My Immortal (Seven Deadly Sins #1)(48)
Author: Erin McCarthy

"Je pense, done je suis," he said, leaning forward, forearms on his knees.

"What?"

" ‘I think, therefore I am.’ Descartes. Your existence is confirmed by the fact that you can ask the question in the first place. We are all very real, Marley. Painfully real."

Somehow she felt bright and shiny and hard and real, and yet at the same time so odd, so strange, so dreamy, so outside of her normal life that this all could have been a sleep-induced fantasy. "If a tree falls in the woods and there’s no one there to hear it, does it make a sound? I guess no one knows but the tree."

Damien shifted onto the floor, the boat listing left, then right, with his movement. He was on his haunches, leaning toward her, his face stark and close. "If a woman is pleasured in the swamp and there’s no one there to hear it, does she make a sound?"

Marley laughed. "Hmm… good question. I guess she hears it."

"And the man who pleasures her."

"True."

"Let’s test the theory." Damien’s fingers landed right on her ni**les with amazing accuracy.

"I thought you said we should go back."

"And spoil the moment? I don’t think so."

She understood then that he was going to give her what she had asked for, a wild ride into licentiousness, an abandonment of convention, even if it wasn’t logical or comfortable or safe.

Damien popped the snap on her shorts, yanked down her zipper. His hand cupped her panties as his lips traced over her breast. Need rose in her fast and hard, startling her with its speed, its velocity. When he bit her nipple, tweaking it sharply between his teeth, she let out a cry, not of pain, but of pleasure.

Then he had her shirt up and over her shoulders, her head, and down on the floor of the boat. "Sit on the seat," he demanded.

It was a command, and she didn’t hesitate to follow it. Marley scrambled backward, pulling herself up with trembling hands, curious what he had planned, wondering how they could do this. As she was rising, he tugged down her shorts, so quickly and efficiently that she barely had time to blink before the warm air rushed over her bare thighs. She found herself standing straight up in a rocking boat in her bra and panties, shorts around her ankles, afraid to move and set the boat rocking. And afraid to shift the mood, ruin his plan, allow her fears and insecurities to seep in. She wanted to stay, just like that, desired and in desire, for as long as the moment could draw out.

Damien pulled his shirt off and brushed past her legs to lay it out on the bench. "Sit down."

Even as she was bending her knees, he was skimming her panties down past her thighs, exposing her sex to him in a way that could have embarrassed but instead only excited her. She sank to the bench, her bare backside touching the soft warmth of his cotton shirt. He had the shorts and panties off her ankles and her bra unhooked and likewise disposed of in about thirty seconds, his movements swift and sure, demanding. Marley sat naked in the dark, breathing hard, her skin tingling and prickling from all his brushes and touches and yanks.

There was something about the position, the night air, the knowledge that she was completely naked and he was fully clothed that had her exhilarated, nervous but excited, the experience new and fascinating.

"You have a beautiful body," he whispered, running his lips over her nipple, hands on her thighs.

It was on her lips to say something apologetic, disparaging, to critique her thighs, her br**sts, that appalling stomach doink that wouldn’t go away no matter how many sit-ups she sweated through, but she stopped herself. If he thought she was beautiful for whatever reason, in whatever way, she was going to accept it, appreciate it, revel in it. "Thank you." She put her hands on his shoulders and tossed her hair back away from her face. "Right now I feel beautiful sitting here like this."

And she did. She felt a little anxious, a tinge embarrassed, but also aroused, pleased with herself. Anticipating what he was going to do.

What he did was torture her br**sts. He licked and sucked and tugged, first one, then the other, until Marley was gasping, tossing her head back, digging her fingers into his thick hair. "Damien."

It wasn’t enough, it was too much. She inched her legs apart, shifted restlessly on his T-shirt, shivering when the breeze drifted over her slick ni**les. "I…" She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but it was probably going to be some form of begging.

Damien cut her off, his mouth trailing over her shoulder, his fingers sliding inside her. "Shh. Don’t say anything. Just feel."

That she could do.

He moved over her, everywhere, tasting her flesh, teasing and coaxing her into delicious sighs of delight with his fingers deep inside her, stroking confidently. The single-mindedness with which he approached her pleasure made her feel decadent, indulged, selfish, like she was entitled to his attention, deserved his expert loving. But as he plucked and stroked and moved over her, and the minutes drew out, and her body burned with a fierce wet tremor, she wanted more, she wanted to own all of him, to take that intensity he was turning on her and pull it inside her. She wanted to see Damien, to feel him, to touch his naked flesh like he touched hers, and to know the sensation of him deep inside her body, thrusting out that ache she burned with. When he moved down onto his knees, between her legs, when he pushed them apart, far and wide, she was ready and reaching for his jeans.

"You sit on the bench," she said. "And I’ll be on top."

He had her too close to the edge, and she knew that an orgasm brought about by his fingers wasn’t going to be enough this time. She wanted everything.

As she grappled with the front of his jeans, trying to find the zipper pull, she suddenly realized that he was shifting out of her reach. "Get back here," she said with a laugh, feeling a little bossy and demanding herself for a change.

"Marley, we can’t do that on the boat, so don’t tempt me."

"Will we capsize?" She knew nothing about boating. His erection was hot beneath her fingers, even with the barrier of his jeans. Her mouth went dry in anticipation. She was willing to risk a dunking in the swamp for a chance at that.

Damien grabbed her hand, stilled it. "It’s possible. But more importantly I don’t have a condom."

Well, that was an ugly dose of reality. One she didn’t want to face. "You’re not going to catch anything from me, I promise. And it’s the wrong time of the month for getting pregnant."

"Marley."

There was a world of meaning in that serious, soft-spoken but steely voice of his. Marley sighed, feeling a flush rush up her cheeks. No wild sex on a boat for her. "Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. Here I just got done telling you how much I want a baby and then I’m suggesting we skip birth control. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I’m not some obsessive woman trying to con you into coughing up your sperm. I just was being greedy… I don’t want to wait to have sex with you."