Lie firmly established, I slide a hand upward, between the valley of her breasts and over the curve of her collarbone to wrap it around her jaw. Brushing my thumb along the swell of her lower lip, my cock gives a hard jerk when I feel the tip of her tongue teasing the pad of it. “Still want to kiss me, Millie?” I whisper, my mouth brushing against the corner of her mouth.
Outside the thin walls of the cabana, I can hear music. People laughing. Waves crashing. I don’t give a fuck about any of it. All that matters is this.
“Yes...” Lifting her gaze to meet mine, she nods her head in my grip. “I still want you to kiss me.”
Angling her mouth under mine, my tongue sweeps past her lips on a deep, desperate groan, tangling and swirling against hers while her soft moans grow louder, the vibrations of them humming in my chest.
“Shhh…” Tearing my mouth away from hers, I growl the warning in her ear, giving one of her nipples a hard, punishing pinch. “If you can’t be quiet, I’m going to have to stop.” It’s another lie. I couldn’t stop now if I tried. “You don’t want me to stop, do you?”
The weight of her head shakes against my shoulder. “No...” She releases the word on a shaky breath. One of her hands slides back to grip my thigh, holding me against her. “Please…”
Releasing her breast, I start to skim my hand down the length of her torso until the tips of my fingers finds the place where her bottoms are tied together at her hip. “I knew…” Finding the tail of the bow, I give it an impatient jerk and nearly groan in relief when they fall open on one side. “From the first moment I saw you, I knew what a filthy little slut you’d turn out to be.”
She lets out a strange, quiet sound, the soft curve of her belly quaking under my hand as it slides forward. “Was that an insult?”
“Does being called afilthy little slutmake you feel bad?” I ask, teasing my fingertips along the smooth stretch of skin between her bellybutton and her cleft. It doesn’t. I know it doesn’t, but I want to hear her admit it.
“No…” Shifting her hips restlessly under the teasing skim of my fingers, Millie shakes her head against my shoulder. “Not by you.”
Fuck.
Me.
“Do you know what the M stands for?” I whisper, brushing my thumb across her bellybutton while my fingers trace the line where her hip meets her thigh. “On the anklet I bought you…” I graze my teeth along the taut line of her jaw, on my way to her ear while I slide my hand even lower, teasing the top of her cleft. “It doesn’t stand for Millie.”
“No…” Her mouth brushes against the underside of my jaw while her other hand wraps around my wrist and tightens like she’s tired of my teasing and is getting ready to push my hand between her legs on her own. “Tell me.”
Moving lower on my own, I slide my hand into the juncture of her thighs, the tip of my middle finger splitting the seam of her pussy, a rough groan rumbling in my chest when I feel how ready she is. Pressing my two middle fingers against her slick,swollen entrance I give her a deep, slow stroke. “My good girl,” I tell her, pulling my fingers out, almost completely, before I fuck them back into her, the desperate grip of her pussy tightening against the small of my back, the relentless pound of it telegraphing straight to my cock. “That’s what the M stands for.” Pressing my heel against the top of her slit, I keep stroking her, every thrust of my fingers harder and deeper than the last. “Are you my good girl, Millie?”
When I say it, her entire body begins to shake, moans humming in her throat. Bumping against the seam of her lips, pressed together so she can be a good girl and not make any noise like I said.
That’s not going to work for me.
“I need you to answer me, Millie,” I growl in her ear, the hand on her breast reaching up to wrap around her throat while I keep finger fucking her, the tight, desperate pull of her pussy nearly sending me over the edge. “Are you my good girl?”
“Yes...” Her answer comes out on a soft, breathless moan, her hips pumping and flexing against every thrust I give her, grinding her ass against the rigid length of my cock. “I’m your good girl, Dean.”
And just like that, the last tenuous thread of my self-control snaps completely.
Fuck.
“Is it safe, Millie?” I groan against her throat, pulling my fingers free so I can slick them over her swollen clit. “Is it okay?—”
“Yes.” She nods, the hand she has anchored against my thigh starts to pull at my trunks. “Yes?—”
Pushing her hand away, I put enough room between us to untie the front closure on my board shorts. Jerking them down around my hips just enough to free my cock, I make a weird sound in the back of my throat—half hiss, half groan—when thetip of my shaft brushes against the inside of her thigh. “Fuuuck…” Gripping her shoulder, I push her forward slightly, other hand wrapped around the base of my shaft, while I notch the engorged head of my cock against her slick, swollen entrance.
Falling forward even further, onto her hands and knees, Millie tilts her hips, rubbing her greedy pussy against me, trying to work me in deeper on her own, mewls and whimpers humming in her throat with every inch she takes. She’s tight. Almost too tight—the slick walls of her pussy, gripping and pulsing around me, is nearly enough to blind me.
Hand streaking up, from her shoulder to her hair, I wrap my fingers in it and pull, so close to coming, I can barely breath, the pulse and pound of my release spiraling up the shaft of my cock.
Too soon.
It’s too soon.
“Don’t move.” Breath sawing through my lungs, I growl it down at her, pushing the command through clenched teeth, I press the heel of my hand against her hip so I can slick my fingers over her throbbing clit.
“Dean…” she moans my name plaintively, neither of us trying to be quiet anymore. “I need?—”
