Before he can argue with me, I kiss him again, pushing the robe off his shoulders and then moving my mouth down, over his exposed skin. From his mouth, to his neck, to his chest, his perfectly rippled stomach. And then, before he can even really comprehend what I’m about to do, I grab his cock and slide my mouth over it. I feel his body relax right into me—melt. That’s really the word for it, and his left hand drops to the back of my head and slides over my hair.
“Baby… Jesus fuck.”
I start to bob and wrap a hand around his shaft, squeezing slightly. But just when my pace finds its groove, he pulls me off him. Tangling both hands in my hair, he pulls me to my knees so we’re face-to-face and he kisses me. Long and hard. “I want more.”
“I can’t give you more,” I reply. My voice is firm, my willpower isn’t though. I want to give him everything. I want to take it all from him too—all the lust his blue eyes are reflecting back at me, all the sweet, sexy banter he wants to whisper, all the cocky charisma he wants to ooze. I want it all.
“I won’t,” I say out loud because it looks like there’s a debate happening here, and there isn’t. I can’t, won’t, let this go on or go further. Tonight, I even the score, and we move on as boss and driver. Because this isn’t a love story. It’s a kinky, smutty novella at best and it ends tonight.
But then Billy does something unexpected. And annoying. He gets up off the lounger, grabs his robe, and holds it in front of the masterpiece that is his nude body. He looks at me but not for long before he turns away. “Then this isn’t happening at all.”
He walks off toward the pool, and I watch, stunned, for fifteen minutes while he does laps. Butterfly of all strokes, the one that looks the sexiest of course. My God this man… what am I going to do with him?
My brain thinks back to that night when I was younger and how he swooped in out of nowhere. My Aussie hero. How different would this all be now if his mom hadn’t had a crisis that next night? In all honesty, we would both be exactly where we are now, boss and driver. Just hopefully with far less secrets to hide. I wouldn’t be hiding from him and most of the world that I was drugged. Billy wouldn’t be hiding whatever he’s hiding. Because I know, even after his confession about his mom’s mental health crisis, that there is more to the story he’s not sharing.
Billy looks up at me now as he casually swims to the side of the pool where the stairs are and smiles. “You enjoying the view, love?”
“I’m waiting for you to stop stalling, so I can pay you back.”
The smile I lust after disappears. “I don’t play that way, Frankie. You owe me nothing. If you want me, you can have me, but not in some kind of act of debt repayment.”
He emerges from the pool, and somehow the pool water knows exactly what good parts of his naked body to cling to. Then again, there aren’t any bad parts. He doesn’t walk towards me, he veers slightly left to one of the giant marble walk-in shower stalls that creates the division between the loungers and meditation area and the pool. The showers are open to the pool but blocked from the entrance and other areas.
I glance around the pool deck area. No cameras anywhere. I step onto the pool deck and over to the stall. His head is tipped back, and his eyes are closed as the shower water rains down over him. It’s probably the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen, in part because he’s still half hard, which means he still wants me. Knowing his rejection isn’t concrete gives me confidence, and I step into the cavernous stall with him.
He opens his eyes and levels those baby blues right at me. And I stare straight back and start stripping. It only takes one simple tug and the top of my bathing suit drops to the marble floor. I bite my lip and my hands move to the tiny string tie on the side of my bottoms. “Francesca if you take that off…”
“If you can walk around naked, why can’t I?” I ask in my best innocent voice. I am thinking far from innocent thoughts, so it’s not easy pulling it off. Especially because I’m also currently wrapping my hand around his cock. His eyelids flutter, but he manages to keep them open as I give him a long, slow tug.
And then, with my other hand, I undo the string on my bikini bottom and it drops. His eyes slide down immediately to stare at my pussy and then his hand roughly cups the back of my neck, and before the bikini bottom even hits my ankles, he’s claimed my mouth in a hard, needy kiss.
I give into his mouth, his tongue, but never let go of his cock. I rub it slow and firm until he has to break the kiss to groan. And then I take advantage of the situation by dropping to my knees. My lips are a fraction of an inch from his tip, which is already glistening with pre-come, when he grabs my hair and yanks me back gently. “Don’t.”
“You don’t want to fuck my mouth, feel my tongue slide over you as I take you down my throat?”
“Holy fuck,” he gasps and his grip on my hair loosens.
“Tell me to suck you off, Billy,” I beg. “Please. I want to so badly.”
“Suck me off, love,” he rasps.
And I do. I give the best fucking blow job of my life, and I love every single second of it because it’s Billy James. The longest crush of my life. The sexiest man I’ve ever known. My Aussie hero. And before I know it, that hero is warning me he’s ready, and I suck harder and longer and take him as deep as I can, slipping a hand from his balls to his taint and…
He comes with a long, loud, deep groan that I swear has my clit tingling. Oh God, I need to go home and touch myself until I’m panting his name. I’ll be lucky to last a full sixty seconds. I’m that turned on. It would be way more enjoyable if I could just let him take care of me like I know he still wants to. What kind of masochist turns down Billy James?
The kind that doesn’t trust him or any man, my brain reminds me sternly. That reality is the only reason I start to quickly put my bikini back on. He’s still panting, eyes barely open, leaning against the shower wall for support. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To my room,” I reply, lifting my arms to tie my triangle top behind my head. “To play with myself while I think about this.”
His eyes are wide open now and no longer satiated. They’re filled with desire again. He reaches for me but I manage to escape. I march back to the lounger where my bathrobe is, and he follows, not bothering with a robe or anything. “I’m not done with you, Frankie.”
“But I’m done.” I toss him one of the towels rolled up decoratively on the shelving between the loungers because if he doesn’t put something on soon, my willpower will melt like a chocolate bar left on an Arizona sidewalk in July.
He begrudgingly wraps the towel around his waist. But before I can finish tying my robe, he’s got his arms wrapped around my waist. Our bodies are touching everywhere, and his lips are by my ear. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Frankie.”
I pull away just enough to look him in his eyes, which are earnest and soft. “How else can it be?” I sound needy, like I’m begging him for something. I’m not… am I? I mean, he can’t change the reality of our situation. And I don’t even want to. Do I?
His lips dance across mine. “Come up to my room.”
