“Yes, baby?”
Her smile turns just a touch wicked. “I’m cashing in that foot massage tonight, by the way.”
Ten simple words, and my mind instantly goes somewhere far less innocent.
I let out a low chuckle, my hand sliding a little lower on her back. “Is that so?”
“Mmm.” She nods, biting her lip to hide her grin. “Right now, actually. As beautiful as these heels are, they hurt like hell. Beauty is pain, though, right?”
I glance down at her feet and smile. “Come on then, baby. Let’s go get your feet up.”
She laughs softly and places her hand into mine, our fingers lacing together. She starts pulling me away from the firelight and the group's noise, her feet kicking up little puffs of sand as she bounces down the beach.
I follow willingly, my thumb brushing her knuckles the whole way, already imagining how her skin will feel under my palms.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sienna
I flop dramaticallyonto the couch the second we step into the villa, stretching my legs with a theatrical sigh. The heels catch the moonlight, sparkling as I wiggle my toes toward Milo.
“Foot massage,” I announce, giving him my best pleading pout. “I’ve been thinking about your hands on me all night.”
Milo locks the deck door with a soft click, then turns toward me with that slow, devastating smile that always makes my stomach flip. His white button-down is open at the collar, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled by the breeze. He looks fucking edible.
He crosses the room without a word and drops to his knees in front of the couch, right between my legs. My breath catches at the sight of him there. Then his hand wraps gently around my right foot. Instead of rushing, he takes his time, his fingers tracing the delicate ankle strap with reverence.
Slowly, almost worshipfully, he unbuckles the strap, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of my ankle. He slides the heel off inch by inch, like he’s savoring every second, then presses both thumbs firmly into my arch.
“Oh my God,” I moan, my head falling back against the cushions. The pressure is perfect—deep and heavenly. “That feels so fucking good. I didn’t realize how sore I was.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest as he continues massaging me in slow, deliberate circles. Each press of his thumbs sends sparks racing up my legs and to my core. I’m already wet just from the way he’s looking at me.
His hands glide higher, palms smoothing up my calves, pushing the hem of my dress higher on my thighs. His thumb strokes the sensitive skin behind my knees, and I shiver hard, a soft whimper escaping the back of my throat.
“These legs have been driving me crazy all night,” he murmurs, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of my knee. “The way this dress kept riding up as you danced… the way you looked at me like you wanted to devour me. I’ve been so fucking hard since we left the villa earlier, Sienna.”
Heat floods my face. I bite my lower lip, my hips twitching restlessly. “Then do something about it already.”
His smile turns wicked. “I promised I’d take my time with you tonight, and I keep my promises.” He leans in, kissing higher up my thigh, then higher still. “I’m not rushing this, baby.”
He hooks a finger into my thong and slowly peels it down my legs, tossing it aside. I’m completely bare now, glistening and aching under his gaze. He spreads my thighs wider, settling deeper between them on his knees. His hot breath ghosts over my soaked folds, and I shudder.
“Look at you,” he whispers, almost reverent. “Already dripping for me. So fucking beautiful.”
Before I can even draw my next breath, his mouth is on me.
The first slow lick from my entrance all the way up to my clit makes me cry out, my back arching off the couch. Milo hums in approval, the vibration shooting straight through me. Histongue circles lazily, then flicks fast and firm before he sucks my swollen clit into his mouth with devastating pressure.
“Fuck… Milo?—”
Two thick fingers slide inside me without warning, curling hard against my G-spot. I moan loudly as my fingers curl tightly into his hair, as white-hot pleasure sparks through me.
Milo sets a filthy rhythm—tongue working my clit in slow, firm circles while his fingers thrust deep and steady, curling on every stroke. Every time I get close, right on the edge, he slows down or pulls back just enough to leave me gasping and desperate.
“Not yet,” he growls against my pussy, his voice muffled. “I want you begging like a good girl before I let you come.”
I whine, my hips rocking frantically against his face. “Please, Milo… I’m so close—don’t stop. I need it.”
