Chapter 1: The Sun-Kissed Surprise
The sun was a merciless, brilliant coin in a cloudless sky, baking the fine white sand until it shimmered. Niall wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his guitar case a familiar weight at his side. He’d come for the quiet, for the way the endless rhythm of the waves seemed to untangle the knots in his songwriting. But quiet was the last thing on his mind now.
His gaze had snagged on a splash of colour further down the shore. An orange towel. On it, a woman lay on her stomach, her back a long, elegant curve of golden skin glistening with oil. Coconut, he guessed from the faint, sweet scent that reached him even here. Her bikini strings were untied, lying loose against her ribs as if she’d just tugged them free. One hand was tucked under her cheek, the other trailed aimlessly in the sand. She was utterly, infuriatingly serene.
He didn’t decide to move. His feet just carried him toward her, the sand shifting under his worn sneakers. He crouched down beside the towel, his shadow falling across the small of her back.
“You’re making it impossible for me to think straight,” he said, his voice low, the Irish lilt a warm murmur under the sound of the surf.
She stirred, lifting her head. Her eyes, when she turned to look at him, were the colour of the sea just beyond the shallows—a clear, curious grey-green. A slow, unbothered smile touched her lips. “Is that my fault or yours?”
“Oh, entirely yours.” Niall returned the grin, the boyish charm automatic, but his pulse was kicking hard in his throat. He reached out, unable to stop himself. The tip of his finger traced a slow, deliberate path down the ridge of her spine, through the fine sheen of oil. Her skin was hot, smooth as polished stone. She shivered, and the reaction went straight to his gut.
His hand didn’t stop at the base of her spine. It slid lower, over the curve of her ass, covered by the thin triangle of her bikini bottom. He hooked his fingers under the elastic, his gaze locked on her face. He saw the moment her breath caught, the playful defiance in her eyes deepening into something darker, more expectant.
“What are you doing?” she asked, but it wasn’t a protest. It was a whisper, an invitation to prove her wrong.
“Something I’ve been thinking about since I saw you from fifty yards away.”
He tugged the fabric aside, exposing her. The sun touched skin that hadn’t seen it, pale and perfect. And between her cheeks, she was slick, already wet, glistening. The smell of her, salt and coconut and something uniquely her, hit him. Fuck.
“Let me taste you right here,” he growled, the words rough.
He didn’t wait for permission. He bent, his mouth finding her. He licked a broad, slow stripe from her clit, already swollen and eager, up through her dripping slit to the tight, clenched ring of her asshole. She jerked, a choked moan buried into the crook of her arm, her hips pushing back against his face.
“Jesus, Niall.”
He liked the sound of his name in her mouth, wrecked already. He grinned against her, his stubble scratching the tender skin of her inner thighs. “Just getting started, love.”
He dove back in, feasting on her. His tongue worked her clit in tight, relentless circles before plunging deep into her cunt, fucking her with it, tasting her essence. She was grinding against him now, little desperate noises escaping with every exhale. He slid a hand under her, finding her breast, pinching her nipple hard between his fingers. She cried out.
“You like that?” he murmured, his voice thick. “You’re so fucking wet for me. On a public beach. Anyone could see.”
The thought seemed to electrify her. He shifted, spitting once, twice onto her exposed hole, the fluid mixing with her own. He pressed the pad of his thumb against it, applying a slow, insistent pressure. It gave way, just a little, and she whimpered into the sand.
“I want to fuck you,” he breathed, his own jeans unbearably tight. “Right here. Now. Tell me you want it.”
“Yes.” It was a hiss. “God, yes, please.”
He fumbled with his belt, his buttons, shoving his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It was thick, hard, aching. He guided himself, the head nudging through her wet folds, bumping against her clit, making her shake. Then he positioned himself at her entrance.
He didn’t slide in easy. He pushed, a slow, burning invasion that made her arch and gasp. He filled her, inch by devastating inch, until he was buried to the hilt, her heat clutching him like a vise.
“Fuck,” he choked out. “That’s it. Take it.”
He pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in. The sound was obscene, flesh on flesh, wet and urgent. He set a punishing pace from the start, his hips pistoning, his balls slapping against her. One hand fisted in her hair, tugging her head back. The other stayed under her, working her clit in frantic time with his thrusts.
“You feel that?” he grunted, each drive knocking the breath from them both. “You feel how deep I am?”
All she could do was nod, her cries coming in ragged sobs. The world had narrowed to the slap of skin, the roar of the ocean in his ears, the scorching heat of her around him. He was losing control, the coil in his belly tightening to a breaking point.
“Come with me,” he demanded, his rhythm faltering. “Come on my cock. Now.”
It was the command, the raw possession in his voice, that sent her over. She shattered, her cunt milking him in violent, rhythmic pulses. The feel of it tore his own orgasm from him. He drove in one last, brutal time, buried himself deep, and let go. Heat flooded her, spurt after spurt, as he groaned her name into the sweaty skin of her shoulder.
He collapsed onto her, his weight pressing her into the towel and sand. They lay there, panting, glued together by sweat and come. The sun beat down. A gull cried somewhere.
Slowly, he softened, slipped out of her. He rolled onto his back beside her, staring up at the endless blue. She turned her head, her cheek in the sand, looking at him. Her smile was back, lazy and sated.
“So,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Niall, is it?”
He laughed, a breathless, happy sound. “Yeah. And you’re Emery.”
“I am.” She reached over, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Welcome to the beach.”