She still shuddering as I stagger back from her, but then I'm turning her around and bringing her back up as I move against her, kissing her neck and feeling her clutch at me. She's moaning as my mouth finds her collarbone and the sweet spot where her delicate neck meets her shoulders, and I'm still hard.
I'm still hard, and I still want so much more from this angel.
I turn and grab my shorts from the ground, rummaging through the pockets until I come out with a foil packet.
Chelsea starts to giggle; her cheeks flushed red and her eyes sparkling as she brings a hand to her mouth; “Did you buy condoms?”
I grin and just wink at her.
“You arrogant prick.”
“You uptight little tease.”
But her fingers are eager as she helps me roll the thing down over my cock, and she's clutching at my hips and pulling me close as I slide the head between her lips.
“Fuck me,” she groans into my ear; “Fuck me hard.”
I sink into her in one perfect stroke, and I could die in that moment. She’s impossibly tight, and she’s writhes like liquid gold around me as I bury myself inside of her.
We move together fast and hungrily, undulating as one like the crashing of the waves against the sand behind us. And every fear and uncertainty and doubt and battle and knock-down I've ever fucking had just washes out to sea when her lips seal on mine.
Her legs around my hips and her arms around my neck bring me closer and closer, urging me on and urging me to fill her entirely. Her head throws back as my lips and my teeth find her neck, and we explode together like a bomb, there on the beach under the island moon.
18
Chelsea
Comfortable.
It's the only thought I have to describe the feeling I have upon waking. There are waves crashing quietly in the background, the tiniest sliver of wind teasing my hair across my face, and the strong, muscular chest of the man who absolutely rocked my world beneath my cheek as sleep slowly fades into a memory.
Memory.
My eyes snap open as the reality of morning suddenly dawns on me. I blink once as I open my eyes to the sight of the ocean waves, and Javier's chest slowly rising and falling beneath my face.
Oh, God.
I swallow the dryness in my throat and sit up, wiping the corners of my mouth and glad I haven't managed to drool on his chest.
His chest; Javier Toro’s chest.
Oh holy fuck.
The regrets start as one little nagging whine and slowly start to tumble faster and faster until the sheer cacophony of them is almost too much to bear.
Oh my fucking God, I fucked a fugitive; I had sex with Javier.
This is bad; this is real, real bad.
The whirlwind of regrets hits a fever pitch inside my head. I think of my sister, and Logan and all the horrible bad blood there. I think of my job, and my sworn duty and responsibility. And I think of myself, and what ignoring all those things says about me as a person.
Somehow, I don't think it says anything good.
There are lines you don't cross, and family is a big one. No matter how charming I think Javier is, no matter how much I want to say he's “changed” or “different” than the man he was before, it doesn't change what happened. It doesn't change that he hurt my family. He made Logan fight in brutal underground fights with the threat of revealing his past to the world and then kidnapped him and my sister. He almost shattered everything I know.
I stare at the man still sleeping next to me in the sand. This man may have changed so many notions I had of who he was, or who I thought I was, but it doesn't mean anything. Blood is thicker than water, and there's been blood spilled here.
Jesus, what was I thinking?
I'm pulling my clothes on as Javier stirs and slowly begins to open his eyes. He blinks, much in the same way I'm sure I just did, as consciousness and the reality of the world begins to dawn on him.
I bite my lip as I watch him until his eyes blink and lock on me. I want to slip back into that comfort I first felt on waking. I want to go back to this new Javier and this new me, and this fugitive beach life existence. And I want to go back to last night; I want to go back to last night forever.
But you can never go back, and I know I can't now; not to any of those things.
He grins and starts to reach for me, but the walls are already going up. I force the warmth from my face and from my heart, and instead I steel myself for what I know has to happen here. I need to be cold; I need this to stop right here and right now, before it gets any worse.
Right, worse; as if it can possibly get worse than you betraying your family and your country and your job.
Javier frowns as he sees the frost in my look and the way I flinch away when he goes to take my hand with his; “And a good morning to you too, sunshine,” He mumbles, his brow furrowed.
“You got me drunk.”