On her knees in the gentle waters of the Jamaican surf. This
title first appeared in the IPPY Award-winning collection from Cleis Press &
editor Rachel Kramer Bussel, Tasting Him.
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M/F, CONTEMPORARY, EXPLICIT ADULT FICTION
Glancing over her shoulder, Chloe studied the
distant cluster of bodies before unknotting her sarong. She could see them,
silhouetted by the fire, but doubted they could see her. She held the soft wrap
by its corners—above her head—and allowed the breeze to catch it, laughing at
her whimsical impulse before letting go to watch it float softly inland and come
to rest on the dry sand. Peeling off her swimsuit, she balled it up and flung it
so that it landed alongside the other garment.
Arms wide, Chloe walked into the sea, submersing herself when its warm waters
reached her waist. It embraced her, not dousing her fire but instead stoking it
through a symphony of sensation. It penetrated her body and her mind, and she
floated on waves of want—buoyed by the desire for Jack's touch. She felt its
fingers caressing, probing, drawing forth her own fluids.
When the enveloping touch of the liquid touch began to coalesce into a pulse
between her legs, she worked her way toward the shore: prolonging the need until
it became integral to her existence—one with her spirit. Whole. Raw. Pure.
Although it wasn't chilly by anyone's standards, the air was cooler than the
water, and Chloe's skin reacted to the change in temperature as she emerged from
the water. She ran both hands through her hair, wringing as much moisture from
it as possible, and then shook her head in an attempt to dry it further.
The act—coupled with the effects of the beer and the pervasive arousal—made her
dizzy, and she stood knee-deep in the surf with her eyes closed until the
vertigo passed. Upon opening her eyes, she discovered Jack standing on the
shore, grinning at her. At first, she thought him a figment of her
imagination—an apparition of desire—but then he spoke.
"You're a sight for sore eyes."