I flick my tongue along the tip of him, slow and light, and the effect is immediate—his head tips back with a guttural sound, hips jerking forward like he can’t help himself. The taste of him, salt and skin, floods my mouth and makes my pulse jump.
I take him deeper, lips sliding over him, and savor the shudder that runs through his body. I don’t rush—drawing him in, swirling my tongue, letting the pleasure build for both of us.
My palms push up under his shirt, greedy for the heat beneath, the rolling muscle.
His hands find the back of my head, fingers tangled hard at the roots as he holds me there. Every moan he tries to bite back vibrates through me, turning me molten and reckless.
He’s trembling by the time I pause, breathing ragged and eyes blown so wide they’re all pupil. I smile up at him, mouth slick, and stroke him once, squeezing at the base.
“Alright, baby. My turn.”
Rafe grabs me beneath my arms, lifts me as if I weigh nothing, and hauls me upright. My breath is still catching up, confusion and lust tangling together, when he spins me. The world blurs: sunlight sparking off the ocean, my hair twisting in the wind, the cliff’s edge and the blue of the sky slammingtogether. Then the warm pressure of his hands on my hips, the sudden rush of air as he flips my sundress up, baring me to sky and sea.
He places a palm in the middle of my back. “Bend over, baby.”
My knees feel weak as I stare at the road, bracing my forearms on the seat of his bike. Anyone could drive by at any second.
Lust drips down my thighs, and I shift from foot to foot.
“So eager, hm?” his breath skates down the back of my legs as he kneels behind me.
Before I can respond, he pulls my thong to the side and his mouth is on me. He’s relentless, tongue and teeth and possessive hands spreading me wider, holding my ass so I can’t squirm away.
“Jesus Christ.” It’s ripped from me.
He moans into me, like he’s the one being devoured, and the vibration travels up my spine and detonates somewhere behind my eyes.
“Rafe—fuck—” I try to say his name, but it comes out as a gasp, half-whine, half-laugh.
My whole body goes taut, head falling back with a helpless cry as he circles my clit until my legs threaten to collapse. His hands are everywhere at once: one braced around my thigh, the other palming my ass, anchoring me to his mouth, refusing to let me fall even as he’s tearing me apart.
I want to say something—thank him, curse him, beg him to stop or never stop—but all I can do is hold onto his bike. He hums into me, his tongue flattening and flicking until the world narrows to his mouth, his hands, the sound of my own heartbeat.
“Oh, fuck, I—I’m going to?—”
I come so hard I nearly black out. Stars burst behind my eyelids, every muscle seizes, and I realize too late I’m diggingmy nails into his seat. I ride it out, shaking and guttural, and then collapse forward, breath shuddering out of me in a helpless laugh.
He lets me catch my breath, but only just. Then he’s spinning me again, pressing my ass against his bike. His mouth finds mine, tongue deep and claiming.
He pulls back, tangling his fingers in my hair as he looks at me.
“I hope you’re not done yet.”
He takes my lip between his teeth, pulling gently. “Not even close.” He pulls away and nods toward the bike. “My place isn’t far.”
Part of me is already rewriting it—cataloguing it as reckless, stupid, the kind of thing that leaves marks you can’t explain. The other part is still on my knees in the gravel, not wanting to be anywhere else in the world.
He gets on his bike, holding out a hand to help me on behind him. I slip my hand in his, and instead of getting on the back, I swing onto the front, right in his lap.
He arches a brow. “What are you doing, baby?”
Nerves tap dance along my spine, but I’m just drunk enough on lust to go for it.
“I was thinking…” I reach between us and wrap my hand around his dick. He’s still so fucking hard, it makes my breath snag. I stroke him once, twice, watching his jaw tighten before I drag my gaze up to his.
“Will you try something with me?”
“Baby, your hand is on my dick,” he drawls, his hands flexing on my hips.
