Forbidden Son by Loretta C. Rogers

lifted her to mount his pulsating
hardness. She looked into his hot blue eyes as he slid his hand around her
bottom and savagely joined them together in one swift thrust.
    With
each moan, their writhing bodies cried out for more. They moved as one,
clutching, grinding, panting. Time was lost. There was only the rhythm of the
surf undulating around them. With each deep thrust Honey Belle moaned with
pleasure, until she felt him explode deep inside of her.
    After
a long shuddering breath, and with their bodies locked together, Tripp carried
her to the blanket they had abandoned on the beach.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter
Eight
     
    Moisture
pooled in Honey Belle’s eyes as Tripp gently laid her on the blanket. “You’re
beautiful, Honey Belle.”
    “So
are you.”
    “Did
I hurt you?”
    She
traced the furrowed lines that formed concern in his face. “I’ve had wasp’s
stings that were worse.”
    “More?”
    She
drew a deep contented breath and ran her fingers through his thick blond hair.
She had never imagined, never guessed the depths of emotion that could exist
between two people.
    “Yes,
more.”
    Tripp
leaned up on one elbow. “I’m not too heavy for you?”
    “No,
you’re perfect. We fit together like two spoons.”
    She
saw the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, and the hint of a smug smile. He
trailed his hand down her stomach. “I intend to explore every inch of your
exquisite body.”
    Color
surged in her face and warmed her cheeks. She was glad it was dark so Tripp
couldn’t see her blushing.
    To
her surprise her body stirred in response to his touch. He gathered her in his
arms, merging their bodies into one and moving inside her.
    She
answered his moan with her own as he thrust deeper within her. Her loins,
abdomen, thighs were the center of a passionate white flame. And Tripp was the
fire, burning inside her, over and over, crying out above her as he seemed to
revel in the same exquisite torture.
    She
snuggled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder, not speaking,
rubbing her hand across his chest, and whispered in his ear, “Tripp, I want you
to know something.”
    His
voice was very tender. “What is it?”
    “There’s
never been another. You’re the only man I’ve ever been with. I don’t expect you
to say the same thing, but I wanted you to know.”
    Tripp
was silent as he held her closer. She pressed against him, felt his arm tighten
around her. Her body trembled in anticipation. He kissed her softly on the
lips, and she kissed him back. He kissed her neck, her cheek, her eyelids, and
she felt the moisture of his mouth linger wherever his lips had touched.
    She
took his hand and led it to her breast, and a whimper rose in her throat. It
felt so right to be here, under a blanket of stars, with the man she loved.
    ****
    The
time was well past midnight when Tripp drove toward the Barrington Street
address and parked in front of Honey Belle’s pretend two-story house with its
wide wrap around veranda decorated with urns of bird’s-nest fern and a porch
swing.
    “No
light. I guess your parents got tired of waiting up for you.” Tripp leaned over
and feathered kisses on her lips.
    She
rested against the BMW’s leather seat. She didn’t mean to sound indignant, but
it came out that way. “I’m nineteen and not a child whose parents should wait
for her to come home from a date.”
    Her
eyes took in the shape of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the square
jaw-handsomeness.
    Running
a finger down her cheek, he said, “Woman or not, you’d better go in before your
father wakes up and comes after me with a shotgun. At least let me walk you to
the door.”
    Giving
Tripp a bright smile and a quick peck on the lips, she opened the car door and
scooted from the seat. “I’m a big girl, remember.”
    “Now
that we’re engaged, I’d like to meet your parents, and formally ask your
father’s permission to marry you.”
    Standing
on the sidewalk in the shadows of the street light,