A warm hand lands on my cheek, no doubt having read the shock on my face. “I’m telling you that so you understand how badly I want you, but I’m not going to rush you—us—through anything.”
I bob my head, relieved. He knows what I need and offers it without me having to ask for it. I kiss him softly. “You know I want all of that, too, right?”
He smiles against my lips. “We’ll get there, Fish.” He kisses me hard. Heat stirs in my core again as he tucks his hand inside my waistband. “I’m only gonna use my fingers, okay?”
I sigh my approval against his skin.
Flattened palm against my stomach, his hand slides all the way down to rest firmly between my legs. Slowly, his fingers rub and swirl until they’re drenched. “Holy shit, you feel amazing” he mutters, lips hard against mine, as all the sensations hit me at once and I moan, breaths erratic and shaky.
His fingers continue to move below. Pressing, circling, and prodding, teasing my entrance. Lips brush over my nipple through my swim top as one finger pushes inside me. The flick of his tongue over the hardened peak and the foreign pressure of his finger has me clutching at the sheets.
“You’re so good and so tight, baby,” he groans, holding his finger in place as I adjust to the sensation. A few seconds later, I can’t wait any longer. My hips writhe in protest and his finger begins to thrust steadily in answer.
My breaths come loud and heavy. Shamelessly, I drag my hand all over his back and muscled chest, through his hair, seeking purchase. I need to feel more of him, to climb inside of him.
His finger retreats to tease around my entrance as he pinches my nipple between his teeth. Then, he plunges two fingers inside. My body jolts, my mouth falling open on a silent gasp. I arch into him, telling himplease don’t stopandI need more.
“Oh my Go—” The words die in my throat as he curls hisfingers, reaching a blissful spot deep inside my core that brings me near my climax on a guttural gasp.
Then he’s too many places at once. His fingers scissor on the inside while his thumb works me over on the outside. His tongue flicks my nipple through my swim top, hips thrusting into the flesh of my thigh. The feel of his hard length as it rubs against me, his deep groans and grunts he brands onto the skin of my chest and shoulders—my senses are out of control.
Every sensation he’s masterfully wound so tight over the last several minutes spins into another dimension inside me and I come,hard. I cry out my pleasure, moaning, panting, grinding into his hand to ride out every last second of this ecstasy. He doesn’t stop until my thighs clamp together, nerves throbbing and over-sensitive.
Body limp with pleasure, my eyes open a minute later. Connor looks at me, wonderstruck, and I feel beautifully exposed. Even though we’re still fully covered by our swimwear, it’s a look that leaves me raw and vulnerable in the most I-just-got-wrecked-into-blissful-oblivion kind of way.
He shifts his weight so he’s balanced evenly, my legs cradling him between my thighs. I can still feel he’s hard through his shorts, but he makes no move to do anything about it. Instead, he kisses me deep and slow like he’s a man with nowhere else he’d rather be.
He pulls back. “You’re perfect.”
I hold his gaze and bite back a smile. “Now,” I lift up to kiss him, “what are we gonna do about that situation in your shorts?”
“Wearen’t going to do anything.Iam gonna take care of it in the shower. Dibs!” he declares before he plants a peck on my nose.
“What? Why?” I pout as I roll my hips in an attempt to change his mind.
He brings his knees under him and pushes to his forearms. “Ah ah ah, no ma’am.”
I run my hands down his broad chest, over the valleys of his defined abs, until I arrive at the waistband of his swim trunks. Brow arched, I smirk, daring him to stop me.
“I swear to God, Fish, the second you touch me I will come inmy shorts.” His voice drops low, all grit and gravel when he adds, “The first time you make me come, I wanna be buried inside you.”
Heat begins to stir again. It’s intoxicating to know I have this effect on him.
Fine, he wins this round.
I let out a playful sigh, hands falling dramatically to the bed. “You’re a buzzkill.”
He kisses my forehead. “You’re beautiful.”
Connor emergesfrom the bathroom ten minutes later in nothing but a towel and I’m in the exact same position he’d left me in: on my back, flushed and sated, hair splayed across the mattress.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” I tease. He rounds the bed to stand behind my head. I have to crane my neck to look up at him.
He swoops down low and kisses me. “I told you it wouldn’t take much.”
Unfortunately for me, the towel doesn’t miraculously fall to the ground as he tugs his boxers on. His narrowed gaze finds mine—he knows exactly what I’d been hoping to see.
“See? Buzzkill,” I say.
