The feeling of her sinking onto my cock was something I would never, ever get tired of.
Right fucking there at the table, her shorts lost in the pile of glass on the floor, my shirt that was far too large for her hanging limply around her body. She clutched my shoulders like a vice as she sank, impaling herself, stretching herself far more than she was ready for. I didn’t even have lube on me — but she didn’t seem to need it. Not with how much she had been leaking across the front of my pants, not with how fucking slick she was as she’d dragged the head of my cock against her slit.
Her face scrunched in pain as she paused, her breathing shaky, half of me inside of her and the other half exposed to the wind chill. Twilight was in full swing behind me, lighting her in soft pinks and blues, and my God, she looked stunning. Anything she did, she looked otherworldly, but tonight, with her lips parted and her hair up, barely a smidgeon of makeup and wearing my clothes, she had the power to destroy me.
It felt like she might.
Dragging a hand up her thigh, I slipped it between us, lifting the fabric of the shirt and dipping my fingers into her dampness. I could feel her pulse hammering on her swollen, molten hot clit, and I swirled my digits against it, fighting that sting of pain she was feeling and dampening it.
“Fuck,” she whimpered, her forehead falling to mine, her lips just a breath from me. Slowly, gently, her legs met mine, and her warmth enveloped me completely.
I kissed her as she stilled, accommodating me, her walls twitching around my cock. She took every movement of my lips greedily, hastily, needy — God, I wanted nothing more than to stay like this for as long as possible. As long as she’d let me.
“I’ve only seen this in porn,” she mumbled against my lips. “So I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing.”
As much as it pained me to release my hold on the back of her neck, I relented, dragging it down along her fabric-covered back before cupping her rear. “I’ll show you,” I rasped.
She followed the push of my hand, dragging her hips forward against me and the slip of my fingers in a grinding motion, a steady little moan slipping past her lips. I guided her back, angling myself just a little better, feeling the slide of her walls release me little by little before bringing her straight back toward me. The temptation to drop my head onto the cushions, to feel her, to give myself a moment to drink her in like the embodiment of perfection that she was, almost got the better of me. But I stayed upright. I watched her.
“Christ,” I groaned. “You feel so fucking good, princess.”
Her shallow breaths stuttered, her fingers weaving into my hair and tightening around the short strands. The moment I knew she was confident with her movements and didn’t need my guidance, I let my hand that wasn’t preoccupied with driving her closer to the edge wander.
Slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt, my fingers dragged across the bare skin of her back, following the divot of her spine up, up, up—
No bra. No fucking bra. All day.
Fuck.
The temptation to lift her off my cock, flip her around, and force her face down across the table atop the dishes and food so that I could take her, claim her, fuck myself into her over and over until she was shrieking my Goddamn name, was nearly overpowering. I dug my nails into her flesh instead, right where her bra would have been. I bared my teeth to her.
“Fucking temptress—”
Glass shattered again somewhere behind her.
She stilled in my lap, her ragged breaths filling the space between us with warm air. I stilled the movement of my fingers between her thighs and with one little shift, I looked over her shoulder.
Sarah stood in the doorway, her face pink and her hand clutching a bottle of champagne. Across the floor, broken glass reflected the last little rays of light, along with a discarded black tray and cracked macarons littering the polished wood floor. Liv’s heart thundered in her chest, loud enough that I could hear it, hard enough that I could feel it against my hand.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah fumbled, her eyes frantically darting between me, Olivia, and the mess across the floor. She squatted down, her shorts tightening and tugging at her skin, her hand reaching out toward the broken glass.
“Stop,” I barked, the echo of my voice bouncing off the glass walls and windows.
Sarah froze. Liv’s body trembled, her walls clenching around me. I dropped my hand from her back, letting the shirt fall back into place, completely covering her rear and where we joined. I didn’t dare remove the fingers between her thighs, though.
“Leave it,” I said, my voice coming out too rough, too gravelly. “Just leave it, please. Go.”
I could see the shift in Sarah’s throat as she swallowed even from where I sat. She stood.
“Go,” I repeated.
She retreated, her eyes lingering every step of the way, each footstep almost louder than the wind and the engines behind us. But the door closed behind her, and she was gone, and all I was left with was a shuddering Olivia in my lap, her pussy still wrapped around my aching cock.
“I’m so sorry—”
Liv’s creeping laughter cut me off, her body still shaking, her walls clenching with every breathy chuckle. “Don’t,” she grinned. “Don’t apologize.”
Brows furrowing, I took her face in my free hand, caressing the curvature of her jaw. “Why?”
Beaming lips parted on a hasty little breath, her pupils blown wide as fucking saucers. Her hips moved forward, my cock burying inside of her so fucking easily, my fingers slipping against her clit. She was dripping.
Dear fucking God. I should have known from the way she’d responded to our public indecency back in Vegas that she was only excited by this. I was a Goddamn idiot to have forgotten.
I pushed my hand back, slipping between the tied-up strands of her messy bun, and latched on. She hissed her approval as I tightened my grip, pulling her head back, forcing her chin to jut out at me as she looked me dead in the eyes.
“Little fucking exhibitionist, aren’t you?” I laughed, nipping at the tip of her chin.
Her cheeks heated, little flushes of pink blistering out across her face. “Maybe.”
I slipped my fingers from between us and sank my teeth into her pouting lower lip. “Maybe,” I mocked, raising my hand, inspecting the threads of her arousal that dripped in perfect little beads down the sides of my fingers. “Look how fucking wet that got you.”
Her hips shifted again, slowly restarting their movement. I used my grip on her scalp to turn her head, to force her to look at the mess she’d created.
I could barely see a hint of green irises around her pupils as she locked her gaze on it. “Open,” I ordered, and her lips parted immediately. “Clean it up, princess.”
My fingers slipped across her tongue, the silken hot feeling of it only making me harder inside of her. I couldn’t help but imagine her mouth wrapped around me instead, the heat of it, the softness of the back of her throat, the little muffled sounds she’d make. The way her hands would wrap around my thighs, the way she’d drip onto the fucking floor, the way I’d practically edge myself by watching her clean it up with her mouth.
I wanted to do so many things with her, to her. I wanted to reach new lows of depravity.
Her mouth popped as she released my fingers, damp and coated in a thin layer of saliva but pristinely cleaned of her. One hand pressed against my chest and her other buried between her thighs and taking care of my job, she moaned, her walls clenching around me.
“Did I say you could touch yourself?”
She stilled.
“I don’t think I did,” I growled, tightening my grip on her hair. I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away from her clit. Almost instinctively, she began grinding on my cock again, seeking friction, seeking more. “Fucking greedy little thing.”
“Touch me, then,” she whined. Her nails into the bare flesh of my chest, leaving little half-moon indents. “Please.”
“You’re so lucky I’m generous, princess.” Releasing her wrist, I slipped my fingers back into position between her parted lower lips, giving her too much pressure. She shuddered in my lap, her body trying to retreat from the intensity, but I kept her locked in position as she fucked herself on me. “Say thank you. I could just as easily ignore your clit altogether and keep you desperate and on the edge all fucking night.”
Her breathing quickened and her walls clenched my cock so hard I thought she might expel me. “You wouldn’t let me come?” she whimpered, her voice echoing an air of betrayal, but her eyes, fuck, they looked so Goddamn intrigued. Her movements were choppy, messy, desperate, and I lessened the pressure just a hair on her clit, giving her a little bit more of what she wanted.
“Fuck, you like that idea, don’t you?” I laughed. She nodded weakly, her little sounds telling me she was close. I was getting there myself. “Don’t tempt me, Olivia. I am more than willing to tease you all fucking night, touch you in all the wrong ways, never let you find that release, have you begging me. I—fuck, fuck, I’d kill for that. You look so Goddamn pretty when you beg, princess. Shit, oh my God.”
I could barely find the words I wanted to say, could barely fucking think with her moving the way she was. I wanted to stop touching her, wanted to do what I was saying, but she moaned so prettily, she felt so Goddamn good that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My composure was breaking, and so was hers, and neither of us stood a chance for much longer.
But I didn’t want it to end. And right then, emotions firing on all fucking cylinders and the only head I was thinking with was that of my cock, I stopped. I stopped everything.
“What—”
I pushed her body back from me, forcing my length from her, hating the harshness of the cool breeze against it instead of her warmth. “Bedroom,” I rasped. “I need to fuck you, Olivia. Properly.”
————
That oversized shirt was the first thing to go.
I’d let her wear it on the walk back to the cabin, even though the temptation to remove it first and force her to walk completely fucking naked through the internal halls was maddening. But despite it falling just beneath her ass, I could still see the glistening dampness leaking down her inner thighs as she’d walked in front of me.
I didn’t give her a chance to take in the room or the views it boasted out of the front end of the boat. I shut the door behind us, and before she could break the charged silence, I forced the fabric up and over her head, leaving every part of her exposed.
God, everything about her was sinful.
Her breasts, small but full, with little pink nipples that I wanted nothing more than to have between my teeth. The soft curves of her abdomen, the roundness of her hips and her ass, the barely-there tan she’d begun to acquire from her hours on the main deck today. I could have eaten her alive.
I would eat her alive.
Shucking the unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders, I let my desire fuel me, let it make every fucking decision. I grabbed her by the throat, my fingers ever so gently pressing in on the arteries on either side, and crashed my lips into hers. I could taste the lingering flavor of her from when she’d licked it clean off me, could feel the desperate little whimper she made that I absorbed.
I led her backward, creeping toward the bed, while undoing the button on my pants that I’d hastily refastened. I needed my clothes off. I needed to be inside of her.
“Damien,” she breathed, her chin tipping up again to look at me as I stopped at the foot of the mattress. Her eyes focused and unfocused, looking through and looking at me, and I lessened the pressure of my fingers. Blood rushed through her veins and she faltered on her feet, the head-rush making her lips part.
“On the bed,” I ordered, pushing her back just enough that she’d fall out of my grasp onto the cushy mattress. She swallowed, crawling backward, a string of dampness connecting her thighs. “Face down, princess.”
Her eyes blew wide as I pulled off my slacks, my gaze fixed wholly on her. But she rotated her body, flipped herself over on the soft, dark green sheets, her legs just barely spread, her ass beckoning me like a Goddamn light in the dark. I wanted to sink my teeth into it, wanted to grip her so hard she’d be left with bruises, wanted to bury myself into her so harshly she’d barely be able to walk tomorrow.
And I could.
Climbing onto the bed, I grabbed her by the hips, forcing them up, up, up, until her face was buried in the sheets and her hips were high in the air, the softest parts of her presented to me like a fucking meal. If I had any ounce of patience left, I would have eaten her, would have drank every drop from her leaking pussy, but I didn’t. I couldn’t wait. Not when she looked like this.
I knocked her knees further apart until she lined up exactly where I needed her to. I pressed the head of my cock flush against her entrance, the slip of it so easily guiding me into place, and with one hissed please from her, I buried myself inside of her, so deep it was nearly dizzying.
“Oh my God,” Olivia whined. “Please, please tell me you’re going to let me come like this.”
I laughed as I dragged my hands along her spine, my thumbs dipping into the divot that ran up the center of her back and parting at the top, my fingers wrapping around her arms. I pulled them back, joining them at the forearms and folding them over each other. “You’ll have to wait and find out, princess.”
Her walls squeezed the living daylights out of me. There wasn’t a chance in hell of me lasting very long after all of this.
I dragged every inch of myself out of her, leaving just the tip as I gripped onto her restrained arms, and a second later, I was plunging back in, giving her everything, taking everything. The harsh moan that vibrated through her made me thankful that Noah was sleeping soundly on the other side of the boat, with far too many rooms between us and him to even need to worry about her noises cutting through.
Over and over, I fucked her thoroughly, burying myself and retreating, feeling every bit of her tug along my length. I dug my nails into the softness of her ass, my grip unrelenting, breaking blood vessels and flushing her skin in little red spots. Every withdrawal from her left my cock glistening from her seemingly never-ending pool, and every thrust left my head spinning.
This was different. This wasn’t lust, this was something deeper, more raw, more degrading. This was a harsh, infinite need, a need that pulled at me from every angle, a need that took my fucking breath and refused to give it back.
“Please, Damien,” she begged. “Please, please, please.”
But she sounded so fucking pretty. So fucking pretty that I lost myself in her, my hips stuttering, my grunts and groans devolving into gasps and growls, and I found myself spilling into her. I released her arms as I filled her, heat spreading out in her and around me, my body heaving, my breaths too shallow. She rocked back into me, still riding her edge, still desperate, and within a second, I was moving.
“Dame,” she whimpered as I slid myself from her. “Please, I need you. I need this.”
I flipped her onto her back and she was on me in an instant. Her arms around my neck, her mouth against mine, her hips torturously bucking up toward me. I kissed her through the haze of my come down, but I couldn’t leave her like this, couldn’t leave her wanting when I’d had my fill, as tempting as it was.
“You were so good for me,” I rasped, her lower lip catching between my teeth. “So fucking good for me.”
“Does that mean—”
Slipping a hand between us, three fingers slid into her like slicing through melting butter. She moaned against my mouth, her hips already working, already seeking what she wanted. I met her halfway, my thumb stroking across her heated, throbbing clit. I’d already committed, but a part of me wanted to take that right to her orgasm away again, wanted to give it five minutes in the hopes that we could go another time, and then another, and another, or as many as she had in her before she broke and sobbed and offered me anything I wanted just to have her release.
But I was far too nice when it came to her.
I kissed down the side of her neck, across her collarbones, over the curve of her breast. My teeth latched onto her nipple, biting down just enough to cause a ripple of pain through the pleasure.
“Fuck,” she whined, her hands pushing through the strands of my hair, holding me in place. Her walls tightened around my fingers and her breathing escalated, so easily brought to that cliff edge. She leaked around my hand, a viscous mixture of both of us oozing out. “Please, Damien, oh my God—”
“Come, princess,” I ordered around a mouthful of her breast. “You earned it. You fucking earned it.”
She broke instantly, a shriek ripping from her throat before she instinctively covered her mouth, her body spasming and shifting beneath me. Her nails clawed at my fucking skull, little bursts of pain erupting from plucked hairs, and all I could do was drag her through it and drink it in, wishing I’d left it longer, wishing I’d done this every night since I met her, wishing I had all the time in the world to keep this.
I pulled my fingers from her.
I licked them clean, taking in both of us and the concoction we’d made.
I kissed her. I held her. I ached for her long after we’d finished.
And, stupidly, from the rocking of the ship and the Goddamn pool of bliss she’d given me, I fell asleep with her, flesh to flesh, beneath the sheets.
