Max’s smile pressed against her mouth. “I’m sure it is.”
“You’ve never tried?”
He shook his head a little. “I’d think it could get...sandy.”
“We could stand up. Over by the palm trees.” She pulled back a little and nodded to where the beach met the lush green of the island. “I’ll hold on to a tree, and you can fuck me from behind.”
His cock throbbed against her, and he groaned. Yes, that definitely turned him on, but he shook his head again. “No, I’d rather try it on the beach. It’s more...” Max, who never hesitated, seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Finally, he said, “I think it’ll be good like this.”
Probably true, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t what he’d wanted to say at first. She could think about that later. Instead, Natasha climbed off him and stood up, brushing the sand from her hands.
“We can sit on my dress,” she said, standing in front of him.
He was staring up at her, his gaze hot. “I love that idea, especially if it involves you stripping for me.”
She waved the comment away. “You’ve already seen that.”
“Watching you undress could never get old,” he said softly. It was the kind of comment he usually pulled off with a cheeky grin, but this time, his eyes were serious.
She stilled, digesting his words, reading into them before she could catch herself. But he didn’t mean anything by it beyond attraction, so why did her chest squeeze at that admission? No, she would not ruin this night by searching for meanings that weren’t there.
Max propped himself back on his arms and stretched out his legs, then crossed them at the ankles. The last glow of the evening bathed a hint of light on his face. Natasha grabbed the hem of her dress and slid it up her thighs, over her hips and up her stomach, brushing her hands over her skin as she lifted. Max didn’t move. Next, she freed her breasts as she pulled the dress over her head, leaving her naked, except for her panties.
Max’s mouth was parted, and his gaze was fixed on her chest. “This whole night you weren’t wearing a bra?” His voice came out a little choked.
She smiled. “The dress has built-in support.”
“One more reason I love it.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “What’s the other reason? That it’s easy to take off?”
Max chuckled. “That’s another good reason.” His smile faded. “I was just thinking it looks beautiful on you. You’re beautiful, Natasha.”
She had never felt so naked in her life. Natasha swallowed a lump in her throat. “Thank you.”
The warm breeze caressed her skin as she turned for the ocean to shake the sand off her dress. Then she laid it carefully on the beach, the skirt spread to give them some room.
“You sit first,” she said. “I’ll straddle you. Then we can avoid sand in uncomfortable parts.”
Who was this new version of her, planning and directing sexy situations with a guy? But it wasn’t just any guy. It was Max, and after this afternoon together, everything felt so easy, so comfortable.
He stood up, brushing the sand off his hands. His cock jutted out impatiently as he unbuttoned his shirt and lowered his shorts. Then he put his hand out.
“Your panties?” Amusement danced in his eyes, and he added, “For a sand-free experience.”
“Good idea.”
She turned around, her back to him, and winked over her shoulder. Then she scooted out of her panties, sticking out her ass for a little extra fun. She dangled them from her finger, and he shoved them into the pocket of his shorts, his eyes still on her ass. Then he pulled out a condom and tore off the wrapper.
“I’ll put that on for you,” she said, taking it out of his hand. Their fingers brushed, sending a buzz of excitement through her.
Natasha crouched in front of him, his cock bobbing eagerly, so close to her mouth. So many possibilities, but she was determined to stick to her first plan. When her hands touched his skin, a little shudder ran through his body.
Max let out a tight laugh. “I’m so fucking turned on right now, you’d think I hadn’t gotten action just a few hours ago. I can’t believe how much I want you right now.”
Her movements slowed, but she said nothing. She wanted him badly, too, probably more than she should. So she narrowed her focus to what was in front of her, running her fingers down his length, testing his girth, playing with his tip.
“Put it on, Natasha,” he said, his voice darker. “I want to be inside you.”
