“It is your birthday, Mr. Steele. You deserve to give in to temptation.” Over his trunks, I rub my thumb around his crown. My mouth waters on instinct as the flicker of heat in my core ignites into hotter, heavier need.
“Evangeline,” he scolds as we face off in a battle we both know I’ll win.
“The staff knows not to disturb us until dinner. And if memory serves, this is exactly what you wanted for your birthday,” I whisper against his throat, scraping my teeth against the stubble. With a firm grip on his length, I jerk him in languid strokes. “Tell me to stop and I will,” I say, even as I spread my legs wider and line my hips up with his groin.
He flops back onto the lounger, gripping my ass with both hands and shifting me higher.
With my hand still locked between our bodies, I draw out each stroke, relishing the way he grows harder beneath me.
As we rock and sway, I plant kisses along his neck and chest. Like this, I can’t reach his mouth, so I make the best of the situation. My breathing hastens as I work him over, my own desire ramping up, and before long, I find myself grinding along with my strokes, rubbing against him in an erotic rhythm.
The soft slaps of water hitting the side of the yacht serve as background music to our heavy breathing.
“Enough,” he growls, digging his fingers into my hips to still me.
I crane back, searching his face. His hungry eyes are locked on me, his irises so dark they’re almost indistinguishable against his pupils.
“I need to be inside you,” he admits on a ragged exhale.
My pussy spasms, mirroring his sentiment.
“Out here in the open?” I glance over one shoulder, then the other, biting down on my bottom lip. There are no boats anywhere near us, and the crew insisted we’d have total privacy.
He pulls me higher up his body so I’m straddling his abs, then cups my face. With his thumb, he plucks my lips from between my teeth. Then he curls up again and kisses me, the familiar, warm strokes of his tongue against mine soothing my worries.
“We can be discreet,” he murmurs as he pulls back.
With one hand woven into my hair, he guides my ear to his mouth.
“Can I tell you what I really want for my birthday, angel?”
Heart leaping, I nod.
“I want you to untie those bikini bottoms and show me that perfect pussy.”
I spring into action, working both knots quickly. The fabric flutters away, the warm Mediterranean breeze kissing my freshly exposed skin.
“Sit up and let me see you.”
I obey, then take it a step farther. I rise to my knees, skirting my fingers up my inner thighs, then spread my lower lips, exposing myself completely. The wind caresses my skin, making me acutely aware of my own wetness. My fingertips graze my clit, sending sparks of need through my core.
“You’re breathtaking,” Alaric praises, tracing my exposed sex with a thumb. He pulls back and promptly brings the digit to his mouth, groaning as he tastes my essence. His gaze ping-pongs from my pussy to my face, like he doesn’t know where to focus. Finally he clears his throat, eyes boring into mine as his attention settles on my face.
“Take my cock out.”
Eager to please, I hurry to free him from his swim trunks.
At the sight of him, my brain malfunctions. If I’m breathtaking, then Alaric is art personified.
His cock is spectacular: Thick but not too girthy. An impressive length that’s enticing opposed to scary. He’s perfectly proportioned, the veins along his shaft a roadmap to his thick, prominent crown.
“Put me inside you, baby.”
A little noise of surprise escapes me. We’re really doing this?
With a peek over my shoulder to confirm we’re alone, I hover closer. “You’re sure?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he swipes the rolled-up towel off the other sun lounger. He flicks it open, then drapes it over me, covering our lower halves.
