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Her nails suddenly dug into my wrist. “Fuck me, Kyle.”

Yes. I swallowed thickly, my head swimming in lust. “I’m glad you decided to revise your statement.” Her ‘fuck you, Kyle,’ which had started this whole thing, echoed in my head. One simple word swap and everything flipped on its side.

There were tugs at my ruined two-hundred-dollar belt as she tried to get my pants open. I withdrew my fingers from her and curled them around her panties, yanking down. As I tossed her soaked lingerie onto the deck beside my tie, warning lights flashed in my head. This was a very bad idea, but it was too late to stop—

Fuck!

My wallet.

It was all the way on the other side of the room, tucked inside my suit jacket. I had at least one emergency condom in there, but it was a thousand miles across the pool deck. She’d been successful in getting the belt open and my pants unzipped, but I stopped her there. I scooped her up under her ass, ignoring her cry of surprise, and trudged toward the stairs, a man on a mission.

One of her arms hooked around my neck, clinging to me as we moved. “Where are we going?”

“My wallet’s up on the chair.”

Her whine of frustration was exactly how I felt. She jammed her hand between our bodies, down inside my boxers, and when her fist closed around my cock, I couldn’t keep going. Her long, tight stroke drew a shudder and a moan from me. “Jesus.”

“We could . . .” Her gaze went to the chair, and then flew back to me, her eyes evaluating. “How many women have you been with since me?”

“What?” My brain wouldn’t work right when she was touching me. Heat pumped in my veins, with lust as the accelerant.

“I’m still on the pill, and we didn’t used to use condoms.” Her lips pressed into a line at the same instant her bare tits pressed against my chest. It shot warmth straight to my groin. Beneath the water, her fist stroked once more. “How many, Kyle?”

The honest number came out before I could stop it. “Three.”

Her hand paused and she went rigid. I’d confessed to her once how I’d been kind of a whore when pursuing my undergrad degree. She repeated the word like she surely hadn’t heard it right, because how could that be? “Three?”

We’d made it into the shallow end, so I let go of her legs, dropped her on her feet, and cupped both hands on her face. I walked her backward toward the stairs. “Yeah, three. And I always used protection. You?”

“Of course, I was always safe.” She blinked, as if not quite recovered from her surprise.

When the backs of her calves hit the stairs, she fell to sit and I chased after her. “Your number, Ruby.”

I’d revealed too much and tried not to grind my teeth as I set a hand on a step beside her hip, keeping my lips near hers. There was a perfectly good explanation for my number, such as a long-term committed relationship, and I hoped she’d assume that. It wasn’t my real reason, though. I’d lost myself in my job in New York, trying to forget her. It’d been impossible, and I’d had hardly any interest in dating in a new city where I didn’t know a soul.

When I’d finally gotten back up on the horse, sexually speaking, it’d been lackluster. No chemistry, no strong desire. I’d felt nothing other than a few minutes of empty pleasure. So I was more than a little curious to hear if it had been the same for her. My ego wanted to believe I had destroyed sex for her like she’d done for me.

She tried to stall by kissing me, and I let her because, fuck me, kissing her got me hard. I knelt on the bottom step between her parted legs and was throbbing in her hands as she resumed jerking me off. I was supporting myself on one arm, and palmed her breasts with the other, sliding over her wet skin.

Her tone was quiet and cautious. “More than three.” She arched up, stretching into me. “Always safe, though. I’m good. If you tell me you’re good, then we’re good.”

The statement suspended for a moment. So, we were both clean and okay about fucking with nothing between us, but were we good? I didn’t want to be hung up on her number, so I forced the thought from my head. All that mattered was she was here, beneath me right now, her legs spread wide around my hips.

“I’m good,” I said.

“Then, please hurry.” Her voice was full of need and her hands clawing at the waistband of my boxers.

I grinned. Her begging tone sounded so goddamn good. She worked the elastic down over my hips, freeing me from my underwear, and she slumped down on the stair, scooting to the edge so it’d be easier for me to take her. Competing ideas battled in me. I didn’t want to wait, and yet I wanted to hold her here. To draw this moment out.

Even under the water, her skin was like silk. I trailed my fingers down her naked chest, over the dress bunched at her waist, and further until I hit the junction of her legs. She was hot like fire, and slicker than the water. I teased the pads of my fingers over her swollen clit.

Ruby shifted restlessly on the stairs, and whined as if what I was doing felt good but wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t. We both craved more. She wound her hand around me and dug her fingernails into my ass, pressing me forward.

“Please,” she whined again. “Fucking give me that cock.” Her mouth got me every time. She looked so cute and innocent, and I loved the contrast of her conservative librarian appearance and her dirty-talking sailor language.

I ghosted a kiss on the side of her neck. “Always whispering such sweet nothings.”

Then I lifted up on my arm, steadied myself, and rubbed the tip of my dick against her entrance as if asking permission to slip inside. Really, I was teasing her again. I couldn’t see all that well what was happening beneath the surface. Although the water was clear, Ruby wouldn’t hold still, and the ripples bent and distorted the image.


Tags: Nikki Sloane Blindfold Club Erotic