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It doesn’t take us long to get there. Joey takes us out onto the ocean, my arms wrapping around his waist as goes. I’m gripping on for dear life with how fast he’s going, afraid at every bump I may very well fly off the back. We ride for what feels like forever and then he suddenly stops. My hands are sore from gripping onto him so tightly.
He turns around, but I can’t see his eyes with his sunglasses covering them. “Your turn.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No way, I’ll kill us.”
“Ha.” I give him a skeptical look, and he shakes his head, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You won’t. Climb over me and sit between my legs.” I stand on legs that feel like Jell-O and do just that, climb over him until his hands are on my sides, guiding me as he pulls me back down. I feel him behind me—all of him—as he slides forward to reach for the handles and starts explaining what to do. I’m so lost and confused because all my attention is focused on the feel of him. Everywhere.
“You want to go fast because the slower you go, the more you feel the waves.”
“No, I want to go slow,” I affirm, shaking my head.
“Trust me. It’s smoother going faster.” I place my hands on the handlebars and his cover mine. “I’ve got you,” he promises as the engine starts. Then we’re off, and he doesn’t let go until I give him a nod. When he releases the handlebars, his hands come to my waist, gripping it before one hand slides around and hugs me to him. His fingers play with my skin, and it’s so distracting that I start to slow down.
“Speed up,” he instructs, and his fingers move lower. “Faster,” he growls, and I turn the throttle a little bit more.
My hair, which was tied back, is whipping into my face as his hand drops to my bikini bottoms. I feel his fingers dip inside, then trail down until he reaches my clit, and my body jolts from the contact. His finger slides between my folds, and he applies the perfect amount of pressure to make a moan escape my lips. It’s not loud enough to hear over the engine, but he can probably feel the sound with how close he’s settled against me. I open my legs wider, which is silly considering I’m straddling the seat, basically giving him permission, I suppose.
His other hand glides up my body, pulling my breast free and squeezing the nipple between his fingers, the other is still circling my clit. I start rocking ever so slightly, the jet ski slowing as I do.
“Faster,” he says into the skin on my neck, and I almost don’t hear him, but he pinches my clit with his fingers. “Faster.”
And I go faster.
His fingers slide down until he’s at my entrance, and I start grinding on his hand. I can feel his cock at my back getting harder with every movement of my hips. I want to stop driving. I want to stop so badly, but he keeps on telling me to go faster.
So that’s what I do.
Obey.
Listen.
Learn.
He frees my other breast and pinches the nipple before he rolls it between his fingers as well.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Stop,” he orders.
My hands instantly release, and the jet ski slows to a stop.
I can’t help myself. Suddenly, I’m not afraid that we’re out in the ocean. I throw my leg over the seat and turn myself around, my body ignited absolutely everywhere as I reach for his cock and free it from his swim trunks. He pushes my hand away as soon as his cock his free, and I grip his shoulders, and he ever so slowly pulls me down. His eyes look haunted as I grip him.
I want to sink onto him, need to, but he doesn’t let me. Gripping me tightly, so he has all the power until I am fully on him, a smug look sits on his face, but I am too needy to question it or care. He scoots forward, his hands disappearing from my body.
I hear the sound of the jet ski’s engine, barely, but my hips are already moving. His mouth grabs hold of my nipple, and he sucks it before he does the same to the other. “Hold on.” My hands grip around his neck, clinging to him as close as possible, our bodies almost one, mine slowly moving up and down just enough to feel the friction as we take off again. He bites my shoulder as I fuck him, never once stopping even though we’re in full view of anyone we might pass.
Our joining is powerful.
The wind is whipping through my hair, and I’m trapped between him and the handlebars, not able to go anywhere as he steers us.
“Fuck,” I scream as I start to feel the build-up.
“Who is Scott?” he asks, but his voice sounds so far away with my heart beating so loudly in my ears.
