top. I stretch out the bottoms and it’s way more Brazilian than I’m used to. I’ve still got PTSD from that thong.
Nolan steps out from the back of the house in black swim shorts, body resplendent in the sun. I notice the ink in his tattoos takes on a green hue in direct sunlight, his eyes becoming near translucent in their beauty and depth.
He sees me holding up the swim bottoms. “Cheeky.”
“We’ll need a rescue team to get this thing out of my ass.”
“Or my teeth,” he smiles, bouncing his eyebrows up and down.
“You’re terrible.”
“Terribly attractive,” he beams.
I roll my eyes and head to the pool house, five minutes of wrangling the swimsuit into position following. I turn and look at my butt in the mirror and, yeppers, that’s more white skin than should be legal.
I emerge blushing, Nolan standing there with his hands on his hips waving his hand to get me to turn around.
“No,” I tell him.
“Yes,” he replies.
I exhale and spin slowly, trying to cover my butt with my hands, yelping aloud when his own take them away.
“Holy shit,” he says, wolf-whistling, “we better get into that water before I take you right here.”
“With half the staff watching?”
“Let them look. Besides, can you imagine what my father and Alissa get up to out here?”
“And there goes my libido.”
“Come on,” he says, taking three steps and diving perfectly into the water, surfacing somewhere around the middle.
I ease myself in a little slower, adjusting to the temperature of the water and breast-stroking out to meet him.
He takes me in his arms. I wrap my legs around him breathing hard because my god he looks incredible.
“Still thinking about Rex?” he asks.
“Not anymore.”
His hardness is pressing against me, the iron flat of his cock against my clit. All that separates us is the fabric of our swimwear, though I’m pretty sure he’d do away with that if I asked.
“We’re alone, by the way,” he tells me.
Surprise pulls my face inwards. “What do you mean?”
“I had Alissa send the staff home early, thought we could do with the privacy.”
That flicker of desire becomes a flame.
I reach underwater and hook a finger in the crotch of my bikini bottom, dragging it to the side. “Should I take this off?”
And the smile he returns tells me I’m in for the fucking of my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
LINNEA
There’s nothing like a good session in the gym to scrub your mind clean. You focus on the burn and the world simply slips away.
“You were like a banshee in there today,” Carrie gushes, toweling herself off in the gym’s changing room—this one a bit bigger than a closet. “I half expected you to walk out of there with an extra set of abs.”
Abs—and boom, I’m transported right to Nolan and his expert hands…and mouth…and tongue…and hell, pretty much every part of his body all seemingly fine-tuned for my very own pleasure.
And yours alone, my head adds.
Carrie’s stooped to look at me. “Hey, you having a stroke down there?”
I snap out of it and take a shirt from my bag, pulling it on. “I guess I was just extra-motivated today.”
“Why? Did Hamilton say something?”
“No, but I wanted to feel it today for some reason.”
“What’s that?” Carrie laughs. “Pain?”
I nod. “The right kind of pain.”
“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
I think of Nolan’s hand, flat against my backside last night, the soothing touch that followed and the exquisite juxtaposition of it all. We’ve been getting extra kinky of late. “Are you jealous?”
Carrie tosses her towel onto the bench, completely naked, not that she cares. I don’t think I’ve met anyone who’s so confident in their own skin. She stands before me with her hands on her hips. “I’ve got a vibrator every shade of the rainbow. I think I’ll be just fine.”
“It’s not the same,” I tut.
“They’re hard, they’re long, they get the job done. What more do you want?”
I have to laugh at that. “Suit yourself.”
Carrie’s phone chimes. She pulls it from her bag, smiling as she reads the screen.
“It’s not your damn Pokémon Go group again, is it?”
The whole Pokémon Go trend passed a long time ago, but for some reason Carrie remains obsessed, regularly darting off to hunt these virtual monsters, or steering us to ‘gyms’—hot spots around town where these virtual creatures lurk. The average age in this group is about ten, but she doesn’t seem to mind. That’s another thing I admire about Carrie—she does not give a flying damn what other people think. Never