Dirty Girl (Page 31)

“You tempt the hell out of me, baby girl.” He shifts his knee, replacing it with his palm between my legs, pressing the heel of his hand into my clit. The focused pressure is exactly what I need. I’m shameless, grinding myself against him, my orgasm just out of reach.

“You wanna come?”

“Yes,” I whisper, rocking against him.

“Are you gonna come hard?” He rolls my nipple between his fingers, and spears of pleasure lance through me. I’m so close.

“Yes,” I promise.

“Then come for me, baby. I wanna hear you moan my name. And then I want your pussy in my face.”

His dirty words unleash another layer of sensation, and I’m teetering on the edge.

“And while I eat this sweet cunt, I’m going to play with that tight little asshole, stretch it out so you’re ready to take me. I will have every part of you, baby. Mouth, pussy, ass. Might fuck these gorgeous tits and make you swallow my cum again.”

“Ahhhh, Cav.” I moan his name as my climax breaks free, my entire body shaking against his hold. It rolls through me, wave after shimmering wave until I finally still.

Cav lowers his head and tugs my bottom lip between his teeth. “I fucking love watching you come. Every day, as many times a day as you can stand it.”

His hand skims down my body and finds the ties on the sides of my bikini bottoms. With a tug, one side falls free.

“Now it’s my turn.”

I’ll never get enough of Greer. I know it as she’s smothering her screams with a hand, my mouth on her clit and one finger teasing her ass. Fuck, she’s perfect. She’s everything I wanted her to be three years ago, and the loss of time haunts me, even though I know I had no choice.

After she collapses, spent, on the lounge, I rise and adjust my cock in my board shorts. Not fucking her right now takes an inordinate amount of restraint, but this is about her, not me. I want her thinking about all the dirty promises I just made her. I want her thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of her. It seems nearly impossible because she’s infiltrated my thoughts on every level.

“You look like you could use a drink, baby,” I say as I watch some of the pink flush fade from her cheekbones.

Greer nods. “Please. Anything. You want some help?”

“Not necessary, but if you want, I’ll take your company.”

She reaches for her bikini top with a smile, but I’m quicker.

“No top. I want your tits out for me.”

The flush of her cheeks is back in an instant. Greer is strong-willed, opinionated, and not someone most people would suspect of having a submissive streak. I saw it early on, and even though part of me thought it was simply wishful thinking, a little time proved me right.

Regardless, each time I give her an order when we’re not fucking, it unbridles a struggle within her. I don’t think it’s that she wants to say no, she just fights against her independence every time she says yes. It’s a beautiful struggle and one I’m incredibly grateful to receive the benefits of. She always thinks about telling me to go fuck myself—I can see it. But it turns her on even more to obey. I want that from her because every time she bends to my will, her addiction to me grows.

When she stands, slipping into her bikini bottoms but leaving the top behind, I know which part of her mind won the battle. Grabbing her by the hand, I pull her into the house toward the kitchen.

Fresh pineapple is wrapped up in the fridge from breakfast, along with pitchers of fresh pineapple juice and orange juice. I grab the pineapple and direct Greer to the well-stocked liquor cabinet. Three kinds of rum splash into the blender along with the pineapple, juice, and ice. As our drinks blend, Greer stands beside me with my arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Her voice is quiet when she speaks. “You asked who I wanted to be . . .”

I glance down at her face to see her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“And?” I wonder where she’s going with this because her posture is rigid. I only have to wait a few more beats before she speaks again.

“What if I want this?”

“What do you mean?”

“This easiness. Like those years haven’t passed without us being together, and this is just our regular vacation. No ad, no press hounding us, no brother sending us away. Just . . . us. Being us.” She covers her face with her palm. “God, now I’m just babbling. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Warmth gathers in my chest, something I didn’t actually know was possible. I want what she wants. No guilt, no lies, no secrets. Just us together, and even better, pretending this is our normal. Our life. Fuck, I’d kill for that to be the truth.

“I’m not forgetting shit, because I want that too. You can have whatever you want, Greer. And if that’s what you want, then it’s all yours.”

“You don’t think that makes me sound crazy?” She seems shy and unsure, not at all like the confident Greer I see most often.

I squeeze her against my side. “I think it makes you sweet and fucking perfect.”

I turn off the blender and pour our drinks into two glasses. Handing one to Greer, I raise mine in a toast.

“To us.”

Her smile flashes brilliantly now as she clinks her glass against mine. “To us.”

Sometimes leaps of faith are rewarded with the best possible outcome you can imagine. Apparently being brave and telling someone what you want can actually be a good thing.

As I stand in the kitchen helping Cav make us lunch, my skin warm from the Belizean sun, I feel like I’ve gotten my reward. I finish chopping up veggies to toss in the salad, and he pours the shrimp he sautéed into a bowl. Let’s just say if I hadn’t already staked my pretend claim on this man, watching him cook would have the words tumbling out of my mouth.