‘You sure you’re okay?’
I nod, then realise he can’t see me. ‘Fine.’
‘I’m going to make you come while you’re on the phone to him,’ he whispers in my ear, and my blood bursts through my veins.
I jerk my head away, my eyes lancing him, and he grins then drops to his knees once more, his mouth some kind of voodoo magic. I’m already at fever pitch and the second his tongue slides along my sex I feel the first tingling hint of explosion. I grip the railing tight.
‘You’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Did Bianca send you the run sheet? Snorkelling in the morning, followed by lunch, then a game of golf in the afternoon. I know you’re shit at sport but he’s meant to be a keen player—supposed to be almost pro level. I’m sorry to miss it, actually,’ Gareth drones on, but I stopped listening eons ago.
Jagger lashes me with his tongue, the warmth of his breath and the pressure of his mouth making pleasure roll through my veins until I can no longer keep quiet.
‘I got it,’ I moan. ‘I have to go.’ I fumble, disconnecting the call, then grip the phone tight in my hand as Jagger pushes me over the edge.
‘I said not to hang up,’ he murmurs as I come against his mouth, as I forget where I am, who I am, what I want in life.
‘Couldn’t...stay...quiet...’
‘Good,’ he purrs. ‘I like you noisy, Grace. I like you screaming, in fact.’
I don’t feel even a hint of embarrassment. I’m riding a wave of complete pleasure, total euphoric release. ‘Don’t stop,’ I beg, staring up at the sky. ‘Please, don’t stop.’
‘All night long, remember?’ He doesn’t say anything else. He uses his mouth to play my body, to fuck me with his lips, and I cry his name out at the top of my lungs as I spin wildly into an abyss from which I have no idea if I can escape.
* * *
‘Why did you do that?’ I ask when I can speak again.
‘Because I like making you come,’ he says simply, standing, straightening my dress. ‘In fact, I fucking love making you come.’
Pleasure makes my smile broad. ‘I meant, why did you do it while I was on the phone?’
His eyes flash for a second with something darker, something more hard-edged. ‘Because he’d hate it.’
‘He didn’t know.’
‘Sure. But you knew.’ His arms encircle me. ‘And I knew. And I like the idea of that.’
Something turns over in my gut, because I do, too, but it’s petty and juvenile. ‘I’m over him, you know,’ I say seriously, determinedly.
‘Sure you are.’ He laughs softly.
But his cynicism angers me—I’ve fought too hard to put Gareth behind me to have anyone doubt it now. ‘I am,’ I say firmly. ‘He’s married to someone else.’
‘That doesn’t mean you’re over him.’
‘Hello,’ I say with a forced smile. ‘Have you been with me the last couple of nights?’
‘Yeah. And you fuck like you’re trying to forget. I’ve been there. I recognise it.’
Something like panic flares in my chest. ‘You’re wrong.’
‘No, I’m not.’ He lifts a hand, strokes it over my hair, but I jerk away. He takes a step back, not crowding me. ‘But you’ll get over him eventually. He doesn’t deserve you.’
‘I am over him,’ I insist. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘Sure I do. He jerked you around, promised you the world, then left you for someone else.’
‘It’s really not like that.’