Cursed by Nicole Camden

rippled board of his stomach to the waist of his jeans, which he unbuttoned, but did nothing more.
    â€œYou want me?” He gestured to himself.
    Lille bit her lip to keep from saying it.
    He looked a little disgusted with himself, but he shoved down his jeans. His dick was hard, thick, and long; it pointed proudly to his stomach. He was magnificent and vulnerable at the same time, standing there with the evidence of his desire front and center.
    â€œThen come and take me.”
    Lille shoved her pajama pants down and stepped into his arms. He caught her, legs bracing against her weight as he slid his hands into her hair.
    He kissed her, and there was something very different about these kisses. He was angry, she could tell by his clenched jaw, but his lips were gentle as he skimmed her sore cheek, her temples, the bridge of her nose.
    His erection pressed to her, and she moved her hips, rubbing herself against him, urging him with slow undulations to hurry—please hurry.
    He did, wetting his fingers with his mouth and rubbing the head of his dick before lifting her and fitting himself between her legs.
    It was difficult at this angle, so Lille helped him, using his shoulders to leverage herself up, opening herself to him, wanting his thick length inside her.
    When he’d pushed just the head of himself inside her, he paused and licked his lips. “I’m not wearing a condom.”
    Lille shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m protected.”
    He looked like a man in pain, eyes tightening, as he worked his way deeper and deeper, his mouth opening as he thrust upward with his hips and pulled her downward at the same time, stretching her.
    â€œGod.” Lille’s head dropped to his shoulder as he filled her, her thighs flush with his hip bones.
    They stayed that way for a moment, pressed together, her inner muscles tightening and releasing, but then it wasn’t enough. Lille tightened her thighs on his hips and lifted up, just halfway, before sliding back down.
    He grunted and shifted his grip, holding her securely to him as he turned around and sat in the sand. Lille held on, digging her fingers into the thick muscles of his shoulders, gasping when his movement thrust him more deeply inside.
    Lille waited for him to move, but he didn’t—he just brushed her hair out of her face with one hand and then leaned back on his palms, partly reclining. Lille understood; she was to ride him. The cool sand abraded her knees as she lifted herself up, rocking her hips a little before sliding back down, her toes curled and sunk deep in the sand to give herself leverage.
    Arching, Lille let her head fall back, abandoning herself to the night and the feel of the man beneath her, the hardness of him inside her. They were mostly hidden from the main street by the sand dunes behind them and the shadows, but anyone who came along would know what they were doing. Lille felt wild, taking him like this—and she was taking him, pressing down deeply with each downward stroke, grinding against him, and digging her nails into the muscles of his chest.
    â€œFuck,” she gasped, rubbing her clit against his lower abdomen and using her hips to make small circles. She was almost—almost—there.
    Her orgasm caught her by surprise, making her squeeze his hips with her thighs as she fell forward, crying out. The moment she did, Max rolled her over, hooked his arms under her thighs, and thrust deeply, hips slamming forward like a man possessed. Lille took him, riding the smaller waves of her orgasm as he thrust deeper and deeper until he came, moving against her in involuntary jerks.
    They lay there for a moment, gasping, but unable to hear themselves above the crash of the waves. Max stood and held out a hand to her. She took it, let him pull her up.
    The wind, blowing over the light sheen of sweat on her body, made Lille shiver, and she gratefully accepted the pajama pants Max found and handed to