Page 9 of September’s Tide (Island Tales #2)

By the time they pulled apart, both a little breathless, David’s lips were tingling and his whole body was buzzing—alive, alert, aching .

God, it had been so long.

And now all he could think was: More.

Taylor’s breath was warm against David’s lips, their foreheads nearly touching, and David felt as if he was balancing on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating. He

tightened his fingers in Taylor’s hair, unwilling to move, to stop this relentless roller coaster of desire. He stared into Taylor’s sea-glass eyes, searching for hesitation, for restraint.

All he saw was want, so David kissed him again, only harder. No testing, no hesitancy, just pure, molten need.

Taylor answered with a low groan that vibrated through David’s chest. His hands slid up beneath David’s shirt, rough palms grazing bare skin, igniting nerves David had forgotten even existed.

He gasped into the kiss, his hips shifting involuntarily, seeking contact.

Heat rolled through him, thick and pulsing, as Taylor’s hands explored up his ribs and over his back, leisurely and reverent and hungry.

When Taylor tugged his shirt up, David lifted his arms without protest. The air kissed his skin a second before Taylor did, hot, open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, down the curve of his neck, his teeth grazing enough to make David suck in a breath.

“Jesus,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut. “You sure you want this?”

Taylor’s voice was rough and thick with heat. “I’ve wanted this since the second you looked at me like you were starving.”

David barked out a broken laugh. “I was that obvious?”

Taylor’s response was to slip his hand lower, teasing the waistband of David’s jeans. “God yes. But you’re not the only one.”

David’s pulse jumped. Every part of him was alive now, no part untouched, his skin flushed, his lips swollen, his cock thick and aching against the constraint of denim.

He wanted to be closer. He needed to be.

Taylor was everywhere: his scent, his taste, the heat of him pressed close, the soft scratch of salt-dried hair brushing David’s skin.

He dragged his fingers down Taylor’s back, memorizing the feel of muscle under soft cotton. When he pulled Taylor into his lap, there was no hesitation from either of them, just friction and heat and a restless grinding that made both of them groan.

Their kisses turned messy and urgent, their lips colliding, tongues sliding in a rhythm that had nothing to do with patience.

Taylor rolled his hips against David’s, sending sparks tearing through him as if a live wire had snapped inside his spine.

David clutched at him, biting back a noise that threatened to be far too desperate.

“You feel—fuck—” Words were useless.

Taylor’s mouth brushed his ear, his breath hot against it. “So do you.”

David tipped his head back, giving him access, surrendering to the feel of Taylor’s lips and tongue working down his throat. Every nerve was lit, his body drawn tighter and tighter, like a bow pulled to breaking point.

He didn’t know how far they were going to take it tonight, and quite frankly, he didn’t care.

All he knew was it had been a long, lonely drought, and Taylor was the first storm.

And David was ready to drown.

Taylor shifted in his lap, his hips dragging delicious friction across David’s aching length before he pulled back enough to meet his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his breath uneven, his chest rising and falling as though he’d come in from a run.

And then he moved, slowly, deliberately, sliding off David’s lap, his hands trailing down David’s thighs as he sank to his knees between them.

David’s breath caught as the image seared itself into his brain. Taylor, golden and flushed, kneeling between his spread legs, a wild, sunlit answer to prayer. His hands rested on David’s thighs, his thumbs stroking gently, and for a moment all David could do was stare .

Jesus Christ.

Anticipation was a living, breathing force, something that crawled under his skin. His jeans felt impossibly tight, every nerve ending screaming for release, for touch, for more. Taylor glanced up at him, his gaze locked on David’s, steady and unreadable, but there was no teasing in it.

Only hunger.

David clutched the arm of the sofa, his pulse thundering as Taylor reached for the button of his jeans. Taylor stilled. “We still okay?”

David nodded, his voice raw. “Yeah. God , yeah.”

Taylor’s smile went from soft to wicked, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss low on David’s belly above the waistband.

The sensation sent a jolt through him, fire skipping along his spine.

Taylor’s nimble fingers made quick work of the button, then the zipper, the rasp of it deafening in the quiet room.

Cool air brushed his skin as Taylor eased his jeans and briefs down, and David shivered, not from cold, but from the sheer anticipation of being seen, touched, tasted.

His shaft was already hard, flushed and aching, and the sight of Taylor looking at him like that, his eyes hooded, his lips parted, made David tense with want.

Then Taylor leaned in.

The first touch of his mouth was featherlight, a kiss that barely counted as contact, but David still felt it like a bolt of heat. Then another touch, but lower this time, an open-mouthed, lingering connection.

David jerked his hips and he choked out a half-gasp, half-moan. “Jesus, Taylor…”

Taylor looked up at him again, his lips barely brushing against him. “I want to take my time.”

That was the last coherent thought David had.

The moment Taylor’s mouth closed around him, warm and wet and sinfully slow, David arched his whole fucking body . He groaned, his head tipping back, his hands in Taylor’s hair, not to guide but to anchor himself to reality as waves of pleasure pulsed through him, deep and consuming.

It wasn’t merely the physical sensation. It was the look on Taylor’s face, the care in his movements, the deliberate way he pulled back, then slid down again with maddening grace. He wasn’t giving pleasure—he was taking it , claiming it like a gift he’d been waiting to unwrap.

David couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, every inch of him strung tight, vibrating, on the edge of something huge , and he didn’t want it to end.

He wanted to stay suspended there in that heat, in that moment, with Taylor’s mouth on him and his hands gripping David’s thighs as though he never wanted to let go.

“Fuck… Taylor, I—” Words went from coherence to a raw, helpless sound. “I’m not gonna last.”

Taylor hummed low in his throat, the vibration shooting straight through David like lightning.

And then everything fractured .

David came with a cry, shuddering through it, hips jerking, his fingers buried in Taylor’s hair as the world narrowed to heat and light and the overwhelming, devastating sweetness of release.

When he finally opened his eyes, his body limp and buzzing, Taylor was still kneeling between his legs, licking his lips with that same calm, dangerous look in his eyes.

David stared at him, dazed and undone.

“Holy hell .”

Taylor grinned. “Told you I wanted to take my time.” He gazed up at David, his lips swollen and slick. “Can you come twice in one night?” His voice was rough with desire.

David forced out a breathless laugh, his head still spinning, and loosened his grip on Taylor’s hair. “How old do you think I am, boy ?”

Taylor snickered. “Old enough to pace yourself.”

David couldn’t hold back his grin. “Yes, I can get it up twice. Might take me twenty minutes, though.” He leaned back, running a hand down his chest, still catching his breath. “I’m not twenty-five anymore, you know.”

“Hmm,” Taylor said, low and lazy, as if he liked that response, as though he liked knowing David’s limits, and he fully intended to push them.

Then he leaned forward again, his tongue flicking across David’s skin, cleaning him with leisurely, worshipful licks.

It should’ve been obscene, but it was beautiful. Tender. And hot as hell.

David let his head fall back against the couch, watching through heavy lids as Taylor finished, licking his lips with a look that could melt steel.

Then that gaze turned molten. “Take me to bed,” Taylor said, his voice shaking. “And fuck me— now .”

The raw need in those words hit David like a punch to the gut. His blood surged again, already stirring beneath the skin. The word now , hoarse and desperate, was the final spark.

David stood in one fluid motion, pulled his jeans up, and reached for Taylor’s hand, tugging him to his feet.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Taylor’s mouth was on his again before they even left the room, biting, wanting, with an edge of wildness, and David kissed him back with everything he had left.

Because there was no way in hell he was being told twice.