by Amelia Wilde
She’s soaking wet, and though there’s an instant of hesitation, and an instant when she tenses up, in the next moment she’s spreading wider for me, her slickness offering a delicious tease against my fingers.
I wrap my other arm around her waist, pulling her away from the door, and then I back up until I’m sitting on the edge of the bed. Kennedy is breathing hard, her blue eyes wide and electric with want, lust, and need. I hook one finger into her panties and they fall the rest of the way to the floor. It only takes the slightest tug for her to straddle my hips, her dress still hiked up to her waist, and again she holds tightly to my shoulders.
I draw her closer to me and kiss her jawline, then her neck, bracing against her with one hand while my other dives back between her legs.
“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever touched,” I murmur into her ear, and she moans. I slide one finger into her opening, and she arches her back, pressing her pussy against my hand. “I want to teach you how to relax, how to give in, how to submit…”
It’s not something I demand of the women I sleep with, but the pleasure can be so intense that even a woman like Kennedy would come to crave it. Especially a woman like Kennedy.
“Please,” she whispers as I slide another finger inside her hot, wet passage. She’s tight, and her muscles clench around me in a rhythm that makes me want her wrapped around my cock instead. “Please...”
Three fingers, and she’s bucking against me, her face pink, lips parted, and I put my thumb against her clit. She’s so ready that it takes five small circles against her swollen button before she tenses, bending back against my hand, and comes hard with another wave of wetness, gasping, moaning, a picture of perfection...
...and for the moment, she’s all mine, with all of her defenses stripped away.
I’ll do anything for more of these moments.
Anything.
17
Kennedy
I haven’t had an orgasm like that… ever.
Ever.
And Gideon awards me with three more before we leave the bed and he leads me into a bathroom that seems impossibly large for a plane, any plane, but he’s casual about it, nonchalant.
I’m a whole new woman.
It’s like all the stress of the years since Abby’s accident—our accident—was waiting to be released by Gideon’s fingers, and the more he played with me, strumming me like an expert musician, the less I could continue holding it captive in my mind, keep it wrapped around me like a blanket I’d been anxiously clutching for dear life for eight long years.
So when I step naked under the hot stream of the shower, my legs are like Jell-O. My skin is already flushed. And I want to repay the favor.
Gideon follows me into the enclosure, and my jaw drops.
I don’t know how it is that he’s given me three earth-shattering orgasms without taking his own clothes off, but after the first one, I could no longer think straight. I gave myself over to him, all of me subsumed in the sheer pleasure of it. I did whatever he said, and it all came so naturally, so easily, that there was no reason for me to stop to ask him to take his shirt off.
But now that it is, I know I’ll be asking for him to do it more often.
Gideon is stunning.
“Oh, my God.” I finally get the words to squeak out of my mouth, and he responds to my reaction by laughing at me, his abs contracting, their chiseled lines becoming even more prominent. “Why didn’t you say something?”
He steps under the water with me, raising two sculpted arms to run his hands through his dark hair. “It’s not the most effective pick-up line. ‘I see you’re a gorgeous woman. I have a killer body. We should get together.’”
I laugh in response, and for once it comes as easily, as naturally, as Gideon’s. But even as I’m laughing at his joke, I’m still completely serious about staring at his body. I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s that impressive. I don’t know what kind of workout he does—maybe it’s that cliff-diving takes all that muscle—but every inch of him is packed tight with lean muscle, sinuous and sexy. He’s not bulked up like some of the men I’ve seen pumping iron at the gym, but now it makes sense that he was able to hold me with one hand while making me orgasm with the other. He exudes pure, animal strength.
And though he hasn’t said a word about it, there’s something else that’s remarkable about him, too.
Gideon Hawke has a perfect cock.
It’s no exaggeration, and I blush even thinking the thought, but it’s true. He’s hard—which is no surprise, given what we’ve been doing in that bedroom—and the size is...
I can’t even think about it. I can’t stop to think about it, or else I might lose my nerve.
He finishes wetting his hair and then opens his brilliant eyes. “It’s true.”
“What’s true?”
“You are absolutely gorgeous.” Then he looks away, his languid gaze traveling down the length of me, and instead of feeling shy—the exact way I might have felt two hours ago, before our little interlude—I feel like a goddess. The smile fades from his face, and it’s replaced by an expression that’s pure need, coupled with appreciation, and it reminds me of someone who’s looking at a priceless work of art.
He closes the gap between us, one hand sliding onto the slickened skin of my hip, the other reaching to cup one of my breasts, his thumb tracking to my nipple, calling it to attention with some gentle pressure, rubbing it in gentle circles. The pleasure arcs from his thumb in a straight course, ending in a nearly painful jolt between my legs, but I’ve had a turn—three of them, in fact—and I can’t leave him hanging. I refuse to leave him hanging.
I cover his hand with both of mine before I let myself slip under his attentions again, forcing myself to open my eyes. “Wait,” I gush.
He leans in and kisses my neck. “For what?”
“You’ll see.”
Carefully, with my hand still folded firmly in his to steady myself, I sink down to my knees onto the shower floor. His hand instinctively moves to my neck, to the side of my face, and I look up past the stream of water to watch the expressions on his face. His mouth is half-open, and his eyes are narrowed, his pupils dark. “Kennedy—” he murmurs.
“It’s your turn,” I tell him in the same firm tone that I’d use with an unruly assistant, as I reach for him with both hands.
At my touch, his cock twitches. He’s that hard, that ready, and I can’t bring myself to tease him, can’t bring myself to draw this out. I take a deep breath, open my mouth, and then swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, his clean taste dizzyingly satisfying on my tongue.
It’s been a long time since I could bring myself to do anything like this with a man, but I follow my instincts, adding pressure, sucking him in, working my tongue over his shaft. Gideon groans, deep and low, and he threads his fingers through my hair. He can’t help himself. He pulls me closer, and now I do tease him a little, pulling back, pressing forward, taking him in inch by thick inch until it’s clear I’m going to have to go big or go home.
He’s trembling now, his legs planted firmly against the floor of the shower, and then his cock hits the back of my throat.
I would never do this with another man—and I never have—but with Gideon, it feels right. There’s no question in my mind that I’m going to give him absolutely everything I have to give.
I take him all in.
I take every inch, working to relax, and finally he loses control, hands clenching in my hair, hips bucking forward. I plant my fingers roughly into his firm, muscular ass and hold him tight as he tenses, coming hard, his low groan vibrating through his entire body. His motions are so intense, so hot, that I meet him with a moan of my own.
I hold him close until he’s spent.
It takes him a few moments to recover, and then he reaches down for my hands, pulling me up to my feet. As soon as I’m standing, his lips are lodged possessively, passionately on mine, and I’m completely lost in him until he pulls back,
biting his lip. “That was—” He shakes his head, unable to find the words to finish his thought, and I flush with another wave of heat. “We’re even, okay? We’re even.”
I laugh, an aftershock of pleasure running through me. “I think we might run out of hot water.”
Twenty minutes later, we emerge from the bedroom. I’m wearing the softest, most luxurious yoga pants, a tank top, and a matching hoodie, lightweight but comfortable. My bra and panties were hand-selected by Gideon, who opened one of the wardrobes on the plane with a grin. Still buzzing from the shower, I’d given him a huge smile. “I take it we’re going somewhere tropical?”
“You guessed right.”
“But where?”
He wouldn’t tell me. Back in our seats, I press him again. “Tell me. Where are we going?”
Gideon gives me a wicked grin and signals to the flight attendant, who starts making her way toward us with a rolling tray heaped with covered dishes. “Wait and see.”
18
Gideon
The sun has started to rise when I throw open the doors of the private cottage I arranged, mid-flight, at the most exclusive resort on Virgin Gorda Island. Kennedy, looking excitedly over my shoulder, sucks in her breath at the sight of the pristine beach leading down to the shore, the peacock-hued waves lapping softly at the shore, palm trees swaying gently in the breeze.
I let my feet sink into the white sand as I step out, reaching back for her hand.
She drops the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders on the plane and steps out after me, her pretty lips parted. Her eyes are shining in the early morning light, and she wriggles her toes as they meet the sand.
“I’ve never felt sand this silky.”
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
“Too amazing.”
Kennedy moves almost as if she’s in a trance toward the shore, her eyes scanning the beach, taking in the trees that separate our stretch of beach from the other luxury cottages. I don’t mention that I’ve also reserved the ones on either side of us to ensure absolute privacy. The only people who will have any reason to come to our door will be staff members, and at this resort, they’re so good at what they do that you hardly ever see them.
“Nothing is too amazing for you.”
She turns and grins at me, her smile gleaming like sunshine in the dusky morning. “You are so cheesy.”
I frown a little, pretending to be hurt, and Kennedy’s arm is instantly around my waist, her lips pressing gently against my cheek. The scent of the shampoo we used on the plane, along with her warm skin, makes me want her even more than I already did. I could take her to bed right now—after the way she responded to me on the plane, I’m absolutely sure that fucking her will be mind-blowing for both of us—but I have the sense that pushing it right now would be a mistake.
At the ocean, the calm waves folding over one another in an endless rhythm, Kennedy stands at the edge of the sand, letting the waves cover her feet. She lets out a little moan that has me rock-hard in half a second. “It’s warm!”
I laugh out loud. “Did you think I would take you to a tropical island with frigid water?”
“You could have taken me anywhere,” she says, pressing her body against mine. “But I’m glad you chose this place. It’s unbelievable.”
“You haven’t even seen it in the light of day yet. Wait.”
As if on cue, the sun bursts over the horizon, streaks of pink and orange flooding the horizon. Kennedy gasps, her arm tightening around my waist. The light catches in her red hair, bolting it with copper, and I pull her in to me, put my lips against that fiery shade, and take in a big breath of her scent, my heart aching for a reason I can’t even begin to understand.
This was all a game, a stupid bet from Adam. It was routine. It was the kind of shit he always pulled on me when we went out, unless it was to one of the Pierce parties—Eli Pierce frowns upon that kind of game, and everyone in New York City knows it. But none of that matters. I didn’t even collect my winnings.
Not in that sense.
It still felt like a game when I took Kennedy out to dinner. I could tell myself then that I was doubling down on the bet, showing Adam that not only could I get a woman like Kennedy to dance with me, I could take her out later, too—a more respectable activity than working on her in the club.
But in this moment, while we watch daybreak arrive together, our feet bathed in the Caribbean Sea, an ocean away from all that bullshit, I can’t lie about it—even to myself.
This isn’t a game anymore.
Kennedy leans her head into my chest, a satisfied sigh escaping her. Then she yawns, so comically large that it makes me laugh, releasing some of the tight emotion coiled in my chest. “We flew most of the night,” I murmur into her hair. “Let’s get some rest.”
I pull the curtains in the bedroom and we slide between the silky sheets. I’ve texted John, who is on the ground in the town proper, to coordinate with the staff about bringing in the wardrobe later in the day when we’ll be out. He sent a runner with some essentials as soon as we touched down, but I want the rest here before the end of the afternoon.
Kennedy is sleeping soundly, her red hair spread out on the pillow, by the time I lay my head down. I curl around her, wrapping my arm around her waist, and she sighs sleepily and presses back against me like we’ve been sleeping together, like this, for years.
There’s none of the usual tension, that restless feeling of needing to be elsewhere, needing to be doing something that makes my adrenaline spike. With the scent of her surrounding me, I’m satisfied. For the first time in a long time, sleep comes easily.
I wake up to a terrified gasp. Kennedy lurches upright, pushing frantically at my arm, and my heart rockets up to my throat. She lets out a strangled cry.
I have no idea what time it is or how long we’ve been asleep. The heavy curtains on the windows make it impossible to tell, so at first all I can do is blink in confusion. What the hell?
“No,” Kennedy shrieks, giving my arm another shove. “I can’t do this!”
I move my hand up to her shoulder, rubbing gently. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s all right.”
She turns toward me, and all I can see of her expression in the dim light is that her eyes are wide and full of fear. Searching my face, it’s obvious to see that she’s startled to see me. It takes too many heartbeats for her to recognize me. “Gideon?”
I gather her to my chest, and she sags into me, relieved, but still trembling. “It’s all right. You must have been having a bad dream.”
She shakes her head.
“You weren’t having a bad dream?”
“I—” Kennedy sucks in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. Maybe. But Gideon, I have to go home.” She pushes herself up on one elbow. “This was a mistake to come here. I made a mistake, and I have to go home.” She makes a move like she’s going to climb out of bed, and I catch her around the waist, pulling her back against me.
“Give it a minute,” I tell her, and she lets her head fall back against the pillows. I run my fingers through her hair, working out a tangle. “You didn’t make a mistake. Everything is fine. If anyone back home needs you, we can be there in a matter of hours.” I glance over at the bedside table, where her phone is perched. “You don’t have any missed calls. It’s all right.”
She closes her eyes. “I think it’s a mistake.” Her voice is shaky, and when she takes in another breath, there’s a hitch that has nothing to do with desire. “I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not—”
“It’s all right,” I tell her again, and kiss her temple. “Sleep it off. When you wake up, we’re going to do something amazing.”
Within a few minutes, she’s drifted off again, her breathing peaceful.
I don’t sleep.
Instead, I plan.
19
Kennedy
The wind in my hair and the sun on my face make me feel ridiculously conflicted for how gorgeous it is here. This—skimmi
ng over the pristine turquoise water in a water taxi next to Gideon Hawke—is beyond my wildest fantasies.
When I woke up, it was nearing noon, and Gideon was perched on the side of the bed, a fruit smoothie in one hand and a black bathing suit in the other, grinning at me.
“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.” There was a look in his eyes that I couldn’t quite decipher—maybe a hint of worry?—and something nagged at the outer reaches of my memory, something like a bad dream that I only half-remembered. “Enjoy the shower, and then I have something planned for you.”
“Is the shower going to be the highlight?” I’d stretched my arms above my head, muscles still deliciously tired from the flight.
“Not by far.” Then he’d put the smoothie on the bedside table and gone back out into the living area. I wanted to follow him, run my fingers through his hair, run my hands over his body, but I was also glad for a few moments alone.
He wasn’t kidding about the shower. If I’d thought the bathroom on the private plane was luxurious, the one in this “cottage,” as Gideon insisted on calling it, took things to another level—rainfall showerheads, gleaming surfaces everywhere I looked, and soaps so delicate and refreshing they had to be specially formulated for the resort.
The bathing suit was a perfect fit, and I put it on underneath a gauzy sundress in a pink and yellow pattern that makes me feel like the sunrise.
Of course, then I’d taken the dress back off and darted back into the bathroom, which was where Gideon found me applying the sunscreen I found in one of the glass bottles on the counter, rubbing it laboriously onto every inch of my exposed skin.
“My God,” he’d said, sliding his hands under the lines of the suit, working the lotion into the stretches of my back that I couldn’t reach. “If I didn’t have a reservation…”