Devil and the Deep (The Deep Six) (20 page)

“Pink,” she managed, though she hadn’t the first clue how her vocal cords were still working. “Light pink. Like cotton candy.”

“Mmm,” he hummed against her lips. “I bet they taste as sweet.”

And then he dipped his head to catch one taut peak between his warm lips. She moaned and speared her hands into his hair, pulling him closer, catching her lip between her teeth when his hot tongue rasped over her nipple.

“Delicious,” he murmured. “Just as I suspected.”

Maddy couldn’t respond. Her orgasm was barreling toward her at full speed now, sending pulses of pleasure down her spine, into her breasts, and through her womb.

Bran must have sensed how close she was. “Wait, Maddy. Shit. I wanna—”

“No!” she whispered deliriously when suddenly he was…gone. His lips left her breast with a suctioned
pop
. His thigh and the wonderful friction it provided vanished from between her legs. “Bran! Please!” She blindly reached for him, her searching fingers finding the impenetrable wall of his chest. The crinkly hair there tickled her palms. She felt her way up to his shoulders, digging her fingers into his muscles, desperate to pull him back to her.

“Shhh, Maddy,” he said, allowing her to draw him close. “I’m gonna get you there. But I wanna feel you come the first time. Please, Maddy. Let me feel you.”

“Hurry, Bran,” she begged.

She thought she heard him chuckle. Thought she heard him call her an
impatient little minx
but she couldn’t be sure. Her blood was pounding in her ears and every ounce of her attention was focused on the hand Bran snaked between their bodies. He popped the button on her shorts. Her zipper made a subtle
scrrrrritching
sound when he tugged it down.

“Yes,” she whispered when his long, thick fingers speared down the front of her panties. He parted her swollen folds.

“
Fungule
,” he moaned. “You’re so damned wet.”

“As requested,” she said, delighted to hear him growl before he reclaimed her lips, using his teeth and tongue to play with her mouth even as his knowledgeable fingers played with her sex. He strummed her clitoris again and again. Rubbing, rubbing,
rubbing
just right.

He definitely didn’t treat it like a
go
button. Oh, no.

“You like that,” he whispered into her mouth.

“Yes,” was all she managed.

“Do you want my fingers inside you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you—”

“Damnit, Bran!” She grabbed his head, biting his bottom lip in her frustration, in her urgency. “Yes, yes,
yes!
”

This time she was sure he chuckled. But the laugh died in his throat when he pressed one finger inside her. She’d waited so long for that kind of stimulation, to be penetrated, to be filled, that her body gripped him fiercely.

“Just let me—” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. She’d let him do anything. Including letting him work a second finger inside her until she was stretched and full. Nerves that had been crying out for stimulation got exactly that.

“Bran…” She breathed his name when he pumped slowly. And then her ability to talk eluded her when slow pumping became faster, harder. In and out. Over and over again. The wet sounds of sex whispered inside the lighthouse, sliding against the metal walls and inside Maddy’s ears.

“Now, Maddy,” he said. “Now, babe. I want you to come for me. I wanna feel it.”

He ground the heel of his palm into the top of her sex, abrading her clitoris while simultaneously reaching up with his free hand to pinch her nipple. The instant he did, Maddy did as instructed. She muffled her scream in the crook of his shoulder and went off like an atom bomb, her orgasm blowing wave after wave of sweet, exquisite ecstasy through her until she lost track of where she was. Who she was.
What
she was other than a thing that was pure, incandescent bliss…

10:02 p.m.…

Bran went off in his shorts.

Or at least it
felt
like he did. His dick pulsed rhythmically when Maddy’s body clamped around his fingers until his knuckles rubbed together. Then again, the throbbing, insistent ache of his balls drawn up tight against his body proved he hadn’t pulled the fifteen-year-old-boy-copping-his-first-feel routine, after all. He was still fully loaded, locked, stocked, and ready to rock. In the timeless words of Mr. Mellencamp, he
hurt so good.

“That’s it, babe,” he encouraged when he could find his voice. He wiggled his fingers in a come-hither motion, rubbing the rough patch of swollen flesh inside her. “Ride it out.”

And she did. For long,
torturous
moments.

“Dear Lord,” she said huskily when the last shudders of orgasm washed through her, her body easing around him, her hands relaxing their grip on his shoulders. She had turned liquid in his arms, sinuous, warm, so utterly soft in her repletion.

“I wanna taste you, Maddy,” he whispered in her ear. He only had this one night, and he needed to experience it all. No shortcuts. No exits. The entire journey from start to finish. All the sights and sounds and smells and flavors of it.

Close as they were, with his fingers still buried inside her, he had no trouble feeling the shudder that shook her small frame. For a second he thought maybe he’d embarrassed her with his crudeness, his unapologetic honesty. But then she planted a kiss on his jaw near his ear and whispered, “So what’s stoppin’ you?”

Maddy was everything he’d hoped she’d be. Sweet, receptive, passionate, and a little bit raunchy. And funny. Even in the midst of sex, she was still funny. And fascinating. The most fascinating woman he’d ever met.

What has she done to me? This Texas tornado in a teacup package?

But he knew.

She had wormed her way into his life, into his dreams, and into his…heart.

And there it was. The flash of insight nearly blinded him with its brilliance. All those feelings he had for her that went beyond friendship and lust, those feelings that were bigger, deeper, wider were really all just
one
feeling. The simplest and most complex feeling of all.

Love.

He loved her.

He was
in love
with her. Little by little, day by day, email by email, he’d fallen more. And it’d happened so slowly, so subtly, that he hadn’t understood until right now.

So where does that leave me?

And perhaps it was a day for epiphanies because as soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer. It left him with this. This moment right here and now. This one time to hold the woman of his heart in his arms.

And by God, I refuse to waste one minute thinking about what tomorrow will bring.

Slowly, inexorably slowly, he slipped his fingers from her body. Loving the way her inner muscles grasped at him. The air inside the lighthouse was warm and damp. But it still felt cool against his fingers when he lifted them to his mouth, his nostrils flaring at the scent that coated them. The scent of her. The scent of passion and completion.

Even though she couldn’t see what he was doing, he could tell she knew by the soft, mewling sound she made. And when he put his fingers in his mouth, her taste exploded on his tongue. Tart and sweet. Salty and delicious. It was the unmistakable flavor of hot, healthy, satisfied woman. And he could no more hold back his animal-like sound of approval than he could hold back the tide.

Maddy’s voice was husky when she whispered, “And now it’s your turn, sailor. What is it you say? Tit for tat?”

Before he knew what she was about, the button on his cargo shorts sprang open under her dexterous fingers. His zipper followed suit. And then Maddy’s cool, soft hands were inside the front of his boxer shorts and closing around his hot, throbbing shaft.

He groaned and had to brace his palms against the metal wall on either side of her head to keep himself upright. His dick pulsed hard. Once. Twice. Three times.

“You’re quite a handful, aren’t you?” Maddy murmured, nibbling on his jaw, then alternating nips with sweet, wet kisses.

Roger that.
Not that he was one of those guys hung up on size, but he was pretty sure his dick was ten feet tall and bulletproof. At least it was in
this
moment.

He could have made some witty reply to that effect, but his tongue hit the top of his mouth and stayed there when she used her thumb to spread his own wetness over his super-sensitive head and down the length of his shaft. Then he nearly swallowed his tongue when she fisted him firmly and began pumping.

“So,” she breathed against his lips, “tell me how
you
want to be kissed. How
you
want to be touched. How
you
want to be fucked.”

Raunchy and sexy and determined to give as good as she’d gotten. That was Maddy. Wonderful, remarkable Maddy.

“K-kiss my chest,” he managed. “My n-nipples are sensitive.”

When her soft mouth landed on the flat disk of his left nipple, his areola contracted, forcing the center to form a tight bead.

“Ah, hell,” he groaned when her tongue lapped at his tip, flicking it softly. Each twang echoed down into his dick. And then she closed her lips over him and sucked, pulled deep. If there was any light, he knew he’d see her cheeks hollowing out. Below, she tightened her fist around him and pumped in a rhythm that matched the cadenced suction of her mouth.

It was too much. Too good. His hips jerked forward. He curled his fingers into the metal of the wall, anchoring himself to the moment. Fighting off the orgasm that threatened to explode from him with just one more lick. One more suck. One more stroke.

He didn’t want to come. Not yet. He wanted to luxuriate in her bold, unmerciful ministrations for a while longer.

“Tug my balls down,” he rasped, his breath sawing from his lungs, his stomach muscles contracting. “Quick, Maddy, or you’re gonna make me c-come.”

“I
want
you to come,” she murmured around his nipple. “I want to feel you spill into my hands, all hot and wet and slippery.”

“Fuck.
Me
,” he groaned at each naughty wording coming out of an upside-down mouth that he knew looked deceivingly sweet and innocent.

“Now, Bran,” she said, echoing his earlier words back to him. “I want you to come for me. I want to feel it.”

Bran had been taking orders most of his adult life. But none had ever been as erotic or carnal as the ones Maddy issued. Lightning hit the base of his spine. His hips worked back and forth in a rhythm that was a counterpoint to the push and pull of her sweet, soft hand. Higher and higher he climbed. Tighter and faster she tugged.

And then it happened.

His orgasm burst from him. Lights flashed behind his screwed-tight lids. Pleasure rolled over him in wave after body-shaking wave. He spilled his desire into her hands.

He thought he whispered her name, but couldn’t be sure. He thought he was still on his feet, but couldn’t be sure of that either. The only thing he
was
sure of was that he was coming harder, faster, longer than he ever had before. Because it was Maddy.

Maddy, Maddy, Maddy…
Her name was a refrain inside his mind.
Maddy…sweet, wonderful Maddy…

* * *

10:10 p.m.…

“I think Bran and Maddy might be soul mates,” Alex said.

And it was the one trillionth statement or observation she’d made since they parked themselves at the small, molded fiberglass table on the back of the catamaran. Mason should know. He’d kept count. And while just about everything else she’d jabbered on about hadn’t inspired any responses from him, he felt compelled to answer this one.

“The concept of soul mates is crap,” he told her, lowering the field glasses he’d been using to keep an eye on the ocean around them. He adjusted the knob on the marine radio he’d moved from inside the small galley, and static briefly echoed over the line. “Hollywood invented it to sell tickets to Rachel McAdams movies.” When Alex just blinked at him, he narrowed his eyes and demanded, “What?”

“I’m trying to decide if you really spoke or if exhaustion has me hallucinating.”

He harrumphed.

“Okay,” she nodded. “So not hallucinating then. There’s no way I could recreate that certain…je ne sais quoi that echoes through your special brand of caveman-esque grunt. It really is quite something, you know? It’s like, with one word that isn’t even a word, you’re able to convey annoyance, frustration, disapproval, and dismissal.”

“Alex—”

“And since when do you watch Rachel McAdams movies?”

He shook his head. “I never said I
did
.”

Had he
really
jumped for joy when he saw the catamaran sail toward the island after he set off the flare? Had he really been happier than he could remember being in…well…forever when she dropped anchor and jumped overboard to start swimming in his direction?

To his consternation, the answer was
yes
to both questions.

Alex is nothing but a pain in my ass. What the fuck was I thinking?

“Sure you did,” she challenged, her eyes twinkling behind the lenses of her glasses. “You said soul mates were invented by Hollywood to sell tickets to Rachel McAdams movies. Which means you must’ve
seen
a few to make that summary judgment.”

“You’re missing my point.” He hadn’t been thinking. That was the only explanation. Or at least he hadn’t been thinking with the head atop his shoulders.

“I don’t think I am.” She placed her elbow on the table, cupping her chin in her palm. “You like Rachel McAdams movies. Admit it. So which is your favorite? Most people are partial to
The Notebook
, but I like
The Time Traveler’s Wife
the best.”

“I
don’t
watch Rachel McAdams movies,” he grumbled, though he had watched
The Time Traveler’s Wife.
But only because he liked the paranormal, science-fiction aspect of it.

“Well, why not?” she demanded, her deep auburn eyebrows pulling down in a vee.

“Because I have these things,” he told her.

“What things?”

“They’re called a dick and balls.”

“Oh, big macho man.” She waved her hands. “Has to act all rough and tough, like he doesn’t enjoy a good star-crossed lovers story just as much as the rest of us.”

“Now
that’s
something I believe in,” he told her, leaning back in the molded fiberglass seat and lifting the field glasses to do another quick scan of the dark horizon.

“What?” she asked. “Star-crossed lovers?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Just
lovers
in general. I believe in hormones and animal magnetism and the biological urge to mate.”

She studied him for a second, blinking slowly. “So you’re saying…what? That there’s no such thing as love? Only sex?”

Hearing the word, just the
word
, come out of her mouth made his shorts feel too tight.

“I’m just saying there’s no such thing as soul mates.” He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. “I’m saying there’s lust that leads to love. And love that leads to lust on rare occasions. But mostly there’s
just
lust that burns hot and fizzles fast.”

“Wow.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re a real romantic.”

There was a time…
“Hey.” He shrugged, feigning far more indifference than he felt. “You asked. It’s not my fault you don’t like the answer.”

“Point taken,” she allowed with a bob of her eyebrows.

They were ever mobile, those eyebrows of hers. And he couldn’t help but wonder if they felt as soft and sleek as they looked. He curled his fingers around the edge of the table to keep from reaching to find out.

She started peeling the orange she’d grabbed from the galley, and his attention shifted from her eyebrows to her hands, to the swift, efficient movements they made. He was instantly mesmerized. The soft moonlight streaming down from above seemed to highlight just how graceful and small they were. Narrow palms. Thin fingers. Short, unpainted nails that showed half-moon shapes up by her cuticles.

Pretty.

Alex had pretty hands.

Which made sense, he supposed, since the rest of her wasn’t too hard to look at either. Oh, not that Alex ever flaunted her cute, all-American-girl appearance. Quite the contrary. She didn’t seem to care that her curly hair was usually sticking out every which way. She didn’t wear revealing clothing that showed off her delicately curved figure. And she hid the most amazing green eyes he’d ever seen behind a dark pair of tortoiseshell glasses.

Nevertheless, there was no mistaking how attractive she was. It was always there. Staring him in the face. Taunting him.

And maybe that was why he was always so short with her. Because he could have ignored any woman who strutted her stuff. But it was impossible to ignore a woman who didn’t seem to know or care she even
had
stuff.

Or maybe I’m short with her because she drives me crazy.
There was always that possibility.

“Orange?” She held out a peeled half to him.

“Sure.” He accepted her offering. One thing about her that
didn’t
drive him bonkers was the fact that she fed him. Always. “Thanks.”

For a couple of seconds they sat in blissful silence. The only time Mason knew Alex to keep quiet was when she had food stuffed in her mouth, which, thankfully, was quite often. But he should have known the reprieve wouldn’t last for long.

“So which kind do you think Bran and Maddy are?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“People where lust turns into love? Or people where love turns into lust? Because they’ve been cultivating this friendship for months, which leads me to think they’re the latter. Then again, seeing them together is like walking into a welding factory.” When he cocked his head, she wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m talking sparks, baby. So
that
leads me to think it’s the former. I guess it’s that whole chicken-and-egg thing. One of the quintessential mysteries of life. Although maybe you have more insight. After all, you were there when they first met.”