Chapter Twenty-Seven

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Every single answer was a resounding yes.

She was so wet, so turned on, so slippery, and all she wanted was his touch. She had no idea how long this torture would last. She could bite down on this ice cube now, but that would only prolong the waiting. He’d find a new way to draw out his touch if she defied him. She wanted him fiercely, with an intensity that bordered on criminal.

Lust and desire ricocheted through her body as she gripped the slats above her and writhed her hips on the lounge chair, baking under the hot sun.

Soon. He had to touch her soon.

Mercifully, he looped his hands around her neck and untied her bikini, then unsnapped the hook at her spine. Her first taste of freedom came as he lowered the straps along her arms, taking off the top. His breath stilled as he took in her breasts.

She willed him to lower his mouth to her nipples and suck, bite, and taste. Maybe she could send a telepathic message telling him to touch her; she tried valiantly by arching her back, lifting her breasts closer to him.

He got the message. Oh hell, did he get it. He reached for her mojito. “Let’s check how this tastes,” he said as he poured some of the drink down her chest. She drew a sharp breath, even with the ice cube melting in her mouth. He buried his face between her breasts, lapping up the liquid. She wanted to moan, to cry out, to shout yes to the sun and moon and stars. This was her taste of heaven—his mouth on her skin.

He looked up and ran his finger along the cube in her teeth. “You want this so badly, don’t you?” he asked.

She nodded. She didn’t even know what he was offering. Whatever it was, she’d take it.

“It doesn’t matter what I do, does it? You just want me to make you come?”

Yes. So much yes.

She arched her hips, seeking him out. His eyes roamed over her bikini bottom. She was soaked. Surely, he could see the evidence of her desire through the fabric.

He stood up and ran his hands over the thick bulge in his shorts. Killing her. He was fucking killing her. “You like that, don’t you? When I touch myself?”

She breathed a yes around the melting cube.

“How much do you want me to jack off on you right now? To come all over you?”

She nodded vigorously. He was dirty and filthy and she wanted it. She would beg, bargain, or steal for it.

He pushed his shorts down, freeing his cock—his beautiful, gorgeous shaft that she loved. She flicked her tongue against the back of the cube, and started licking it to free herself.

He took his dick in his fist and stroked. She rocked in the chair, as if she could draw him into her with her hips, her eyes.

“Ice is almost melted,” he said, cupping his balls in one hand and fisting harder with the other. “This is really making you crazy, isn’t it?”

Heat raced through her body, pooling between her legs.

“I know you want me to do this,” he said on an upstroke. “You want to watch me stand here, and get off to your beautiful body, right in front of you. Tell me that’s what you want.”

“Yes,” she hissed around the ice cube.

He let go of his dick, yanked up his shorts, and kneeled over her. He brought his mouth so close to her face she could feel his hot breath. “But I’m not going to. I have something better for you because you’re so fucking good.” He devoured her mouth, kissing her, taking the last chip of the ice cube into his own mouth, and getting rid of the obstacle between her and pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Then he tugged down her bathing suit bottom, pulled it off, and thrust a finger inside her.

Not a second passed before she started fucking his hand. She was so turned on, so worked up, and so aroused from him. Her hands were twisted inside the slats, the wood rubbing against her wrists, and she didn’t care. All she cared about was this pleasure, this incomparable, otherworldly lust racing through her body, flooding every last cell, bathing her brain in ecstasy.

She couldn’t even form words.

There was no point to speaking.

She was reduced to only moans and groans and murmurs as he crooked his finger inside her and hit the magic spot no one had ever discovered until Ryan Sloan walked into her life, fulfilling every fantasy.

This commanding, intense, powerful man loved to tease her, and loved to please her, and, oh God, he was doing just that. Her belly tightened. An orgasm insisted on appearing.

He added another finger, then one more, as his thumb rubbed her clit. She cried out oh God so loud she was sure California heard it. Her eyes squeezed shut. This was fucking epic. It was wondrous as he completely owned the center of her body, the center of her world, the core of her pleasure.

She gripped the wood as she writhed into his hand, his fingers deep inside her, and she hit the edge, detonating from the intensity that ravaged her.

Before the orgasm even subsided, he grasped her hands from the slats, released them, and threaded his fingers through hers, as ripples of pleasure continued to spread through her body like aftershocks. He’d taken off his shorts, and now he wedged himself between her thighs, and told her to wrap her legs around his hips.

She did as instructed, and then he sank into her. He filled her so completely, and the sheer intensity of him inside her was astonishing. She moaned loudly, her voice carrying across the heat of the afternoon, floating on the hot air as he buried himself deep. He gripped her fingers hard.

“Sophie,” he growled in her ear as he thrust.

“Ryan.”

“I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” he said. It vaguely occurred to her that this was one of the first times they’d had sex face to face. It occurred to her, too, that she wanted to try every position with him. She wanted to be taken, she wanted to be owned, and she wanted to be his.

Completely his.

“Me, too,” she said on a breathy moan as he claimed her with his cock. She clenched around him, her pussy gripping him tight as he thrust into her.

“I love being with you,” he whispered, his breath ragged in her ear, his words lighting her up. “Everything. Everything about being with you.”

“Oh God,” she cried out, because he was doing it again. He was taking her there. To the ends of the earth. To the edge of reason. To another fucking world, one stitched with silver and gold and bright, hot sunlight that rained down on her skin, liquid pleasure that flooded her veins, and something so damn close, so immeasurably close, to more.

He let go of one of her hands to palm her breast, squeezing her nipple as he rocked into her. He pinched her, and it hurt so good as she came hard around his cock. In seconds, he followed her, biting her shoulder as he reached his own climax, grunting in gorgeous pleasure, the sound of his deep, sexy moans music to her ears.

“It’s you,” he said, a minute later as he spooned her, holding her in his arms and kissing her neck. “It’s only you.”

She knew what he was trying to say. She felt it, too, inside her body, and deep into her heart. For the first time, the emotion lived in both places.