Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
His arm tightens in an attempt to keep me still, but he doesn’t succeed, not until his other hand trails down my body, wandering over my stomach and hips, slipping between my legs. I tense at the first feel of his featherlight touch over my swimsuit bottom, but he withdraws and repeats the same maddening trail over my body until my thighs relax and welcome him. I’m holding my breath, internally pleading for something.
My heart feels like it’s pulling out of my chest when his hand finally slides back between my legs. He whispers praising words into my hair, running his fingers back and forth over the material covering the center of my legs. With each pass, he gets nearer to where I desperately need him.
“Ah…”
“Déjame. Let me.”
I do. Shamelessly surrendering, arching into his sensual touch. Then his hands inch beneath the waistband of my bathing suit. Finally his skilled fingers touch me, moving beneath the turquoise material as my body melts against him and my mouth forms a silent O.
The hand he had around my waist climbs up to toy with my bikini top, slipping beneath the wet material, kneading my full breast before hooking a finger under the fabric and tugging it aside. I love the deep moan that rumbles against my back when he looks down over me. He does the same with the other side of my bikini, baring me to him, and then, in his husky voice, he tells me just how much I please him as he takes each breast, one after the other, in his hands, palming and teasing until I feel boneless.
“Looking at you in this bikini all morning has been un tormento. You should have heard the little whimpers you let escape when I was applying your sunscreen. Did you even realize?”
His fingers close over the tip of one breast and he tugs, the ache mingling with my growing need.
“Cristiano,” I beg.
He tuts. “You promised you could be quiet.”
His hand comes up like a collar around my neck. He uses his index finger to tip my head back so he can scrape his teeth along my skin, gently biting down as his other hand finds its way between my thighs once again. I arch against his fingers as he plays with me on top of my bikini, but then that fabric gets brushed aside, too. His fingers trace either side of me, working me up to a fever pitch before he finally sinks two of them inside me.
“Yes…”
There’s a feeling of rightness mixing with the fear of how easily we could be caught. I know Cristiano said his crew knows to leave him alone, but still, if Beth wanders out to ask if we need anything, she’ll see what Cristiano is doing to me and I’ll never recover from the embarrassment… and yet…
I don’t protest. My body begs for more.
I roll my hips to meet his hand, rocking against his fingers and chasing every excruciating tendril of pleasure with an intensity I’ve never felt. Every muscle in my body tightens as my toes curl, my skin heating like fire. He withdraws his fingers and draws tiny circles between my legs.
“Shhh…” he warns as he finds the most sensitive part of me. My breaths start coming faster, sharper.
When it’s clear I can’t follow directions as well as I promised, his hand covers my mouth to stifle my moans.
“¿Te gusta así? Does that feel good?” he asks, knowing I can’t respond.
His words embolden me, intoxicate me, lure me into oblivion. His pace quickens, he knows just where to touch, how to touch.
Have you dated men like me? he asked earlier.
Now I concretely have my answer.
I cry out and his hand tightens on my mouth, enough to send me careening into the hottest, most excruciatingly long orgasm of my life. I rock against him, unbothered by the audience one deck below us. Nothing exists in those few seconds as he cradles me from behind and his skilled hands continue wringing out every ounce of pleasure I have to give him.
It feels like ages before I regain my shaky breath. Full-body shivers still pulse through me. Eventually, begrudgingly, I open my eyes. The sun blazes overhead and I have to blink a few times to adjust to the searing brightness.
Cristiano doesn’t move except to fix my swimsuit under the water, carefully resetting my bottoms so they cover me once again. He eases his hand off my mouth and then lowers it to tenderly rub over my pulse point on my neck with his thumb like he’s apologizing for being a little rough with me. I’m sure I’ll be red there, red everywhere, but I don’t mind one bit.
A burst of laughter from the aft deck is like a fire alarm to my senses. I jerk and pull away from Cristiano, only realizing after I’ve spun completely toward him that my bikini top is still askew and my tattoo is underwater.