Page 45 of Forbidden Fruit
"I want you," I say, the words falling from my lips without hesitation. "All of you."
His answering smile is almost predatory, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. "You have me, Rebecca. You've had me from the moment I first saw you."
His mouth travels down my body, trailing hot kisses across my stomach. My breath catches as he reaches the edge of my bikini bottoms, his fingers hooking under the fabric. He looks up at me, waiting for permission, and I nod, lifting my hips slightly to help him slide them off.
The cool air makes me shiver—or maybe it's how Clive looks at me like I'm a revelation. His hands caress my thighs, gently urging them apart.
"I've dreamed about this," he confesses. "About tasting you."
My heart hammers against my ribs as he positions himself between my legs. The first touch of his tongue sends a jolt through my entire body. I gasp, fingers clutching at the sheets.
"Oh god," I whisper, unprepared for the intensity.
Clive chuckles against me, the vibration adding another layer to the sensation. "Just relax," he murmurs. "Let me make you feel good."
And he does. Oh, he does. His mouth is masterful, alternating between soft, teasing licks and more focused attention that makes my toes curl. His hands grip my thighs, keeping me open to him as I begin to squirm under his ministrations.
I've never experienced anything like this—this focused, relentless pleasure. Jack always treated this as a perfunctory step, if he bothered at all. But Clive... Clive worships me with his mouth like he has all the time in the world like my pleasure is the only thing that matters.
When he slides one finger inside me, curling it just so while his tongue continues its sweet torture, I cry out, unable to contain myself. The yacht rocks gently beneath us, the rhythm of the waves adding to the building pressure inside me.
"That's it," Clive encourages, his blue eyes watching my face as he adds a second finger. "Let go for me, Rebecca."
The use of my full name, spoken in that commanding voice while he's between my thighs, pushes me closer to the edge. My hips move of their own accord now, seeking more of the exquisite sensation he's creating.
"I can't—I'm going to—" My words dissolve into incoherent sounds as the pressure builds almost unbearable.
"Come for me," he commands, his fingers finding that perfect spot inside me while his tongue flicks rapidly against me. "Let me feel you."
The orgasm crashes over me like a wave, powerful and all-consuming. My back arches off the bed as pleasure radiates through every cell of my body. I'm vaguely aware of crying out his name, of my thighs trembling against his shoulders, of his approving groan as he feels my body pulsing around his fingers.
He doesn't stop drawing out my pleasure until I'm gasping, oversensitive, and trembling. Only then does he ease back, placing gentle kisses on my inner thighs before moving up my body. His beard is damp from me, and the sight makes me flush with embarrassment and pride.
"You're magnificent when you come," he says, voice thick with arousal as he hovers above me. "I could watch you all day."
I'm still catching my breath, my body humming with aftershocks. "That was... I've never..." I struggle to find words.
His expression shifts to something between surprise and anger. "Never?"
I shake my head, suddenly self-conscious. "Not like that. Not even close."
A flash of possessive satisfaction crosses his face. "Then we have a lot of lost time to make up for."
His kiss is deep and hungry, and I can taste myself on his lips. It's unexpectedly erotic. My hands slide down his still-wet body, tracing the contours of his chest and the ridges of his abdomen. When I reach the waistband of his swim shorts, I feel his hardness straining against the fabric.
"May I?" I ask, tugging gently at the elastic.
His eyes darken. "You don't have to?—"
"I want to," I cut him off. "I want to make you feel good too."
The reverence in his gaze as I pull his swim shorts down makes me feel powerful in a way I've never experienced before. His body is magnificent—strong and solid, bearing the marks of his years in a way that only enhances his appeal. He's much larger than I expected, and for a moment, I feel a flutter of nervousness.
"We don't have to do anything more," he says, reading my expression. "This—" he gestures between us, "—is already perfect."
The fact that he would be satisfied with just giving me pleasure makes me want him even more. I wrap my hand around him, watching his face as his breath catches.
"I want everything with you," I tell him honestly.
