Finally, he’s lying along me, and his cock is buried fully inside me, my pussy aching with the unfamiliar stretch. But it’s a good ache. The kind of bone deep ache that makes me want more of this, more of him.
“God,” he groans between his clenched teeth. “You are so fucking tight. You feel incredible.” He leans down to kiss my neck, then the soft spot below my ear, his teeth grazing my skin and making me gasp with pleasure. He traces his lips over my jawline until his mouth finds mine again, and he crushes my lips against his in a slow, deep kiss.
I part my lips, let his tongue slip between them, let him claim every inch of me, my hands still pinned above my head. It feels delicious to surrender like this, to let him take charge. When our mouths part, he grins down at me, gaze full of heat.
“You feel that?” he asks, as he slowly arches his hips to draw his cock back out of me.
I gasp a little, my hips rising up to collide with his, at the sensation of him leaving me. But before I can miss him too much, he thrusts back in, and the pleasantly stuffed sensation returns.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, voice nearly a growl, as he thrusts back into me again. He reaches down with his free hand to cup my leg and draw it up around his waist. I wrap both of my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles behind him.
“I’m yours,” I breathe faintly, agreeing, eyes fixed on his face as he draws out, thrusts in again. Each time it feels like he’s spearing me a little more deeply, hitting me in just the right spot. I moan as he starts to move faster, his cock setting off every nerve ending in my body.
I expected this to hurt more. There’s a little pain, especially when he starts to drive into me harder, faster. But if anything, I welcome it. It makes the whole experience feel real, immediate. And the pleasure far outweighs it anyway.
“Say it again,” he growls against my mouth, kissing me harder, thrusting into me. I tighten my legs around him and arch my back, my hips, letting him have complete control, letting him take whatever he wants from me.
“I’m yours,” I cry out, louder this time.
“That tight, sexy pussy is mine,” he says, voice hot with want.
“My pussy is yours. My body is yours.” A faint cry escapes my lips as he arches his hips, angling himself inside me, his cock stretching my walls around him.
“I want you to come for me.” He moves hard, fast against me, reaching down to grab my ass, angling me so he can pound into me. “Come for me, Sinclair.”
My breath hitches as I feel the pressure building behind my navel again. It’s familiar, after the last time. “I’m going to,” I pant. “I’m going to come for you.”
“Do it,” he growls. “Now.”
There’s no disobeying the command in his tone. And between that and the pounding pace he’s setting, I can hardly disobey. I arch my back, panting, nearly there, feeling my whole body tremble as I poise on the edge of a climax…
He slides up and away from me a little, positioning himself at a new angle, so the head of his cock grazes that sensitive spot I felt earlier within me. Now I really can’t help it. “Come,” he says, and I do, screaming so loudly I’m sure half the resort will hear us. I don’t care.
My voice echoes through the room as the orgasm sweeps through me, even stronger than the first time. My whole body shakes from the force of it.
But it doesn’t even slow Ankor down. He just keeps thrusting into me, fucking me so hard my ass bounces against the bench underneath us. I tighten my legs around him, sensing he’s near the edge himself. He releases my wrists, and I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck, pulling his body down against mine. He fucks me without control now, with complete abandon, and I drive my hips up into his, giving as good as I get.
His gaze locks onto mine. “I’m going to come in you, Sinclair.”
“Do it,” I breathe. “Come inside me. I want to feel you.”
He doesn’t take any more encouraging. He reaches up to grab the back of my head, his fingers wrapped tight in my hair, so tight it makes my eyes water, but I don’t care. We’re both lost in the moment, in the feeling of his cock buried deep inside my pussy.
He finishes with a loud, guttural growl, and we fall back against the bench, breathless, my head racing. For a long moment, all he does is lie across me, his head cradled against my chest, where he no doubt can hear just how hard my heart is pounding.
When he finally pulls out of me, I let out a little mewl of protest. It felt so right to have his cock inside me, filling me up. Now I feel empty. A trickle of my own juices inch down my thigh as he draws back and away. I sit upright with a gasp, but he just smiles, like he’s anticipating my thoughts, and leans down to kiss me again, more softly this time.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “This is just the first time, not the first and last.”
His eyes are fixed on mine, still hot with desire. If I thought he’d stop wanting me after fucking me, I was wrong. But somehow, this is worse.
I thought I might stop feeling the white-hot lust after we fucked. But all I want is more. I want him to take me again and again. I don’t want this moment to ever stop.
And that makes me very, painfully aware of how dangerous what we just did is. Not just for me, but for him too.
I’ve made a huge mistake, I think, even as he leans in to kiss me gently once more.
4
Sinclair
“Damn. Just when I think you can’t get any more attractive.” Ankor is grinning, watching me descend the stairs one at a time.
My gaze is locked on his, but my heart does a funny little flutter in my chest. I wore the only other dress I own, a simple tank dress with a striped pattern. Staring at myself in the mirror earlier, with my broad hat back on—safety first, even now—my only thought was of how underdressed I looked. How Ankor was probably going to take one look at me and decide he’d already had his fill.
But now, watching him watch me, and seeing the obvious hunger in his gaze, the way he tracks my every movement as I walk down those stairs, suddenly I feel like I’m wearing some expensive designer dress. I’m pretty sure he’d be staring at me just as avidly if I were.
It makes my belly tighten. Just the memory of earlier today, alone in that changing room, is enough to make my stomach somersault. I feel like I’ve just tripped over an extra step, judging by the swoop in my belly, and I have to grab onto the railing of the hotel grand staircase, just to be sure I didn’t.
But no. I’m still steady on my feet, shockingly.
It’s my head that’s a mess. Looking at him, all I can think about is how he looked when he knelt between my thighs, his mouth on my pussy, his tongue delving into me, licking at me like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted. I hear the echo of his voice again, like a whisper against the nape of my neck. I’m going to make you scream so hard you’ll forget your own name.
You’re mine.
I remember the way his cock felt, buried deep in my pussy, making me moan and cry out with pleasure. I remember how his fingers felt spreading my pussy lips, caressing my swollen, aching clit. It makes my thighs tighten again now, as I reach the bottom of the staircase, and I clench them together, worried. I’m wearing underwear—panties, really, the only sexy pair I brought, more out of sheer necessity than any planning ahead. I’d packed whatever I could grab, when I—
Don’t think about that.
But I’m worried the sheer lacy fabric won’t be enough to contain me, if he makes me wet again. And god knows he’s good at doing that.
“Ankor,” I say, my voice trembling ever so slightly with anticipation.
“Sinclair.” My name in his mouth makes my veins thrill. He leans in and his lips graze my cheek, soft, gentlemanly. His hand, on the other hand, slips down to grip my ass in one tight fist, just hard enough to make me jump and gasp. I dart glances in both directions, but the entry hall to the hotel looks deserted, thankfully, so I doubt anyone witnessed that touch.
At any rate, he’s already moving, st
riding out through the double doors to the car waiting outside. “I figured we could go for a drive,” he says, as we cross out of the nice airconditioned hotel lobby and out into the heat of midday in Maui. “If you haven’t been around the island much yet, there are plenty of beautiful drives around the place. More than a few less crowded beaches worth a visit, too.”
“Sounds good,” I say, though I hesitate in the entryway when I notice him opening the passenger side door of a BMW. I frown. “Whose car is this?” I hope he isn’t borrowing some friend’s car just to impress me. Or worse, renting one. I don’t even want to think about how much it would cost to rent a car like this one.
“It’s mine,” he replies, easy and thoughtless. Then he glances over and catches me frowning, and something seems to close off in his expression.
“How did a resort swim instructor afford a car like this?” I ask with a light laugh, as he offers me a hand and guides me into the passenger seat. It’s a convertible, with leather seats no less. They creak as I slide into place, and he shuts my door before he moves around the front of the car to climb behind the wheel.
“Lucky break, I guess.” He smiles and turns the car on, reaching over to press a button. Automatically, the roof begins to fold back. As it does, he reaches over to slide one hand over my knee, the only exposed portion of my upper leg below the hem of my sun dress. He squeezes my knee gently, before he releases me with obvious reluctance to take hold of the gear shift instead. “I tend to get those a lot,” he says, with a pointed grin at me. “Present company being proof enough.”
I laugh, rolling my eyes a little. But underneath his easy flirting, I can tell I threw him off with my question. It makes me want to know more. What kind of a lucky break did he have, exactly?
But when he starts the car and veers us out onto the highway, I forget about my concerns. I’m too busy holding my hat down on my head—and getting my breath stolen away by this view. Fucking hell. He wasn’t kidding about Maui having beautiful… well, everything. Even the highways—at least the ones we’re taking—snake along the coastline, providing us stunning vistas of the Pacific Ocean, the white sand beaches far below. On the other side are mountains and rolling green hills, interspersed with jungles filled with trees and plants I’m not even sure I’d know the names of.
As we drive, he talks. He starts off asking me where I’m from, and about my family. But after I give single word answers to his questions—Charleston, only child, parents both dead—he senses that I don’t seem to want to talk about my history. Instead, we switch to the present.
He tells me all about the hotel’s history. Some eccentric wealthy mainland American who wanted to hide away from the world founded it almost a hundred years ago. He built it to be a self-contained paradise, a little hideout from the real world.
“It’s definitely working at that,” I tell him. “I already forgot reality exists.”
Ankor laughs at that. “Well, you’d be surprised. Paradise or not, it’s still a real life here. There are still concerns, things to keep in mind, daily problems…”
“Like old Ms. Humbolt hitting on you a little too forcefully?” I ask with a laugh.
“Or amazing, gorgeous new girls showing up to distract me,” he replies, with a long glance in my direction, his gaze searing hot.
I shiver a little, and not just from the breeze. “Am I a problem then?” I ask, my voice husky, more full of feeling than I expected. Considering I’ve only known Ankor for a day, it shouldn’t bother me too much how he thinks of me.
But his response, “More than you know,” in a low, throaty voice that makes my thighs clench again, and the pulse in between my legs start up again. To soften the blow, he reaches a hand over, and this time when he wraps his strong, muscular palm around my knee, he leaves it there, the heat of his hand searing against my skin.
My pussy is still a little sore from earlier, but it’s a good kind of sore, like my muscles after a long, satisfying workout. It tells me that everything we shared, everything that happened, was real.
Now, though, the ache seems to redouble, and my heart twists, thinking that I was just a problem for him. Nothing more.
He notices my expression, and gently squeezes my knee. “Hey. Some problems are more than worthy of being distracted by.” He flashes me a wink. “In fact, without them, life would become boring and stale. Just day in and day out, all work and no play.”
“In paradise, at least,” I point out, and he laughs, the tension between us breaking, at least for the moment.
“Very true.” His hand slides up my leg, a little farther, and I suck in a breath, tensing. He glances over to raise one eyebrow, and I meet his eye, challenging, and force myself to relax.
“So, tell me, how many other swim class clients have you seduced?” I ask, and he laughs even longer this time.
“I’ll admit, poor Ms. Humbolt and Mrs. Jenkins aren’t really my type.” He grins. “You’re my first foray into sleeping with the clientele.”
“Well, you’re my first everything, so…” I trail off, my breath hitching again.
But if I thought the reminder would put him off, I was wrong. His hand slides another few inches higher, and his gaze when I catch it is as scorching hot as ever. “How are you feeling?” His hand is just inches from my panties. I can’t tell if I want him to move it higher or not. I’m pretty sure if he does, he’ll find the fabric soaking wet.
Outside the car, some of the most beautiful views I’ve ever seen in my entire life coast by. Vibrant green under cerulean blue sky and turquoise waves. But I can’t look away from the man next to me. I can’t focus on anything but his scent, the heat of his palm on my leg, the thrum of the charged air between us in this car.
“Are you sure?” he’s asking. After all, it was only a few hours ago that he deflowered me. Claimed me as his.
My belly flutters at the memory. “No. I mean…” I hesitate. “A little bit, but, it’s the good kind. Kind of… pleasant.” What I don’t want to admit aloud is that the ache makes it feel, sometimes, when I clench my muscles down there, as if I can still feel his cock inside me. The memory is so good it makes me ache for an entirely new reason.
Ankor’s grin is a cocky slash. “Good.”
He takes a turn, and his hand leaves my thigh to return to the gear shift as we negotiate a particularly steep road, this time headed down it, toward the distant shoreline. The jungle rears up, and for a while, I can’t see much except the road ahead of us, and the thick trees all around, their leaves so huge they look bigger than me.
“Do you get a lot of time to explore the island?” I ask as we drive.
“Enough that I have some favorite spots,” he says. “I prefer my solitude, and there can be a lot of tourists, even at this resort—which is one of the smaller ones in Maui. Sometimes it’s nice to just get away for a while, be by myself in nature. So I can clear my head and think.”
I laugh a little, my breath a soft huff. “That I can empathize with.” After all, why did I come all the way here, if not to do just that? To escape while I still could. To be by myself, figure things out. Clear my head of the past and all its ugly ramifications.
“Look.” He points to my right, and I glance over. My breath catches.
Between the trees, I spot the sparkle of the midday sun on the waves. They’re big waves here, larger than at the beach where I went wandering yesterday. The kind of waves I imagine a surfer would crave. Not that I would know, of course. Since I never learned how to swim, I never took up any kind of water sports. Least of all surfing, which combines swimming with balance, possibly the only thing I’m worse at than the former.
I’d be eaten by a shark my first time out on a board. It would take one look at me and pin me as an easy dinner.
Still, watching those waves, it makes me wish I were braver. Bolder. The kind of person who would swim out in them and tackle them head on.
We take a final turn, and to my surprise, the road just… ends. There’s a bi
t of gravel before we reach the white sand of the beach. Ankor pulls off to one side, parking near enough to the asphalt that it won’t be a problem for his car. There are no other cars here, but even so, he leaves plenty of space in the lot. “In case anyone else comes off-roading or down to surf later,” he explains. “You learn to be a good neighbor around the island. Word travels fast, and it’s a small town, that’s for sure.”
I laugh, trying to imagine put-together, impossible-to-ruffle Ankor worried about some small-town gossips complaining about him. But I can’t deny that it’s a little bit sweet, too. It’s polite of him to leave space for others to reach the beach. For all his talk about solitude and preferring his own company, I wonder if he’s always been like this, or if he used to be a more social person.
He pops the trunk and takes something out. Something that makes me break into a grin.
“What, did you pack us a picnic?” I tease.
He tucks the basket under one arm and extends the other to me. “I may or may not have bribed the kitchen staff to pack one for us. Does that count?”
I laugh delightedly, though I roll my eyes, too. “Close enough. It’s the thought that counts, after all, right?”
“Couldn’t agree more.” He leads me over the white sand, toward those big waves. As we approach, I can hear them crashing loudly, a deafening roar that’s somehow both impressive and soothing all at once. It sounds like the old white noise machine I used to listen to at my bedside, an attempt to coax my anxious nerves into relaxing after another long night of terror.
I suppress a little shiver, in spite of the hot sun beating down on our shoulders. “I should have put on more sunscreen,” I complain. “I’m going to fry out here.”
“Don’t worry.” He flashes me a wink, and then, when we reach a spot on the shoreline he deems appropriate, he leaves me with the basket and a blanket to spread out, and jogs back to the car. I’m still struggling with the blanket—I weighed down one side with my shoes, but I can’t get the other to lie flat—when he returns with a beach umbrella tucked under his arm.
Married to the Secret Billionaire Page 4
