The smirk on his face isn’t friendly; it’s more of a motherfucker kind of look. Still, I don’t stop because nobody gets to tell me what to wear or what I choose to wear means.
“What is this? The 1950s? Does football culture expect me to be a good little wifey? Let’s get one thing straight, Crew Matthews—”
I’m cut off, rant left on pause as his mouth crashes down over mine. Oh fuck. His lips are warm and his tongue intrusive. He’s taking this kiss, not asking for it.
I wish I could say I push him away, especially since I was knee-deep in my feminist manifesto. But I don’t. My palms are already on his chest, pretending like they’re about to push him away, like liars, because all I’m really doing is feeling the speed of his heart under my flesh.
Because Crew’s kissing me like he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. And that feeling is way too goddamn familiar. Our lips glide between each other’s, tongues playing, licking, teasing as our heads tilt faster and faster.
Crew’s rough fingers wind their way through my hair, and I lift to my tiptoes, wanting more, as he cradles my face, stealing more of my breath.
He’s hungry and aggressive, kissing me like he wants me to collapse into a heap, pussy wet, begging for more. And damn, am I close.
But as fast as it started, it ends. He pulls back, fucking breathless, his chest heaving as he stares down at me with those stormy blue eyes. My breath matches his as I blink, lost in a haze as my hands begin to drift from his chest.
Crew licks his already wet lips as he nabs my left wrist, holding it to his chest before he reaches into his pocket. My brows pull together, trying to make sense of what he’s doing before he lifts my wedding ring, the cheap dice one we got married with.
Oh shit, I’d taken it off last night and forgotten it by the sink.
His voice is chock-full of the gravel that makes me feel weak.
“You can wear whatever the fuck you want. But don’t ever fucking forget this again.”
He slides my wedding ring back on my finger and drops my hand.
That’s what he meant by I looked single—no ring.
I blink a few times, still trying to get my bearings, before I chuckle. Because my bad.
“Sorry?” I say insincerely, slightly entertained over how wrong I just got that moment.
Crew shakes his head, letting his eyes peruse my body, even tilting his head to do so.
“That’s not an apology,” he offers, skimming his finger just under the stringed knot on my hip.
I’m dizzy, head swimming.
First off, he’s touching me. And I can’t think straight when that happens.
Second, he’s touching me…and all I’ve thought about since yesterday has been about not letting him touch me. Which, in a way, is still about him fucking touching me.
Crew’s lips part as I stare at them. And without a doubt, I know that any apology he’d accept would only be in the form of my pussy. Never happening.
“What is an apology, then?”
He huffs a laugh as he raises his hand and skims his thumb over my bottom lip while he speaks.
“You don’t think before you speak like you’re allergic to tact. Has anyone ever told you that?”
I nip at his finger, watching him almost smile before pulling back his hand.
“Are you going to answer my question or stand here and insult me?”
Crew growls before bending down and lifting me at the waist so that I’m standing on the couch in the cabana, bringing us almost eye to eye.
“That’s better. If you’re gonna act tall, you might as well be it too.”
I chuckle, a grin peeking out and not going away as he continues.
“And for the record, an apology comes without a question mark…but I’m not looking for one. I like that you speak your mind without apology. I like it so much that it makes my dick hard as fuck.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. My face shoots down, eyes locking on the impression of his cock through his shorts.
Oh.
I want to reach out and rub my hand over it. Feel it jerk, wanting me to relieve it. I’m thinking about it so much so that my fingers twitch.
Crew lifts my eyes back to his.
“Now that we’re on the same page, let me be frank. I’d planned to make you wild. To make you come to me. But I’m just gonna put it out on the table for you.”
His fingers curl around the nape of my neck, anchoring me to him.
“I want you upstairs, on the island, legs spread with my tongue fucking that tight pussy. I want you to come until you’re squirting and sliding all over the goddamn marble like the dirty little slut you are. And when you’re done, I want you sitting on my face so we can do it all over again.”
Holy. Fuck.
My heart has stopped beating…but I can still feel my pulse. It’s just a little further south.
I swallow, trying to remember why I’m supposed to say no. There was a reason…what was the reason? Money…that was it.
But you know what? People are too greedy nowadays…they invest in too much materialism. Money shouldn’t be a factor in people’s lives, especially and specifically, say, like, thirty thousand dollars. That’s a dumb amount. Nobody cares about that much.
“Tell me you want that.”
Five little words and I can’t speak. I’m too stunned, but I can feel my head nod.
Crew keeps his eyes on me as he yells over his shoulder to the boys.
“Fellas, make sure Millie makes it to the airport. Her shit’s already at the valet.”
My mouth pops open as I rush my words out.
“I’m not leaving—”
But without skipping a beat, Crew bends down and tosses me right over his shoulder.
“You sure as hell the fuck are,” he growls.
I squeal his name, slapping his perfectly hard ass as he spins around and looks at Millie.
“Say goodbye to your friend.”
She’s laughing, the smile on her face way too big as she points at me.
“Bye, friend, and goodbye, thirty thousand.”
Oh my god. Crew barely waits as I yell back, telling her I love her and to call me when she lands. The moment we hit sunlight, the hordes of people begin to cheer, and some asshole yells out, “Nice ass.”
Crew pauses, and I can feel him looking around before I scream again as he leans sideways, grabbing a pillow off a lounge chair and slapping it over my bare ass.
“Oh my god,” I yell as he traipses back through the water the way he came past people clapping and cheering. “This is so embarrassing.”
I bury my face in his back because I could die. But he doesn’t care. Crew carries me out of the day club, through the fucking hotel, and into the private elevators, making enough of a scene that my other cheeks are bright red.
But the minute the elevator doors close, Crew runs his nose up the side of my leg, inhaling the scent of coconut tanning oil and my sweat before he drops the pillow and bites my ass.
I can’t help it. I suck in a gasp, gushing wetness between my squeezed-together thighs. And as the ding sounds for our floor, Crew pushes his fingers between my legs, tucking just inside the lining of my bikini bottoms and dragging over my arousal before he brings those fingers to his lips and sucks them loudly.
“Fuck yeah. That’s a good fucking girl. Now, let me clean you up.”