“So wet,” he murmurs when he slips his fingers between my legs and they come away dripping. I’ve been in a state of perpetual horniness since we’ve arrived in Carmel two days ago. I want to do it constantly. I don’t know if it’s the sea air or what, but I’m not complaining. And neither is Cannon.
“All for you,” I tell him, and his eyes flare with heat. I’ve become a little more comfortable with the dirty talk and I even toss out the occasional raunchy comment, but that’s rare.
Baby steps is what I tell Cannon.
“Hmm, can’t wait to take a taste.” He grins, moving down my body, dropping kisses here and there. Just below my rib cage. On my stomach, tongue dipping into my navel and making me squeal. A kiss on one hip, then the other. His big hands spreading my legs wider, his mouth on the inside of my knee, trailing up to the inside of my thigh. So close. So very, very close…
His fingers in my pubic hair, the pubic hair he barely lets me trim. He’s a total fan of the bush, as he calls it, and will hardly let me manicure it.
Finally, his mouth is exactly where I want it. Delivering sweet kisses. Hot breath. Teasing tongue. Fingers slipping inside my body, one, two at a time. He wraps his lips around my clit, sucking it, tonguing it, and already I’m close. The orgasm just out of reach, Cannon’s mouth and fingers drawing it closer. Closer still.
“Oh.” The word falls from my lips, a warning, and he knows all of my tells. He increases his pace, fingers pumping, tongue flicking, and me coming. Shivering and shaking with his name falling from my lips, my fingers clutched tight in his hair, pulling. Probably hurting him.
I don’t care. Every time he goes down on me, he gives me such a toe-curling orgasm. I tend to lose control. He knows this, yet continues to go down on me anyway.
That’s the risk he’s prepared to take.
“Mmm.” Once my orgasm as subsided, he’s lying next to me, his mouth on mine, the salty taste of me still on his lips and tongue. I kiss him eagerly, overcome with need for him and within seconds he’s on his back and I’m on top of him, reaching for the bedside table and grabbing the condom lying there in wait.
I planned this interlude right down to every last detail.
“I’m feeling lazy,” he tells me as I scoot down and tear open the wrapper, rolling the condom onto his thick erection. It flexes in my hand and I wrap my fingers around the base, giving him a firm stroke. He chokes out a groan, making me smile. “You gonna ride me?”
“You want me to ride you?”
“Yeah.” He watches as I climb back on top of him, straddling his hips, lowering myself onto his cock. “I wanna watch your tits bounce.”
I should be appalled that he calls them tits, but his words don’t bother me. He loves my tits. And my plump ass, as he calls it, and especially my juicy pink pussy. His crude talk is but one of many reasons why I love him.
And I do. I love him so fiercely that when I think about it too much, my throat starts to feel tight and my eyes begin to sting.
Bracing my hands on the wall that is his chest, I start to ride him. Going slow at first, sliding up and down his erection, both of us moaning in agony when he fills me to the absolute hilt. He’s long and thick and I feel so full every time we do this, yet it’s like I can’t get enough. I want more.
When it comes to Cannon, I’m greedy.
He rests his hands on my hips, guiding me, encouraging me to move faster. I follow his lead, bouncing harder, sending him deeper, the friction between us sparking, firing us both up. His hands move from my hips to my breasts, and he squeezes and kneads them. Suddenly he sits up, his cock still inside me, his mouth on my neck, my chest, the valley of skin between my breasts.
I wrap my arms tight around his neck and hold him, pausing in our movements. His hands go to my butt, fingers playing with the spot where his cock is filling me and I whimper in his ear. Those busy fingers slide up my butt crack, and my inner walls pulse and clutch.
“You love that,” he whispers with satisfaction.
“I love everything that you do to me,” I say with total and complete honesty.
“You especially love it when I play with your ass.”
I sink my teeth into his shoulder muscle and he hisses in a breath. “You like it when I play vampire with you.”
“I do like it when you bite me,” he admits, his hips shifting. I can tell he’s getting impatient—he wants to continue where we left off—and so I start to move again. Loving how intimate this position is, wrapped around each other, our sweaty bodies clinging, the sunlight from the giant window nearby shining upon us. All my flaws on display.
He loves every one of my flaws. He doesn’t even see them as flaws. He only sees me.
Me.
Our breathing increases, the slap of our damp-with-sweat skin filling the otherwise quiet room, and he goes tense beneath me, his tell that he’s close. His fingers dig into the flesh at my hips, his mouth breaking away from mine to exhale roughly, a groan emitting from low in his throat just before the shudders begin. I hold him close, working my body up and down his cock, another orgasm washing over me. This one like quicksilver. There and gone, slipping away just as I grab hold of it.
“Wow,” he whispers against my throat once we’ve settled down. He kisses me there, his mouth rising, running along my jaw. “You can interrupt my golf game any time.”
“Are your friends mad you had to leave?” I stroke his back, reveling in his smooth, muscled skin.