Our kiss turned urgent as he ground my sex onto his swollen cock. My insides clenched, and I couldn’t contain the whimpers bubbling in my throat.
I reached between us, my fingers brushing against his hard length pressing insistently against me. Slowly, I slid my hand down the front of his shorts, wrapping it around his engorged length.
He froze for a moment, a low, sharp intake of breath escaping his lips, and I felt a thrill at the way my touch affected him.
I began to stroke him slowly, savoring the heat and impossible weight. Every flex of his muscles, every shiver that ran through him, sent a thrill straight through me. He let out a soft groan, his eyes locking on mine with an intensity that made my pulse race.
The water swirled around us, but I could feel nothing except raw electricity and the urgent, aching response I was drawing out of him.
“I’m on birth control,” I breathed against his lips.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warned, smiling darkly. “I said tonight and not a moment sooner.”
The man had the will of steel, yet after learning more about him, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
I pulled his length back and forth and his eyes closed in bliss.
“That’s fine,” I murmured, pumping him hard. “But it’s good to discuss protection ahead of time.”
His eyes flickered with arousal.
“I’m clean,” he growled, his hand wrapping around mine, working in tandem.
“Date of your last test results?”
We got into a rhythm; I pulled, he pumped.
“Two weeks ago.”
Our lips locked, and we kissed like two starving people. His breathing turned ragged, his eyes closed as he kept pumping. I reached down with my other hand to cup his balls, tightening my grip on his cock. He shuddered with a moan and I continued to stroke him hard under the water.
His eyes flickered open and I put my mouth to his ear. “You gave me two orgasms, I gave you one. I believe in equal standing.”
He grabbed my hair at the nape and dragged my face to his. “That’s not how this works. I?—”
I pumped him harder, and he tipped his head back as he lost control and jerked forward, coming on a harsh exhale. His Adam’s apple bobbed as I emptied him, his breathing labored.
He kissed me tenderly, his lips lingering with a softness that made my chest tighten. Then, he pressed his forehead against mine, grounding us in this moment.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Sophie,” he panted, his voice rough with both awe and something darker.
I could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the rapid rise and fall of his chest against mine, and the unspoken weight of everything that had built between us crashing down.
I held him close as my hands wandered over his back with a tenderness that mirrored the ripple of waves around us. His breath hitched again, but the tension melted from him with each soft kiss I pressed along his neck, leaving him grounded and relaxed against me.
He scooped me up into his arms, declaring, “I don’t deserve you, but I’m going to keep you.”
His touch was gentle, and I smiled against his lips as I brushed the hair back from his forehead.
“You better,” I teased. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
Two hours later, we were back in the manor.
Steam still clung to my skin when I got dressed, my nerves humming with anticipation. Dinner was set on the terrace, the sight familiar: candlelight shivering in the night breeze and moonlight shining across the sea.
Kian sat across from me as our conversation skimmed the surface of pleasant and polite, but beneath it, anticipation ran taut with every glance and every pause.
When the plates were cleared, I held my breath. Upstairs, a door—and his bed—waited, promising a night to remember.
