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He pulled back. “Weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes. You looked so sexy down here I—“
He breathed on me again.
I gasped. “I hoped you would see.”
The confession surprised even me.
“Winona,” he said, pulling back. Behind him, lightning lit up the sky in the distance. “You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking delicious.”
“And you look like a wild animal,” I said. He did, with his wild hair, the pool lights making him glow in shadow. The lightest wind from the nearby storm making his hair dance across his forehead.
“Do I scare you?”
I hesitated. He did, a little, but only in his intensity. “Not in a way I don’t like. You make me feel like I’m a… little bunny or something.” I took a step back.
“What does that make me?”
“The big bad wolf,” I whispered.
He laughed at that. It was a delicious, gorgeous sound. Low and toe-curling. Rare and precious.
“My prey,” he said.
I backed up further, holding my arms out for balance. “What are you going to do to me if you catch me?”
“If?” Mitchell took a step forward, making the board sway. “I’m going to eat you up.” He grinned, and something curled hot and wet inside of me. God damn, he was gorgeous.
But his smile turned devilish, and before I could prepare for it, he pressed his foot down so the board swung down and then up. Not hard enough to toss me, but enough that I had to crouch down and cling to the board.
There it was, that playfulness I’d seen that first day, just a glimmer. I shrieked with laughter. “You’re a devil, Mitchell.”
“I love it when your accent comes out, Firecracker.”
If only Cher could see me now.
Actually, scratch that. I didn’t want anyone seeing me now. Anyone except the man walking toward me on the diving board, his briefs stretched taut.
Thunder rumbled louder now. We needed to get off the diving board.
But not yet.
“What happens for real?” I asked, my eyes between his legs. I rose up on my knees, squeezing my breasts between my arms. “If you catch me.”
His jaw clenched. But he didn’t miss a beat. He knew exactly what I wanted. “Then you’ll take this.” He put his hand in his shorts and in one quick movement, withdrew his cock. “Like a good girl.”
My stomach swooped at the glorious sight of him, finally naked before me. For a moment, all I could do was stare at his thick, veiny length. At the way his balls clenched against its base. A new wetness grew between my legs and I slid both hands into my underwear, one of them finding my clit like I had up in the window.
He let out a grunt. “Show me,” he said, drawing a hand up his cock, stroking it once, twice, three long and languid times.
I worked my hand faster, waves of pleasure already building, knowing I was making him that hard. Knowing the glistening tip was because of me.
“Off,” he growled, eyeing my underwear.
I’d do what he wanted. For a moment. Only because I wanted it too. I hooked my thumbs in my waistband, pulling the thin fabric down and letting it drop to my feet. Even in the low light I could see his pupils dilate. “Good girl.” He gave his cock another stroke. Took another step toward me.
I was naked now, completely naked, almost at his mercy. Still I stepped back.
