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“Jenna,” I say, my voice low and commanding, so she’ll get back into the role of my fuck toy, “take off the shirt.”
She obeys, and grabbing hold of the hem, she tugs the fabric up and over her head, giving me a fucking glorious view of her toned stomach, perfect breasts, and neck. She drops the material on the floor, then stares at it as if she can’t bring herself to look at me again, a soft pink blush spreading over her cheeks.
“Come here.”
Her hands fist at her sides, and for a moment, it looks like she’s going to refuse, but then she takes a tentative step toward me. Moving into the small shower, she tries to keep a modest distance between us.
Lifting my hand, I pinch the thin black strap over her shoulder between my fingers and drag it down her arm. I take my time pulling the meager fabric off her body until it falls with a wet slap on the tiles.
Grabbing more body wash, I work the liquid into a foam then place my hands on her shoulders. “Look at me.”
Her head tilts back, her eyes locking on my face but avoiding eye contact.
My palms glide over her silky skin, down her arms, back up, and over her breasts. She sucks in a breath, her lips parting, drops of water leaving trails down her cheeks.
I have to resist the urge to pinch her nipples until they're swollen and instead relish in the feel of her slender waist before pushing her back against the wall. Crowding her with my body, my hard as steel cock trapped between us, I lean down and whisper, “Today, I’m going to have to fuck you.”
She nods, a weak sound of acceptance drifting from her.
“I’m going to feed you my cock.” My voice is nothing more than a low rumble as the need to get lost in her body becomes pure torture.
Again she nods.
“I’m going to feast on you.”
A trembling breath shudders from her, then my hands move down, one slipping over her ass and the other down her front and between her legs. I spread her open and begin to wash her clit, my blood thundering through my veins from feeling the heat radiating off her.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” I order hoarsely, desperate for her acceptance.
JJ turns her face toward mine, brushing her nose through the stubble on my jaw. I feel her warm breaths, then she whispers, “I want you to fuck me, Danny.”
Hearing the undercover name, my eyes snap shut, and I have to bite back the order for her to call me Daniel.
I can’t have JJ, but I can take Jenna.
Pulling back from her, I snap, “Get out and put on the dress.”
Instead of listening, she slumps back, her hands slapping against the tiled wall to keep her standing.
My eyes burn over her wet body, and it takes more control than I have to not take her right here, right now. Fuck knows where the strength comes from.
“Move!”
JJ darts out of the shower, grabs a towel and disappears into the bedroom.
Sucking in a breath of air, I tilt my face up to the spray and force myself to focus on the only goal I have.
Keep her alive, no matter what you have to do.
You’ll fuck her, and it will only be a means to an end – keeping up the pretense of our covers.
JJ
I swear I have whiplash, my emotions nothing more than a turbulent mess in my chest. My body aches for O’Brien’s, especially after seeing him naked for the first time and feeling his impressive length pressed to my abdomen.
God, he’s a sculptured work of art, all hard muscle and golden skin. Veins mapping his arms, and the mindblowing V curving from his hips like a damn arrow down to his cock, which might as well be the holy grail.
Holy shit.
My insides tremble with desire, and knowing what’s going to happen today, makes my body hum from the frustration that we can’t stay in the cabin.
I don’t want to have sex in front of other people. I want O’Brien all to myself, where there’s nothing to distract us.
You’re not going to be fucked by O’Brien. On this yacht, he’s Danny Laze. It won’t mean anything.
My heart squeezes painfully at the thought as I step into the silk cocktail dress.
Reaching behind me, I try to zip up the dress but only get halfway when my hands are swatted away, and O’Brien takes over, zipping it up.
Looking down at my pink toenails, I guess I’m going barefoot. Lord only knows what fluids I’ll be stepping on.
Shunning the thought before it can take me down a dark path, and I start thinking of the girls being raped and murdered, I turn around to face O’Brien.
Shit, he’s obviously still naked, and I can’t stop my eyes from greedily sweeping over his chest, his abs, his cock now lying against his thigh.
