Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Then back up again.
The snug denim skirt wrapped around my hips.
The bare skin of my stomach, chest, shoulders.
"Fuck," he says it again. "Come here."
This time, I follow his instruction. I slide onto the lounge chair next to him, my bare thigh against the rough fabric of his jeans.
I want to do everything to him.
I want him to do everything to me.
It's as visceral as the first time. As intimate as the last time.
Sex and trust, all mixed up together in one delicious ball of need.
He pulls me into a kiss.
I wrap my hand around his thigh. I'm not patient. I don't tease him.
I rub him over his jeans.
He groans against my lips as he brings his hand to my breast and toys with my nipple. He works me with perfect strokes, the exact rhythm, the exact pressure, but there's no patience in his movements.
He wants this too, needs this too.
I undo the button of his jeans. The zipper.
His cock springs free of his boxers.
I wrap my hand around him and run my thumb over his tip. For one brief moment, I soak in the feel of him, the feel of touching him here.
So much like our tryst at the balcony but so different too. Safer. More dangerous.
Not because we're surrounded by strangers at a sex party in Malibu. Because I trust him elsewhere. Because I want him everywhere.
And here. I really want him here.
I pump him with a steady stroke.
He pulls back with a sigh and tugs at my skirt. "Off."
"Not yet." I shift my hips, so I can do away with my bikini bottom, but I keep my skirt on. "Like you said. On the phone."
I pump him again, then I drop to my knees and wrap my lips around him.
His hand goes to my hair immediately. "You're gonna make me come."
I take him deeper.
"Fuck." His eyes flutter closed. His fingers knot in my hair.
He fights himself. His desire to win, to make me come, to come inside me. I'm not sure.
I only know I love the feel of it.
I take him deeper.
Deeper.
Until his head falls back.
Until he surrenders.
I wrap my lips around my teeth, pull back, take him again. A little harder, a little faster.
Again.
Again.
His hips buck. His palm presses against the back of my head, guiding me farther.
Again and again.
Then he pulls me back onto his lap and flips me onto my back. "Baby, you're going to pay for that."
He climbs down my body, rolls my skirt up my thighs, and brings his mouth to me.
He's not patient either. He works me with hard, fast flicks of his tongue. He tests the speed until I tug at his hair. Then the pressure.
He's there quickly, giving me exactly what I need, working me with his warm, wet tongue.
I fall back; I let my eyes close. I let my body respond to his.
Fuck, he's good at this.
Really fucking good at this.
He toys with me again and again. He winds me tighter and tighter, so tight I'm sure I'm going to break.
Then I hear the splash of the pool. I remember where we are. I blink my eyes open and I survey the scene.
The woman from the pool is finished and she's watching us.
Her partner too.
I don't look back at her. I don't shrink away. I soak in the feeling of being watched.
And I surrender.
With the next flick of his tongue, I come, pulsing against his lips, groaning his name, tugging at the soft fabric of the lounge chair.
He works me through my orgasm, then he releases me, works his way up my body, brings his lips to my neck.
"Fuck me," I breathe.
"No," he copies my words. "Not yet." He brings our bodies closer, so he's almost against me—
But he's not.
He toys with my breasts as he sucks on my neck, moving closer and closer.
Until his tip brushes my sex.
One perfect, moment then he pulls back.
Again and again.
Until I'm aching and dizzy.
Then again and again.
"Please," I breathe. "Please."
He responds by teasing me again and again.
Until it's too much to take.
I shift to my side and push him to his. It's awkward, changing positions on the tiny chair, but there's something right about that.
Like I'll go into free fall if I move off the cushion. If I let go.
Or maybe I'm already in free fall.
I push Patrick onto his back, I shift on top of him, and I ride him again and again.
I come fast, pulsing around him, pulling him closer and deeper, pulling him over the edge with me.
He groans my name as he comes.
I work through his orgasm, soaking in every sweet moment. The bliss coursing through my veins, the sheer satisfaction of him pulsing inside me, the people around us, close enough to watch.
I'm out of my fucking mind.
And I love every second of it.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
PATRICK
Imogen collapses on the lounger, sweaty and sticky and spent. When she comes to, I help her into her clothes, onto her feet, back into the world around us.