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“You’re one to talk, Mr. Seamus O’Bond in your fancy suit.” Her hands scrabble for my belt and the zipper on my pants.
I pull her face to mine. We kiss like savages. Wet, snarling, licking, biting each other's lips and tongues. She kneads my cock and tilts her ass back and forth. I can feel her hot wetness seeping into my pants.
Her knees are high up, and her thighs are spread wide apart.
“That dress is amazing.” I reach up the back of her leg. She’s wearing thin panties. Pretty blue things that are almost not there. And they’re drenched. They soak my hand. I pull my fingers up to my face. She lunges with her mouth open and she looks wild as she slurps up the juice.
My cock won’t wait. I open my pants. Slide my shorts down to free the beast.
I rub her pussy lips, sliding a finger, then two fingers into her channel. The rip is a delicious sound as I tear her panties apart.
“Those cost more than two hundred dollars.”
“Yeah? You’d think they’d be tougher.”
I beat her mound and her clit with my cock. Popping it into her opening and dragging it out again.
“You fucker,” she growls.
“Yeah?” I laugh.
I pop it in and out a few more times.
“I might as well have been a virgin too,” I tell her, “until last night.”
“I deflowered you?” She lets out a sigh as I beat the slick bulb of my cock against her clit.
My voice is low and lecherous. “You ruined me,” I tell her. “I’ll never be able to look at another woman.” And I plunge inside her. It’s a good thing we’re sealed in the car and parked a long way out in the desert. Her moan fills the car. It would carry most of the way back to the Strip.
Her walls grip and flutter around me. Her breasts feel amazing, shaking in rippling waves as I hammer into her.
She lifts her knees higher, jiggling her feet and clawing her hands into her hair.
“And what I said about my lucky number is true.”
She’s too cramped to move much. The roll of her hips and the flex in her back makes up for it, though.
The way her pussy hugs me, wet and greedy, makes me feel all kinds of need.
I rub the base of her clit, stopping often to lick her juice off my thumb and fingers. Every time, she licks my hand.
“I’ve been in love with you for months. Years, really.”
“Years?” Her pussy clamps hard on my cock.
I shout, “God. Yes!”
She squeezes her ass, wedging herself tight against me. I feel the shudders start in her thighs.
I hold and stroke her face and neck and reach down for her breast.
I grip the cheek of her ass in the other hand.
Thinking back to the beautiful girl on the sun lounger, I can’t believe that I’ve got her in my car, stretched and impaled on my throbbing cock, and I’m bringing her to another gushing orgasm. As I’m pushing, I tell her about the pool, how I saw her in the cabana.
She shouts and squeezes and squirts all at the same time. I pummel her long and deep. Fast and hard, her back rolls and flexes. She moans and shouts.
I think I’m going to be able to hold back.
Then I’m not.
Chapter Ten
Giulietta
Already my emotions were spinning too fast. Now I’m about to lose control.
When he tells me, “I remember the day I first saw you like it was yesterday,” I’m hanging on by a thread. But when he says it was at the Imperial pool, and he describes my white bikini, it’s like I stepped off a snow cap.
I tip and tumble in slow motion, bursting with delayed explosions all the way down. Lost in orgasm and… something… some other kind of connection. It must be the haze of dopamine and endorphins. By now I’m awash with them.
In the moment, all I can think of is the huge hose of hot lava erupting into me from the swelling of his cock.
Wet all over, I collapse. Trembling. I drape helpless over him.
He remembers which part of the pool my cabana was on. He knows the time, the place. And he remembers Drago.
“That wasn’t you. That can’t have been you.” My head lolls and shakes, remembering the man who set my heart aflame. “Of course it was you. My fucking Romeo.”
Oh, I am losing my grip.
“I’m supposed to hate you!” But deep down, I know I can’t hate him at all. Never. Not even close.
I curl up in his lap and watch the stars in the desert sky.
“I’m supposed to hate you, too,” he says. “It’s mandatory. Can’t see that happening, somehow.”
Stroking his chest and his neck with my fingers, I tell him, “For two people who don’t believe in luck, we sure have hit a motherlode of bad luck.”
