Having fully scoped out the cave, her gaze falls on mine, and she flicks off the flashlight. “What were they watching you for?”
“When I was very young, my best friend drowned. Right here in this cave.”
Brows dipping to a frown, she glances around again, as if I’ve hidden his remains somewhere inside. “So … how is this your favorite place?”
“The hallucinations started here. For hours, I’d sit and talk to him. Conversations I’d never have the opportunity to have with him again. It felt as if he never left. Which brought me some peace.”
“So, they were watching for these hallucinations?”
“They were always watching.” I think back to the many times I felt someone’s eyes on me. The cleaning staff. The kitchen staff. All advised to pay attention. “Hallucinations, or not.”
“That must’ve been hell when you got older.”
“It was. Until I learned to stop hiding. Once everything was out in the open, they stopped watching.” My thoughts take me back to the day my father insisted that we lie to the media about Roark’s death. The way it felt, as if he threw me back into a sealed box again. “Unfortunately, you can’t always be an open book. Some secrets aren’t meant to be exposed.”
“Like what?”
“You asked how Roark died. The media painted a story that he went missing from the castle. They made the assumption that he might’ve ended up here, and water washed him away.” I stare off beyond her, the memories of that night playing on the fringes of my thoughts, and I will myself not to delve too deep into them. “Amelia was always very careful about her medications. I know this. But one night, she wasn’t, for whatever reason. He found them.” Frowning, I lower my gaze to my hands, where I rub my thumb over my palm, as I recall the weight of my son in my arms. The curve of his head in my palm. “It was an accident.”
“I’m sorry, Lucian. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”
“You’d be a fool to ignore the rumors entirely. The lies never added up quite right, but they were there to protect Amelia.” At the mention of her name, screams echo inside my head. “She just couldn’t live with what happened, I guess. Anyway, I’ve never told anyone the truth about that night until now.”
“I swear I won’t speak a word of it.”
“I know you won’t. It’s why I told you.” I reach out to run my fingers down the edge of her cheek, and grip her chin, studying the soft gray of her eyes. “There’s a certain freedom in confession. I feel somehow liberated with you.”
Taking the hem of her T-shirt in hand, I pull her into me for a kiss, and rub my palm over her toned belly, goosebumps bobbling against my skin that aren’t only from the cold. The band of her panties greets my fingers as I run my hand lower. “Lie down on the sand,” I whisper in her ear, palming the cheeks of her ass.
Without hesitation, she lowers before me and lies back on the sand, pulling her knees together as my jacket slips from her shoulders. The waves have already begun to reach for her, and it won’t be long before they find her.
I sink to my knees and pry hers apart, while she stares down her body at me.
Running my palms down her thighs, I dig my fingers into her flesh and squeeze, anxious to have them wrapped around my shoulders. At the first nudge of the rising waves, she looks up toward where the sea plays with her hair.
“Should we move back?” she asks, flicking her gaze between me and the waves.
Shaking my head, I unbutton my shirt, eyes locked on her as I peel it off my shoulders and toss it to the side. I hook the string of her panties and slide them down her thighs, over her knees, and chuck them somewhere behind me. “Put your hands on your knees.”
Once her palms kiss her knees, I slide her ankles wide and she gasps, looking down at me.
“Don’t move your hands, understand? You keep them there, no matter what. Do you understand me?”
She nods, curling her fingers over her knees, the digging of her nails and rapid contractions of her chest telling me she’s nervous.
Dragging my gaze from hers, I stare down her thighs to where the pink shell of her pussy begs to be eaten.
The first, heavy wave rolls in, splashing up over her shoulders to wet the thin T-shirt that turns almost translucent over her delectable, braless tits beneath. Round globes peek through the sodden fabric, and I lean forward to suck the salt across her nipple, taking the hardened flesh between my teeth.
She squirms and writhes beneath me, her fingers running over the top of my head.
Breaking the rules.
I nip her flesh, inciting a squeal, and set her hand back atop her knee. “Hands where I placed them.”
Taking the fabric of her shirt in a tight grip, I tear it down the center, jostling her pretty tits, before I let each half fall against her chest. Eyes wide, she lifts her head, staring down at her tattered shirt.
She looks like a mess I want to lick clean.
The sight of her exposed skin tempts my fingers, and I run them over her breasts, giving one a light slap before I take her now fully exposed nipple into my mouth again.
Another wave splashes over top of her, and her muscles jerk against my lips, while I work my way down her body, trailing kisses across her wet stomach, until I reach the apex of her thighs. Once my tongue reaches her sensitive skin, the sweet flavor hits the back of my throat, and my eyeballs damn near roll back in my head.
Like sucking the juices from an overripe peach.
Arms wrapped around her thighs, I draw her closer and lower to my stomach, while the sound of her soft moans echo in the cave.
Another wave, and she jerks in my grasp.
“Lucian.” The breathless tone of her voice, laced with a small bit of panic, spirals down my spine. “The waves …” A push to the top of my head fails to break my tonguing of her pussy, and I reach up to place her hand back on her knee. Again. “The water … it’s rising.” Another moan bounces off the cave walls, as she seems to fight to stay focused.
“I’ll stop when you come.”
Panting, she squirms on the sand, thighs trembling in my palms. “I can’t … I’ll drown before then.”
“Then, I suggest you quit talking and relax.”
One long suck of her clit, and her whimper dissolves into a moan, her back arching up off the sand. Another wave crashes around us, and her thighs flex, but I hold her down and flick my tongue along the silky walls of her narrow seam. Her fingers curl over a handful of my hair, only this time I don’t bother to place her hand back on her knees, because she opens herself wider to me. “Good girl.”
Another wave follows the first, this one splashing against my face, and when I lift my head from her slippery flesh, I notice the water level is at her ears. I dive in again, and she cries out, nails digging into my scalp.
More licking.
More sucking.
The waves come faster than before, the tide rising with every ticking second.
Her moans begin to heighten, and another wave crashes over top of us, the salt in my mouth while I eat her underwater. A cough sputters from her throat, and she sucks in a gasp, before another wave rolls over top of her.
I slide two fingers up into her velvety depths, while the wave retreats, and she arches again, her outcry cut short by yet another wave.