“What?”
“Seriously, nothing. Keep describing all the times you’ve thought about blowing me.”
“That would take too long.”
My eyebrows rise. Not the answer I was anticipating. Just knowing that Wren has thought about sucking me in her mouth has me getting hard. Knowing it’s happened often? It’s not just a physical response.
“Sit,” she says, shoving my chest, pushing me toward the beige couch.
It’s barely a couch, really more of an oversize armchair. Not that comfortable, but I’m not focused on the flat cushions right now. My full attention is on Wren, sinking to her knees between my spread thighs.
“Have you hooked up on a boat before?” she asks conversationally, playing with the strings on my shorts. “Lie if you have.”
“I haven’t. Truth.”
She tugs down my shorts, thumb circling the flared head of my cock, smearing around the liquid already leaking from the red tip.
“I’ve barely touched you,” she comments, sounding amused. Wren blows on the wetness, and my hips jerk forward of their own accord. “Barely.”
“Are you gonna talk or suck?” I grit out, feeling like I might die if the second doesn’t happen soon.
Her eyelashes flutter as she looks up from under them. “Do you have a preference?”
I drag a palm down my face, then form a fist, tempted to shove a hand into her hair and guide her mouth where I want it. I don’t. Wren might be the one on her knees, but we both know she’s holding all the power right now.
“Suck, Wren.”
She does, and fuck if it isn’t even hotter than I imagined it being.
“You look good with my cock in your mouth.”
Her right hand moves from playing with my balls to flip me off.
I laugh, a fresh flood of arousal building at the base of my spine.
If I believed in soulmates, I’d accept Wren Kensington was meant for me. If I thought she’d ever be happy with the nothing I had to offer her, I would admit I was in love with her.
“I’m close,” I grunt in warning after an embarrassingly short amount of time has passed.
She hums, the vibration sending me straight over the edge. I come hard and fast, filling her mouth with so much cum that it spills out, dripping down her chin. Feeling her swallow is its own nirvana, and then I’m hauling her onto my lap, unbuttoning her shorts and slipping a hand inside, finding the wet spot in her underwear. Circling her clit and having her ride my hand until she comes with a moan she muffles against my shoulder.
“You know no one can hear us out here, yeah?”
Wren lifts her head. “You know where here is, yeah?”
“Approximately. I haven’t been up on deck for a while, so …”
“Hey, all you had to say was that you didn’t want me to suck your dick.”
“Wren,” I say very seriously, “that is a sentence that will never ever leave my mouth.”
She smiles, then rolls off my lap and walks into the bathroom. I grab a water out of the fridge and then head back up to the deck, easing the sails a little and adjusting our course before taking a seat on the bench along the back of the stern.
Wren reappears a few minutes later, focusing on me before sheglances at the sea surrounding us. She pads across the pristine deck, sitting beside me and tucking her legs under her. She holds her phone up, snapping a few photos of the boat and the water, then leans toward me, passing me her phone. “Your arm is longer.”
“You want one of us?”
She nods, so I flip the perspective and take one. It’s the only picture we’ve ever taken together, and it’s a good one. We’re both smiling. The wind is blowing her hair behind us. We look happy, and it scares me.
