Christmas in Coconut Creek (Dirty Delta, #1)(98)

“I did.” I nodded, hardly listening. His teeth clamped down over the pointed bud and I whimpered, sensation shooting straight to the nerves in my clit. “I know I did.”

“You know what I want, Ophelia?” Skillful fingers skated to the middle of my spine and pulled loose the string holding my top together, and the entire thing came tumbling down. My eyelids fell to half-mast, jaw slackening as he took my bare skin back into his mouth this time, swirling his hot tongue over and over again.

“To kill me.” I sighed.

Frankie’s laughter sent vibrations through my body. “Never.”

He stood us, turning me away from him, my back pressed to his front like a blanket, shielding me from the cold air. Then he guided me like I was Bambi tripping across the hot tub to the opposite edge. I caught myself on hard plastic as his hands came around and slammed down next to mine.

Frankie’s breathing was stunted, heavy and bowing in and out against me. A tickle of his mustache ghosted over my shoulder, then my neck. The curve of my rib cage settled against the edge as I was carefully bent over, my ass lifting out of the water and notching into the cusp of his hips. He was everywhere. Lips at my nape, his chest at my spine, cock rocking in swivels, teasing my core.

“Has anyone ever”—he dragged my bottoms down leisurely, inch by inch until they were rolled into a tight band down by my knees—“touched you here?” Frankie’s middle finger dragged from my tailbone down the center of my ass, dipping carefully to circle that intimate, tight ring of muscle.

My breath caught, all my joints tightened to steel, and I was unable to react with anything more than a short gasp. Every hair on my body bristled.

“N-no.” My voice shook.

“Of course not. Because you’re so fucking perfect for me, aren’t you? This ass.” A sharp crack of his palm came down on my backside. “This pussy.” The same assaulting fingers slid through the seam of my cunt and circled my clit from behind.

“F-fr—fuck...”

“Fr…fr… Say it, sweetheart,” he taunted. Two fingers slid into me and my limbs went from stone straight to putty. “Say who makes you this fucking wet.” He curled against my favorite little spot, and I could hear my own pleasure around his fingers. “God damn, O.”

“Frankie,” I whined. The possibility of us getting caught shot adrenaline through me. I thought I was invincible in our tiny voyeuristic bubble, and I’d never been so staunchly horny in my life or I would have never suggested what I did after that. “You can.” I convinced myself as his fingers stroked in and out of me. “You can fuck me there.”

Frankie’s movements slowed, petting me instead of thrusting; my clit throbbed for attention. “No.” His forehead came down between my shoulder blades and he kissed his way up my back tenderly. “I’d make it fit, but it would fucking hurt and I’m not wasting any time with you doing anything but rolling those pretty eyes into the back of your head.”

They did. They did roll directly into the back of my head when he said that.

The telling rustle of his suit snapping away from his body and being wrestled down his thighs behind me made me restless. I wiggled my hips invitingly, finally feeling his hot, hard skin against mine, the tip of his cock getting lost between my legs.

“I don’t have a—”

“I don’t care.” I was nearly shaking with anticipation.

His pause was short before the irrational and frankly irresponsible decision was made for the both of us. He tapped himself against my entrance, nudging the thick beginning of it inside, his fingers digging into my hips as he slid into me in one, savory slow thrust.

My nails dug into my palms. It didn’t matter how ready I was, I’d always have to adjust to him. He put pressure on every nerve that garnered a reaction, and my walls softened to accommodate.

“I didn’t think it could get fucking better.” Frankie’s voice was choked. “Look at you, taking me bare. You look so good on my dick, Ophelia. So pretty.”

Peeking over my shoulder at him, Frankie’s eyes were pinched shut, his jaw slack. Each pump of his hips slapped against me, hitting so deeply that every breath I took had a sound to it. Broken, high-pitched, humming, crying bursts of air. He was truly the best fuck I’d ever had and it wasn’t even close. There was no denying the way my body reacted to him.

“Trust me,” Frankie breathed. “Just trust me.” His thumb slid across my lower back, gathering droplets of warm precipitation, ushering them toward that unexplored part of my ass again. I stiffened when that finger grazed me. “You have to relax, O,” he coached. “Say no.”

I clamped my mouth shut. I wanted it, wanted to give him that part of me that I hadn’t given anyone else. I wanted all these intimate moments to be attached to a man I felt unmistakably connected to. I wasn’t going to tell him no.

A low groan rumbled out of him as he continued to fuck me steadily. My clit ached, and I reached down and circled it with my own practiced fingers.

“Say yes.”

“Yes,” I cried out.

The blunt tip of his thumb breached me and a sting of pleasure followed. How something so intrusive felt so godly was lost on me. My lips shaped into an oval, my eyes closed.

“You okay?” Frankie was huffing harder than me. The still night held the sound of bubbling water, snapping hips, and terse, shallow breathing.