“Now I’m going to be the one with weird tan lines,” I quip.
He smacks my ass over top of the terry cloth, grinning. “Get on my dick, angel. You’re about to make all my birthday dreams come true.”
Eagerly, I rise to my knees and grip him at the base. I take my time dragging his head along my center, coating him in my wetness.
After several agonizingly slow strokes, he growls, “Evangeline…”
Pressing my lips together to suppress a laugh, I finally sink down.
We moan in unison as I take him to the hilt without allowing myself time to adjust. The burning stretch quickly gives way to a deeper ache. The kind that brings with it intense, immediate satisfaction.
I roll my hips, grinding my clit over his pelvic bone, but before I can do it a second time, he plants his hands on my low back, stopping me.
“I don’t want you to move,” he says, focused on where we’re joined.
“What do you mean?” I shift my hips forward, teasing him.
With another smack to my ass, he arches one brow.
“I mean that I don’t want you to move an inch, angel. I don’t want you to ride me, grind on me, or rub that perfect little cunt on my lap. I want you to lie down and warm my cock. Do you think you can do that for me?”
No.
Worry twists my gut. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what to do or how any of this works.
As if he can read my mind, he chuckles and guides me down so my torso is pressed to his.
“You really just want me to lay here with you inside me? For how long?”
“Just try it,” he encourages. “You told me you wanted to feel me everywhere when we’re together, yes?”
Trepidatiously, I nod.
“I want to be buried inside you, just like this. I want to see how long we can make this last. Being with you soothes something inside me I never knew another person could touch. That’s the power you have over me, angel. I’ll talk you through it. And if at any point you want to stop, say the word.”
Okay.
I can do this.
And if I can’t, that’s okay, too.
Tentatively, I drape my arms over his chest and rest my chin on my forearms. With my focus locked on his face, I clench a little, testing his resolve.
“Angel,” he warns.
I bury my face in his chest until the hairs tickle my nose.
Hold your nerve.
We both settle in, the physical connection between us thrumming with a warm, wet connection that demands my full focus. Soft slaps of water hitting the side of the yacht serve as background noise to our heavy breathing. We rock and sway with the sea, the calm serenity of being on the water in sharp contrast to the achy, needy desire pulsating through my core.
Shifting, I peek up. Before I can ask if what I’m doing is okay, if this is what he expected, he groans quietly.
“You feel incredible, holding me inside you like this,” he says. “We were made for each other. I can feel you getting wetter, soaking me with your sweetness. I bet there will be a little puddle beneath us by the time we’re through.”
Oh fuck.
This time, I can’t control the way my core muscles clench.
