Caymen’s fingers moved downward, sliding inside me. My moan was muffled by his lips.
We stayed just like that for a few moments, his fingers slowly thrusting, his lips on mine.
It was my own frustration at the position that had me turning, sliding my legs over his, wrapping my arms around his neck, and taking his lips again.
“No,” he mumbled against my mouth as I tried to shift up, to slide against his hardness. “Your ankle,” he reminded me as he bent forward toward me.
I leaned back as he came over me, feeling the comforting weight of him against me, then the press of his cock as he slotted himself between my thighs.
His lips took mine again. But this time harder, hungrier, more demanding.
With sore feet and a bad ankle, I had no choice but to leave my thighs flat on the sun pad, leaving me fully at the mercy of Caymen.
And he was not in a hurry, even as I whimpered, moaned, begged.
My hands moved down his back, pushing at his waistband but getting nowhere.
“Please,” I begged, reaching between us to palm him through his shorts.
Only then did his lips break from mine on a groan. He watched me as I worked him for a moment before pushing back onto his knees.
Gaze locked on me, he pushed down his shorts and reached to fist his cock, stroking lazily.
Seeing him kneeling on the pool deck, the blue water all around, the morning sun kissing his skin golden as he moved his hand up and down his length might have been the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life.
My own hand slid down, going between my thighs, and circling my clit to ease the clawing ache inside.
Caymen’s gaze watched for a moment before it slid up toward my chest. Then he was reaching out with his free hand, pushing the cups of my bikini out of his way. Closing a hand around one of the swells had me arching into the sensation, a ragged cry on my lips.
Caymen drew in a breath, his chest shaking, as his hand squeezed, as his fingers circled, rolled, pinched, pulled, until the sounds escaping me were nearly pained.
“Caymen, please.”
“No, baby. Make yourself come for me first.”
“No, I want you,” I whimpered, shameless with my need.
His hand drifted down my belly to press against my fingers, guiding my movements until the orgasm I’d been teetering on the edge of ripped through me, making me cry out.
His hand moved away, and I was vaguely aware of him sliding on the protection before he came over me, his cock sliding inside me—inch by delicious inch.
By the time he was settled deep, I almost felt on the edge again.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his lips on my ear as he started to thrust—slow and deep.
It was all touch and sighs and bodies moving in sync. Everything slow and intimate, a complete difference from how things had been before—a new layer of him I hadn’t seen or felt before.
My good leg wrapped around him, my arms holding him close as if he had any intention of moving away as the sun warmed our skin, as our bodies climbed closer to the edge.
“Just like that, baby,” he murmured. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”
Just like that, I did.
As did he.
We were left boneless and shaky in the aftermath, his weight pressing mine into the deck, but I held him tight, not ready to let go.
Almost as if some part of me knew things were going to go sideways sooner rather than later.
