“Sounds good. Wait...what did you just say?”
He grins but doesn’t repeat himself. I’m pretty sure I heard him right. Getting freaky on a boat just went to the top of my bucket list.
When we arrive at the spot Stiles has in mind, he cuts the engine and lets the boat gently rock on the water. The day is perfect; clear blue sky and the temperature is in the low-eighties. I remove the life vest and strip off my shorts and T-shirt, revealing my hot pink bikini. The top is a simple strapless band, and the bottoms are high-cut with ties at the sides.
Deciphering the smoke signals in his gaze, I put a little attitude in the cock of my hip. “Well, Captain, since you’ve hijacked me to the middle of nowhere, now what?”
He pulls off his shades and tosses them aside. His eyes are as dark and vast as the depths of the lake when he moves forward. He stops mere breaths away. “Tell me you want me as much as I want you.”
“I do. God, you know I do.”
He takes my mouth, and his hunger swallows me whole. Swamped with yearning, and too many emotions to identify, the kiss roughens. His beard abrades my skin. Our teeth scrape and nip, and our tongues duel. On tiptoe, I clutch at his nape, gasping as his skillful mouth streaks down my throat and attacks my neck with bruising love bites. Feeling utterly craved and seduced, I thrill and surrender to the taking.
He tugs down my tube top and cups my tender breasts in his hands. The low, primal groan he makes is an echo of the desire beating between my legs. He lowers his head and licks my erect nipples as if they’re ice cream.
The sun is piercing. Even with my eyes closed, the rays pound on my lids. Without the use of sight, I can only feel that relentless mouth eating me alive, his hands busy and impatient.
Desperate to touch him, I drag my palms over his chest, kneading the muscle, circling his nipples that go stiff beneath my fingers. He unties one side of my bikini bottoms and yanks away the scrap of fabric. Then his fingers plunge, fucking in and out, his thumb swirling around the kernel of flesh.
I cry out, stunned by the quick onslaught of my orgasm that rushes through me in a twisty spiral of explosions. Color bursts behind my eyelids, and tremors consume my body.
“Jasper,” I sob against his chest until I go limp.
He sweeps me off my feet and lays me down on the bench. He drops his shorts and spreads my thighs apart. Then he’s right there, over me, entering me, thrusting in and out; hitting the G-spot, the H, the whole freaking alphabet. I come again. My scream muffled against his shoulder. He curses and pumps his hips through the contractions, and then he’s coming too, in a series of shudders and rasps of my name.
Leveled, for a while, we lay there, our mouths sliding over each other, dripping in sweat, our skin slicked together, our breaths gusting against the backdrop of the sounds of lapping water and seagulls crying overhead.
“We’re going to fuck each other to death,” I say when I can manage words.
“I’ll die a happy man.”
I smile drowsily and hug him.
Lifting his head, he kisses my nose. “Ready for a swim?”
“More like a nap.”
He chuckles and takes my hand. Stiles steps into his shorts and helps me right my bathing suit. I’ve noticed he doesn’t prolong after-sex cuddling. Although I’ve never felt like it’s wham-bam—he’s too thoughtful for that—there seems to be an invisible line he’s drawn on intimacy.
“I have a wager for you,” he says, breaking into my thoughts.
“What?”
“First, how well can you swim?”
“Like a fish. I swam before I walked. You wanna race, Jasper?”
“Something like that. We jump at the same time, but if I rise to the surface first, you have to share my bed tonight.”
“I’ll take that bet. I’m lighter and quicker.”
“And modest.”
“When you’ve got it, you’ve got it.” I brush my fingers on my shoulders.
“All right, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Enjoying the buzz of competition and just how good it feels to be with him, I get into position at the edge beside Stiles.
