As cold as it is, the water temperature just isn’t up to dealing with my response. I’d need to chuck half-a-dozen bags of party ice in here for that to be the case.
Her proximity leaving me breathless, I also kick for the surface, banging into her. Sheesh, her nipples are every bit as hard as I’d hoped, and there’s nothing I can do to stop from licking my lips. It’s a movement she apes, and that has my cock leaping, desperate for some action.
“Ms Jackson, I’m so sorry.” I do my best to put some distance between us without my hands being all over her. “Please accept my apologies…” My thoughts distracted by her silk-clad breasts just below the surface. I can’t manage anything further.
Instead, I haul myself out of the pool and grab my boxers, covering my arousal as best I can.
She looks disappointed, and I’m at a loss about what to do. I can’t very well leave her out here on her own, and I need to get dressed. In the end, I turn my back on her and do just that, being as efficient as possible. It’s difficult with my body still damp from the plunge pool.
Damp like she is?
This has me gritting my teeth as I struggle to button up my shirt. I’m making a hash of my tie when I hear splashing coming from behind me.
“A little help here?”
Damn it, I forgot the pool doesn’t have a ladder. It had when I first discovered the place, but it’d been so badly rotted that I ripped it out.
Not bothering with my shoes and socks, I turn and help her. This has any residual effects of the chilly water wiped out in a flash; a flash of sun-kissed skin against jet-black silk.
Despite my best intentions, I pull her tight against me and my lips lower to hers. And damned if she doesn’t taste every bit as good as I’ve imagined since that copy of Sports Fan Magazine first landed on my desk.
Soon enough, she’s cradled in my arms and I’m working my way between the curtains and into the villa. I don’t stop there, walking straight through to the bedroom and laying her still-damp form in the middle of the enormous bed.
A quick scan of her body and I’m smiling broadly. Thanks to all those slits and cut-outs, I won’t even need to remove her lingerie to have her screaming my name.
FIVE
PHOEBE
When modeling the sheer lingerie only yesterday, I never could have imaged I’d be in my current state. Wyatt, or rather his tongue, is making use of the slits in my bra. My nipples pebbled and doing their best to escape.
He’s teasing my curls through the slit in the front of the matching panties, when I hear a now-familiar crackle. On Wyatt taking his lips away from my nipple, I know he’s heard it, too.
Nooooooooooo!!!!!!
While I don’t voice my disappointment, it rings loud in my head. I’ve never wanted something—make that someone—this much in my life. Wyatt has me feeling safe for the first time in months.
Could this be why I feel safe enough to let my guard down sexually, to give myself over to him, to allow the pleasure to consume my body?
With him around, nothing bad can happen, unless he’s the one doing the bad things. I’m not even naked and he’s got me closer to coming than I have been in years.
His heavy sigh says it all, although he still puts his regret into words.
“I’m sorry. I’ll have to take that. It’ll be important.”
What he doesn’t say is that it might be news about Ralph. After my panicked call earlier, Wyatt has had people searching the grounds. They might even have caught up with him.
As I watch Wyatt straighten and leave the room, I’m torn. Do I stay spread out on the bed like this, or get up and get dressed? It’s then I remember how much action this bed has seen, and I’m on my feet in seconds.
As consumed as I am by this, I don’t give attention to Wyatt’s side of the radio conversation.
I’m more interested in having a quick shower while he’s still around to stand watch. Hmmmm, I really wouldn’t mind him watching me. Nope, not at all.
Who are you, and what have you done with Phoebe Jackson?
My little voice has a point. Other than when I’m on a shoot, I don’t flash myself around. I’m only confident in front of the camera. Other than that, I might as well be fifteen and without a date for the prom.
I’ve not moved when Wyatt returns. He doesn’t need to say anything, his expression telling me Ralph is still on the loose.
