"I need you, mi Corazon," Domitian said helplessly.
"No," Sarita said firmly, taking another step back. "We need to figure out how we're going to get out of here."
"We will walk out at nightfall," he announced, continuing forward.
"But how? If Dressler knows we're trying to leave, he could send men after us. Hell, there could be a fence around this place a mile into the woods where his men are waiting to stop us."
"We will worry about that after I make love to you," Domitian assured her soothingly. "But now . . ." He shook his head helplessly, and gestured toward his penis. "I cannot think like this, querida. I need you. I need to fondle and kiss your sweet breasts and suckle your nipples with my lips. I need to feel and taste your wet heat on my tongue, and then bury myself in your warm, hot body and feel you squeeze and milk me as I thrust into you until we both scream our pleasure."
"We'll faint," Sarita protested weakly, continuing to move back.
"Si, but it is only midafternoon, we have time."
"The cameras," she protested with a little more strength, and her face went grim as she recalled them. Her voicing that worry had been a desperate attempt, but now that they were in her head, they were an issue. She had no desire to be a porn star for the likes of El Doctor.
"The cameras are inside. We are outside," he said gently.
"There might be cameras out here," Sarita pointed out stubbornly, not backing up anymore, but staying put and crossing her arms forbiddingly. "But even if there aren't, we could be seen by the cameras in the living room."
Domitian paused, a frown furrowing his brow as he considered the problem and then he brightened. "The pool."
"We'd drown when we passed out at the end. At least I would," she pointed out.
"Oh, si," he muttered and considered the problem again, and then said, "Come. I have an idea." Catching her arm, Domitian turned and tugged her to the nearest lounge chair where he released her and dropped to sit halfway up, his legs on either side and feet flat on the stones that made up the terrace floor.
"What are you-?" she began with confusion and then gasped with surprise when he caught her by the upper legs, turned her, and tugged her down to sit in the V his legs made.
"There. See?" Domitian murmured, brushing her hair out of the way so that he could press kisses along her neck.
"No, I don't see," Sarita muttered, trying to get back up.
"All the cameras in the living room see is my back," he whispered by her ear before giving it a nip.
"True," she said and her attempts to remove his hands from her waist and get up weakened a bit, but only a bit before she said, "What if there are cameras in the trees?"
"They will see nothing I promise. Watch."
Sarita had no idea what she was supposed to watch until one of his hands left her waist. She glanced around curiously to see that he'd reached behind him to retrieve a . . . towel? She blinked at the tiny hand towel and shook her head. "Those are the towels you brought for us?"
"It was all I could find in the small bathroom off the kitchen," Domitian said with a shrug and opened the towel to rest it on her chest and stomach. Sarita stared down at it with bewilderment until he slid one hand under the towel, and then up under the ridiculously tiny bathing suit top she wore.
Gasping, she pressed back against him with her shoulders while her chest arched upward into the palm that suddenly covered her breast.
"You see? No one will see anything."
Sarita gave a breathless laugh. Her voice was equally breathless as she writhed between his chest and fondling hand and gasped, "So you're . . . just going . . . to grope me . . . to orgasm."
"Oh, much more than that, mi amor," he assured her, sounding a little breathless himself, and then his other hand slid under the towel and down between the cloth of the bikini bottom to cup her between the legs.
Sarita jumped in his arms and gasped as he slid a finger smoothly inside her.
"Much more," Domitian assured her on a groan as his thumb began to slide around the nub above where his finger was plundering her.
Sarita groaned in response, but started to shake her head. Turning to try to glare at him, she said, "You can't-"
Her protest ended abruptly when his mouth covered hers, his tongue slipping in to silence her own.
Sarita shuddered, her hips moving of their own accord to the dance he was leading, her tongue tangling with his. She lifted one hand to cover his where it remained at her breast, encouraging him as he began to pluck at and toy with the nipple of first one breast and then the other. The combination of everything he was doing was driving her to a fever pitch. Whoever said making out and just hitting first, second, and third base without making it to fourth wasn't very satisfying, had obviously never had an immortal life mate running those bases. The man was driving her wild. One more minute of this and she would-