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I don’t love him, and it’s taken me until now to realise it.
How can you shut someone down when they’ve laid out everything they are? It’s easier to spare his feelings for another time, but is it fair? Is it fair to let him believe I feel the same way, too?
I’m not sure I can deal with leaving my dad and outing Archer’s parents and a break up in one day, so I lean in and kiss him. It’s sloppy and rushed and fevered. He makes a low groan against my mouth, and I go molten. His hands are in my hair, roving over my waist, clutching my hips, squeezing my breasts, and I fist his shirt, holding him to me. I drown in him.
He walks me backward. My back hits the pillar, and my empty glass shatters on the ground, but we don’t stop. I hook my leg around him, groaning as his pulsing cock nudges me, and I tip my head back, giving him access. He kisses a line down my throat, biting and sucking.
‘Tell me you want me,’ he breathes against my skin.
‘I want you,’ I gasp. ‘Please fuck me.’
He chuckles, dark and rough. His hand squeezes my arse and delves beneath my dress. His finger grazes my underwear.
‘You’re so wet,’ he says, his lips tickling my ear.
I throb in response, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.
I can barely stand it, being this close to him and yet so far away. I don’t care if we don’t remove all our clothes; I just need him to be touching me, licking me, fucking me. I need to feel his body against mine.
He moves my underwear aside, and we both groan as he inserts a finger. I whimper, tipping my head back and biting my lip. He moves his finger so slow and he knows exactly what he’s doing.
He quiets my moan with a kiss, and I groan into his mouth as he adds another finger, curling them so they hit that spot. He quickens his pace, and I clench around him, my breath coming in gasps, and he makes that breathy moan sound, and a pressure builds—
And he pulls away. I swim in that haze for a moment, still panting. I grab his hand, his fingers wet with my arousal, and pull it back up my dress—but he presses both our hands against his pulsing erection, and my mouth goes dry.
‘Come on,’ he says roughly, and we run to the boathouse. Shadows gather in the corners, but the tealights from the garden pierce the darkness enough to see our way up the steps of the yacht. He pushes me down on the seat and kneels before me. He watches me beneath hooded lashes as he gently removes my underwear. I bite my lip and close my eyes as he lowers his head and licks his tongue up my slit. I spread my legs wider for him, my fingers fisting in his hair, as his tongue laps and licks, plunging into me, the tip roving in slow, taunting circles over the bud of my clit.
I move my hips, his tongue moving in rhythm with my thrusts.
‘Fuck,Archer,’ I gasp.
His hands tighten on my thighs at the sound of his name on my lips.
‘Cum for me, love,’ he growls, and I do just that as he plunges a finger in.
My legs shake as I shatter apart, as my cry echoes through the boathouse. Archer laps it all up, sucking and licking until I feel a pressure build again—
He pulls away again. I watch him, mind still reeling, as he lies back on the small deck, unbelts his jeans, and pulls them down to reveal the large, pulsing length of him, his tip already gleaming with need.
‘Sit on my face,’ he says, but he doesn’t need to ask.
I lower myself onto his tongue, bend forward, and take him into my mouth. I thrust my hips against him, and I moan as he fucks my mouth. But I don’t cum, and I don’t want to. Not just yet. I don’t want to stop feeling this ecstasy.
Archer removes his tongue and plunges his fingers in, so hard I tip my head back, mouth agape.
‘Fuck fuck fuck,’ I gasp, and I clench and cum around his fingers. I feel myself soak my thighs, but I take him into my mouth again, fucking his fingers slowly until my climax eddies.
But he flips so I lay beneath him. He shucks off his jeans and shirt and places my feet flat against his chest before he pushes into me with one mighty thrust. He fills me exquisitely, and I’m so wet I hear apopas his cock slips out before he thrusts into me again.
His eyes roll back.
His thrusts turn deeper, harder, until he pounds into me. He holds my knees, watching his cock slide in and out of me, slick with my wetness—and then he falls forward, almost gathering me beneath him, my legs over his shoulders and his hands squeezing my arse, allowing him to move deeper still. His cock pulses inside me, pressing against that spot, and he brushes his lips over mine as he spills into me, slamming to the hilt, his thrusts becoming gentler as he spills and spills and spills.
When at last he stills, he doesn’t pull out of me. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, our hearts thundering.
And I try to find the words.I love you. But they don’t come, and I trace my fingers up and down his back, drawing a shudder from him, and I wonder if my lie will break me instead of him.
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