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Casting an uncertain glance at the shadowed interior, she took off the jacket and tossed it on the chair, then untied her bikini top. Miguel sipped his coffee, watching with intent eyes. She quickly slid the bottoms off and kicked them aside, standing there nude in the warm morning sun, wearing only the gold stilettos. He looked her up and down slowly, then smiled, cat in cream.
“Your gifts for today are over on the side table. Why don’t you go get them?”
She glared at him, knowing full well he’d planned it this way. Excruciatingly aware of his gaze on her naked rear, she made herself walk slowly to the side table and then back, the jewelry-sized box in her hands.
“It is a beautiful day,” he commented.
“I’m thrilled to entertain you,” she retorted.
“I’m delighted to hear that, Roo, because I have a number of interesting entertainments in mind. Go ahead and open the box. No, don’t sit—stay right there.”
She didn’t have the presence of mind to open it neatly. With nervous fingers she tore away the paper and opened the box. Inside were two gold spirals and a matching clip that looked like an alligator. She blew out her breath, slow and steady.
“Allow me,” Miguel drew the box out of her hands and took one of the spirals. “Put your hands behind your neck and bend toward me.”
Feeling ever more on display, she did, her heavy breasts in front of his face. He sucked on one nipple, making the blood rise, until it was a tight bullet of flesh. Slipping the gold spiral over it, he adjusted the tension until it was just tight enough to stay on, but not enough to hurt. He repeated the process with the other breast and she looked over his head at the startlingly blue sea, trying to keep calm.
“How do those feel?” He kissed one taut nipple, then the other.
“Strange.”
“But not painful?”
“No.”
“Arousing?”
She met his interested gaze. “Yes,” she confessed.
“Good. Now step closer and straddle my legs.” He pressed his knees together and she straddled him, opening her sex for his access. Sliding his finger through her folds, he shook his head, tsking. “You are always so wet. Have you always been such a honeypot?”
“Just lately,” she replied in a dry tone. It felt so odd—liberating, yes—to be just the bit of eye candy to be dressed up and played with while someone else worried about work. In some ways she felt like she was a different woman here. Not Tilda Campbell, barracuda CEO, but Roo the bubbling honeypot. She bit her lip, working on holding still while he worked the alligator clip over the length of her clit and adjusted it. She thought she might jump out of her skin from the tension it created in her. When he pulled the silver bullet out of his pocket, she groaned. She couldn’t take any more and it was only day three.
“Relax,” he coaxed, holding her hip and pushing it up into her. “You’ll grow accustomed to your accessories. Now, put on your suit and eat some breakfast. Your snorkel guide will be here at nine.”
She dressed again with great care while he watched, doing her best not to tweak any of the clamps. When she sat, the one on her clit tightened and she gasped, clenching her thighs.
Miguel sipped his coffee, eyes dark over the rim. “I don’t have to tell you not to come, do I?”
She shook her head, lips pressed together. He reached across the table, took her hand and lifted it to his mouth for a kiss.
“Remember—I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
* * *
She had a lovely day.
The snorkeling guide turned out to be a fascinating local, fluent in English, who knew the names and history of everything she asked about. He wore nothing but swim trunks and—aside from suggesting she leave the heels behind—never commented on the skimpiness of her bikini or ever made her uncomfortable. In his little speedboat, he took her to several pristine snorkeling locations, only using the motor over deep water, then rowing them closer to the reefs he held in great reverence.
When they returned in late afternoon, she felt saturated in sun and seawater, her skin bronzing more each day. Miguel waited for her at the boat launch, the gold heels dangling from his hand. He’d changed out of business mode, finally, and wore cut-off shorts and a T-shirt. Her clit and nipples swelled at the sight of him, biting against the little clamps. She glanced at the shoes in his hand and gave him a guilty smile. The thought that he might punish her for not wearing them all day made her go wet.
He kissed her on the cheek, waving to her guide, who was cleaning up the boat. “Did you have a good day, Roo?”
“Amazing—thank you. Javier was the best guide ever.” She glanced at the shoes and back into his handsome face, now bristled with five o’clock shadow. “Sorry about the heels. Javier said they’d scratch his boat.”
“I am not an unreasonable man,” Miguel slid a casual hand down her back to cup one butt cheek and squeeze. “We can discuss it later. Are you ready for our walk?”
The stroll down the beach. She’d forgotten. The clamps bit tighter and the bullet weighed heavy inside her. Though plenty of other women took advantage of the private beach to go topless, she’d never done anything like it. She’d studied them, how they seemed so casual about it, walking hand in hand with their equally topless boyfriends. Really it shouldn’t be any different.
