“Does it count if I use my mouth to pleasure you?”
“No.” The word is more breath than substance, followed by the swift removal of his hand. Before I have a chance to protest, in one brisk movement, he grabs my hips and hoists me up onto the side of the pool. The stone is warm under me, pool water spreading on the ground where I sit. He places a hand over my heart to push me back until I’m reclined, propped up on my elbows. I would lie all the way down, but Miles is a vision between my legs, dripping wet, heat and fire in his eyes.
“To the edge,” he commands.
I scoot as close to the edge as possible, and he hooks my legs over his wide shoulders, placing soft kisses along the insides of my thighs. His beard scruff is dripping wet from the pool, and it occurs to me as he gets closer to the center that there’s no way he’ll just be tasting me.
“Miles, the pool water?—”
“I do not fucking care.”
He buries his face between my legs, parting my swollen lips with his tongue. It feels even better than his fingers did, and I don’t censor myself this time. With long, flat tongue strokes, he laps at me, a man as desperate to taste me as I am to be tasted. The natural stone is rough against my skin as I arch and grind against his face. I tangle my fingers in his hair and he digs his fingers into my thighs.
He brings me to the edge in no time at all, but stops abruptly. I whimper and open my mouth to protest, but he slips a fingerinside me, then two, curling them toward him, sending a burst of pleasure through me so intense that there are fireworks behind my eyes. I close them, tilting my head back and surrendering to the sensation. He pumps his fingers slowly at first, increasing pace and pressure as I encourage him, a “yes” occasionally slipping out between moans.
Everything he was doing before this moment felt amazing, but this is on another level. The pleasure I’m feeling has a depth to it that it didn’t have before, and while stroking me from the inside, he leans down to run the tip of his tongue over my clit. I lift my hips, desperate for more, and he groans against me, sending a vibration through my core.
He plays with me, his fingers in one rhythm, his tongue dancing in another, taking me to the edge again.
“Keep going,” I beg.
He does. He doesn’t change a thing. His cadence remains the same, and when the tsunami of pleasure inside me breaks, he sustains the pace and the pressure, coaxing noises out of me that I have never heard myself make. I swear I black out for a second, and when I come back to my body, it’s like a whole new place. As if I’d left town with my house a mess and came back to everything being in order. I’m not just relaxed; I feel like I’ve been rearranged.
What the hell did he just do to me?
As my body comes down, he slowly removes his fingers and readjusts my shirt, smoothing it down over my stomach. I curl into him, cradling his face in my hands and kissing him as thoroughly as he wrecked me. His hands slide up my thighs, and when he gets to my hips, I put my hands on his to stop him.
“If you start that, we’ll be here all afternoon.”
“So? You got somewhere to be? A hot date?”
“Please,” I say and reach for my discarded clothing, standing to re-dress myself. “One a day is enough for me.”
He hoists himself out of the pool, his white T-shirt clinging to every muscle on his torso, his jeans soggy and dripping. “This was a date?” he asks, eyebrows raised, a corner of his lips turned up in a smirk.
“No. It was…not. It was…you know. Friends, doing friend—oh, stop it.”
I playfully slap his arm, and his smirk turns into a full-blown smile as I trip over my words. He picks up the pink shell from earlier, pocketing it with a wink.
“Come on, let’s get you back to the resort.”
We walk around the house through the back gate so as not to drip through the house, and Miles shakes out a couple of towels for us to sit on, although I don’t think it makes too much of a difference. We drive back with the windows down, trying to air-dry as much as possible.
I catch Miles glancing over at me every so often, like he’s afraid I might disappear or something. Before we’re back at the resort, he asks me if I want to join him for dinner.
Without hesitation, I agree, realizing as he drops me back at my room that I’m actually really looking forward to it.
After my shower,I don my robe, moisturize my face, and call my best friend.
“Oh my fucking god, I need to know what’s going on,” Hazel says immediately upon answering the phone.
We talked four days ago, but it might as well have been a month given how much has been happening. I suspect she knows that too, like she’s got a sixth sense or something and can tell something is up but doesn’t know exactly what.
“Okay, well, you first. Anything exciting there? How’s Captain?” I ask.
She hauls herself off her couch and walks through her living room to the guest room in their house, mostly reserved for the cats. She crouches down, flipping the camera to show me the sweetest senior cat, hiding in a cat tree.
“Hiding as usual. Probably hoping you’ll come by and rescue him,” she says and flips the camera back around to her. She returns to the living room and flops down on the couch again.
