“It’s candy. Us Aussies call candy lollies. You are as sweet as a lolly, so that’s what you are to me from now on. My sugary, deliciousLolly.” I licked a long stripe up his wrist, and he shuddered when I gave him a hungry stare. “And I want to eat you up like one.”
He stumbled backward, and I grabbed him before he could fall on his arse. He chuckled, but it was more of a nervous tic because his cheeks were inflamed with a red blush. Glancing over toward my aquarium, he froze for a moment before he pointed at it. “What are those?”
I held in my laughter at how skittish he was.Adorablewas another word for him. I linked our fingers again and led him over to stand in front of the large glass tank where the jellyfish bobbed like plastic bags in the ocean. They didn’t lookalive, and it was easy to see why some swimmers confused them for rubbish in the water.
“Box jellyfish.” I touched the glass with my fingertip and tapped it gently. “These are my babies.”
“Why do you have them?” He sounded genuinely curious, stepping in closer to get a better look. “We have some around Florida, but I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who had them as pets.”
“Most people don’t do it because they require a good, established tank,” I said with an amused snort. “The bigger the jellies are, the easier they are to keep alive. These little blokes are my torturing method.” I shrugged. “Actually, that’s a lie. These ones kill in minutes. The other ones I’ve got are Irukandji. They can kill, but it can take hours and the pain is immeasurable. There’s no cure for the stings, but if you’re at a hospital, the docs can treat the symptoms and take care of you.” I grinned at the thought, then glanced at Finn and his wide eyes. “Sometimes I torture the arsehole with the Irukandji before I send him to the hospital, but if they don’t give me what I want, I let them sit in pain until their heart gives out. If it doesn’t work the first go, we try again.”
He laughed in surprise. “That’s inventive.”
“I do enjoy trying new things.” I released his fingers and smoothed my palm up his arm and across his shoulder, studying the way he shuddered when I touched certain areas.
“We’ve got the Portuguese man-of-war.” His voice shook as he spoke, lust slipping through with some of his words.
“They’re not jellyfish,” I whispered. “They’re siphonophores, more like coral.”
“How do you know?” He tilted his head toward me curiously.
I laughed and gently pulled him to the desk. I sat in my wide, navy office chair and yanked him down onto my lap, earning a gasp in answer. His hand knocked some files from my desk accidentally, and the information sheets about some Italians caught my eye. On top of the pile was Maximo Peralta, the son of one of the big leaguers in Brisbane, but I ignored the mess. We’d deal with Peralta later, after Padulano.
Finn opened his mouth—to apologize, I presumed—but I nudged him around until he was straddling me. He sent me a hot glance from under his eyelashes.
“We all have our interests,” I murmured.
“And yours are...?”
“Marine life.” I cupped the back of his neck and massaged it above the suit jacket’s collar, and he moaned quietly. “My dad used to take me fishing in the creeks around here and out to the reefs. He always gave me lessons on the animals we came across. Usually it was the fish, but when you go out to the reef, especially, you always run into all kinds of nasty buggers. You got sharks and stingrays and jellies.”
“I’d stay in the creeks if I were you.” He offered me an amused smile.
I chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, but then you gotta worry about the crocs. They love the creeks and the mangroves around the water. You get thrown out of your boat, you’ll end up as croc bait.”
He shook his head. “I have no idea why humans live here.”
I snorted and hooked my fingers under the shoulders of his jacket, pushing it off as gently as I could. He helped, wriggling out of the stupid piece of material until it was on the floor beside the chair.
“Hm.” I ran my palms over his chest, and he sat still, his breath barely audible as I explored him over his shirt. I couldn’t wait to see the lace underneath. His scent teased my nose and it suited him—just as sweet. I began to undo his shirt, taking my time and appreciating the light pink lace camisole that became more exposed with every button I popped through the holes.
I paused when half of the camisole was in view and opened his shirt wider so I could get a good look at his chest. His pink nipples were peaked and visible through the small decorative gaps in the lace, and my mouth watered at the sight. I couldn’t help myself when I leaned forward and sucked his right nub into my mouth through the lingerie. He hissed, thrusting his chest toward me. I slid my arms around him, holding him as close as I could get him as I sucked obsessively on his nipple.
He keened, arching, and I gripped him tightly so he wouldn’t fall off my lap. The sounds he made sent a reaction straight to my cock, and I throbbed with need, pushing against my underwear and the zipper of my shorts, looking for freedom—or even better, a nice warm hole to push myself into. But this wasn’t about me. I wanted to explore him and learn every curve of his body, while finding the spots that made him scream my name.
I sucked harder on his nipple, and he shifted, rocking his hips and nudging a firmness against my abs. He moaned and grasped my shoulders, fingernails digging into my shirt.
“Oh fuck.” The way he uttered the words in his American accent was only meant for gods because it was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.
I moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. Sucking hard through the material, I flicked my tongue against his nub, proud when he tried to get away from the attention I was giving him. The need was obviously becoming too much for him because the sounds grew louder.
“Please. Fuck. Oh fuck.” He shivered hard.
I didn’t relent, sucking the entire nipple into my mouth. The lace was stronger than I expected against my tongue, but I didn’t mind because it tasted like him, a tangy flavor that burst in my mouth. My cock ached and was hard enough to hit a cricket ball and score a six in the process.
When I pulled back to stare at my work, I smiled at the sight of two very wet spots around his nipples. I ran my thumb over his left nub, and he exhaled in a half moan, half gasp. When he looked at me again, his eyes were hooded with lust. The pink lingerie against his black shirt was stark and the most sensual contrast I’d ever seen.
“I want to be in your arse. Bare.” I didn’t see the point in keeping my wishes quiet, as I’d already mentioned them once. I wanted to spread him open and fill him up.
