Page 68 of The Summer We Lie

"Then do it," she breathes back, her eyes darkening with the same hunger that's consuming me.

I close the distance between us, capturing her mouth with mine. The first contact is like lightning—sharp, hot, consuming. Her lips are impossibly soft, slightly cool from the ocean water, and they part for me with a small sigh that I swallow hungrily. I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue against hers, tasting the salt of the sea and something sweeter, something uniquely Skye. My hand moves from her chin to cup the back of her neck, fingers threading through her damp hair as I angle her head to give me better access. She responds with unexpected passion, pressing herself closer, her fingers curling into my chest. The kiss transforms from exploration to possession, and I growl low in my throat, pinning her more firmly against the refrigerator door with my body, letting her feel exactly what she does to me.

We freeze at the sound of the back door opening. I grab Skye's wrist and pull her with me across the kitchen, moving with silent urgency. The pantry door swings open and I guide her inside, closing it behind us with a soft click that sounds impossibly loud to my straining ears.

Complete darkness envelops us. The small space feels even smaller as I press my back against the door, keeping Skye in front of me. Our breathing seems thunderous in the confined space, and I place a steadying hand on her shoulder, feeling her pulse racing beneath my fingertips. The warmth of her body radiates through the damp swimwear, making the tight quarters even more intimate, more dangerous.

I listen intently, tracking the sounds from the kitchen—footsteps crossing the tile floor, the clink of glass against the counter. Someone's rummaging through drawers, muttering something unintelligible. My muscles remain tense, ready to react if needed, though what explanation I could possibly give for being locked in a pantry with a college girl, I have no idea. The absurdity of the situation hits me—a successful architect in his thirties hiding like a teenager—but the thought evaporates when Skye shifts slightly against me.

When the kitchen falls silent for several long moments, I lean forward until my lips brush against the shell of Skye's ear, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her damp hair.

"I don't want just one time with you," I whisper, the admission slipping out before I can stop it, surprising even myself with its raw honesty.

She responds by pressing back against me, the curve of her ass fitting perfectly against my hardness. The friction nearly undoes me, even through the layers of our swimwear. My hands slide around her waist, one climbing upward to cup her breast through the damp fabric while the other drifts lower, fingers slipping beneath the elastic of her bikini bottoms, exploring the soft skin there.

Skye tilts her head back against my shoulder as my hand moves lower, finding the slick heat between her thighs. When I part her lips, I'm met with incredible wetness that has nothing to do with the ocean. A groan catches in my throat as I explore her silky warmth, but when my fingers reach her clit, I freeze, feeling something unexpected.

"Skye," I breathe against her neck, barely audible, disbelief coursing through me.

"Hmm?" The questioning sound vibrates through her body and against my chest.

"Is that a piercing?" I ask, my voice husky with discovery as I continue to massage her clit, feeling the unfamiliar metal beneath my fingertips. The small barbell moves slightly with my touch, adding a new dimension to the sensation.

"Yes," she whispers back, her voice carrying a nervous edge that makes my cock throb painfully against the confines of my shorts. There's something about her uncertainty, the vulnerability in her admission, that drives me wild.

"Fuck, I can't wait to see it," I growl, unable to contain myself any longer. I spin her around in one fluid motion, pressing her back against the pantry shelves. My mouth crashes down on hers in the darkness, hungry and demanding. My hand slides back into her bottoms without hesitation, fingers finding that small metal barbell again. I circle it gently, testing its weight and position, utterly fascinated by this secret part of her that no one else gets to see or touch. This hidden rebellion on her innocent body is driving me insane with desire.

Skye gasps sharply against my lips, her entire body jerking in response to my touch. She's far more sensitive than I anticipated, the piercing clearly amplifying every sensation. I experiment methodically—varying pressure, speed, and direction—learning what makes her breath hitch and her thighs tremble. Each tiny reaction is mentally cataloged and stored away for future reference. I've always been detail-oriented, and right now, Skye's pleasure is my most important project.

"Have you ever been fingered before?" I ask, my voice rough with barely contained desire, needing to know how far she's gone with others.

"No," she whispers, the confession sending another jolt of pure lust through my system. "But I want you to. I want to feel you inside of me." Her words slide across my lips, our mouths hovering just centimeters apart, sharing the same heated breath.

"God, you're fucking perfect," I tell her, meaning every word as I slowly begin sliding one finger inside her. The tight, slick heat that envelops me is almost too much to bear. She's so wet and unbelievably tight, a strangled moan escaping her when my finger slides most of the way in. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” She whispers.

"Do you like it?" I need to hear her say it, need the verbal confirmation that she wants this as much as I do.

"Mmm, yes," she moans, the sound reverberating through the confined space of the dark pantry, sending vibrations straight to my core.

"Good, because I'm going to add another finger," I inform her before bringing my lips back down to claim hers. I kiss her deeply while slowly withdrawing my finger almost entirely before pressing back in with two. She tears her lips from mine, hissing sharply when my fingers are almost fully seated. Her nails dig crescents into the skin of my shoulder, the slight pain only heightening my arousal.

"Just a little more," I coax, feeling her body's resistance. "You're such a good girl for me."

I feel her body instantly relax at my words—she likes being my good girl. The knowledge burns through me, another piece of information about what makes Skye tick. I slide my fingers in deeper and curl them expertly, searching for that perfect spot while simultaneously working her clit with my thumb, the metal barbell adding a fascinating dimension to her pleasure.

"God, you're so fucking tight," I murmur against her mouth, feeling her inner walls grip my fingers like a vice. "So wet for me."

Her hips begin to roll instinctively against my hand, seeking more friction, more depth, more everything. Her inner walls clench rhythmically around my fingers as I increase the pace, feeling her body respond naturally to my touch as though we've been doing this dance for years instead of minutes. "Please," she whispers, the word barely audible, her breath hot against my ear. "Don't stop."

"That's it, baby," I encourage, sensing she's climbing closer to the edge. My own arousal is almost painfully hard against my swim shorts, but I push my needs aside, focusing entirely on her pleasure.

The sudden pad of feet walking into the kitchen makes us both freeze instantly. "Not here," a voice says that's unmistakably Wren's with her distinctive Southern accent. "Someone might come in."

A deep male chuckle follows—I can't quite identify whose it is—along with the sound of something—or someone—bumping against a kitchen counter. Without thinking, I quickly cover Skye's mouth with my free hand. But rather than stopping my ministrations, I intensify them, working her faster, harder, the danger of discovery only heightening my determination to make her come right here, right now.

I feel her moan desperately against my palm as her body begins to tremble uncontrollably. She's coming undone, her climax crashing through her while Wren and someone—Reed, hopefully?—move around just feet away on the other side of the thin pantry door. The danger of discovery seems to intensify everything, and I feel her inner muscles contract powerfully around my fingers as she comes, her body shuddering against mine in waves of pleasure.