“And so you were telling me what might be way more pleasurable than sitting in a formal dining room trying to decide which damn fork to eat your salad with when all you really wanted was a pepperoni pizza with jalapenos on half of it.”
I laugh. And then melt at the fact that he still remembers my favorite pizza toppings. “Right. Yes.” I straighten my shoulders and narrow my eyes to pretend like I’m thinking of an answer. “Something pleasurable. Hmm. Oh, I know. We could make cupcakes. I always find that extremely satisfying.” I purr the last words out. Taunt him. Test him. Wonder how he’s going to finish this game we’re playing.
He hums in his throat and the sound winds through my body. “While I know your batter is addictively sweet . . .” he darts his tongue out and licks his lip, his inference loud and clear, “. . . like I can’t wait to dip my fingers in it and taste it again sweet. But no, I think there is something more pleasurable we should do to make missing the dinner worthwhile.”
My breath is ragged and my lips fall lax as the memory of look in his eyes as I licked my arousal off his fingers replays in my mind.
“Like what?” My question is a hushed whisper. Lust thick in my voice.
He runs a hand ever so slowly along my spine and down my hip then back up to the curve of my knee. He hitches it up higher so my knee angles up next to his torso.
Our eyes hold in the short distance between us. I swear I can feel his heartbeat speed up. Or maybe it’s mine. I’m not sure because they are beating against each other, but the sensation is overshadowed by the feel and sound of his hand sliding back down my thigh to cup the roundness of my ass.
“Hmm, I can think of a few pressing matters.” The deep timbre of his voice is oral foreplay alongside the stretch of the fingers cupping my butt so that the tips of them brush ever so softly over the seam of my sex. A hint of touch. A whisper of want.
And now he’s the one trying to distract me.
“And they are . . .?”
He lifts his head forward and brushes his lips tenderly against mine. “First I’m going to fuck you, Saylor. Right here. On this chair.” Another kiss. The heat of his breath on my lips. The deliberate slide of his fingers over my sensitized flesh just soft enough to make the muscles clench and beg for more. “I’m going to pull you astride me. Make your pussy stretch around my cock and then watch you as I make you come.”
My lips shock open and cheeks flush with heat. Hello, dirty talk. Hello, to an all grown up Hayes Whitley. My libido burns bright at his explicit promise.
“Oh, don’t you act all shy on me now, Saylor. Not when you sat in that kitchen and played a goddamn siren. Teased me with your lips. Tested my restraint.” He leans forward and kisses me again, but this time with a little bit of tongue and a lot more demand. He fists a hand in my hair and pulls my head back so I’m forced to look in his eyes when I suddenly want to avert them in shyness.
“This is me, Say. You might remember the teenage boy I used to be who didn’t have a clue what he was doing besides the basics. But I assure you, the man I grew into knows exactly how to pleasure a woman. I know how to pleasure you.”
I swallow over the desire suddenly tight in my throat. “I thought you just did.” Once again, my voice is barely a whisper. The hunger in his eyes burns darker.
“That was nothing, Ships. Not in the least. There’s toys and tongue and touch and ties, and I’m sure I can find a few more T’s to tease you with.”
“Oh.” It’s the only coherent sound I can form as his dick hardens and pulses against me.
“Save your ohs because you’ll be moaning them a whole lot more in a minute.”
And before I can respond, his mouth claims mine once again. I welcome it. Revel in the change of pace. In the unknown. In the dirty-talking dominance I didn’t expect from Hayes but now can’t wait to explore more of.
A thrill streaks through me as his hands guide me astride him as promised. And sighs turn to moans.
“If we’re going to miss that dinner,” Hayes murmurs against my lips, “I promise you, I’m going to make the reason more than worth it.”
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?” I try to act annoyed, pretend I’d rather be at the salon getting a manicure, but the wedding party is probably in there getting their hair done or something, and so no, thank you. And honestly, why do I need my nails done? The only person I’d be trying to impress is Hayes, and considering he’s the one leading me by the hand down a stretch of sand that’s as pristine as it is beautiful, I don’t think I need to.