Page 42 of Fire Island (Fire Island #2)

Forty

CALLUM

F irefly is decorated with tin cans on strings floating in the water behind her.

Shaving cream and white streamers adorn the cabin.

Evie carries her shoes, our fingers laced as we stroll down the jetty.

Stars shimmer overhead as we board this old fishing boat that’s bared witness to our first meeting as well as to our first day as man and wife.

Tossing the fenders over to the deck, I release the lines before holding Evie’s hand again as she navigates the gunwale in her long, stunning dress. When she’s safely on board, I climb up and make for the cabin. One of the kitchen chairs sits beside the bench seat in the small space.

“What’s with the chair?” I ask.

“You’ll see.” My wife pecks my cheek with a chaste kiss.

Letting Firefly idle for a beat, I crowd her against the console and claim her mouth. She leans back, away from my touch. My brows drop, a low raw noise rattling up my throat. “Evie?”

“I’m driving, husband.” She smiles. Spinning in my hold, her hands settle on the wheel and throttle.

Firefly pulls away from the jetty under the careful direction of her new captain.

Once free of the shallows, Evie sends the throttle forward, and we cruise over the water.

I fold myself around her, sinking my head into her hair.

But as I close my eyes, breathing her in, the engine quiets.

Raising my head, I check the gauges.

The revs are down.

The throttle is still in her grip as she kills the engine.

“What’s going on?”

Without a word, she slips away from the console and disappears from the cabin with the chair. Curious, I follow. I find her standing behind it, a line from the stern storage box in her hands.

Brown eyes burn into mine. “Sit.”

With a smile, I close the distance, stopping short at the chair. “Alright,” I say with a chuckle.

I sit and fine fingers take my wrists, moving them behind the back and tying them together. She pads round, coming to face me.

The knot loosens. I keep my hands where she left them, focusing on the most magnificent woman I’ve ever known. “Are y?—”

A finger presses over my lips, and she shakes her head.

That finger drags its way to the opening of my shirt.

She moves closer and I spread my legs, letting her into my space.

Deft hands make quick work of the buttons, and my shirt hits the floor.

Next the belt goes. Then the pants. Until I’m left in boxers and socks.

Tied to a fucking chair.

Evie sinks to her knees.

I clench my jaw, blood rushing its harried way through my body before plummeting south.

She curls her hair around her hand, sweeping it to one side before looking up at me.

Big brown eyes take me in, darker than the night sky.

But now, there’s a fire that took her months to find.

Then months more to get back, after...

And that fire currently burns for me.

Her lips part on a pant, hands walking up my thighs until they find their target, and my cock springs free. Elegant fingers curl around the base of it, and I let out a low moan, wishing my hands were free to fist her hair, to sink my swollen length to the back of her throat.

She studies me with darkened eyes before sliding me onto her tongue.

And . . . fuck .

Tongue swirling around my tip, she grazes her teeth over the sensitive skin before plunging me deep. My breaths heave in short choppy waves that sear.

Sucking her way back up, she trains her eyes to my face.

Fucking Christ.

My legs tremble.

Desperate to be free, to touch her, I tug at the rope binding my wrists together. It loosens, slipping from one wrist and dangling from the other.

Evie stills, as if she wants this moment of having me subdued on the chair to last.

So I stay put.

Closing my eyes, I grind my molars, my only salvation from the overwhelming need to haul her to her feet, spread those pretty thighs, and sink balls-deep into my incredible fucking wife.

I don’t move.

She grips me harder, ratcheting up the suction as a pretty little mewl slips around my damn cock.

Heat floods my body and I groan, every inch of me vibrating with soul-crushing need.

Another stroke upward, and I’m reeling.

I couldn’t catch a breath if I tried.

The throb in my cock has disintegrated into a painful ache.

She releases me with a pop, her sweet little tongue poking out to lick her lips.

FUCK .

She stands, slipping the straps of her dress over her shoulders, tugging the neckline down to expose her perfect tits.

That’s it . . . I’m done.

Ripping the line from my wrist, I fly from the chair. My hand is around her throat, sending her backward a heartbeat later. Her back meets the wall of Firefly’s cabin. I hoist her up to my hips, pushing her dress up until my hand finds?—

No goddamn panties.

“Hell, mo ghràdh,” I growl.

Running a digit through her soaked center, I close my mouth over one gorgeous, pert nipple. She writhes against the cabin wall.

“Going to the party with no panties, baby girl?”

“Overnight bag,” she breathes.

I chuckle. This is all for me.

Mine . . . My wife.

Her hands sink into my hair. “Please, Cal.”

“No panties and begging, wife. So fucking needy.”

She dots kisses down my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin below my ear.

I nudge her entrance with my tip, a hand moving into her hair and fisting as I tug her head to one side. “Mine, mo ghràdh. All fucking mine.”

“Yours,” she breathes. “Now, stop procrastinating, fear milis.”

I slam up into her. Slapping a hand on the wall over her head, I thrust into her so deep, Firefly rocks. Evie’s hands fly up to press against the wall behind her, climbing higher and higher with every thrust.

Every single one is a testament to my love for her.

The way we become one in so many ways.

The pleasure she gives me that I wish to return a thousand times over.

She tightens around me, her whimpers turning to cries, and I peel her from the wall and stride to the chair. The wooden seat hits my bare ass, and she cups my face, taking up the desperate rhythm we have created. The one between me and her that hums along with a life of its own.

Rising, she hovers at the point where we are only just joined.

Her favorite fucking spot.

“Down,” I grind out.

Her mouth finds mine. I open, like the lovesick pup I am.

Slowly, ever so damn slowly, she descends.

The second she’s fully seated, she milks my cock.

Her head falls back, hair dangling over her back, those perfect tits presented to me.

I close my teeth around a nipple, tugging it before sucking away the sting that would have spread through the tender skin.

She rocks, releasing wave after wave, sending me insane.

Before her orgasm is over, I rise from the chair, spinning it around with one hand as I set her to her feet. We part for only a second as I cup the back of her neck and cover her mouth with a searing kiss. Hand in her hair, I bend her over the back of the chair and flip her dress over her ass.

I don’t let her settle before sinking balls-deep into my damn wife. She teeters for a heartbeat before bending lower, bracing with her hands. I knead her ass with my hands, thundering into her. With a harsh slap, I’m rewarded with a delicious jerk along my cock as she cries out.

“Come for me, wife.”

Her legs tremble, and she tightens again. Sending a hand along her spine, I grip her neck, leaning over her. “Was this what you had in mind?”

Her head turns to the side, brown eyes burning. “Better.” Her hand slides over mine on her hip. “Fuck, Cal.”

She rocks, every tight milking wave wringing my cock. Heat blooms low in my spine, my balls tightening as I thrust into her in sloppy, desperate moves.

With a roar, I spill into her in erratic surges, every rope of release sinking deeper than the last. “Fuck, mo ghràdh. Always mine.”

“I’m yours. Until my light goes out.”

The air leaves my lungs, not returning. I haul her up off the chair, wrap my body around hers, and whisper, “Until my light goes out.”

I barely have the last word out before my throat closes over.

Her hands wind backward around my neck. I drop my mouth to hers as she turns her head.

The ocean breeze tangles in her hair, sending it over my face.

She lets loose a huffy laugh as she brushes it away.

The night sky overhead glimmers over the glistening moonlit waters as a shooting star streaks across the night sky.

“Time for a party?” I whisper.

Lord knows what Iris has got in store for us.

“It’s time,” she breathes.

All Evie needs now is dancing shoes and some goddamn panties.