Itisa gorgeous day. The sun is bright and shining, and it lifts my spirits a little, even if I still feel the heavy weight of disappointment from my conversation with Max. It’s quiet and peaceful–one of the perks of staying on an estate with almost no one else here–and I stretch out on one of the lounge chairs after rubbing sunscreen over my pale skin, eyeing the closest umbrella-covered lounge in case the sun gets to be too much.
I’m able to keep my thoughts on more innocuous things for a little while–the movie last night, walking through the vineyards, the possibility of a horseback ride soon–but my thoughts always circle back to Max. I squirm on the lounge chair, that ache that I felt standing on the stairs spreading through me.
If I thought there was really any hope for us, it would be a sweet kind of torture, that building, pressing desire that eventually breaks through the dam of resistance and floods over us both–but that’s not what this is.
That makes it just–-torture.
The memory of the heat in his eyes as we’d stood at the foot of the stairs, the way he’d been so clearly trying to hold himself back, sends a flood of heat through me as I press my thighs together, trying to alleviate a little of the ache. It does nothing, of course, the slight friction only making me feel even more aroused, a wet heat between my legs that only makes my thoughts turn even more lustful, drifting back to that night that we spent together.
I open one eye, blowing out a frustrated breath as I look around. There’s no one to be seen, as expected, and the tall fence and hedges around the pool keep anyone from the house or walking past from seeing what’s going on inside. I could skinny-dip if I wanted, although just the thought makes me turn red.
I could do it. No one will see.
My hand slides down my stomach, the taut flesh slick with sunscreen and sweat, and I tense, my heart racing as much from the forbidden idea of what I’m considering as the desire itself. I should go back up to the house if I need this that badly–but I want to stay here, under the sun, flushed with heat in more ways than one.
And a part of me–a bigger part than I’d be willing to admit–wants Max to come out here and catch me.
My fingers slip under the edge of my bikini bottoms, lifting up the fabric just enough to slide over the soft flesh beneath. My breath hitches as my fingers slide lower, and I know if I’m going to stop, now is the time to do it.
But I don’twantto stop.
I gasp softly when my fingers slide between my folds, the sensation rippling over me. I’m wetter than I’d realized, the slick liquid clinging to my fingertips as I trail them to my swollen, aching clit, making slow circles as I sink my teeth into my lower lip to keep quiet.
It feelssogood–better than before. I hadn’t been able to do this before Max without my thoughts taking a darker turn, but now all I think about is him, tanned and handsome, his muscled body leaning over mine as his lips captured my mouth and his cock pressed against me, thick and long and hard forme–
“Oh–” I whisper from behind pressed lips, my hips arching up a little as I let my fingers move faster, slipping in the arousal that I’m drenched with. The memory has me closer already than I should be, the memory of Max filling me up, his hard body rocking against mine, his soft dark hair running through my fingers as he groaned with pleasure.
His first.I’d never thought I’d be so turned on by the idea. Still, the sight of Max struggling to hold back, turned on to the point of losing control of his desire for me andonly me, only everme, had driven me wild.
It still does now.
I suck in another sharp breath as I feel my thigh muscles quiver, my body poised on the edge of a nearing climax–and then I hear the sound of gate hinges. I snatch my hand back, my heart racing in my chest.
I’d thought I wanted Max to catch me, but presented with the actual possibility, I can feel myself turning tomato-red with embarrassment. Besides, I have no way of knowing that itisMax, and the idea of anyone else catching me is a million times worse.
I press my thighs together, hoping that he won’t be able to see the damp spot between them if it is him coming through the gate, and a moment later–
The footsteps come closer, and I shade my flushed face with my hand, looking up to see the handsome face of the one person I want to see most and least of all at this moment.
9
MAX
Every time I see Sasha in some new way, she looks more beautiful to me than she ever has before. I wonder, each time, if I’ll ever run out of moments where I’m struck anew by how lovely she is to me–and then I remember, each time, that those moments should be finite.
No matter how much I care for her.
She looks up at me, her hand shading her eyes. “Did you change your mind about coming out to the pool?”
“Yes, I–” I rub a hand across the back of my neck, wondering how it can be that she always so easily makes me feel tongue-tied. I’ve always prided myself on being an eloquent man, good at conversation and diplomacy–it’s a large part of what I’ve done for Viktor. And yet, looking at Sasha, I often feel as if the words I want to say turn into a jumble on my tongue.
“I’m sorry,” I say finally, looking down at her. “I shouldn’t let my–feelings–get in the way of our friendship. We have an opportunity to spend time together here, and I was the one who agreed to bring you along. It’s my home–I’m being a terrible host by leaving you on your own like this.”
Sasha’s face softens. “It’s okay,” she says, and her voice sounds as if it catches a little, like she’s breathing faster than usual. “I understand. Things are–different now. Neither of us can help that.”
I sink down onto the edge of the lounge chair next to her, leaning forward with my hands pressed between my knees. “I should be able to, though,” I say quietly. “That’s the issue, Sasha. Viktor trusted me to protect you, to take care of you, as your friend and someone he trusts. I should be able to control myself better–to not let how much I–”
I break off, unable to finish the sentence, as if speaking my desires aloud would break down the shallow defenses I have left. All I can see is her, lying there in front of me, her pale skin slick with sunscreen and sweat, flushed, her chest rising and falling quickly–