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Neither of us speak for several long beats. Water sluices over her, droplets rolling down the valley between her perfect tits, sliding over her flat stomach, her sculpted thighs.
“Ryder,” she begs, and that’s all it takes.
I join her under the spray, bending down to kiss her at the same time I slip one hand between her thighs.
She gasps and I swallow the sound with my lips. Slowly backing her into the wall, I drag my knuckles over her slit. Her hips move, trying to push up against my hand. I rub her clit in a light caress, only applying pressure when she begins whimpering into my mouth.
I break the kiss and inhale a cloud of steam. It swirls all around us, droplets clinging to her full bottom lip as she stares at me beneath impossibly long eyelashes.
“More,” she begs.
“More what?” A smile tickles my lips. “More of this?”
I curl my hand over her pussy.
Gigi moans.
While she rocks herself against my hand, I bend down to kiss her again. I love the way she tastes. The way she feels grinding against my hand. I hook one of her legs on my hip, opening her up more for me so I can push two fingers inside her. Her muscles clamp around them, and I damn near keel over with lust.
I need my cock in her. Christ.
Kissing her senseless, I slide my fingers in and out of her, while the heel of my palm grinds her clit. My other hand squeezes her tits, toying with the hardened buds of her nipples.
When she tries reaching between us to touch my dick, which strains against the wet material of my underwear, I chidingly nudge her eager hand away. I’m enjoying this too fucking much, and I don’t want the distraction. Every fiber of my being is fixated on the sounds she’s making. The uneven breaths and tiny whimpers.
She fucks my fingers in earnest now, eyes closed and chest heaving.
Some other time, I plan to spend hours playing with her, teasing her, but the urgency has reached peak levels, and suddenly the only thing I want is to make her come hard and fast.
“Let go,” I whisper in her ear before dragging my tongue along the delicate tendons of her neck. “Let me feel you squeezing my fingers when you come.”
A passion-drenched cry leaves her throat as she does what I ask. Gives herself over to the orgasm. To me.
I smile as she convulses with pleasure, her breaths escaping in steamy puffs. She presses her lips to my pecs, softly biting my skin and making me jerk with desire. My fingers continue to move inside her, but slower now. Her clit is swollen against my palm, her pussy slick from orgasm.
Meanwhile, I’m so painfully hard I’m surprised I’m able to remain upright. That the heavy erection in my briefs isn’t tipping me right over.
“Hey, is someone in there?” a confused male voice suddenly rings out.
We jump apart.
“Cleaning staff,” that same voice calls out.
Gigi’s chest heaves from another deep breath. “Yeah, sorry, just finishing up in here,” she calls back. “I have permission from the building owner to be here after hours. I’ll be out shortly.”
“Oh, all right,” the cleaner says, but still sounds confused. “I’ll start in the children’s change rooms. Sorry to interrupt.”
I’m still hard, but the moment has passed. A frantic Gigi grabs the towels I hung outside the stall, throwing one at me.
“Fuck,” she mumbles under her breath. “This is so embarrassing.”
“He didn’t know I was in here with you. It’s all good.”
We towel off and hurry to the main room to get dressed. My erection hasn’t subsided, not even an inch. Her lips quirk wryly when she notices me trying to slide my jeans up over it.
“Having trouble there, prom king?”
I sigh.
She throws her hair up in a messy bun, watching me for a moment. Finally, she speaks.
“I’m going home this weekend. Driving there tomorrow morning.” She pauses. “I’ll be back Sunday afternoon.”
“My roommates will be gone all weekend too. They’re hitting up some concert in Boston, and Shane said they won’t be home until late Sunday night. So I’ll have the house to myself.”
Her eyes lower to the visible bulge in my jeans, then slide back up. “Is that your way of asking me to come over on Sunday?”
“No.” I shrug. “Come over on Sunday. There—that’s my way of doing it.”
A smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “Okay.” She meets my questioning gaze. “I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GIGI
Don’t get too invested
“I’M SORRY, HENRY. IT WAS JUST A FLING.” THE BRITISH HOST sweeps her gaze over the remaining swimsuit-clad couples strategically draped on wicker beach furniture. “The rest of you are still on the road to forever. Good night.”
“Holy shit, that was intense.” Wyatt is agape. “That Scottish dude seriously just waltzed into the villa and broke up Annabeth and Henry.”
