“Let them see,” Daniel says, like it’s no big deal for him at all. Any moment, anyone taking a stroll on the shoreline of his resort could come along and see Daniel and me fucking atop the table through the gauzy curtains of this cabana.

Any moment, some fitness guru jogging along the beach could stumble upon us, making out a beast with two backs while I twist those curtains up in my fists.

Any moment, a serial killer with a machete could come along and decide that, y’know what? He hates it when couples have romantic trysts on his murder beach!

After all…after reading some of the forum posts from Daniel’s insane internet fans, I wouldn’t put it past the bitches.

Like, that’s what happens to sexy couples fucking in secluded, romantic areas in the movies, right? They get slashed by an obsessive psychopath and end up on the front page of the newspaper the next day.

Hell, there’s probably an aging police detective somewhere out there in this city right now, just a few days from retirement. And he’s going to end up with our sex-scene-gone-wrong as his final case.

That’s how unrealistic all of this feels to me right now. Like we’re in a movie—not even our own movie, but someone else’s. That’s how hot Daniel is, and how insanely rich―and more importantly―how sweet he’s been to me.

Part of me wants to call bullshit. I’ve been holding my breath for the hidden cameras to pop out since I met this guy. Now, I’m totally ready.

A billionaire? On a beach? At sunset?

While drinking this wine?

This kind of thing happens to other women. It doesn’t happen to me.

Any minute now, Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out from the waves crashing against the shore. He’s gonna be like, “Haha, PUNK’D! Gotcha!” and I’m going to have to try and act like my panties aren’t dripping fucking wet right now.

But none of that happens.

The waves roll in off the ocean.

The sunset reflects off the water.

Daniel nudges my sandals apart with the toe of his sexy leather shoe.

“Tell me you don’t want it.”

I swallow hard and lick my lips. They taste like fine wine and wanting.

I like that. I like the way he’s looking at me even more.

“I don’t want to lie,” I admit.

It’s the only go-ahead he needs.

Daniel moves to his knees. That’s probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen: a man as powerful as him and as handsome as him, kneeling before someone like me.

I haven’t been able to get it out of my head, how bad I want this strong, sexy man to dominate my anxious ass and make me beg for his cock like a sex-crazed slut. But now that he’s on his knees before me, pushing my knees apart and looking at me like I hung the moon in the sky tonight…

I feel like a queen.

Just like that, all my inhibitions are put out to shore and washed away with the tide.

A salt wind blows in off the water. It’s cool and fresh and smells like the waves. I shiver when it kisses my skin.

The cold air raises goosebumps all over my body. I can feel them on my shoulders and my neck, my breasts, and my thighs.

But Daniel’s cheek is warm as his presses it against my knee. And his lips as he kisses up my inner thigh…

His lips are hot. Every place that they touch on my skin burns with longing, and that longing builds into something that’s becoming harder and harder to control.

It’s not usually like this. This isn’t normal, wanting someone the way I want him.

By the time he’s kissed all the way up one thigh, I can feel the humidity of his breath against the thin layer of lace that separates my pussy from his firm, greedy mouth.

By the time he’s kissed back down the other, I don’t just want him anymore.

I need this man.

If anyone can see us…let them see.

“Sip your wine,” he orders.

I don’t even think about it. My fingers instinctively curl around the stem of my glass. It makes the power dynamic between us right now deeply clear: even when Daniel is on his knees, he’s still in charge.

He can pamper me—make me feel like a queen holding court by the sea—but no matter what, he’s still king of this sand castle.

And I’m his prize.

Daniel’s hands smooth up my thighs. His touch is practically orgasmic. There’s nothing quite like feeling a pair of strong, handsome hands on your skin.

It’s been too long since I’ve known a touch like his—or maybe, his touch is just unlike any other I’ve ever felt.

His fingers hook beneath the waistband of my panties, sliding them downward. He doesn’t break eye contact with me the entire time he does it. It’s like he’s intent on making sure that he doesn’t push me to far…or maybe he’s challenging me to try and stop him.

Stopping him is the last thing I want. I slide down on my chair, and lift my ass up for him so he can slip my panties off of me.

The black lace glides down my thighs with ease. Removing them releases my scent. I’m so fucking wet for Daniel, the perfume of my soaked pussy hangs around us for a moment before the next gust of wind washes it away.

While it does, Daniel closes his eyes and inhales through his nose. Like a man smelling the bouquet of a fine wine.

I sip my white and let the flavor explode on my tongue, while Daniel follows his nose to what I can tell his body really wants right now: a taste.

His tongue slips between my smooth-shaven pussy lips with wanting. They’re slick for him. Dripping with my warm honey and just begging to be licked.

He laps at my cunt like the waves on the shore. Daniel drinks from me, like my pussy is a goblet, and he’s a man dying for a drink.

On the beach, every wave comes in harder than the last.

Between my thighs, Daniel’s tongue moves in the same way. He’s building, and building, and building to something, and the something is inside me.

In my cunt. In my womb. Growing and growing with increased intensity.

Daniel sucks and licks my clit like he’s in love with the taste.

Any moment now, his tongue is going to make the wave that’s mounting inside of me crash through my body, finally breaking against my skin.

Have you ever been out on the ocean? Not some silly lakeside beach, but the real ocean. Huge and vast, powerful and wide.

The ocean that tempted our ancient ancestors to build boats and sail beyond its blue horizons. The same ocean that inspired fearful tales of its watery depths.

The same ocean that broke the very boats its mysteries inspired.

When you move out far enough into the ocean, you learn to jump with the waves. They carry your body upward, up to giddy heights, and lower you back down only to take you higher still.

But then it happens: a wave moves towards you, and you know it will break before it gets to your body.

You’re faced with two choices: freeze up and let it crash down on you, sucking you under and sending your spinning, or you can dive beneath it and marvel in its power.

I feel the orgasm coming, and I choose to dive deep.

It crashes against my body anyway.

I feel the wine slosh in my glass as it hits me. My pussy undulates as Daniel wraps his arms beneath my thighs and holds onto my waist. My hips thrash against his mouth, bucking upwards.

I’m not sure if I’m trying to shake him or trying to shove my clit even harder against his face.

But Daniel is a hard man to shake, and by the time the orgasm washes back out to sea, I’m left trembling. Shivering with pleasure.

Shipwrecked against his shores and desperate for something—not just another orgasm from his mouth, but something more.

“I need you,” I pant. My voice sounds all breathy and high, like I’ve just swam the whole of the Atlantic in a single night. “I need you, Daniel. I need you.”

This isn’t like me. I’m usually satisfied after one! I’m not a greedy woman, and I’ve never been this fucking demanding of a man.

But judging by the way Daniel is smiling up at me, his lips laying a final kiss on my cunt, I know.

This isn’t like me, and Daniel has orchestrated it that way. The openness. The waves.

The aphrodisiacs, the setting sun, and an orgasm that hits me so hard, it knocks me free of my rational mind into a place where I’ll do anything he asks as long as it means feeling that kind of rapture again.

“Sip your wine,” he orders with an amused twitch of his brow.

My hand is shaking as Daniel slips a condom out of his pocket, and I bring the glass back up to my lips.