Seaside Sunsets by Melissa Foster

bush for a month, or maybe I just didn’t want my parents to go. I don’t know.”
    “Were you with them when…?”
    “Vera wouldn’t let them take me. She told them that it wasn’t good for me to miss a month of school, and she came to New York to stay with me. I’ve always felt a little guilty about that.” His eyes became hooded, and he looked away.
    “I’m so sorry, and I hate that nothing I say can take that pain away.” She climbed into his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her cheek to his. “I wish I was there when you were little. I’d have hugged you and told you how loved you were. I’d have listened when you were angry and cried when you were sad.”
    His strong arms wrapped around her body and he sighed. “I believe you would have. It was a long time ago.”
    They sat like that for a long while, their silence buffered by the sound of the ocean and the smell of the sea. Eventually—Jessica didn’t know how much time had passed—his grip on her eased. Their eyes connected, and when their mouths came together, the rest of the world fell away. All that was left was the sound of their breathing, the feel of their hearts beating fast and hard against their chests, and the passion that had them kissing with desperation, grasping at each other’s bodies. She ran her hands through his hair, over his neck, and all over every inch of his muscular back she could reach, while his hands traveled up her sides, brushing the sides of her breasts, making her crave more of him. The sadness of their confessions swirled around them and morphed into something thinner and smaller with every breath, then changed shape completely, spiraling into a common thread that wound around them and bound them together.
    “Jess,” he said in a heated breath.
    Three dates. Three dates. Three dates . Oh God! Three whole dates?
    She couldn’t answer. She could only kiss him more. His hands slid beneath her shirt and— Oh God, yes —he caressed her breasts, sending a shudder of need right through her. Her nipples hardened with the first brush of his fingers. Shivers of heat chased that shudder deeper, and when he used his other hand to hold the back of her head as he kissed her neck, then licked it with his tongue, it was all she could do to fist her hands in his shirt to keep from begging for more. But, Lord, did she want more. He used his teeth to unzip her sweatshirt, and it just about killed her to have his mouth that close to her skin. He drew back for an instant.
    “Waist up?”
    “Waist up.” Ohgodohgodohgod .
    He lifted her shirt and palmed her breasts through her lacy black bra, then ran his tongue along her cleavage. Her body felt electrified. She could hardly believe she was making out on the beach . She didn’t do things like this! But every pass of his tongue took her higher, until she couldn’t think and couldn’t take it anymore. She reached down and unhooked the center clasp of her bra. He moaned, a guttural, masculine sound of appreciation, as his mouth found her nipple and he taunted her with his talented tongue while squeezing the other between his finger and thumb. She was going to hyperventilate. She was sure of it. She couldn’t catch her breath, except to beg.
    “More. Oh God, Jamie.”
    He sucked and licked until her mind went numb and her body turned into a bundle of oversensitive nerves. Every kiss, every touch, took her closer to the edge.
    They tumbled to the sand, groping and kissing, their hips gyrating against each other. He was hard and she was wet, so wet. With her shirt pushed above her breasts, her bra open, the cold air hit the wet skin of her nipples. Goose bumps raced across her flesh as his big hands gripped her ribs and he kissed a path down the center of her stomach and lingered around her belly button. He circled it with his tongue, then thrust into it. His thumbs stroked the sensitive skin beside her hips, and she felt as though she might come apart right then.