When he is all the way in, he makes himself thrust up more so his pelvis is rubbing my clit.
“Rub your swollen clit, baby,” he groans out. “It’s fucking pink, baby, my pink pussy.”
I’m now rubbing my clit with two fingers up and down.
“Pinch your clit, baby, pinch it, make it bigger.” He pulls out, thrusting in right before his cock head gets to my opening.
“Your cock is getting bigger, Cooper.” I pinch my clit. “Filling me.” I rub my clit. “Making my pussy so wet, stretching me.” I pinch. “I’m going to come all over your cock.”
He pushes in, slamming into me as much as the water will let him. We are creating our own waves. “Where do you want me to come?” I’m so close, my G-spot is ready to fucking explode, my clit throbbing. My stomach is pulled so fucking tight, my toes curl.
“Want to come in me?” I rub my clit frantically, knowing he is close. His cock head has almost doubled in size inside me. “Want me to swallow you?”
He groans.
“Want to come on my tits?” I don’t even think I get that last word out because I’m groaning out as I’m coming on his cock. He grows so much bigger I think I won’t be able to walk after, but I want him to come.
He pulls his cock out, jerking himself on my stomach, my pussy lips rubbing up and down his shaft while he comes, helping to milk him. I’m covered in his cum for three seconds before the water washes over my stomach, cleaning me off somewhat. Some of his cum remains.
“Fucking kills me, every time,” he says, breathing heavy.
“I don’t think I can stand up,” I say, looking at him. He reaches for my top, covering up my breasts.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I plan on fucking you everywhere we can for the next four days,” he says, tucking himself into his shorts. “You don’t need to walk, I’ll carry you, baby.”
“Four days, eh?” I pull my bottom part of my suit over to cover myself back up.
“Yup. Let’s go. I want to fuck you in the pool now.”
My eyebrow shoots up. “Already?”
“You are my drug, your body is my drug, everything about you is my drug.” He picks me up, carrying me to the stairs where he walks straight to the pool where he proceeds to fuck me on the steps. Fuck me, this is the best birthday ever.
Chapter Twenty-One
I can’t believe that we are going home tomorrow. It’s been a great four days, filled with sun, sand—some in places I didn’t think was actually possible—and sex. There has been lots and lots of sex. My vagina is sore from all the sex, but I wouldn’t want anything else.
We are sitting on the upper balcony with tiki torches lighting up the night. The pool is lit up, giving a glow that is magical.
I’m sitting with my legs in Cooper’s lap, while I look out into the horizon. My white long sundress is pushed up with Cooper rubbing my legs. Our skins are bronzed, our bodies relaxed.
Cooper takes a sip of his wine and looks over. I can tell from his look something is bothering him. I’m not sure what, but it scares me.
“We go home tomorrow. Ready to get back into the groove?”
“Yes and no.” I take a sip of wine. “I can’t wait to see the kids, but I don’t want this to end.”
“So why the secret?” He looks at me.
“What secret?” I think I know what he is talking about, but I’m so not going to admit it.
“Babe, I know by your look that you know exactly what I’m talking about. Why hide your birthday?”
Oh fuck, here we go. I’m thinking about how to play this. I can either ignore the fact of why I lied to him or I can point blank tell him my insecurities. What is the worst that can happen? I take a gulp of wine, more for courage than to drink. Here goes nothing.
“I didn’t want to think about it. I kind of wanted to skip over it this year.”
“Why?” Such a loaded question.
“Because,” I say with a huff, “I’m thirty-five this year. You just turned thirty, which means I’m five years older than you. I mean, five years is huge, especially with you. I mean, come on, look at you.” I point to him. “You get twenty something women throwing themselves at you all the time. I’m not stupid, you know.” I sip more wine and try to sit up, but he won’t release my feet.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He looks over, angry. He is really pissed at me?
“No, I’m not kidding. I’m thirty-five. I can’t compete with those women. I mean, not only are they younger, they are not moms. They don’t have stretch marks, or saggy boobs, for that matter.” I now look down at my hands. Maybe honesty wasn’t the right thing. I’ve left myself open.