The Sun and the Moon (Giving You ... #1) (26 page)

Full Circle

Six Months Later

HE WAS THRUSTING
into me from behind, his sweat dripping on my back, veins straining in his brawny forearms that clutched my pale, naked hips.

I was so fucking into this, I could hardly breathe. But I let out a moan and it was a real, honest-to-fuck moan. I couldn't keep my reactions away from Ryan, and I never needed to fake anything with him. And because he was always completely focused, completely into fucking me thoroughly, and enjoying my reaction, he always knew when to push it, and when to take it easy on me.

I guess today was a day to push it, because the next thing I knew, he surprised me by pulling his cock out, and smacked me hard on my ass.

I gasped.

Ryan had never spanked me before. I had never been spanked before, by anyone.

But fuck me, I liked it. What a surprise. It was just a little bite, then he thrust into me again, hitting the exact right spot on the front of my pussy, which really wanted to let go and visit the land of orgasm. I was ready to climax. But no, then he pulled out, again, and smacked me on the other side of my ass.

Fuck.

Thrust. Withdraw. Smack. Thrust. Withdraw. Smack.

I was wet and it was wild.

He kept up this crazy rhythm of pummeling me with his cock and spanking me on different parts of my ass. With every thrust, with every spank, my breasts jolted forward, my pussy clenched, and oh, my, he was wearing me out.

So, my Sun God was back and in full form.

And he was hotter than ever.

I guess I had come full circle. Before, I was worried about getting an orgasm, any orgasm, even a little one. Now, my guy had coaxed out of me so many reliable orgasms, and fuck me, multiple most of the time, that he was now experimenting with drawing it out, making me wait, denying me orgasms. Such delicious torture.

Bastard.

Good thing that I loved him.

And my body loved this. I loved the way our bodies moved together. I loved his combination of hard and gentle. I loved his attention to me. I loved the connection of our bodies, and the sensations that I felt in my body, in my brain, and in my heart.

I couldn't wait for the flood of the good shit in my brain that comes when you come. Since that day in the storage room in Southwinds, I had been counting on consistent, and awesome, sex as part of my recovery from depression. It really worked.

But right now?

"Ryan, you bastard, let me come now or I'll do it myself," I yell-whispered at him.

"Whatever you say," he muttered in my ear, and he thrust in and stayed there, not moving, bringing two hands (two!) to stimulate my clit, and the combination of him rubbing my wet clit and pressing his long, exquisite cock into my g-spot meant virtually instant orgasm for me.

Yay!

My body took over, shaking involuntarily, as he rode it out of me, my torso shuddering, impaled on his cock. And then my shaking and shuddering apparently set off his orgasm, as he groaned and bit my neck, pressing his cock up super high into my pussy as he came in a rush of warm spurts.

And then he collapsed, pushing me down onto the bed, so that I collapsed too, and he covered me completely with his big, warm, tan body. He propped himself up with his elbows so he wasn't squishing me too badly, and sucked my ear.

Then he pulled out, rolled to his back, rolled me under his arm, and let out a breath. I snuggled into his nook, biting the muscle over his armpit. I had a particular fondness for this piece of manmeat on him.

There's another word, manmeat.

Focus.

But fuck, that part of him was so good-looking, with a muscle stretching from his arm to his shoulder, that I had to nibble it. He had told me that it was strangely erotic for him when I nibbled there. Therefore, I did it, and often.

So.

To update.

We were on vacation in his beach house in Hawaii, in an area north of the Kona airport.

Yeah, I was suffering. Not at all.

After some discussion, a few months ago, we both got tested, both came out clean, so there had been no condoms for us for quite a while. I had been on the pill anyway, and it felt unbelievable to have him in me, no latex, just him. Apparently he agreed, by the filthy, contented words that came out of his mouth as he slid in. But now I was the one to clean up afterward, not him. Oh well. It felt good.

We spent a lot of time with each other. We both had clothes at both houses, and traded off where we would spend the night. It depended on our schedules, but it seemed to work, at least for now.

We had coordinated taking a vacation together at Ryan's house north of Kona, because of course he had a beach house in Hawaii. It was not as big as his beach house in Ventura, but it was plenty comfortable, with three bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a porch that wrapped almost the whole way around the house. The furniture was pale and beachy and tough and could handle sand and surf. It was ocean-front, a white sand beach, with black lava rock surrounding it on the sides. When I took my first step in the water, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water temperature was so warm and comfortable, matching the warmth of the air. Ryan's view included palm trees dotting the landscape, scented plumeria flowers, and hibiscus everywhere. It was paradise.

That evening, after we cleaned up and I put on a tank top and a sarong, Ryan grilled a pizza for me on his outdoor grill.

A few things to note about this.

First, and most important, Ryan grilled shirtless. He wore red surfer trunks, tied in the front with white string, which hung down low on his hips, so hello happy trail and hello hip bones. This, plus shirtless Ryan equaled V-sighting. Not to mention the whole cornucopia of torso muscles. And have I gone into details about his back? My God.

Do you know how distracting it was for Ryan to cook for you shirtless, outside, in paradise in Hawaii? I may or may not have distracted him on his porch, out in the open, although his house was secluded, on my knees, because he deserved it. He may or may not have needed a sign of my appreciation of the floor show. This may or may not have delayed dinner a bit, but neither of us minded.

Second, Ryan was grilling pizza. I didn't know you could grill pizza. Pizza previously had been in the realm of good pizza and bad pizza, but either way it came out of an oven. But now? I don't know how my surfer learned these things, but he grilled the homemade dough first on both sides, and then added cheese and fresh toppings, grilled it a little longer so that the cheese melted, and served it. So, while I knew that such a thing as bad pizza existed, it didn't exist for me anymore.

Just like bad sex. It didn't exist for me anymore.

Accio orgasm!

And in the months that we had been together, I started paying attention to what Ryan did and how he acted and I realized that I was totally off base for believing anything anyone said about him being insincere or cheating. He just wasn't. We talked about it again, and the deal was that before me, he just wasn't seriously dating anyone, and they all really wanted him to be seriously dating them because he was amazing. (He didn't say this last part, I just filled in the blanks.)

But he was devoted to me, and I was devoted to him. He made my heart beat faster, and he accepted me, just as I was, with my insecurities and faults and flaws and messed up parts. He also made me feel like I was beautiful, like I was smart, and like I was funny. He laughed at me and then looked at me like he was going to devour me.

And sometimes he did.

The next day, south of Kailua-Kona, Hawaii

"Hold out your hand."

Ryan placed a green coffee berry in my hand. He kept one for himself and started to tear into it, then showed me the detritus in his hand.

"See, this? This pale thing is the coffee bean. They dry them here, and then ship them to me where I roast them for Southwinds."

We were exploring one of the small coffee farms above the highway that Ryan contracted with to supply him with coffee for Southwinds. I learned that they started picking coffee first at the lower elevations, and then moved their way up the hills.  I also received a lecture about the entire process of growing and harvesting coffee beans, which was fascinating.  To think that I was so addicted to this stuff, and it came from little farms, just like this one.  He was in his element, chattering to the farmers, asking questions about growing conditions and farming issues, and holding my hand the entire time.

Later

"Fuck yeah, baby, that's it. That's it. It's coming. It's coming. Okay, now paddle, paddle, paddle."

I lay on a surfboard in the warm Hawaiian water, wearing a long-sleeve, rash guard shirt, and bikini bottoms, lying on my belly, my toes sticking into the water, my arms paddling as fast as I could.

Suddenly, I felt it. The wave picked me up and, with a surge of ocean energy, propelled me forward.

I was surfing! I was catching a wave!

Okay, but now I needed to stand up.

I awkwardly scrambled to my feet, and sort of made it up, staying standing for a few seconds, before I fell off backwards into the clear ocean.

Sputtering, I came up, but I was stoked. I had caught a wave!

The leash around my ankle holding the surfboard tugged me, and I reached down and grabbed it, pulling the board to me.

Ryan caught the next wave, expertly stopped by me, hopped off his board, and helped me up.

"You did it, Movie Star. Fucking awesome. Want to do it again?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely," I said.

Last day of our vacation

We walked hand in hand along the shore, and then stopped, our toes in the warm water, watching the sky change from blue to purple to pink to bright fuchsia with red and orange and yellow mixed in. I wore a dark purple bikini top, and a purple print sarong, with a white hibiscus flower in my dark hair, Ryan wore green Hawaiian print trunks and no shirt because I forbade him from wearing one.

"Watch for it," Ryan ordered, as the sun moved down into the ocean horizon. The sun went from full sun to a half-circle to a blip at the edge, to, yes! the green flash.

It wasn't just a myth. There was a flash of green light as the sun went down and the moon came up.

The water lapped at our feet, buried in the white sand.

A flock of water birds flew in formation, low along the shore.

Sailboats cruised by quietly, heading back to the harbor for the evening.

The pink, white, and yellow plumeria scented the air.

It was just us, on a deserted beach.

Then.

Ryan reached into the waistband of his trunks, in one of those little inner mesh pockets, and pulled out a diamond ring the size of an ice rink.

He got down on both knees in front of me.

My heart seized up and he started talking.

"I love you and you love me. You are the only one I have ever loved. I want to be with you for the rest of my life and I want to make it official. Marry me, Amelia," he said, green eyes sparkling.

Well.

Oh my.  My stomach dropped and my heart beat faster.  But the thing was, there was no question.  Absolutely. No question about it.  The rest of my life with my own personal Sun God? I couldn't think of anything better. I was so in love with him, I risked diving into schmaltz to tell you about it.

But I couldn't resist getting in a little sass.

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Both."

I smiled, looked at him with my cool, violet eyes to his warm, green ones, and said "Yes."

Ryan's Perspective

In the coffee shop, first meeting

I LOOKED UP TO
serve the next person in line and locked eyes with a violet pair that I’d recognize anywhere.

Holy fuck.

Amelia Crowley. My wet dream.

Amelia Crowley, prom queen. Amelia Crowley, senior class president. Amelia Crowley, Harvard-bound.

Fuck.

I looked at her. Glossy dark mane of hair. Technicolor eyes. She was hot. H.O.T. All Bond girl hot, with a suit racing around her beautiful curves. Intelligent hot. Beautiful hot. She was my centerfold. My ideal. Shit.