Page 88 of Stealing Blinds

Tense to tranquil. Afflicted to restored. Discarded to chosen.

But as a weightiness begins to usurp my frame, he pulls out, flipping me over with the same ease with which he tosses his cards around. The pool bed protests initially, but returns to a serene bystander fast enough. Since I am practically in blow-up-doll territory, Cash arranges my legs and arms for me, so I’m on all fours and spread to his liking.

“You’re so pretty when you come. And this view is”—he plunges inside me, less gentle this time, but still not forceful—“devastating. You’ve got more for me, baby.” His palm sears my ass with the crack of an alluring spank to punctuate his demand.

And I am undone. Already. Whimpering from my still-hazy euphoria, the sting on my backside, and the erotic visual of us perched in the middle of sky and water. We’ve drifted from the shelf, so we’re facing the city, the fire bowls blazing into the violet night, the water mirroring it all—including his avid pumps into me. His size and dick jewelry scratch a different itch from this angle. I am consumed by him.

With one hand on my hip, he grips my breast with the other, so I return the favor, reaching back between my legs to knead his balls.

The groaned, “Fuck,” he grants me is the only confirmation I need to squeeze tighter.

He loses himself, slamming into me with enough thrilling vigor that it fills me to the brim and pushes me forward.

Our balance shifts. The float dips from the sudden burst of weight.

And I shriek as we both go flying.

Off the raft. Still connected. Into the pool. With a giant splash.

CASH

My arms clamp around her—one over her waist, the other protecting her head because it isn’t that deep here and we catapulted ourselves into the water. Like we were shot from a goddamn cannon. Naked. And fucking.

Against all odds, my dick is still firmly lodged inside her.

Stubborn bastard.

It’s a testament to our athletic training, my desperation for this woman, and how soft and warm and sublime the inside of her cunt is—exquisite is an understatement.

I want to fucking live inside her.

We sink and roll as a unit—impressively synchronized—until I push off the bottom and we breach the surface, in dramatic geyser fashion. Water blasts toward the dark, billowing clouds, announcing our arrival, only to splash back down in stinging pellets, where we’re bobbing as one.

Tangled limbs. Gasping breaths. And shocked laughter.

I wish I could bottle that melodic sound. I will make it my personal mission to produce an abundance of it. Sylvie’s had too much stress and heartache, and I know we’ve got some heavy shit in store. But here, in my arms, she’s lighter. Free. I’ve banked my whole life on winning, and her happy, like this, is by far my greatest victory.

She leans her head against my shoulder, swiping at the droplets speckling her face while I do the same. “I think you overshot, Noire.”

I press my hand between her legs and nip at the slope from her neck to her shoulder. “I’m still jammed in your pussy, so I aimed just right.”

“You got there with a tad too much oomph.” She huffs a breathy laugh, her inner walls hugging my shaft with a dizzying pulse. “Knowing your own strength is important. What if you’re wedged in there for good?”

“I warned you I’d chain your body to mine. Don’t tempt me with methods. I can think of no greater fate.” I direct her face to mine so I can seize her lips.

She has to crane her neck, but neither of us is prepared to disconnect elsewhere. Several feral swipes and groans compose a kiss that shoots right to my cock. Then the music snags my attention.

As if our circus trick of mid-coital diving wasn’t enough to produce hysterics, the song crooning from her phone is “I Wanna Sex You Up.”

There were a few others that were odd choices for mood music too. “Like a Virgin” and “I Touch Myself” absolutely stuck out.

“What the fuck is this playlist, Palmer?”

She bursts out cackling, as if she just caught the current selection too. “Don’t ask me. Your brother saw me sneaking up here—”

Before she has a chance to finish that, I pull out of her and whip her around so we’re face-to-face and chest-to-chest for this interrogation. “In nothing but my goddamn T-shirt?”

“Which was down to my knees, like an Amish dress.” She slants her head and arches her brows, annoyed by my possessiveness over her attire.