Sliding one arm under her ass and hefting her over the couch, I get her against my body, her legs wrapping around my waist, her sweet lips never leaving mine. She smells like vanilla and tastes like summer candy, like strawberries, like running through grass and letting sticky drips from popsicles run down your wrists.
“Lucy,” I murmur, as I carry her to my bed. “What should our lesson include tonight?”
Gasping as I tug on her zipper, loosening her dress away from her chest, Lucy says, “Anything you want.”
Dangerous answer. It goes straight to my cock.
Instead of setting her on the bed, I turn and sit at the edge with her in my lap, my hands roaming up and down her back. I take my time kissing her, dropping my mouth to her chest, the dress gaping away from her skin. Under, she’s wearing no bra, and I tug the fabric down so I can get my mouth on her nipple.
Lucy arches back, a low sound escaping from her throat, her hips grinding into mine with the movement.
Instantly, I know what this “lesson” will be.
“Lift up,” I coax, and she does what I say, so I can slide her lacy panties down one leg, then the other. Just to test, I slide a finger into her folds, finding her plenty ready for me. “Oh, fuck, sugar. You’re so wet.”
“From you,” she whispers, and now she’s dropping her lips to my skin, peppering kisses along my neck and biting my earlobe. Stunned speechless for a moment, I have to swallow down the urgency coursing through my body—there’s plenty of time.
It gets more difficult as she begins to move her hips, her voice low and needy in my ear. “It’s from you, Nico. Looking at me from across the boat, then when you kissed me,” she grinds down,hard, gasping, “That you knew about Dane. Pushing?—”
Briefly, the image of my best friend with his cock in this woman flashes to mind. Dane, controlling and exacting, tellingher precisely what he wants her to do for him. Demanding. My cock jumps, and my hands tighten on her as I imagine him pumping into her.
What did it look like—did he bend her over a chair in the cabin? Fuck her in the bathroom, or with a view out of the plane? Lewdly, I picture her perfect tits pressed to the glass, her pretty blonde hair cascading down her back as his hands tighten on her hips.
Fuck.
“Come here,” I say to her, because I need something to do with the arousal from the image. Something other than examining what, exactly, it means that it’s in my head in the first place.
I strip her dress off over her head, then take a moment to marvel at her—so much bared to me, the gentle curve of her shoulder, her tight belly, the damp spot she’s leaving on my suit pants. Her nipples, pert and wet from my mouth, her hair curled perfectly, so different from usual.
It’s my only regret. I almost wish we hadn’t played dress-up. That I could have her looking the way she did the first time I saw her in the office, instead. More herself, even if she was in an outfit that Dane bought for her.
I’m not thinking about my own clothes, but Lucy tugs at my pants, clearly wanting a little more equity in our nakedness, so I lift my hips—pressing into her so she gasps again—and slide them off.
I took my suit jacket off when we got down here, but Lucy makes quick work of the buttons on my shirt before pushing it up and off over my shoulders. When I rise up to pull it out from under me, her gaze trails down to my naked chest.
A strange feeling moves through my body. Typically, when a woman admires the body that I work so hard on, I feel good. Arrogant, almost.
But now, with her eyes on me, it feels different. Like my body is something for her to take. Something for her to have. None of the other women before have mattered—what matters is thatsheenjoys the view. Lucy, specifically. Only.
Attempting to ignore this thought, I finish undressing, without ever fully losing contact with her.
My boxers stay on. I’m not giving myself that opportunity yet. There’s something else I want to do more. “Come here,” I say again, moving up the bed, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under my head.
“Where?” she asks, breathless, eyes wide and wild. I let out a low chuckle—she really wasn’t lying about being inexperienced.
Hands settling on her hips, I pull her up, over my stomach, then to my chest. As she shifts on her knees, she looks down at me with alarm.
“Nico—” she laughs shakily, falling forward slightly, her hand flying out to grip the headboard for stability. “What are you?—”
“I want you to ride my face, Lucy,” I growl, licking the inside of her thigh, still tugging her hips. If she sat down now, it would be on my neck. Not quite there. “Come here, I want to taste you.”
I can feel her legs shaking with excitement. “I’m not sure if—I mean, Nico, I don’t?—”
I lift my head up and drag my tongue from her entrance to her clit, getting a good taste of her. It makes me feel primal. Possessive.
And it surprises her into settling down over me, a gasping moan darting out of her as she gives me everything I want. My hands fly to her legs, that sweet spot where thigh meets hip, and I hold on there, drawing her down, applying more pressure.
Lucy cries out when I swipe over her clit, and starts to move, riding me just like I asked. I hum against her, loving the pressure, loving the feeling of being used.
