by Gina Kincade
Only he doesn’t know how long I can hold out. How long I have held out, and how this act alone—my tits on his chest—is a delicacy I could savor for hours. I’m practically delirious with the cloud of sensations aching through my breasts, my mouth dry as the gentle up and down of our bodies fills me with tension.
“Isaac,” I whisper, tilting my head back so I can look up the night—a thousand stars have emerged out of the darkness. “I, I haven’t had ...” I close my eyes and savor the tiny roll of heat that zips from my tits down to the heat between my legs. “I—I—” I stutter through delirious rolls of pleasure. “It’s been—”
“A long time?” Isaac asks roughly, rocking his hips forward—and suddenly or whole bodies connect. I gasp at the pressure of him as our bodies mold together, our hips, our thighs, our—
“Oh God, is—” I gasp again, feeling his hard cock press against my core. I bite my lip to keep from whimpering as my legs instinctually fall open to allow his thickness to rub against my bikini bottoms.
“When I want something,” Isaac repeats, pumping the length of his erection across my clit. “I go out and get it.”
My mouth falls open in a silent gasp and his lips connect with my neck. He drags them over the ridge of my gasping throat and up my jaw until his mouth is open against mine where he swallows my hot and wicked panting. He smiles under my gasps, as if claiming each as his own, and every part of us that connects under water is throbbing. His entire body a brand.
“Of course,” Isaac says, his tongue grazing my bottom lip that’s plump and gasping for him. “I take what I want, Ilsa, but the question is ...”
“Uh-huh?” My nipples press eagerly into his chest, my legs already wrapping his hips.
“Are you in love with my friend?”
“What?” I pull back startled. Only, I can’t go anywhere. I can only shift my shoulders and glare at him, overly aware of his cock pressed snuggly against my bikini bottoms. “What the—” I shake my head, flustered and annoyed that he’s bringing up the elephant in the other room. “Are you kidding?” I snap. “You know where your cock is right now, right? And then you ask that?”
But then his mouth is on mine, kissing me hot and deep. It’s fucking incredible, demanding, and tender, as he sucks my bottom lip between his teeth and starts nibbling. Nibbling in a way I want him to be nibbling on other parts of me. Nibbling in a way that makes me slip my tongue in his mouth and take the power back. He reacts immediately, kissing me harder and with more force. I let go of the pool and wrap my arms around his shoulders, threading my fingers into his dark hair. He responds by deepening the kiss and pulling back just enough to slide his arms around my body so I’m wrapped in his muscled arms, his wide palms cupping my shoulder blades.
His fingers tease the strings that tie my bikini top on and I moan into his mouth, wanting him to unravel them. Instead he digs his hips into mine, forcing my legs to widen and accommodate the thickness of his body. His hands drop to my knees, securing them over his waist as he rolls his pelvis and rocks his cock against me. Black spots of desire race across my vision and it’s so hot I know all I need to do is push down his shorts and get him to untie the strings on my hips. Then our lower halves will be bare and the next time he rolls his hips like that we’ll be fucking.
But Isaac pulls away, panting, and I stare up at him, my whole chest heaving with how turned on I am.
“Did that kiss answer your question?” I say brazenly, staring up at him hotly. He smiles before sliding both of his hands down over my ass and kneading his fingers into my cheeks with a heat that makes me want his hands massaging my every inch of me, every muscle, dominating me and tearing out my pleasure.
“Tell me honestly,” Isaac says, slipping his fingers under the edge of my bikini bottoms so his fingers are completely palming my bare ass.
“Yes?” I rasp out, pressing into his chest so I can lift my ass higher, and—damn—his fingers slide just where I want them—they slip down over my ass to lightly brush the back of my pussy. “Yes, Isaac?” I urge, wanting him to dip his fingers inside me, even if it’s just the tips and that’s all he can reach from this angle.
He growls as my eagerness, his fingers parting me from behind. “Tell me honestly,” he repeats, his middle finger teasing my entrance in the space where his other fingers have opened me wide. I gasp against his neck, needing him now, and the taste of his salty skin has me aching and quivery. “Tell me honestly, how would you feel if Dom walked out here in five minutes and found us fucking?”
I pull back and glare at him. “What kind a game are you playing at?” I snap, furious. Furious at how prone and ready I am. Furious that he’s trying to mess with me by turning me on and then denying me! Fantastic. Just what I need, another man who won’t step up! I drop my legs and yank his hands out of my bikini bottoms, even though my pussy is screaming at me for doing so. “Jesus! I can’t believe this is some stupid game to you!”
“Oh, now hold on—” Isaac says, his powerful hands clutching my waist. “I’m not the one playing at anything.” I try to squirm out of his grip, but when I look up, the direct heat in his eyes is alarming. “For me, things are very clear,” he says calmly, pushing me back against the wall and nudging my knees open with his. Before I know it, his cock is pressed hotly between my
thighs again. The bastard. “Do you get me hot?” he asks, thrusting his cock against my bikini bottoms in answer to his question. “Hell fucking yes.”
My pussy clenches and I swallow hard, because I’m so damn confused. I want him, but what the hell is this?
“Do I want to fuck you?” he asks, his eyes boring into me, and my mouth goes dry. “Yes.” The gruffness of his tone makes my hips twitch. “Will I fuck you thoroughly and intently, and make every inch of your body ache with fire? Trust me, I’m going to damn-well try!”
My mouth falls open. My whole body screams at such a promise.
“But—” His tone shifts, and he leans in close to my ear, an edge of confrontation clouding his voice. “The question is will you fuck me because you want to, or because Dom won’t?” My nails dig into his shoulders with the shock of what he’s said and how it hits me in a way I don’t want to admit. “Will you imagine it’s Dom inside you instead of me? Or will this be some kind of anger fuck, because you need to be touched—and the man you want to fuck you isn’t stepping up?”
I shrink in his arms. Is that what this is? Our eyes lock and suddenly the water feels like ice again. Isaac stares at me, watching intently, and—shit, I don’t know what kind of look is on my face right now. Is he right? Was I just about to use him to feel close to someone—anyone? Am I so desperate that I’d hookup with Isaac simply to feel desired?
Isaac leans forward and softly brushes his lips against mine again and my body shivers still wanting this connection. “Let me clarify,” he whispers. “I want you, Ilsa. Don’t for a second think I don’t.” But then he pulls back to look me in the eye again. “But what do you really want? I’m not going to fuck you if you’re in love with my friend. That’s one hell of a shit storm that ends badly for everyone.”
“Then what the hell were you doing with your hands on my ass?” I deflect. “And your—”
He grips my hips and rocks his pelvis against me again, shooting a hot pang of heat straight through me. “I said—” he counters, his eyes burning into me. “When I want something, I go after it.”
His directness makes the blood drain from my face. It points out how ridiculous the stupid game I’ve been playing with Dom has been. How it’s been months of avoiding, and hoping, and never pulling the trigger.
“The question isn’t who I want,” he says firmly. “The question is who do you want?”
He releases my hips and steps away from me abruptly. Suddenly I’m floating and weightless. I’m suddenly lost, with my body on fire, and completely torn between the desire to be touched and the fear that the man I want to do it will never step up.
Isaac swims to the fa
r side of the pool and gets out of the water. Water cascades down his sculpted chest and legs, and when he turns in my direction his shorts don’t even pretend to hide the size of his erection. His boxers cling to his impressive cock and a hot flush spreads over my cheeks as I take in the size of it. He stands there proud, letting me look, as if he wants me to fully consider what I could have. Our eyes connect and my body purrs. The attraction between us is real. If I wanted Isaac, this would happen.
“Let me be really clear right now,” he says, not breaking my gaze. “I’m going to go take a shower. And when I’m in there, I’m going to rub one out to the thought of you riding my face.”
My mouth drops open.
Did he just say—
“That’s right,” Isaac confirms. “I’m not Dom. I talk dirty.” Then, he puts his money where his mouth is and he reaches into his shorts and starts stroking himself under the fabric. Holy hell! “If you decide you want me, Ilsa? Then you know where I am tonight, and tomorrow, and I’ll tell you where I’ll be in three weeks. But you have to decide. Because you can’t have us both.”
He picks up his shirt and jeans and walks back into the suite, down the hallway, and into the bathroom, holding his hand in his shorts as he goes, completely unashamed of what he’s about to go do.
I stare at the empty suite after he closes the bathroom door. My whole body is aching at the idea of Isaac in that shower stroking his cock. Stroking himself to the thought of tasting my—
Fuck.
Just ... fuck.
I fall back into the water and float, my mind flashing with how hot Isaac would be to have. How hot and brazen it would be. How he wouldn’t be afraid to fulfill my every shameless desire and fuck me without abandon. I run my fingers over my stone-hard tits and it’s painful how aroused I am. Is that truly because of Isaac? Or is that because he’s the only one who’s promised to follow through? I can’t deny how tempting he is. How immediately and directly I could fulfill this need. Walking down that hall and into that bathroom feels like the best fucking idea in the world right now, because Isaac could pleasure me in a way Dom never would. Or is that why I want to do it? Because I’m so pissed off at Dom that I want to fuck my feelings away?
And what would happen after? Would Isaac and I become a couple? Would we have wild amazing sex for a little while and then the spark would fade? A heat like that can’t last, can it? It’s only hot because it’s forbidden.
I look up at the stars and spread my arms out wide like an angel, the quiet and fragile water keeping me afloat. A bruise of purple clouds has floated in above, covering all the stars that—only moments before—had burned so hotly. I feel like I’m suspended in those clouds, lost and floating somewhere between infinite possibility and the cold hard ground. I skate my fingers over the thin surface of water, so soft and fragile and unlike Isaac’s firm muscled body, which is solid. Solid with its frame. Solid with his intentions. No game.
I dance a hand up over my naked stomach and close my eyes, feeling the water hold me delicately. My fingers trace the skin, skimming my navel and toying with my own sensitivity. I could touch myself in the same way I know Isaac is touching himself in the shower. It wouldn’t take much to find relief. I could swim to the edge of the pool where Isaac caged me in, dip my fingers inside my bikini bottoms and think about the assured way Isaac could fuck me—without hesitation. Or I could go back to my room and—like this business deal—get it the fuck done. Even though I failed to work out this frustration last night, it seems like the only sane option.
I kick up and start treading water, turning to the suite-side of the pool to find the stairs, when—
I see Dom.
“Oh shit!” I gasp, completely startled. My whole body tightens with the jolt of surprise. He’s sitting on one of the patio chairs at the end of the pool, silently watching me. He must’ve come out while I was floating, because I didn’t hear him. How long has he been sitting there, poolside, watching me float in the water with my nipples hard and my fingers tracing my abdomen?
“Dom! Hey...” I cough out water. “I didn’t—I didn’t hear you come out.” I wrap my arms over my chest underwater, wanting to hide how aroused my body is.
“Sorry,” he says quietly, his eyes catching the light and revealing a light glaze from the whiskey. “The night is beautiful, don’t you think?” His eyes linger on me a second, before they skip out to the horizon, a light breeze catching his red hair and tossing it elegantly. “Where’s Isaac by the way?”
I don’t answer his question. Instead I watch him and tread water. It’s a simple question, one that hasn’t been asked with any implication. He’s honestly wondering where his friend is, and yet I feel nothing but guilty.
“I think he went to take a shower,” I say, nodding to the hallway, where Dom follows my gaze. The light whoosh of the shower can be heard behind the silence and I swallow hard, realizing that if Isaac hadn’t questioned what I wanted a few minutes ago, we would both be in this pool right now. And Dom would’ve walked out here to find me spread between his friend’s thrusting hips.
Suddenly, the pool feels like ice. I swim to the edge and get out quickly, only to look up and see Dom staring at me. Stunned.
I look down. I’m still wearing my bikini. I check behind me, noticing the city lights glowing and it hits me that from his angle I’m a silhouette. From his angle I must look naked. Sure, the important bits are covered with small scraps of fabric, but that doesn’t change how indecent I feel under his gaze.
I stare back, unsure what to do. Part of me wants Dom to advance on me, assuredly and with the same determination that Isaac had. It wants Dom to tell me how many times he’s imagined me naked and that his imagination never did me any justice. But the other half, it loves the flush of color that lights Dom’s face as he takes me in. How he still takes the time to look at me completely before turning away, suddenly remembering to be polite. That’s Dom, always the gentlemen.
“Did you, uh ...” He stares out at the city, rubbing his bottom lip like there’s something on it that he must attend to instead of looking at me. “Did you have a nice night?”
“Just went for a swim,” I say, picking up a towel and wrapping is around me, a gesture that allows Dom to look back in my direction.
“Did Isaac go for a swim too?” Again, his question isn’t confrontational, but something about it feels loaded. I shake my head and lie.
“We chatted for a bit, but ...” I push my wet hair from my face. “Then he went inside, like you.”
A shadow hoods Dominick’s eyes and I can’t gauge his reaction. I suddenly feel exposed in my bikini, even with the towel over me. I’ve never lied so blatantly to Dom before. Sure, we have our silly “always tell the truth” pact. But it was about business, or stupid daily agitations. It was never about us. And that is a lie we’ve danced around for months, a thousand tiny omissions to keep our relationship clean and simple.
“Since when do you drink on these trips?” I ask, changing the subject. “I hope you didn’t send the board anything you’ll regret in the morning.”
He shakes his head. “When have you ever known me to do anything I regret?” He smiles smugly and I know that’s the whiskey talking. Of course, he’s talking about business, but that doesn’t make the undercurrent of what he’s said hurt any less.
“It’s good to regret nothing,” I say, nodding curtly and heading toward the suite. Only he reaches out as I pass and catches my leg.
Dom’s palm cups the front of my shin and his fingers slide around to tickle the sensitive skin behind my knee. A delicate pang of heat inches up the back of my thigh to tickle my core, and I’m not sure if it’s a reaction to the fact that my body is already awake and turned on, or if it’s because the one who’s touching me is Dom.
This is the most intimate way he’s ever touched me, and it’s like the rest of him—gentle and elegant. I wait, looking down to where he sits on the lounge chair, his hair is tossed and his shirt un-tucked, the
sleeves uncharacteristically disheveled. He looks like a mess for Dom. And he doesn’t move. He doesn’t look up. In fact, he stares out at the horizon at the dark glitter of purple and blue that barely lights his face.
I should say something. Tell him it’s inappropriate for his hand to be where it is. I bite my lip and let his thumb graze my knee cap instead. I don’t know if the stroke of his thumb is deliberate or unconscious, but I tilt my head up to look up to the sky bruised with clouds. There are a hundred things I could say right now—about what I want, and how I want him to touch me, how I’ve imagined the texture of his hair, and the smell of his skin.
I say nothing and close my eyes to savor the simple feeling of his hand on my leg. Dom’s hand. It’s almost innocent, except for the fact that he’s kept it there longer than he should. Long enough for it to be inappropriate. Long enough that one of us should’ve said something.
But this is how we exist, caught in the heat of silence with his hand on my leg and all that’s unspoken making my heart race.
“I’m sorry I drank,” Dom says finally, his fingers dropping with his words and leaving my leg naked and weightless without them. A lump lodges in my throat with the fear that this will be the only time he will ever touch me and it’s already gone. “I know we made a deal,” he says. “And I broke it. I won’t do it again.”
He doesn’t look up at me. He doesn’t say anything about the fact that I too have been drinking. Instead he stares out at that endless skyline with a disheveled sadness that makes me want to wrap him in my arms and squeeze that sadness away. I want to sit on his lap and thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him till the sun rises. Kiss him till he understands that I can’t live in this silence. Kiss each tremble of his mouth and exhale of his breath that is hot and soft and his.
Are you in love with my friend? Isaac’s words echo through my head, and in this moment I could almost convince myself I am. I care for Dom fiercely, and yet I can’t seem to reach forward and actually touch him ... tangle my fingers in his hair ... take this leap of—
