“Flynn,” she moaned.  “Please.”

“Patience, baby doll, patience.”

Pressing his knee between her thighs, he gently parted them wider. “Heat is coming off your pussy in waves,” he whispered against her ear. “Your sex smells like an exotic flower. Musk with a hint of bubble gum.”  Heat snaked low in her belly at his words. “I love how you are always so ready for me.”

When she reached back to touch him, Flynn grasped her hand and placed it back on the railing. To make sure she kept it still, he didn’t remove his hand. His left hand trailed to her hot spot and gently stroked it until she couldn’t catch her breath. “Please, Flynn,” she begged, “I need you inside me, now.” His breathing had grown heavier, but his hand stayed the slow steady course, gradually turning up the heat, one tortuous caress at a time. When he moved his hand back around to her ass cheek, she sobbed, and pressed her pelvis against the edge of the railing. He took his time, savoring every inch of her. In a slow languid swirl, his tongue traced the outer shell of her ear.

“Do you know what I love the most about touching you?” he asked.

“No,” she breathed, wishing he’d touch more of her and fast.

“The way you respond. Like you can’t get enough.”

“I can’t,” she admitted. “I might never get enough.” She knew it was true.

His teeth scraped along her neck beneath her ear, and then he bit her. Not too hard, but hard enough that it sent wild pulses of heat rushing through her body. “I told you I could bite.” He bit lower, his tongue soothing the sting. “I just want to consume every inch of you, Pink. Hide you from the world and keep you all to myself.”

His words stirred something deep inside her. She knew he meant them. Now anyway.  Tomorrow might be different. She wasn’t going to think about tomorrow right now. Right now she was going to take all of the very special, Special Agent Flynn A. Ryker she could, because she knew she would never, at least in this lifetime, meet another man who made her feel the way he made her feel.

“If someone would have bet me a million dollars last night that I’d be standing with you right here right now, about to do to you what I’m about to do, I would have lost.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought my type was tall, classic, well-mannered, brunettes. Not curvy, petite, potty-mouthed, pink-tipped-haired blondes.”

“Potty-mouthed blondes have more fun,” she shot back.

“Indeed.”

She cried out when he slid a finger into her, then bit her lip before the entire beach looked up and saw what had her so hot and bothered. “You own me every time I touch you,” he admitted. His right hand slid around to the front of her skirt where he slipped beneath it and caught her hard clit between his index and middle fingertips. In a slow deep cadence, he fingered her pussy as his other hand stroked and plucked her bowstring tight.

Unable to collect adequate breath, Izzy struggled for composure. He was all around her, torturing her with his slow, sensual assault. His body heat scorched her, his erection dug into her back. White-knuckled, she grasped the railing. Bowing her back to give him greater access, she pressed her head into his shoulder.

“On your toes, baby doll,” he said huskily. She stood up on the tips of her toes in her wedges. As she moved higher into him, his lips caught the side of her jaw. She turned harder and their lips caught and in a slow wild burn they melded together. He kissed her so deeply, so thoroughly, and so slowly, that the wild feral ache he had created inside her began to careen out of control.

Simply put, he wrecked her. The deep satisfied sounds that rose from deep in his chest as he kissed her stoked her passion fires to blazing. Abruptly he broke the kiss, and slid his hands from her. “Flynn,” she cried. “Please.”

He slid his hand up the back of her skirt and gently moved her forward so that she was leaning over the railing. Just as she adjusted her body to stay balanced, he filled her with his delicious length from behind. “Oh, God,” she moaned. The sensation of his warm thickness burrowing into her swollen sensitive folds overwhelmed her in its perfect storm of carnal pleasure. The power of his passion, his insatiable appetite for her, thrilled her.

“Easy, baby doll. Easy.” His hands clasped the cradle of her hips as he slowly seated himself deep inside of her. “You have the tightest little cunt.”

When he hit the core of her, her muscles spasmed, clenching and unclenching around him. An orgasm rocketed out of her, the force shaking her uncontrollably. Her arms shook, her knees gave way. Flynn’s strong arm supported her. As she peaked, he began to slowly thrust in and out of her. The power of his movement, the force of his cock hitting deep, was otherworldly, out-of-body. Fucking on the most primal of levels. No, it was mating. Their bodies hungered for each other in a sensational out-of-control primal call. She knew he felt the same by the way his hips pounded into her, and the way he held her tightly, protectively, and possessively. This thing between them, whatever it was, was cosmic and exactly how God intended man and woman to be.

“Isa,” he rasped, “I can’t stand how good you feel.”

Snaking an arm up and around the back of his neck, she tried to say his name, to tell him what he did to her, but she couldn’t do that and ride out the next orgasm that built so deep inside her that she blanched, afraid of its impact. It built with the force of a hurricane. Her body liquefied as it uncoiled, momentarily blinding her as the sharp waves hurtled against every nerve ending connected to their union.

Flynn’s arm tightened around her as his hips slammed into her. “Jesus,” he groaned and came in a wild thrusting climax. Izzy braced herself and took the brunt of his passionate release, absorbing his body heat, his semen, and his hot breath.

His hips slowed until she hung in his arms, their bodies still connected, the waves below crashing with more velocity against the beach than they had earlier. As the sun began to dip toward the horizon they continued to stand there, still connected, their comingled sex-induced fluids trickling down the inside of her thighs and she didn’t care. To her it was proof of the power they generated. Damn, she thought, if she weren’t on the pill, she bet his sperm would descend on her eggs with the force of an atom bomb.

“That,” she breathed, “was epic.”

He pulled out and moved back just enough so that he could turn her around. He perched her on the edge of the railing and moved between her parted knees. His blue eyes dark, nearly black. His handsome face softened with the afterglow of their powerful sex.

He dug his fingers into her hair and pulled her lips up to his and lightly brushed them.  “I want to make love to you.”

Her lips parted and her belly did a slow nervous roll. “I want that, too.”

He smiled slowly and pressed her head to his chest and stroked her hair as he looked past her to the ocean. “How do you feel?”

“Like the luckiest girl in California.”

“I mean down there.”

“Oh, tender, but okay.”

“I didn’t hurt you?”

“No.” The steady thud of his heart against her cheek served as a reminder that he was human and therefore vulnerable. Maybe as much as she was? Something had changed since the time they walked into the room and now. Though sex had brought them together, she felt as if their connection was beginning to transcend it. At least for her it was. She wanted to know everything about this man. From his favorite food to what kept him up at night. Would he share that part of him? There was only one way to find out. “What scares you?” she softly asked.

He didn’t answer immediately but when he did, his answer surprised her. “Hurting someone I love.”

Moving back she looked up into his eyes. It was like looking at the sky, they were so blue. “If you truly love someone, you accept all of them, and in that, you can’t hurt them.”