arousal.

“You’re trembling,” he said in a low voice.

“I-I know,” her reply was just as shaky and he smiled.

“I like that.” Fletch said and bent, brushing his lips over her belly and lower to her curls.

“Ooh, m-my god—" She sucked in a breath and clutched his head.

The lower he went the tighter she held him. He found her center. Tasted her. Teased her. Until she couldn’t keep her hips still. Fletch swept his tongue through her folds, found her clitoris, and at the same time, pressed his fingers into her heat, curling them to find her G-spot. He licked and played with the hardening nub. He was lost in her, his own need as powerful as the need to bring her pleasure.

Fletch found a cadence she responded to with a gasp. Just as he sensed she was on the edge, he eased slightly, not wanting to release the sensations in her body yet.

“N-n-no, don’t stop,” Robyn panted and rocked her hips.

Fletch used his fingers and mouth in unison, bringing her closer until she whimpered and her body froze. He intensified his movements inside her, and didn’t let up with his lips. Her knees clamped on the side of his head, and her muscles pulsated around his fingers as she climaxed. She cried out and shuddered for what seemed like an eternity. Slowly she relaxed onto the bed.

She hadn't let go of his hair, and her knees still held him tight. When he pulled his fingers from her, and lifted his face, her body jumped. He gazed up at her, past her still-quivering belly and the flush across her chest. She still clutched his head, and her arms pushed her breasts together, the nipples still pointed and begging him for attention. A silvery sheen of perspiration coated her skin and face.

Her eyes were closed, mouth gently parted, and her hair wild over the pillows. She was the most exquisite woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

Robyn let go of his hair, and her knees dropped. He was still between her thighs, and she glanced down at him.

He looked at her and smiled. It was one of the most erotic moments of her life, seeing him like that, past her breasts, over her belly, and where her own curls mingled with his dark beard. She didn't feel the urge to roll away, cover herself, or have any self-conscious thoughts. It was as if lying with Fletch like this was the most natural thing in the world. She'd never had such a sense of contentment, euphoria and peace during any other sexual encounter.

Being with Fletch had been deeper. As if there was a mysterious bond she couldn’t comprehend. Her brain was still befuddled, and making any coherent thought was impossible. Her muscles were liquid, useless at this particular moment, and she relaxed into the tousled sheets and pillows. As she slowly caught her breath, the bed moved. Fletch appeared beside her and gathered her into his arms.

She looked up at him. "What did you do to me? I'm a puddle of mush.”

He smiled. “Made you feel good."

"You certainly did. But it's your turn." Robyn snuggled into him, breathing in his essence. He smelled like the sea, fresh and wild, and she rested her palm on his chest, splaying her fingers through his hair. His heart beat rhythmically beneath her palm.

“There's time for that.” His fingers gently stroked along the back of her arm.

“Mmm, give me a minute.” She wanted to say more, but that was about all she could manage.

They lay there quietly, the moon bright in the window. Ending her evening embraced in a man’s — this man’s — arms was the last thing she’d expected. A sigh whispered from her, and her eyelids fluttered closed.

They must've dozed off, and something woke her up. Fletch lay on his back, asleep, with his arm still around her. She watched him, his face relaxed and the moonlight casting him in a serene glow. He was beautiful.

She smiled, and decided to wake him up, but not in a conventional way. Robyn slid down his body, exploring him with her mouth, her hands, brushing her body along his until she touched him, and he hardened in her hands. This was exactly what she wanted and lowered her head to take him in her mouth. She glanced up and saw him watching her.

He reached for her and entwined his fingers in her hair, holding her gently. He fell back into the pillows as Robyn bent, drawing him into her mouth and circling her fingers around the length of him. He grew harder and lifted his hips to meet her. She took him deep, swirling her tongue, determined to give him pleasure as he had given her.

Fletch groaned, his voice deep and gravelly. “This what I call getting woken up.”

It was coming on 3 AM, and after hours of the most unbelievable lovemaking, Fletch had fallen asleep. But she couldn’t. She was far too wound up. So, she’d carefully extricated herself from their tangle of arms, legs, and sheets and picked up a blanket that had fallen to the floor. She wrapped it around herself and went out onto the balcony overlooking the ocean.

She sat and curled her arms around her knees, gazing out over the inky ocean. The sky was littered with stars, and a fresh breeze came in off the water.

It was as if her body had come alive, and every nerve hummed. She hadn't realized what she been missing all these years. And Fletch had brought it out of her. She pulled the blanket tighter, shivering, but not from the cold.

A powerful feeling of loss mingled with the afterglow of sex. She was leaving this morning to fill in at another location for a couple of months. And suddenly, she didn't want to go. Glancing back into the room, Fletch now lay on his stomach with his arms flung wide, his body stark against the white sheets. She wanted to stay longer and get to know him more, but she knew if she did she wouldn't want to leave.

She texted her friends to see who was still up and sober.

Sarah texted back.

Are you okay?

Yes, I'm great. But can you come and get me?

Of course, where are you?

She dropped her a pin.

I'll be there in 10 minutes. It's not far at all.

I'll be waiting outside.

Robyn looked for a pad and pen. Finding one, she quickly wrote him a note.

FLETCH, I HAD A WONDERFUL TIME AND I’M SO GLAD THAT WE MET. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO LEAVE IN THE MORNING, AND IF I DIDN'T LEAVE NOW WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, I DON'T THINK I WOULD'VE BEEN ABLE TO OTHERWISE. XX

She put the note on the bedside table and resisted giving him a kiss goodbye. She quietly got dressed, took a last look at the man sleeping in the moonlight, and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind her.