Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I curled my fingers, my nails biting into his skin as my orgasm murmured out of my belly and up my spine. As if he knew how close I was, our eyes met, and I panicked because I didn’t want it to be over so soon . . . but I didn’t think I could stop it.
He nodded as if he could see what I was thinking. I frowned but he dropped a kiss on the top lip of my open mouth. “Come,” he said.
I had no choice but to do as he said. My body convulsed as my climax ran through me like lightning through water—hot and bright and everywhere.
My grip gave way and Hayden’s hands left my hips and guided me down so I was lying on the desk. My fear about it being over was unwarranted, and I smiled as Hayden continued to fuck me on the desk, his fingers skirting my body. Absentmindedly, he flicked my hard nipples as his hands traveled over my skin. As if there was a connection right to my groin, I moaned. He leaned over me and covered my mouth with his palm as his pace increased. He knew I’d lost all control. I would do anything he asked right at that moment—fuck him on the main deck, in the galley. Whatever he wanted, wherever it pleased him.
His thrusts became sharper, harder, and with his free hand he reached between us and his thumb found my clit. I arched my back and mumbled into his palm, tightening around him.
His eyes didn’t leave my face, and because I wanted to watch him as he came, I tried to keep my lids from falling closed, overwhelmed from the sheer perfection of it all. This time, my orgasm came quickly and the force of it was unexpected, leaving my legs shaking and my body shuddering. My climax was the final straw for Hayden. His jaw tightened and his fingers left my clit and clamped over my upper arm, holding me in place as he thrust into me, once, twice.
“Avery,” he spluttered in a choked whisper as he came, our eyes locked together, our bodies pressing and joined. In answer, I threaded my fingers through his hair and smiled at him. How could I have thought I might give him up? Even if I only got to have him for a few more weeks, I had to take as much as I could get.
He curled over me, pressing his skin against mine as our heartbeats crashed against each other, the rest of our bodies still, anchored to each other. I’d give anything if we could just press pause and exist only in this room and let the rest of the world melt away.
Twenty-Six
Avery
I woke the next morning, grinning. Who did that? Not me, certainly not in the middle of a season. Like most yachties, mid-season slump normally kicked my ass. By then tips had become the norm rather than a treat. The lack of sleep took its toll and there had been enough difficult charters and spoiled guests for time to drag and tempers to fray. It was the point in the season where we woke up sobbing, not grinning. But there was nothing normal about this season. Not the length of charter, not the lack of guests and certainly not the sex. If Hayden was even a tiny percentage as good at his job as he was at fucking me, it was no wonder he was a gazillionaire. I shivered at the thought of his mouth, his cock, his dirty words. I pulled the covers off and headed to the bathroom. A cold shower was the first item on the agenda.
After fucking me as though it was his job, Hayden had promised we’d be discreet. I should have given him up, redrawn the line in the sand, but there was so little about my life that was for me that I wanted to cling to Hayden and how I felt about him for as long as I could.
I wasn’t on duty until ten this morning, but I tended to keep my hours to whatever Hayden was doing. I showered and changed. Put on some tinted moisturizer and a coat of mascara and then, wet-haired, I picked up Hayden’s satellite phone from beside my bed. He’d insisted I take it last night when I told him I’d not spoken to my father for a couple of days.
“Daddy?” I asked as my father answered the phone.
“Avery. How are you?”
I took a seat on my bed, running my free hand through my wet hair, separating the sodden strands. “I’m sorry I didn’t call last night, there was some stuff here I had to sort out. Did you hear anything from the insurers?”
Since my father’s diagnosis, I’d persuaded him to have some additional help, just to assist with getting Michael up in the mornings. We just had to get the insurer to pay for it, and given the premium increase I was paying this year, they’d better.