Page 125 of The Strength Of A Woman

Resting my elbows on the concrete, I tilt my head to the side and watch him walk to me.

Italian shoes, sharp pants, sleek waistcoat, open neckline, a white shirt, sleeves rolled up.

Dark tattoos on his bronzed arms.

Blindingly gray eyes.

Shiny dark hair.

He is the epitome of hot sex as he looks at me with that prowling leopard hunger in his eyes.

“You like to live dangerously, don’t you?” he asks, with humor, his lips curled into a teasing smile.

I feel the effect of those lips even now.

They left me yearning for more last night.

They gave me a wet dream this morning when I woke up, clenching my thighs, and crumpling the sheet on his side of the bed with a tense hand.

What we did last night has changed my life and the way I see this world.

This can be fun, so much fun.

But with him, it can also be transformational.

I feel tied to him in ways I can’t even describe.

It’s like his blood runs through my veins. Like his fire licks at my heart.

I can’t stop thinking about him.

Not even when I’m asleep.

All I dreamed about was him being inside me. My dreams were so real that I thought he’d fucked me this morning while I was asleep.

He probably didn’t. I would’ve known.

I’m still in pain.

My body still hurts from last night. Not from his lips. Or his hands.

My pussy mostly does from the pounding he has given me. And yet, that doesn’t stop it from pulsing softly as I look at him.

He picks up a big towel from a nearby lounging area and flicks it open while I laugh and swim away from him.

“You want me to get into the pool with you today?”

“Uh-huh,” I say, laughing.

“Won’t happen today. I’ve got stuff to do. Maybe tonight.”

I laugh to myself.

He wants to make sure no one can see us.

“Sure,” I say to him.

He smirks at me, as I’m misbehaving, fully aware I’ll be in a lot of trouble soon.