Ishouldstay home so I can sneak in another date with Jacob. I’m getting dangerously close to the 12th day of Christmas, and I’m falling well short of twelve dates. But I guess tropical heat, an excuse to unpack my bikini, and the promise of endless orgasms, courtesy of Ryan, is a cocktail I can’t turn down.
“When do we leave?” I ask, grinning.
28
RYAN
All around me, palm trees sway in the warm breeze and brightly colored tropical birds swoop through the air. In the distance, I can hear the ocean waves crash.
It’s a beautiful day in paradise, and I whistle as I stroll back to my bungalow. After a day of playing, I’ve earned my spot at the main table. Even though I’d expect nothing less from myself, champion that I am, I’m still high on the sweet taste of victory. I’ve got three or four hours to celebrate before the game starts tonight, and I can’t wait to get back to the room and regale Pippa with tales of my success. Now that I know that she actuallygetspoker, she’ll appreciate the genius behind my play even more.
I’m a little disappointed she wasn’t there to see it in person. Some of the wives and girlfriends do actually join players in the poker room—the occasional husband, too.
Unfortunately, there’s also plenty of influencers broadcasting the whole thing over their phones, plus a few news crews. So when I invited Pippa, she told me she was too worried about someone spotting her. Fair enough—the whole point of this vacation was to let us pretend we’re not stepsiblings.
The tournament paid for my bungalow, a pretty-wooden building surrounded by hedges and thick tropical plants for privacy. I have to swipe my keycard to get through the gate to the cute little path which leads up to the front door.
Inside, there’s an open living room near a well-stocked wet bar. Natural light streams through the French doors that lead to a veranda and a private swimming pool. The place looks totally empty.
“Pippa!” I call. “You home?”
There’s no response, just ocean breeze and birdsong. I peer into the bedroom and the attached study, but I still don’t see her.
When I open the doors to the patio, I finally spot her. She’s on the far end of the swim-up pool, her body in the water while she floats, typing on a laptop that’s propped up from the edge of the pool. She’s got her headphones on, which explains why she didn’t answer me. Typical Pippa—finding a way to be maximum productive, even while she relaxes in a tropical paradise.
That means it’s my job tomakeher relax, by any means necessary.
I strip out of my T-shirt and jeans, tossing them on the ground. After a second glance at the privacy hedges to make sure they’re nice and high, I strip off my boxers, too.
Dipping my toes into the pool, I’m pleased to find it’s the perfect temperature, just a shade cooler than the humid air. I wade into the water. Even though I’m careful not to splash, Pippa must have the volume turned way up, because she has no idea I’m behind her until I’m burying my nose in her hair.
She gasps in surprise, but she leans back into me when I wrap my arms around her. I kiss the side of her neck, and satisfaction surges through me when I see her nipples hardening through her tiny black bikini.
“What are you writing?” I ask, not bothering to look at the screen.
“I’mtryingto write about the blackout date,” she grumbles. “I just can’t figure out an angle. I’ve written and deleted like a million words.”
This time, I do glance up at the screen. It’s mostly blank. Why wouldn’t it be? There’s nothing inspiring about this Jacob guy. He’s milquetoast. He’s a piece of dry stale white bread with no butter. Good for feeding ducks, and that’s about it.
Reaching around Pippa’s shoulder, I close the laptop and push it away from the edge of the pool. “What you need is a break.”
“But Ireallyneed to get it done,” she whines, even as she leans back against me, her head fitting just under my chin.
“You will. Once you take a minute to reset your brain, it’ll all come out easy.”
“Only a minute?” Pippa wiggles her hips back against mine, and I know she feels my cock already hard against her backside.
“I can be quick if you want me to.” I take her earlobe between my teeth and nip lightly. She moans, and I fiddle with the strings tying her bikini bottom together. “I can go fast. I can fuck you hard and raw, no warm-up. I could yank this little swimsuit to the side and be inside you in seconds.”
Pippa takes a ragged breath, her head falling back against my shoulder. Her damp hair sticks to my skin.
“You want me to use you? Because I can.” Another thrust of my hips. “I could use you like my own little fuck toy, fill you up with come and leave you here. Do you want that?”
She hesitates. I know part of her finds that appealing, being used for my pleasure and discarded. But she’s too much of a hedonist, and I’m too much of a giver. We’d both rather go slow and get her off, and she knows it.
After a long moment, her head shakes, almost imperceptibly.
“I didn’t think so.” My lips curl against her neck, and I cup her through her swimsuit with one hand. “This little pussy is too greedy for that. You want to come, too, don’t you?”
