“Jesus fucking Christ,” I swore. The thick slide of his finger touched every screaming pleasure point it needed to. I bucked into his hand, nails digging tiny slants into the skin of his shoulder. He pressed the pad of his thumb down against my clit and let me leverage myself on his hand.
“Use my fingers.” He licked a searing line over my breast, then caught my nipple between his teeth and tugged on it. “Show me how your pussy likes to get fucked.”
How this man was single was a mystery. No one had ever spoken to me like that. Unhinged filth, filtering like a bottomless colander. I was completely at the mercy of it.
I dragged his lips back up to mine, moaning into the open cup of his mouth when his fingertips curled inside me. I rode the horse but he pulled the reins, brushing me methodically inside and out, making sure I had everything I needed, but could still take so much more.
The high of his pulsing fingers, the soft breeze biting at my nipples with each passing wave, the danger of the open sea around us—it all heightened the pleasure already amplified with every sting of his lips to mine. If I knew this was how it would feel to touch him, to be touched by him… Fuck, it bruised me to even think it, but maybe the mile-high-club thing wasn’t so far-fetched.
Frankie quickened his circles and I moaned. I moaned like a fucking pornstar, still pistoning my hips onto his fingers inside of me. A familiar feeling built rapidly underneath the pressure.
Oh God. Is he…？
“I-I think you’re gonna make me—”
“Yeah, Ophelia. I fucking know I am.”
I focused harder on his pleasure in my palm, stroking it with a tight grasp from base to head. The need to make him feel as good as I did momentarily tore my focus away from the orgasm queueing restlessly, but I still felt like I needed an anchor to keep me from floating completely out to sea.
“No,” Frankie protested, batting my hand away. “I’ll get mine, troublemaker. This isn’t for me.”
I groaned insolently, obeying despite the nagging demand of my body to satiate him along with me. Instead, he held me stiff to his chest, taking my ability to move away and replacing it with the devastating rhythm of his fingers.
He had learned the pace I wanted, the map of my hips, the touch-starved places inside of me that had me whimpering every time he brushed them. Up to that point I’d been showing him what I needed, and now he was showing me what I’d been missing.
“There she is,” he teased, watching my lips shape into a soft circle. “I can feel you shaking, sweetheart. You’re gonna give me what I want, right? So close.”
I dropped my cheek to his shoulder, that familiar feeling tightening deep in my core, my last stunted breaths finding purchase on his neck before getting stuck in my throat.
I managed a half-lidded glance back at the shoreline, in time to see a trail of approaching headlights that gave me immediate pause. “F-frankie, fuck,” I gasped. “Th-there’s someone coming.”
Without stopping for a beat, he assessed the obviously patrolling Jeep and turned back with an irritated grunt.
“Not happening.” He shook his head. “No, no, no, you focus on me. You’re gonna show me how this tight pussy gives right now, O.” He kissed me again, stealing every worrying crease from my brow, any thought that wasn’t the grip of my tight walls around his fingers, buried under the heat of his assaulting tongue. “Tell me yes.”
I nodded in reply, just as my legs locked up around him and that first shattering wave of release flooded from inside of me. The breath that was caught in my throat relinquished into his mouth on a whimper, one that he swallowed and replaced with a growl of his own.
“Ohhhhh, God.” My body trembled, then fell entirely slack.
Still pulsing with aftershocks and unraveling from my vice hold on his hips, I hung on with enough self-preservation to find cover under the waves as those bright truck lights found us both in the wake.
Frankie tilted my chin up, looking deep into my eyes before he dipped down to kiss me delicately, once. “That’s what it feels like when a man makes you come. Don’t ever fucking forget it.”
As if I ever could after that.
The echo of a hand speaker sparking to life was all that kept me from jumping him again.
“You can’t be in the ocean after dark,” a crackling voice called over the crash of the surf. “Please exit the water.”
I could faintly make out two men standing in the topless Jeep and looking down at Frankie and me. The probe of the lights blinding as I hugged a forearm over my chest while my other came up to shade my eyes.
“Yeah, all right,” Frankie shouted back, both of us realizing there was no way around climbing stark naked out of the ocean for an audience. “Stay put,” he ordered me.
I giggled behind him as the bright lights silhouetted that slim figure and bubbly little ass while he emerged from the water with his hands cupped over his modesty.
I felt like a teenager again, getting caught fooling around by my parents. Except this time it was much more humiliating, because Frankie was pushing forty and the men in the car had every reason to have us both arrested for public indecency. That would have been a humbling phone call.
“We were just leaving anyway,” Frankie added, pulling his shorts back up his legs while trying his fucking hardest not to flash the chub I knew he had to be sporting. I pinched my lips together as he picked up my clothes and kept me in the shadow behind him. “And, Merry fucking Christmas.”
11
I didn’t know how early it was when a crescendo of incessant buzzing stirred me awake the next morning. The blackout curtains in Natalia’s guest bedroom were worth their weight in gold.
I groaned with my eyes still closed, blowing weak gusts of air through my lips in an attempt to fan away the strands of knotted hair in my face. Instead of tending to the phone on the nightstand, I flipped around and dug even deeper under the covers, pulling the floral duvet up to my ears.
Whoever it was could wait. As far as I was concerned it was the middle of the night and I was on vacation.
Another minute passed peacefully before the vibration started again, somehow louder and more insistent than it had been the first time. I grumbled into the pillow and then pulled it over my head, willing myself to ignore the annoying wake-up call.
“Answer it or throw it into the ocean,” a voice rumbled beside me. I peeked one eye open at the intruding body in my bed to find my raven-haired best friend splayed out under the covers. We’d taken two bottles of pinot grigio into the room when we got home and never resurfaced. Every sordid, saltwater detail was confessed and relived in vivid, colorful detail.
I began to protest but Nat darted a hand out, pushing my pillow onto the floor and making it impossible to get comfortable again without getting up. With a sigh I rolled back over to the nightstand and answered the buzzing call without so much as looking at the lock screen.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank goodness, Ms. Brody, I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour.”
I squeezed my eyes closed and tampered my voracious need to growl into the speaker. “Cindy, you know you can just call me Ophelia, right? And I only had one missed call, two minutes ago.”
“I could have sworn it was more than that.”