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He was. Suddenly and painfully. She turned away to take in the view, giving him her back—her long hair cascading in soft waves past her shoulders, her narrow waist, the weightless skirt catching the mild breeze and flirting with decency, the sliver of space between her thighs visible through the thin fabric.
Something primitive inside him took the helm and steered him the few steps to the balcony. She looked over her shoulder again, a smile ready, but then her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
He lifted her skirt and accepted the quick stutter of his heart at the sight of the lacy white thong before he tangled fingers in it and tugged. The lace slid down, down, down her legs to dangle around her high-heeled sandals.
Her head tipped back to rest against his chest. “I thought it was an obligatory blow job?”
He ran his palm up the back of her leg, over her ass, around her hip to come to a rest along the inside of her thigh. “Nothing’s obligatory,” he said and kissed the side of her neck. “But if the choice is mine, I choose this.” He cupped her center, grateful to find her already wet for him.
She inhaled quickly and let the breath out slowly. “Someone might see…”
“From the river? That’s yards away. Three hundred. Five hundred.” He pressed his fly against her ass, hoping for skin against skin. Soon.
“We…oh, God, Swain…” She digressed when he pushed the tip of his middle finger inside her in the subtlest of penetrations. “We only have ten minutes.”
“Five,” he gasped and released her to fumble with his belt, his fly. Freeing his greedy cock, he pressed up on her again. “We’ll only need five. At most. Bend over, choux, just a little…just a little more…
Their sighs merged as he slid into her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and eased her slightly more upright. Looking down, he saw that cocktease of a skirt bunched up between them, watched it flutter as he bent his knees and lifted her with his thrust. She wrapped a hand around the iron rail and parted her legs as far as the fragile shackle of the panties around her ankles would allow. “Maybe just three, for me,” she panted and squeezed his cock with interior muscles. “But you take five if you need them.”
“Three works.” He snuck his hand around front again, eased it between her legs, and cupped her where they joined. Pressing her firmly against him, moving them both, he thrust, and thrust again, and thrust once more through her choppy whimpers and the fluttering caresses of her impending climax. “Fuck,” he groaned as those flutters drained an orgasm from him before a long, breathy sigh of relief poured out of her. Awash in that sound, he rested his forehead along the curve where her neck met her shoulder. “Fuck, that was…not even two minutes.” He nuzzled her neck and kissed her temple. “I owe you three more minutes.”
Laughing, she reached around and squeezed his ass. “I’ll collect at a later date.” Her words ended in a little moan as he pulled out.
“Don’t move.” He dropped another kiss on her shoulder, yanked his pants up, and hurried to the bathroom. Grabbing a fluffy white hand towel, he returned to find her leaning over, good hand holding the railing for balance while she untangled her panties from the straps of her sandals.
Kneeling behind her, he slipped the towel between her legs, moving it back and forth slowly. She froze. Her eyelids blinked slowly closed. “Swain. What are you doing to me?”
“Can’t have you blaming me for ruining this dress.” He used his face to nudge her skirt aside and kissed the warm, smooth ass cheek he’d bared. “Give me three minutes.”
“Oh, jeez. Okay.”
Three minutes later, he deposited one last kiss over the damp, red mark on her buttock where he’d kissed, bit, and licked to his heart’s content while she’d grinded out another orgasm for him with the help of the Riverview Inn’s finest cotton towels.
He hiked up her thong and fitted it into place as she caught her breath. Finally, she straightened and turned. Blotting her forehead with her forearm, she stared at him. “What brought that on?”
You. Everything about you. I can’t get enough of you. He forced his lips into a grin. “Why let the honeymoon suite go to waste?”
She smiled back at him and fanned her dewy cheeks with her hand. “Why, indeed?”
He folded the hand towel in half, then rolled it tight. She approached him, slid past, and retrieved her purse from the bed, then frowned as he put the towel in her purse. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking it. Souvenir of our honeymoon.”
“You’re stealing the towel, Deputy Swain?”
“Technically, Officer Brixton, you’re stealing the towel. But yeah.” He took her chin, tipped her face up, and kissed her lips. Against them, he said, “I’m keeping it.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Lord, you really can’t be trusted.”
Well, shit.
He held the door to the suite open for her. “Choux, you can trust me with the important things.”
She patted his cheek as she walked out. “When it comes to a five-minute orgasm, there’s nobody I trust more.”
Okay. This was going to require more work. He let the door shut behind him, then took her hand and kissed it. “That was two orgasms in five minutes, as long as we’re counting.”
Chapter Twenty
