Page 68 of Savage Surrender

I kiss him, and he melts into it completely - all warm hands and held breath, so careful it makes me want to take over. He peppers light kisses against my mouth until I can’t stand it.

The deep laugh I remember warms my lips, surprised out of him when I climb into his lap, but it disappears as soon as my bare pussy presses against the hard ridge beneath his shorts. His mouth tastes like champagne and salt. The memory of cherry soda slips underneath a second later.

Freddie’s fingers sink into my ass cheeks. He drags me forward, slow enough that every inch catches against me, my clit rubbing against him through the thin fabric between us. I do it again, his hips coming up to meet me.

“Spin again,” Owen snaps.

Freddie tightens both arms around me. “She’s busy.”

“It’s my turn.”

“That’s not how the game works.” I catch his wrist. “And you don’t get to cheat this time.”

Tristan spins. The bottle staggers between him and Weller, and he tips it toward Weller with two fingers.

“Bullshit. Weller’s the least fun option here, and you did it on purpose instead of picking me.”

“I think he could be fun.” Tristan chuckles darkly. “In fact, I’m already having fun.”

Owen pulls me off Freddie’s lap before Freddie decides to let me go and slides a hot hand beneath my dress.

He finds me wet, and not from the ocean.

His eyes close for half a second. One thick finger drags through me, gathering my slickness before circling my clit until my thighs jump.

“That isn’t a kiss,” I whisper. “And it’s not your turn.”

“Consider this a bonus round.”

Weller sits with his elbows braced on his knees, hands hanging loose between them.

“Tristan moved it, so it doesn’t count.”

“You could appeal.”

His gaze goes over my shoulder to the dunes, the boardwalk, the house. “To whom?”

I sit back on my heels between his legs. “Me.”

When I reach for his waistband, his hand closes around my wrist.

“Bianca.”

The warning in my name should not turn me on this much. I turn my hand beneath Weller’s and press my palm to the hard length trapped behind his shorts.

“Tell me no.”

His thumb finds my pulse. The surf rushes in and drags back while I wait. Weller checks the water, then my face, and releases me.

“You said a kiss.”

I look up. “I never said where.”

He lifts his hips slightly. I pull his shorts down and find him already hard, the head of his cock flushed dark, a bead of moisture caught at the slit. I bend and press my lips to it.

He inhales sharply, and the hand beside his knee closes into a fist. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.”

I run my tongue over the head and take him into my mouth.