His hand slides over my belly, fingers splaying wide, pulling me tighter against him.
"Luka," I manage, though it comes out breathy and weak. "You're my client."
"You only said you don't sleep with your clients." His mouth is against my shoulder now, words vibrating against my skin. "So that only means my cock doesn't enter you... but you never said anything about my fingers."
His hand travels slowly down my belly, each inch deliberate and measured. When he reaches the top of my bikini bottoms, he stops. Waiting.
"Tell me if you want this, Nattie." His voice is rough. "I can make you come without sex. Just one time... give me one time to show you."
I should say no. I should remember every rule I've ever set for myself. Every boundary that keeps me safe and professional, and in control.
Instead, I nod, eyes closed. Head against his shoulder. Surrendering my whole body to his touch.
His index finger finds the top of my clit through the fabric, swirling in a slow circle. The jet continues its pulse below, and the combination makes me arch into him involuntarily.
My ass pushes harder against his cock.
He makes a strangled sound, mouth pressing into my shoulder. I feel his breath coming faster, matching mine.
Then his fingers slid beneath the fabric.
Skin to skin.
The sensation is electric. Every nerve ending fires at once. He finds me aroused, ready, aching for his touch. His fingers move, circling and stroking while the jet provides relentless pressure from below.
I moan out a mumbled version of his name.
He turns my head with his free hand, mouth finding mine. The kiss is deep and consuming, swallowing my gasps as his fingers work me higher, his tongue slipping into my mouth.
I can't take it. The building pressure. The dual sensation of his hand and the jet. The feel of him hard against my back, wanting me but holding to the boundary I set.
I pull out of his hands and turn.
His eyes widened slightly as I straddled his lap, but his legs widened immediately, dropping me back onto the jets. The pressure hits me from a new angle, and I gasp.
He reaches for the tie at my hips.
"Yes?" he asks, even now seeking permission.
"Yes."
He pulls the strings slowly, deliberately. My bottoms float away. Then his hands move to my back, unclasping my top. It follows the bottoms into the water, leaving me completely naked.
His eyes darkened to almost black.
"Fuck, Nattie."
His fingers return to my center, finding that perfect spot, working it with focused intensity. His head drops to my breast, mouth closing around my nipple—hot and demanding. His other hand buries in my hair, holding me to him.
The combination is too much. The jets. His fingers. His mouth. The hard length of him pressed against me, separated only by thin swim trunks.
I explode.
His name tears from my throat as I shatter in his hands, body shaking, world narrowing to just this—just us—just this moment of perfect release.
He holds me through it, fingers gentling but not stopping, drawing out every last wave until I collapse against his chest.
We stayed like that for a long moment, my forehead against his shoulder, both of us breathing hard.
