“Because I need to fuck you hard and fast, and if you put your mouth on me, it won’t last long.”
“Promises, promises,” I teased.
His pupils went wide as he yanked my T-shirt over my head. “Sports bra.”
“They hold things in place while working on a boat,” I said. “I can take it off?—”
“Don’t you dare,” he warned. Then, he pulled my pants and underwear off my legs in one smooth maneuver.
I reached for his pants, and he swatted my hands away. “Hey!”
“I am trying to control myself, love. Give me a minute,” he husked. Then, he unbuttoned his pants and slid them off his body.
“Commando,” I squealed. “Yes!”
I watched him sit on the edge of the bed, his dick standing at attention, waiting to be put in the game. My eyes roamed down his legs toward his prosthetic, and I gasped. “You painted it!”
He grinned.
The formerly antiseptic look of the prosthetic was now painted as a pirate flag wrapped around the device. It was airbrushed like?—
“Did Callie do this for you?” I asked.
Callie Atwell was an engineering genius who ran the local garage on Pleasure Point. She also custom-painted all of The Bolt carts.
Rowan nodded. “You said I inspired you to see yourself as enough. Well, you inspired me to love myself for who I am andtake ownership of my life.” He patted his lap. “Now, get over here, turn around, and let me take you from behind while you ride me.”
I bit my lip. “But what if?—”
“I’m not worried about you breaking my dick. I am worried that I never got to finish what we started in the marina shower,” Rowan said.
“Yes, Boss!” I scooted off the bed and stood before him. He ran his hands up my thighs, caressing my skin. I leaned down to kiss him while gently massaging his thighs.
I broke the kiss, turned around, and straddled his lap. “Guide me,” I asked as I gingerly lowered myself on his erection. I slid slowly down the shaft until he was seated fully inside me.
“So wet for me,” Rowan hissed in my ear. He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Have you been thinking about this?”
“Every day,” I admitted. I turned my head to look at him, then raised slowly and lowered back down.
“Harder,” Rowan ordered.
I stood up, then slammed myself back down.
“Fuck. Yeah. Faster.”
I got to my feet quicker this time, then bounced back down on his lap as he cried out, “Shit, Kendra.” He gripped my hips and began directing me the way he wanted me to move. I could already feel the impressions of his fingerprints burning into my skin, and it only turned me on more. Before long, the only sounds in the stateroom were our grunts and the slapping of flesh on flesh. It was a filthy sound that took me right up to the edge of orgasm. I might have stayed right there until Rowan pinched my nipple through my sports bra.
“Rowan!” I cried as I went over the edge.
He grabbed me tighter, slamming me up and down on his dick as if I weighed nothing. I rode the wave of my orgasm that built up for number two.
“Fuuuuuuuck!” Rowan yelled as he spilled inside me, slowing things down until I sat on his lap. That last bit sent me over the edge again, and a string of profanity-laden praise left my lips.
I leaned back to rest my head on his shoulder. “I love you, Rowan.”
“I love you, Kendra.”
“Good. Now, rest up. I still have to show you that bench I built in the shower,” I said. “Your dad didn’t ask too many questions about my improvements, thank goodness.”
