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I can only just make out the lines of her perfect tits as they’re erect against her drenched shirt.
“Is this what you want, baby? Or should I call you daddy?” she asks.
I’m taken aback by her confidence and her sudden show of words. But I’m not one to back down from a fight, so I engage.
“No. Take it all off,” I say as I sit down by the pool and get drunk off the champagne. “And make sure you do it slowly.”
Mesmerized, I watch her undo the top button of her forest-green shirt before moving to the next. By the time she’s at the gap between her tits, I hold up my hand.
“Stop,” I growl, and I see her shaking hands hover on the next one. “Too slow.”
I take my shirt off and walk toward her. Her eyes are set on my abdomen, exquisite and perfectly toned. Wearing my pants, I slide into the water to join her.
I shove her hand out of the way. Then I grab onto the flimsy material and rip it open. Buttons pop in different directions and land in the water.
She gasps, and I can see pleasure ripple through her. Goosebumps are on her neck and arms. Rivulets of water run down between her breasts.
“Better,” I mutter and fold my arms. “Keep going.”
Her trembling hands fumble with the opening of the lacy bra.
“Straps,” I bark and watch as she quickly pulls down the left and then the right bra strap. Her shirt floats in the water, and I’m delighted to have her nearly nude. “Pull it off.”
At first she stares at me, trying to comprehend what I’m saying. When my hands reach for the material and roughly move it from side to side, understanding registers.
She takes over, and I can see her nipples harden even more from the attention they’re getting.
Meg moans and throws her head backwards. Instantly, her hair is drenched. When she brings it forward again, droplets of water run down her cheek, nose, and forehead.
“Off.”
My breathing is getting a little harder and faster. I want to draw this out as long as possible.
I’m getting wet, and she’s definitely getting wet. This woman is a natural, submissive, sensual, and full of animalistic passion. The way her eyes brim with lust, I can tell she’s loving this.
When her fingers still can’t unclasp the bra, I do it for her by snatching the bra off her body. The bands rip, and I fling the material and throw it to the side.
An expensive garment ruined, and I don’t give a damn.
Now she’s standing there, bare tits bouncing up and down, water cascading off her glorious half nakedness. Blues, reds, and greens reflect on her delicious skin—a kaleidoscope of colors.
Those curves are enticing me, calling to me to just rip my pants off and introduce her to my thick, twelve-inch cock.
“Panties next.”
I want to see them, taste them, smell them, and keep them as a memorabilia for the night she submitted to me. She might have submitted to my brothers, but I’ll have the last say.
She will be mine.
Meg’s hands go under her soaked skirt and come out a second later with a satin slip of fabric.
“Give them over,” I order, and she obeys.
When I bring the saturated object to my face, I see lust in her eyes.
“Evan, please,” she begs and leans forward a little.
I know she wants it. She’s begging for me.
