She’s burning so hot, the heat of her pussy hitting me even before I drag my pulsing crown through her.
That’s when I realize. Fuck. I drop my forehead onto her shoulder with a growl. “I don’t have any protection.”
“I don’t care,” she answers immediately, an edge of desperation to her voice.
“I should really—”
“I’m on the pill. I’m totally clean.”
I jerk my head back to look at her. “Are you sure?” I’ve never had sex without a condom. Ever. But the thought of taking Vivienne bare, with nothing between us . . .
“One hundred per—”
I swallow the rest of her answer, unable to wait even a second longer. Lifting Vivienne’s hips, I position her directly over my cock, and let gravity do the rest. Vivienne cries out as I slam into her wet heat, taking me deeper than I’ve ever been. Fuuuuuuuck.
After that, I operate purely on instinct, pulling out and thrusting back in, hitting her from an angle that makes her claw at my back, bite at my neck, and make noises I’ve never heard her make before.
We’re two animals in heat, attacking each other with a ferocity I didn’t know humans were capable of. I press my hand to the base of her throat, the delicate tendons giving way beneath the pressure of my grip. I want to control everything, even Vivienne’s access to air. Her eyes go wide, arousal edged in fear. It’s a natural instinct to fight for unimpeded breathing, but while she wraps her hand around my wrist, she doesn’t push me away. She’s letting me control her. Trusting me to take her to the brink, but keep her safe.
It’s enough to make me explode, but I hold back. I’m not ready for this to end.
I release her throat, allowing her one gulp of oxygen before covering her mouth with my own, penetrating her mouth with my tongue as I shove my cock back inside of her, using my body to hold her in place while my hands seek her breasts, rolling and pinching her nipples as she moans and squirms.
Every inch of her body is completely at my disposal. Mine. All fucking mine.
The pressure builds, a wrenching ache that grips my balls and the base of my spine. It builds and builds, swelling and expanding until it’s like a dense fog of pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Vivienne screams, flinging her head back as her pussy clenches around my cock, so hot and tight the pleasure-pain ratchets up another level and finally crests. I slam a hand against the wall as I empty inside her, my forehead dropping onto her shoulder, her breaths gusting over my neck, our heartbeats thudding in rhythm.
Eventually I release Vivienne from my hold, and she slides down the wall. Together we survey the room and then our paint-splattered bodies.
“I’d apologize for the mess,” she says with a rueful smile, “but I’m not sorry. Not sorry at all.”
Same, Red. Same.
Chapter 44
Vivienne
2 DAYS UNTIL LABOR DAY
I’ve been on plenty of boats in my life. It’s almost impossible not to when you grow up on Long Island. But the gleaming white yacht docked in the ultra-exclusive Sag Harbor marina is a far cry from the Boston Whalers and Sea Rays I’ve spent the occasional afternoon on.
Lance and Tripp have borrowed it for the night from their friend Nash, who recently purchased it as a one-year anniversary present for his wife, Nixie. For the last Saturday of summer, they’ve invited everyone who’s anyone in the Hamptons aboard for a sunset cruise to formally announce the launch of RiskTaker’s nationwide initiative to teach at-risk youth the basics of budgeting and money management.
It’s a big night for Lance, and I know he’s nervous. But all I can think about is the ticking clock. We’re down to the final forty-eight hours. In just two days . . .
Summer will be over. And so will we.
Lance and I arrive first, except for the small army of crew and catering staff. He pulls me to the top deck, all the way to the front of the yacht. The bow, or is it the stern?
“Are we having a Jack and Rose moment?” I ask, as he positions me in front of him, looking out over the bay and to the ocean beyond.
A moment is all I want though. Jack and Rose had an epic love, but not a romance. Their love story wasn’t a love story at all. It was a tragedy.
Lance gives me one of his broad, cocky, Viking-esque smiles, and my knees go weak as his strong arms encircle my waist, holding me tightly. Like he might never let go.
Hope skitters over my frayed nerves.
The past week has been incredible. Our night painting the canvas—and each other—served its intended purpose. Not only do I smile every time I look at the art we made together, a bold statement piece that hangs proudly over the fireplace. But, even better, Lance and I have had sex in every way, in every room, and plenty outside, too.
Each morning I wake up, feeling closer to him than the day before. But still, he hasn’t brought up our impending deadline. He hasn’t admitted to any real feelings for me.
Sometimes I wonder if Lance is waiting for me to blink first. But I already did, the afternoon I returned from Jolie’s house steaming mad and very hurt.
I didn’t like his answer then and I won’t put myself in a position to hear it again. Once burned, twice shy.
If Lance has had a change of heart, he needs to speak up.
“You look gorgeous tonight,” he murmurs now, his chin coming to rest on top of my head, his thumbs sweeping over the structured waist of my strapless, emerald green dress.
I blink into the wind, feeling a blush rising up my cheeks. “You’ve already told me that.” He did. When I came downstairs in my bare feet, a pair of wedge sandals dangling from my fingers. He’d watched, his eyes darkening to ochre as I sat down on the couch and tied the laces around my ankles.
I may have drawn out the action, letting the hem ride up my thighs further than necessary, spreading my legs just enough that he couldn’t help but dare a glance up my skirt.
“Well, it bears repeating.”
I release a contented sigh. “So, is there anyone in particular you want to schmooze with tonight?”
I feel the rumble of his chuckle against my spine. “I don’t schmooze.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You do so. And you do it pretty well, by the way.”
He looks out over the water, and for a moment, I can feel the spiraling anxiety of the boy he used to be. The kid who wore secondhand sneakers and did his homework on a table covered in overdue bills. Who climbed onto the roof just to be closer to the stars. “Because of you.”
Lance Welles has lost his entire family. There’s a hardness to him, but he’s not bitter. He’s passionate about his business, but even more passionate about giving kids the tools to succeed, a solid foundation so they can reach for the stars.
I brush a hand over his smooth jaw, knowing that in just a few hours, Lance’s stubble will once again abrade my palm. “No. You are quite charming all on your own.”
I’ll be his family, if he’ll let me. If he doesn’t throw me away.
“There you are!” Jolie waves from halfway across the ship, striding confidently toward us with Tripp at her side. “Before our guests start to arrive, I just want to say how proud I am of you both. Seriously, you’ve done something truly amazing and I’m grateful to have played even a small part.”