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Vaughn takes hold of my waist and spins me around. He’s on his knees, his jeans undone, his shirt gone. For a moment, all I can do is drink in his tan, toned male beauty. It’s not hard to see why his chiseled pecs, speed-bump abs, and twin ridges of muscle cutting in at his hips grace a big billboard, but reality is even more overwhelming, not to mention a little intimidating. Then I spy a thin strip of woven leather encircling his wrist. The birthday present I gave him. Seeing my gift on him reminds me this isn’t some perfect stranger. This is the man who thanked me for confiscating his car keys, and slow danced with me in a crowded club, and listened—held me close and really listened—while I told him my deepest secrets. This is Vaughn, and just like that my hesitation evaporates. I want to see more. I want to hook my fingers into the loose waist of his jeans and drag them down. I want him naked. I want to see. Touch. Taste.
Our eyes connect. I lick my lips and prepare to speak, but he beats me to the punch.
“I’ve had your scent in my head for days.” He leans in, his lips hovering close to my lacy panties, and inhales deeply. “Like a craving. I can’t wait to put my mouth here again.”
Yes. Yes!
“But we’re taking it slow, so first…”
He kisses up my side, licks my belly button, skims his lips all the way to the bottom swell of my breasts. Without thought, I run my fingers through his hair. He groans and rises to his full height before tilting his head and crushing his mouth to mine.
My body turns liquid as he delves between my lips and subdues my tongue. I wrap my arms around his neck, press our bodies together.
As fast as he claimed my mouth, he abandons it, leaving my tongue tingling and my lips burning for more. I’m about to protest when he palms my boobs and rubs his thumbs over my nipples. The peaks tighten even more under his attention. Without looking up he says, “Jesus, Kendall. You’re stunning.” He traces the line where my tan transitions to the paler skin always covered by my bikini top. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever touched.”
Although the words sound impossibly sincere, my mind rushes to rebut them. Even if I didn’t know he’d touched truly flawless girls—models and pop stars and actresses, oh my—he’s definitely touched himself. But then our gazes lock, and the look on his face threatens to overwhelm me. I haven’t recovered when he bends his head and takes my nipple into his mouth.
I gasp as he works me with his lips and tongue while gently, and then not so gently, pinching my other nipple. The double assault is pleasure so sharp it’s nearly pain. I arch my back, seeking more, but he pauses.
“Too hard? Too soft? Tell me how you like it.”
“Not sure yet.” I manage a quick breath. “Better try again.”
His smile flashes for an instant before his mouth and hand switch places. I bite my lip to stop myself from actual begging. He tastes every inch of my torso—at least it feels like he does—before his mouth lands on the inside of my thigh. His fingers hook the strings at my hips, and he inches them down while he drops wet kisses so close to my sex I can barely keep still.
“By the way,” he says, slipping my G-string around and off my shoes. “Those pumps are sexy as hell. Mind leaving them on?”
I shake my head. I’m standing naked in front of Vaughn Shaughnessy.
He’s going to fuck me against this railing.
I’m afraid to blink for fear I’ll wake up from this dream.
He takes his time looking at me—all of me—like I’m a treasure map or a rare gemstone. Like I’m something special. And in this moment, it feels true. With Vaughn kneeling before me and brushes of pink and gold painting the sky as the sun sinks below the horizon, I feel aglow with possibilities.
“Kendall,” he finally says, “are you ready to spread your legs and give me another taste?”
I can’t speak, but I manage to inch my thighs wider.
He takes this for the yes it is and leans in, his long fingers wrapped around my thighs. I squeeze his shoulders and watch as his lips make contact. He kisses me there with the same devoted hunger he used on my mouth. His tongue is warm and wet as he circles my clit.
I do my best not to squirm even as my muscles tighten. I’m on sensory overload, about to detonate. Nothing has ever felt this good. Vaughn licks, sucks, devours, and I’m soaking wet, his upper lip glistening with the proof. The sight makes me so hot, I whimper in response.
“You like that?” His low voice caresses my sex.
“God, yes. Don’t stop.”
He places the softest of kisses against my center. “Just my mouth, or are you ready for more?”
“More.” The word tumbles out. “I want more.”
I feel him smile just before he slides a finger inside me. Unlike the night of his birthday, this time I’m not nervous. Not conflicted. I’m so ready, and accept him with a soft moan of pleasure. He circles and strokes for a moment before carefully adding another finger. I’m just starting to feel the strain of being stretched to capacity when he groans against me. The vibration is like a massage, relaxing every muscle in the vicinity. The pull subsides and then dissolves into even more pleasure. He feels it, or knows it, because he works me inside and out with abandon. I’m lost completely to him. I move. I writhe. I ride his fingers and buck against his tongue. I taste sweat on my upper lip. I hear the erotic sounds of his mouth moving hungrily over me, his fingers filling me. That’s all it takes for the pressure building inside me to break into a thousand glorious pieces.
My breath catches and my heart revs as I chase every swirling, glowing fragment of my release. He doesn’t let up until my legs are about to give out.
“I’ve got you,” he says, tightening his supporting grip and raining kisses along my thigh.
Yes he does. I sigh and watch him move to suck, then kiss the flair of my hip. My stomach muscles quiver anew. It’s impossible to put into words what the sight of his lips on my body does to me.
