I bite my bottom lip and clench my thighs in anticipation of his next move. He strokes me gently with two fingers, now watching me intently. My eyes grow heavy, and I close them, getting lost in the pleasure.
He takes that as an invitation and pushes my panties aside, stroking my wet folds with his fingers.
“Holy fucking Christ, Gia.”
I should be embarrassed at how wet I am, but it turns him on. He grinds his erection into my hip as he parts me with his fingers and dips one inside.
“Oh,” I moan. He’s so tender, so gentle, but I need more. I push my pelvis into his hand, and he reads my thoughts, dipping a second, then a third finger in me while he rubs my nub with his thumb. “Oh my God.”
I reach for whatever I can find to hold me stable. The lapels of Stone’s coat. I grip them hard in my clutches and grind my molars as the orgasm builds inside of me. I lift on my toes and dip down again and again, driving the pressure and pace I want his fingers to move.
He doesn’t move his body, allowing me to guide the tempo. I clench my thighs tighter, trapping his hand between my legs as the wave takes over my body and crashes into me. Sweat beads above my lip and I lick it off, wishing it were Stone’s tongue instead. On my lips. Between my legs. Anywhere. Everywhere. I tip my head back and cry out, still clutching onto his jacket.
I don’t let go until the last wave slows. I pant for air and slowly open my eyes. He’s still staring at me with that unreadable intensity. Does he expect me to return the favor? Does he expect me to let him fuck me like he said in such vulgar terms just minutes ago?
“Better?” He moves my panties back in place and removes his hand from under my dress. Still keeping me pinned to the bar, he reaches behind me and fills my wine glass. “Here. You look parched.”
I take the wine from him and continue my speechless stare.
“Drink up.” He lifts the glass to my lips. “We’re almost to the airport.”
“Airport?” That has me coming to my senses again.
He licks his fingers while studying me with hooded intensity. “Next time we can sail across the Mediterranean. Tonight, we fly. It’ll be quicker.”
Stone moves away and I immediately miss his warmth. He pats down his crumpled lapels and shifts his belt. I can’t help my gaze from lowering to his crotch where he displays an impressive erection.
I fully expect him to demand more. To guilt or coax me into getting him off. But he doesn’t. Maybe it’s because the yacht has docked.
Maybe it’s because he isn’t so bad after all.