Chapter 5: Porch Swing Confessions
The hike never happened.
Ben pulled a muscle attempting a backyard handstand, and Chloe had devoted the afternoon to nursing him with ice packs and exaggerated sympathy. The forced cheer of the morning had evaporated, leaving a tense quiet in the beach house. Dizzy could feel Chloe’s unasked questions hanging in the air every time their eyes met.
By evening, Liam was a coiled spring. He’d been silent through dinner, his responses monosyllabic. When Chloe suggested cards on the back porch, he merely nodded, his gaze finding Dizzy’s across the room with a heat that made her stomach flip.
The porch was a confessional of creaking wood and salt air. The last of the sun bled orange over the water. Ben, leg propped on a stool, dealt a sloppy game of Go Fish. Chloe watched Liam, who sat rigid in a worn Adirondack chair, his beer untouched.
“Got any threes?” Ben asked.
“Go fish,” Dizzy muttered, fiddling with her cards. She could feel Liam’s stare like a physical touch. It was different now. The shyness was burned away, replaced by a predatory focus that both terrified and thrilled her.
“This game is boring,” Chloe announced suddenly, tossing her cards down. “Ben, let’s go find that board game. The one with the trivia. It’s in the car, I think.”
Ben blinked. “The car? Chloe, it’s pitch black out there.”
“Then we’ll take a flashlight. Come on, up.” She was already pulling at his arm, her voice a little too high. “Give your leg a stretch. It’ll be good for you.”
Ben groaned but allowed himself to be hauled upright, shooting a confused look at Liam, who just gave a slight, almost imperceptible shrug. The screen door slammed behind them. Their murmured voices and the bobbing beam of a flashlight faded toward the driveway.
Silence, except for the ocean’s endless exhalation.
Dizzy didn’t look up from her cards. “That was subtle.”
“They’ve been doing it all weekend,” Liam said. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the dusk.
“I know.”
“It’s annoying.”
“I know that, too.”
The porch swing creaked as he stood. She watched his shadow move across the warped floorboards. He stopped in front of her chair, took the cards from her stiff fingers, and dropped them on the table.
“Stand up.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Why?”
“Because I want you to.” There was no request in it. It was a quiet, undeniable statement.
A defense mechanism fired. “Or what? You’ll code me into submission?”
“Dizzy.” Just her name. It sounded like a curse and a prayer.
She stood. Her knees felt weak. He closed the distance, his hands coming up to frame her face. He searched her eyes, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. “In the kitchen,” he said, “you came so hard for me. And then you tried to hide.”
“We almost got caught.”
“I don’t care.” He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. His breath was warm. “I’ve spent this whole trip trying not to look at you. Trying not to imagine this. I’m done trying.”
He kissed her, and it was like the first gasp of air after being underwater. It was deep and consuming, all tongue and heat and a low groan that vibrated from his chest into hers. His hands slid down, over the thin cotton of her sundress, gripping her hips and walking her backward until the backs of her thighs hit the weathered wood of the porch swing.
He broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Sit.”
She sat. The old chains groaned in protest. He didn’t join her. Instead, he dropped to his knees on the rough planks before her. The sight of him there, those intense eyes level with her own, sent a shock through her system.
His hands pushed her knees apart. He hooked his fingers in the sides of her panties and in one sharp movement, pulled them down and off, tossing the scrap of fabric aside into the shadows. The night air was cool on her exposed skin.
“Liam—”
“Shhh.” He pushed the hem of her sundress up around her waist, baring her completely to the twilight and his gaze. “I want to see you. All of you.”
He stared, his eyes dark pools, and the vulnerability of it was almost worse than the act itself. She fought the urge to squeeze her legs shut, to cover herself. His hands settled on her inner thighs, holding her open.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, and it didn’t sound like a line. It sounded like a discovery.
Then he leaned forward and put his mouth on her.
The first flat stroke of his tongue made her cry out, her hands flying to grip the swing’s chains. He ate her with a single-minded intensity that bordered on violence. He didn’t tease. He licked into her, deep and wet, his tongue spearing her core before flattening against her clit. He devoured her. The filthy, sucking sounds were loud in the quiet, mixed with the crash of waves below.
“Oh, God… fuck…” she whimpered, her head falling back. Her hips rolled, seeking more pressure, and he gave it to her, one hand moving to press her down onto his mouth while the other gripped her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh.
He added a finger, then two, crooking them inside her as his tongue worked her clit. The dual sensation was unbearable. She was unraveling too fast, the coil tightening in her gut with a brutal swiftness.
“I’m gonna… Liam, I’m gonna come…”
He growled against her, the vibration pushing her right to the edge. He sucked her clit hard into his mouth, and her orgasm shattered her. It ripped through her in silent, seizing waves, her body bowing, a choked scream catching in her throat. He didn’t let up, licking her through it, drinking every pulse until she was pushing weakly at his shoulders, over-sensitized and trembling.
He rose, his own breathing ragged. His lips and chin were glistening. He fumbled with the button of his jeans, shoving them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. It stood thick and rigid, the head dark and wet. He wasn’t gentle. He grabbed her hips, pulling her to the very edge of the swing.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice rough.
Her eyes, glassy with pleasure, found his.
He guided himself to her entrance, the broad head pressing against her soaked, swollen flesh. With one forceful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her.
The swing jerked violently, chains shrieking. Dizzy gasped, a sharp, full sound. He was so deep, stretching her so completely it stole the air from her lungs. He held there for a heartbeat, his body shuddering, his face a mask of strained ecstasy.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Your cunt is perfect. So goddamn tight and wet for me.”
He drew back and slammed home again. And again. He set a punishing, relentless rhythm, each drive of his hips grinding the swing back, the rusty metal protesting every move. The world narrowed to the slap of skin, the creak of chains, the guttural sounds being punched from his chest.
Dizzy clung to him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her nails scoring his back through his shirt. Each thrust hit a spot inside her that made her see white sparks. The friction was exquisite, raw. Her second orgasm built quickly, a dark pressure coiling at the base of her spine.
“You feel that?” he grunted, his pace becoming erratic, brutal. “You feel how deep I am? This is mine. Tell me.”
“It’s yours,” she sobbed, the words ripped from her. “Fuck, Liam, don’t stop…”
“Come with me. Now.”
He pistoned into her, one final, devastating drive, and she fractured. Her inner muscles clamped around him, milking his cock in rhythmic spasms. With a ragged shout that was lost to the ocean, he followed her over, pouring into her, his body jerking with each hot pulse. He collapsed forward, catching his weight on his arms, forehead pressed to her shoulder as they both rode out the aftershocks on the shuddering swing.
For a long time, there was only the sound of their ragged breaths mixing with the surf. The swing settled into a gentle, pendulous drift. He was still inside her, softening.
Finally, he shifted, withdrawing slowly. He righted his clothes before tenderly pulling her dress down. He sat beside her on the swing, pulling her into his side. She went willingly, her body boneless, her head on his shoulder.
A beam of light swept across the porch from the driveway. A car door slammed.
“We found it!” Chloe’s voice, bright and false, called from the side of the house.
Liam’s arm tightened around Dizzy. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering.
“When we go back inside,” he said quietly, his voice raw, “they’re going to look at us and know.”
Dizzy watched the approaching light. “I know.”
“I don’t want to hide it anymore.”
She looked up at him then. His expression was serious, open, the earlier intensity softened into something that looked like fear, and hope. The porch light flicked on, harsh and sudden, as Chloe and Ben clattered up the steps.
Dizzy didn’t move from the circle of his arm. She just nodded, a small, definite motion. “Okay.”