Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“You don’t deserve to know,” I whisper this time.
Joey seems to get the hint and stands. “What are we doing today?” His change of attitude surprises me, and his eerily calmness shocks me even more.
I’m not sure how to answer him. Do I avoid and say nothing or change as fast as he just did, so I decide on the safer option. “I want to try jet skiing.”
“Done. Get changed.” He grabs the empty plate and walks out.
Not bothering to close the door, I change into my bathing suit. He’s seen it all anyway. When I turn around to reach for my swim top, his eyes are on me. He doesn’t look away, nor does he seem to care that I just caught him staring. I reach for the strap and tie it around my neck, ever so slowly. Now is the time to let things go just as easily as he did for me.
I bite the inside of my cheek before I speak, “Can you help me?” I ask, turning around and pointing to the ties at the back of my swimsuit. I glance over my shoulder and see him walking toward me. His fingers brush my back, tickling, as he grabs each tie. His touch drags along my flesh and goosebumps take over my skin. He is slow, deliberate, and his breath wafts along my neck as he goes, making me shiver. I know if I glanced back at him, his face would be close to mine.
“Done?” I ask as I feel him tighten the ties.
His fingers stay on my back as he says, “Done.”
He doesn’t move, so I take the first step away. Though I’m not sure I want to.
“Have you been jet skiing before?” I ask, trying to break the tension between us.
He rolls his shoulders ever so slightly. “Yes. We should go.” His hand grips mine and he slides our fingers together. The gesture is so normal, so gentle, that I find myself momentarily distracted before I find my voice again.
“I haven’t been on one before. Can I ride with you?”
“Yes.”
It doesn’t take us long to get there. Joey takes us out onto the ocean, my arms wrapping around his waist as goes. I’m gripping on for dear life with how fast he’s going, afraid at every bump I may very well fly off the back. We ride for what feels like forever and then he suddenly stops. My hands are sore from gripping onto him so tightly.
He turns around, but I can’t see his eyes with his sunglasses covering them. “Your turn.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No way, I’ll kill us.”
“Ha.” I give him a skeptical look, and he shakes his head, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You won’t. Climb over me and sit between my legs.” I stand on legs that feel like Jell-O and do just that, climb over him until his hands are on my sides, guiding me as he pulls me back down. I feel him behind me—all of him—as he slides forward to reach for the handles and starts explaining what to do. I’m so lost and confused because all my attention is focused on the feel of him. Everywhere.
“You want to go fast because the slower you go, the more you feel the waves.”
“No, I want to go slow,” I affirm, shaking my head.
“Trust me. It’s smoother going faster.” I place my hands on the handlebars and his cover mine. “I’ve got you,” he promises as the engine starts. Then we’re off, and he doesn’t let go until I give him a nod. When he releases the handlebars, his hands come to my waist, gripping it before one hand slides around and hugs me to him. His fingers play with my skin, and it’s so distracting that I start to slow down.
“Speed up,” he instructs, and his fingers move lower. “Faster,” he growls, and I turn the throttle a little bit more.
My hair, which was tied back, is whipping into my face as his hand drops to my bikini bottoms. I feel his fingers dip inside, then trail down until he reaches my clit, and my body jolts from the contact. His finger slides between my folds, and he applies the perfect amount of pressure to make a moan escape my lips. It’s not loud enough to hear over the engine, but he can probably feel the sound with how close he’s settled against me. I open my legs wider, which is silly considering I’m straddling the seat, basically giving him permission, I suppose.
His other hand glides up my body, pulling my breast free and squeezing the nipple between his fingers, the other is still circling my clit. I start rocking ever so slightly, the jet ski slowing as I do.
“Faster,” he says into the skin on my neck, and I almost don’t hear him, but he pinches my clit with his fingers. “Faster.”