Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol 1) - Page 87

“Look at you. Look at you fucking taking me.”

Our reflection in the dark glass doors of the yacht shined back at us. My back arched, my breasts pressed out and bouncing each time he thrust hard inside me. He looked like a dark, dominating shadow behind me, his teeth bared like an animal rutting against its mate.

His hand slid down between my thighs and focused on my clit.

“Fucking mine,” he growled against my ear.

“Yours,” I whimpered back.

He pinched my clit and pushed hard, sending me over the edge. If it wasn’t for his hand between my legs and the table at my hips, I’d have collapsed in a heap. My legs shook, and the world vanished beyond the supernova, exploding like a million fireworks through every inch of me.

His hands tightened, and he buried his head against my neck, his teeth digging into my shoulder like they had the first time we’d been together, and he came.

His moans of release sent shock waves down to my nipples and straight to my pussy, still pulsing around his twitching cock.

I watched our reflection, exhausted and satisfied. I almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back, her hair a mess and sweating, her body panting and glued to the man behind her. I didn’t recognize her, but I wanted to.

Nico eased out, and a rush of wetness dripped down my thigh, bringing its own mini spasms of excitement. He stumbled back and took me with him, catching me when we fell to the lounger. Kissing me softly, he slipped his fingers between my legs, collecting our cum, only to bring it to my nipple and tweak it.

The move was simple and beyond erotic. I wanted to be covered by him, and I liked to know he wanted the same.

“Why did I fight this?”

“I don’t know, but you better stop. This was not a one-time thing, Verana.”

I cocked a brow but was too tired to even pretend to be stubborn. “It sure as hell wasn’t,” I agreed, stroking his softening cock, loving the way our cum covered him too. “I want more.”

“Then more I shall give you.”

With an energy I didn’t know how he had, he stood, scooping me up, laughing at my yelp of surprise.

“Let’s try something new.”

“Oooo, sounds kinky,” I joked.

“How about a bed?”

In a bed, with his big body over mine, sounded like everything I’d hoped for.

“Perfect.”ThirtyVeraThe next day looked similar to the last, except when Nico climbed into the shower with me and offered to eat me out, I gladly accepted and returned the favor. By the time we finished, the water ran cold, and he said he had to take me back to bed to warm me up.

Now, we lay on the loungers, the yacht skipping along to our next destination, and this time, I took him up on his suggestion, sunbathing topless. He ordered all staff to stay away from the front deck and muttered about ripping eyeballs out if anyone saw his wife’s breasts.

I loved it.

I loved—

I cut the thought off and shook it away. If my phone worked, I’d call Raelynn, and she’d promptly squeal, demand details, and then reprimand me for being dick-drunk if I even considered thinking those words.

A warm mouth surrounded my nipple, his rough tongue flicking back and forth. “I love these tits.”

“Where are we going today?” I asked, keeping my eyes closed, basking in his adoration of my body.

“Just out to sea for a while and then coming back to the coast a little south.”

“Sounds perfect.”

His fingers grazed up and down my stomach, circling my belly button. Never touching anywhere important, just moving like he wanted to memorize every inch. I’d stared at his body every second I got and probably knew more than every inch. It made me want to know what lay beyond.

“How’d you get to K. Rush Shipping?”

His finger froze a moment before continuing its path. “What do you mean?”

Finally caving, I turned my head and squinted an eye open to watch him. His hair stretched in all directions from the salty sea and yacht breeze. He looked young and carefree. “You’re young and successful beyond what I can imagine. How did you get here? Was it what you always wanted?”

“Yes.”

Rolling my eyes at his short answer, I shoved his shoulder. “Tell me more.”

“My grandfather owned his own company, and my father worked with him. I learned everything I know from them. Internships over the summer, running mail and coffee before I even reached high school. It’s in my blood. Kind of like how it’s in yours.”

“You had time for work between all those girls you probably dated.”

“I worked hard to play hard.”

“Is that your life motto?”

“Hardly.”

“I bet you were the prom king,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“No, I never made it to the actual dance. Got distracted in the limo,” he said with arrogance.

Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance
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