Page 30 of Ghoul Me, Maybe

SIENNA

T he salt air sticks to my skin as waves collapse around our ankles. Elias’ thumb traces the scar on my hipbone—the one he kissed raw hours ago in our half-painted bedroom. Moonlight fractures across his collarbones, and when he speaks, his voice is frayed velvet.

“You’re shivering.”

“Cold’s got nothing to do with it.”

His laugh unravels me. I bite the hinge of his jaw, hands sliding under his soaked shirt. The fabric tears without resistance; I’ve gotten good at ruining his clothes. His heartbeat thrums against my tongue as I lick a path to his nipple.

“Fuck, Sienna?—”

“You’re not talking your way out of this.”

He hooks a hand behind my knee, dragging me higher against him. The ocean surges, waist-deep now, and his grip tightens as a wave nearly topples us. My back hits the submerged sandbar, saltwater stinging my eyes. He looms over me, hair dripping, eyes dark as monsoon clouds.

“Tell me,” he rasps, fingers working the button of my jeans. “Tell me you want this.”

I arch, letting the next wave lift me into his palm as he peels the denim down. “Wasted three lifetimes not wanting you. Hurry up.”

His cock presses hot against my inner thigh. I clamp my legs around his hips, nails scoring his shoulders as he rocks into my pussy—slow, deliberate, a blade sheathed to the hilt. The ocean stills, holding its breath.

He groans, forehead pressed to mine. “Sienna, you're…”

“What?”

“Perfect.”

I twist, rolling us sideways. Water sluices between our bodies as I straddle him.

His thumb finds my clit, circling once—cruel, practiced. The scream scrapes my throat raw.

“Louder,” he growls. “Let the fucking gulls hear who owns you.”

We move like the tide: he surges, I retreat. His hands map the wreckage of me. I ride him until my thighs shake, until his moans sync with the crash of waves.

“Look at me,” he grits out.

His eyes are unlocked, unguarded. Human. Alive.

When I come, it’s with his teeth buried in my shoulder and his name dissolving into sea foam. He follows, his shout smothered against my throat. We float there, tangled limbs anchoring each other to the earth.

I try to think of something, anything to say, but instead I feel his cock returning to life - still buried deep inside me.

The world narrows to the heat of him. Elias braces his forearm beside my head, seawater gliding off his shoulders as he moves—a slow, rolling thrust that makes my spine bow off the sandbar. His breath stutters against my lips.

"Look at me."

Moonlight catches the silver scar curving over his brow, the one I traced last night with my tongue. I dig my heels into the small of his back, pulling him deeper. His groan vibrates through my ribs.

"Feels like—" His voice fractures.

"Like what?"

He swivels his hips, caressing that molten place only he’s ever found. "Like coming ashore after years adrift."

I fist his hair, salt crusting my knuckles. Our mouths clash, tasting of ocean and shared breath. He licks into me with the same rhythmic precision as his cock—every glide calculated to unravel. The next wave crashes against us, buoying my hips as he presses me down.

"Don’t stop."

He captures my wrist, pinning it above my head. "Never."

Our bodies find a new cadence—less frenzy, more fusion. His free hand skims my ribs, thumb circling my nipple until I arch into his palm. The ocean retreats, carving a cradle of wet sand beneath us. He shifts, lifting my thigh over his shoulder. Deeper now, each thrust a cresting wave.

"Elias."

His name breaks into a moan as he grinds against my clit. Stars flare behind my eyelids. He kisses the hollow of my throat, teeth grazing the bruise he left yesterday.

"Let go."

Pleasure detonates. I choke on his name as my pussy clenches around him, the world reduced to salt and sweat and the ragged sound of him following me over the edge. He spills into me with a shattered groan, hips stuttering.

We collapse sideways, tangled in the shallows. His fingers trace the star-shaped scar on my hip—a match to his own.

"Sienna." He brushes soaked hair from my face. "You’re trembling."

"Not from cold."

His laughter rumbles against my cheek. The tide licks our legs, carrying the scent of kelp and distant storms. His thumb strokes the pulse point beneath my jaw.

The moon paints silver streaks across Elias’ shoulders as he pulls away, seawater gliding down the scarred planes of his chest.

“Stay.”

I snort, dragging wet sand through his hair. “You’ve anchored me mid-tide. Where exactly would I?—”

He knees up suddenly, water sluicing off his thighs, and fishes something from the pocket of his abandoned trousers. Moonlight fractures across tarnished silver as he drops to the sand.

The world tilts.

“Stole this from a Spanish galleon in 1783.” He holds up a ring with a pearlescent stone that glows like captured moonlight. A barnacle still clings to its band. “Carved from a mermaid’s tooth, or so the quartermaster claimed before I pistol-whipped him.”

I kick a wave at him. “You’re kneeling in a seaweed bikini to propose? Real classy, Thorn.”

His grin flashes wicked. “You’re naked except for my bite marks, love. We’re past classy.” The mirth fades as he turns the ring, revealing an inscription etched inside the band. Sempre tornare. “Means always returning .”

“You don’t even speak Italian.”

“No. But I understand tides.” His fingers tremble against my ankle. “You’re the first thing that’s ever stayed when the waters receded, Sienna. Marry me. Let me be your shore.”

The sob claws up my throat like a trapped thing. I crush it, forcing steel into my voice.

He presses the ring to my lips. Cold metal, warm hands. “Say yes.”

I bite his fingertip. “Only if you promise never to serenade me with shanty songs.”

His laughter rolls across the water as he slides the ring onto my finger. It fits like it’s been waiting. “Deal. Though you’ll regret that when you hear my rendition of Spanish Ladies .”

The next wave knocks us sideways. I come up sputtering, saltwater stinging my eyes, and find his gaze steady above the foam. Alive. Present. Mine.

“Say it properly,” he murmurs.

I tackle him into the shallows. The ring gleams on my finger as I pin his wrists against the sand. “Yes, you insufferable bastard. Yes.”