POPPY
“Oh, girl, that boy has it sobad…” Millie giggles from her place next to me at the table.
I follow her green eyes, finding Brookes standing over by the bonfire with Dallas, Logan, and Robbie as they talk to Happy’s dad, rock legend, Jonny Slater.
My cheeks flush from the look in Brookes’ eye, the flames of the fire emphasizing the devilish smirk that ghosts his lips as he lifts his bottle of non-alcoholic beer to his mouth and wraps his lips around it, causing my tummy to flutter.
We haven’t spoken much. After he gave me my best orgasm to date, he had a shower while I reapplied my makeup, which was a lot harder the second time around considering he was right there in the mirror, soaping himself up, his huge dick bobbing with every move he made. We then had to quickly get ready for dinner on the beach. And dinner was spent talking to everyone else, all while his hand teased my thigh beneath the table, fingers dancing over my skin through my dress.
But there’s an obvious tension lingering between the two of us. One that is so thick it’s almost suffocating. One I don’t like at all. One we both seem to be masking with kissing and touching and everything but talking. I know we need to talk.But my core is still throbbing after what he did to me back in our villa, and anticipation swells in my belly knowing exactly what he has planned for when we get back. So... talking can wait.
“So, Brookes is thirty-two and you’re twenty-three,” Fran says, a look in her eye like she’s been thinking about the age difference between me and Brookes more than she should. “Do you call himDaddy?”
I blink at her.
“Fran!” Millie laughs, shaking her head.
“What?” Fran shrugs innocently. “Nine years is a decent age gap.”
Emily balks. “I’m nine years older than Dallas and he definitely does not call me Mommy.”
“Not that we know of.” Fran smirks, holding her tongue in her cheek.
“Okay, ew!” Millie, Dallas’ younger sister, holds her hand up, stopping Fran.
“I’m pregnant and horny; I can’t help it.” Fran harrumphs, holding a hand over her belly.
I chuckle, turning to Millie to hopefully change the topic of conversation. “So how did Logan propose?”
Millie smiles down at the beautiful diamond ring sitting on her finger. “It was actually so sweet. I got home from work one night to find him standing there, surrounded by candles and rose petals and he hadWill you marry mewritten on his chest in Nutella.”
I open my mouth but stop myself when I process what she just said, my eyebrows pulling together. “N-Nutella?”
She nods, smiling secretly at me, and I decide then that I don’t actually need to know any more.
“That’s… sweet.” I take a sip of my water, looking back to Brookes and meeting his eyes.
Right at that moment, my phone vibrates on the table in front of me and I glance down at the screen to see his name rightthere. In the interest of not being rude, I conceal it as best I can, reading the text.
Brookes: Megalodon
I snap my head back up, my eyes searching for him again. He’s still there, with the guys, and he doesn’t look panicked or uncomfortable, his blue gaze searing in a way that makes my stomach knot with nervous anticipation. And I know it’s wrong. My feelings have already gone haywire, I know anything more is only going to cause problems. But I think the tropical air is getting to me. The tropical air and the sex-positive queens I’ve spent the day with. So, with a small smile, I tap out my reply.
Me: Truth or dare?
I look up in time to see Brookes read the words on his phone, and I see the dimples pull into his cheeks from the smirk he’s trying so hard to contain.
Brookes: Dare.
Me: I dare you to fuck me.
He looks up then, his eyes meeting mine. And, with one simple nod, I say my goodbyes to the girls and stand.
The walk from the party back to the villa has been silent and laced with a tension only amplified by the darkness of the night, the anticipation building until it’s at boiling point the second we make it inside.
In a flurry so fast it makes me dizzy, Brookes spins me, pinning me back against the wall, one big hand pressed abovemy head, the other gripping my waist almost to the point of pain, his eyes burning as they stare down into mine with a look in them that is unreadable yet makes my core thrum. I’ve been needy, achy all night. God, I’m still wet from my earlier orgasm, and that, mixed with the feel of Brookes’ hands and eyes on me the entire time, along with thoughts of what might happen when we got back here… I’m a mess.
Brookes ducks his head, breathing me in, his lips grazing my cheek, my jaw, my neck before attaching to the spot at the base of my throat that makes my knees weak. Licking and sucking and biting, he holds me upright the entire time, bringing me closer and closer to the edge with every pass of his lips, tongue, and teeth.
