Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Some may say that. Belinda promised me she’d fire my ass if I laid a finger on you.” He confesses this as he lays many fingers on me, toying with the strings that keep my bottoms from tumbling to the floor.
It dawns on me. “Is that why I haven’t heard from you?” Because he broke Henry Wolf’s strict rules about fucking the crazy rooster commune lady?
“Partly, yes.”
I bite my bottom lip, struggling against the urge to ask what other parts there might be to that answer—he did say he’s in a “weird place,” whatever that means. “And what happens if he finds out?”
Ronan steps closer until his erection is pressed against the small of my back. “I’ll likely lose my job.”
“Your big fancy director’s position?” I manage a whistle, even as I’m about to choke on my pounding heart. “You’d risk that for this?”
“For you?” His breath skates. A heavy sigh sails into my ear. “Apparently, yes, seeing as I can’t keep my hands to myself whenever I’m around you.”
Something sparks in my chest—an odd, warm feeling that hasn’t existed there in a long time, not since Cody killed it.
“I need to know something,” Ronan murmurs.
“What’s that?”
I’m expecting a question, so I gasp with shock when instead of words, Ronan’s hand slips under the seam of my bikini and between my thighs, his fingers tracing my slit with a gentle stroke.
“Thought so.”
All other thoughts vanish as Ronan’s middle finger slides deep into me, to discover a truth I can’t hide there—that I’m insanely attracted to him.
His capable hand moves at a languid, teasing rhythm, his thumb drawing lazy circles over my clit.
It takes every effort for me to pretend I’m simply standing here, observing the merry band of revelers as they splash and drink and toss the football while Ronan finger-fucks me. I cannot believe I’m allowing this to happen out here in public, with people all around us. And within ten minutes of being left alone with him.
“Relax. No one can see anything,” he purrs.
“You think I’d let you do this if they could?” I’ve offered no resistance to his invasion because he’s right. The tiki bar walls surrounding us are high enough to hide what Ronan is doing. There’s a swinging section to fully close off the bar—not like Tiki Two, which has a wide-open passageway between the two sides. The thatched roof hangs low, providing ample protection from the helicopter flying above. Out there, everyone and everything is on display, but in here, it’s a shady, protected refuge.
As long as his friends don’t climb back up for a drink, or they’ll get a show they didn’t pay for.
All these thoughts are flying through my mind and yet, I can’t find the words to tell him to stop.
Because I don’t want him to.
“I wish I could fuck you right here,” he whispers, voicing the words that were just flittering through my overloaded brain.
A rush of warmth floods me. “Yes, you’re so disappointing.”
His deep chuckle somehow travels down to where his fingers touch me. “At least let me make you come.”
“Okay.” I sound helpless, shaky.
Wedging his foot between mine, he shimmies my legs farther apart, giving him better access that he takes full advantage of, sliding a second finger in. Each stroke is fluid and easy and deep, my body responding like it’s been starved for a man.
Not just any man.
Him.
“You’re soaked.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And swollen.”
“So are you.”
He presses himself against the crack of my ass in answer, and I whimper. Swollen isn’t the right word for what Ronan is. Ramrod, fire-poker hard. I roll my hips in response.
Ronan hisses and shifts behind me.
Material rustles.
The back of my floral captain’s shirt lifts.
And suddenly, his hot, velvety-smooth length is pressed against my bare skin.
“Ronan—”
“No one can tell. I promise.” He adjusts his stance to lower himself and, with his free hand, he angles himself. His tip prods, then slides between my thighs from behind while his thumb keeps stroking my clit.
A casual glance over my shoulder confirms that he’s so discreet about it, he may as well be standing still. All the work is happening at his hips, as he pretends to watch the horizon while he slowly guides his cock, the slickness making each casual thrust easier. There is nothing clumsy or inexperienced about this guy.
All it would take is a shift of my pelvis, a tug on my skimpy suit, and he could be inside me. Just the thought stirs an unbearable ache.
I look around. Still, no one pays us any attention.
My body vibrates with need, and it is so tempting.
On his next pass, I rise to my tiptoes and arch my back.
“Careful,” he growls, but he tugs my bathing suit material aside and presses his head against my opening.
“Oh fuck,” I hiss.
“Not quite. Stay still, or I will fuck you right here and I won’t care who watches.” There’s an edge of warning in his tone. “Let me finish you off.” His hand regains its rhythm, and my core hums with anticipation.