‘Fair enough.’ Clearly the woman values her privacy. ‘You know what they won’t see, though?’
I trail a hand over the curve of her hip, revelling in the ripple of goosebumps that scatter over her skin despite the heat.
‘What?’ she whispers, her chest rising and falling in short, ragged breaths.
‘If I were to slip my hand inside those bikini bottoms and fuck you with my fingers.’
She gasps, then her perfect white teeth dig into her lower lip.
‘Would you like that, Irish?’ My fingers dart over the pink, indecent scrap of Lycra between her legs. Her pussy is pulsing for me. ‘Are you wet for me, sweetheart?’
Her lust-hued eyes lock on mine as she reaches for my bicep, resting her palm on it like she’s steadying herself. ‘Yes,’ she admits, breathily.
I brush my lips over her ear so my breath skims her skin. ‘Yes, you’d like to come on my fingers? Or yes, you’re wet for me?’ I could draw this out all day just to watch every fleeting micro expression that crosses her face. To hear every single gasp that slips from her full, cherry lips. To feel her body flush against mine.
Her throat works as she swallows. Her chin juts out. Black eyes blaze with heat and hunger. ‘Both,’ she admits.
I don’t hesitate. My hand is inside her bikini in a matter of milliseconds. Her needy, swollen clit throbs for my touch. ‘Fuck, you’re so wet,’ I murmur, sliding a finger over her tight little slit. I can’t wait to sink myself inside her tight, hot channel.
‘It’s your fault, California,’ she whispers, writhing on my fingers as I work her in slow sweeping strokes.
‘You should have accepted my offer last night.’ I tut. ‘Next time I offer you dessert, you’re going to accept. Then you’re going to sit up on the table, and spread your legs for me and let me devour you like a fucking all you can eat buffet. And I will be going back for seconds.’
‘You are so bad.’ She pants, eyes widening further as she clings on to my bicep.
‘I never pretend to be anything else, Irish.’ I slide two fingers deep inside her core, stretching her and filling her up. Her head rolls back as she arches her pelvis, grinding shamelessly against my hand. I love how fucking responsive she is to my touch. I can only imagine how responsive she’ll be when she’s impaled on my cock later.
I commit every inch of her stunning face to memory until finally, I find that sensitive spot deep inside her inner walls. She hisses as I hit it with my fingertips, over and over again. I watch as she starts to spiral right in front of my face.
It’s the most satisfying sight I’ve ever seen.
‘I’m close,’ she murmurs. ‘Don’t stop,’ she begs, with flushed cheeks and hitched breaths.
‘God himself couldn’t stop me, sweetheart. I’m dying to hear the little sounds you make when you lose it. WhenImake you lose it.’ I slide my thumb over her clit as I continue to pump her, the people on the beach utterly oblivious to the carnality occurring right in front of their eyes.
The sheer badness of it is nearly enough to get me off alone. Her hand reaches for the waistband of my swimming shorts, but I swat it away. I need to concentrate on making it so damn spectacular for her that she’ll be sprinting to my suite for more, morning, noon and night.
I’ve got ten days left here and I plan on making the most of every single one of them. ‘Later, sweetheart.’
She has no idea who I am.
And the best thing?
She has no desire to know either.
Her core contracts around my fingers, squeezing them in a vice-like grip. ‘Look at me when you come for me, Irish,’ I demand.
Her huge eyes fly open, wild with want as she shatters and shudders on my fingers. ‘Fuck,’ she pants, riding my hand, wringing out every last bit of pure hedonistic pleasure.
When she finally stills, I slide my hands out from between her legs and lift my fingers to my mouth. The sea has washed away most of her release, but I lick them anyway. She watches on with fascination.
‘So, dinner, tonight?’ My eyes rove over her breasts. They heave as she catches her breath.
‘Fine.’ she grins. ‘But remember the deal… no deep and meaningful conversations. And I’m taking you up on your offer of dessert.’
Chapter Seven
ZARA
