Because I am.
Being with Millie is fun. It’s low-pressure, and she makes me feel like we can do whatever we want together and go our separate ways at the end with no regrets.
Though I’m starting to wonder if it’ll be a regret to leave her behind at the end.
I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess.
We excuse ourselves from Ford and Tatum to order drinks from the swim-up bar, and Millie leans in close to my ear after we place our order.
“I need you to finish what you started.”
Fucking hell, just her words nearly make me burst in my swim trunks.
The bartender passes our drinks across the bar—a piña colada for her, a beer for me—and I lean in close to her. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We towel off and head up to my room, drinks in hand. My eyes are on hers in the mirrored reflection of the elevator, and since we’re alone, I can’t help but spout the truth. “We can check off pool sexandpublic sex from your bucket list.”
She giggles. “You aresucha good multitasker. Now take me out onto your balcony so we can check that off as well.”
“What else is left besides the balcony?” I ask.
“Skinny dipping and sex on the beach.”
I twist my lips. “That’s it?”
She nods. “And we still have almost three weeks left.”
Three weeks.
Damn.
Twenty more days until I head home.
When it was thirty, it felt like a lifetime. But knowing I’m going to have to say goodbye to Millie in twenty days feels heavy. That also means that it’s really just about a month before my suspension is over. I’ll be back on the field mid-May. We’re just about at mid-April.
When I was first suspended, all I wanted was to get back to the game I love so goddamn much. And now, it feels like time is closing in on me. I just want a little more time here in paradise.
We take our drinks straight out to the balcony once we’re back to my room, and we each set them down on the table out there. I sit on one of the chairs, and I beckon her over. “Come here.”
She’s wearing a swimsuit cover-up that’s basically a dress, and I reach under it and slide her bikini bottomsdown her legs. She’s standing directly in front of me as she steps out of them, and she knows what to do.
She climbs onto my lap, facing me, and takes my jaw in her hands. She leans down, and her lips connect with mine. We kiss slowly for a few beats before she pulls back. She lets go of my jaw, reaches into my trunks, and finds my still rock-hard cock waiting for her. Her eyes are hot on mine as she pulls it out and strokes me a few times. She lifts her body up, aligns us, and sinks down onto me.
“Fuck, Mill,” I mutter, my hands tangling into her wet hair as she balances herself with her hands on my shoulders and I bury my face between her tits covered by far too much clothing.
She rides me as I rest my hands on her ass, and I move one hand between us to thumb her clit as she moves up and down over me.
“Jesus, you feel good. I can’t—fuck. I can’t hold off much longer.”
“God, yes, Archer, yes!” She tosses her head back as she gives in, her body betraying her as she flies into her climax. I stroke her clit as furiously as I can, but watching her fall apart is too much for me. I start to come before I realize I’m still inside her, and I manage to choke out, “I’m coming.” She pulls up off of me, and her hands go immediately to my cock to finish me off.
I grunt as she pumps me up and down, streams of cum flowing out of me and onto her hand. As the moment passes and we both start to come down from the high, she uses her swim cover-up to wipe off her hand before she tucks my cock back into my trunks and moves into place to rest her head on my shoulder. I hold her there in this intimate embrace, and the feeling like I don’t want to let her go clobbers into me.
That’s sort of the whole thing with a fling, though. I’m going to have to, no matter how hard it’ll be. No matter how much I don’t want to.
Eventually she heads back to her room to shower and get ready for the sunset cruise we booked, and I suppose I should shower, too.
I feel lethargic, like I’m moving separately from my body. It’s all the sex, maybe.
