Free All To Myself by Annemarie Hartnett

Wet, naked and bathed in moonlight, he looked like some god that had risen from the sea to offer himself to her. Every sweep of her tongue along his shaft, every pucker of her mouth around the tip, every caress of his balls made him suck hard through his teeth. She doubted he felt the cold any longer, not when she had offered him somewhere so warm and inviting.
    As she worked even more of him into her mouth, he groaned and lifted his hips, then just as quickly he pushed against her.
    “I’ve had enough of the beach. I want the tent now. I want you.”
    “I want you, too,” she got out in a rush of breath just as he captured her mouth. She wished she had no common sense left in her. She wished she could lift her hips and sink down on him right there on the beach, and to hell with common sense, safe sex and consequences.
    Like they were caught in a strong wind, they pushed and pulled at one another. One moment the fever had cooled long enough for them to break apart, and then in the next they were wrapped up in it once more. Noah finally let out a growl and sprang to his feet. He pulled her with him and parting from him to collect her clothes actually hurt her, as did the careful trek up the bank and back to the campsite.
    Their clothes left discarded outside, Noah shut them both off from the world with a snarling zip of the tent door. Rory settled back on the sleeping bag, her ass cushioned by the spongy foam pad beneath her. He turned on the lantern hanging from the roof of the tent and she threw her arms over her face, then heard him growl.
    “I know that pose isn’t supposed to be sexy, but it is,” he said as he knelt between her legs, “like you’re trying to hide--like after you sucked me and you got shy.”
    Rory slipped her arms up to rest above her head and smiled up at him. “I’m not shy now.”
    “Show me.” He slipped his hands beneath her knees and drew her legs apart.
    Nothing in the whole world, not a goddamn thing, was sexier than Noah Hyland slipping his fingers into his mouth to wet them. It was unnecessary. She was already wet for him, lifting her hips as he slipped his fingers inside. The pressure of his fingertips against her inner wall sent a hot shiver up her spine.
    “Move with me,” he murmured, and bent low to kiss the wisp of blond hair over her mound. “Ride my fingers.”
    With the tip of his tongue against her clitoris, Rory bucked up. Compared to last night, Noah was neither slow, nor gentle. He knew just what to do to her and found his cadence immediately.
    The pleasure was nearly unbearable. She was maddened by it, clawing the sleeping bag over her head as her frenzied thoughts tried to keep up with what was happening to her body. Her writhing only seemed to urge him on. The wet sounds he made grew louder, joining her gasps and whimpers to fill the tent.
    So close.
    He closed his mouth around her and the hot suction sent a wild pulse through her. She released her hold on the sleeping bag and cupped his head. He gave no resistance as she held him in place and ground against his mouth. The steady thrust of his fingers never relented, nor did the fluttering of his tongue. Noah remained steady as Rory was overtaken by the abandon his attention invoked.
    In the aftermath, everything was blanketed in a splotchy haze of red. Her head floated, but her body was sluggish. The only thing that anchored her in the waking world was Noah’s kiss on the insides of her thighs, and his fingers still flexing between her throbbing walls.
    She struggled up onto her forearms and met his gaze. “Come up here … please.”
    He righted himself with a low groan and reached for the tattered carry-on he’d tucked next to her backpack.
    It took less than a minute for him to extract a condom from its foil package and roll it over his dick, but time seemed to stretch on forever for Rory. She curled her fingers and toes, her body riddled with electric anticipation, and with that final snap she went onto