He grins. “I didn’t exactly get a choice in what I got. Just asked for something strong.”
I turn the bottle, reading the back, “Forty-seven percent ABV. That’ll do it.” I chuckle.
He sits down on my lounger across from me, straddling it. Those thick thighs spread wide and his junk very much outlined in his trunks. He’s definitely rocking a semi in there. Which I like. Because he’s rocking that semi from just being here with me.
I get him hard on sight.
There’s a certain kind of power in that.
“I thought we could have a drink together,” he says to me.
I purse my lips in thought. “I did say I was gonna stay off alcohol after my drunken night.”
“You had a beer at lunch yesterday and a mimosa at breakfast.”
I also had a few cocktails on the beach when I got bored with mocktails and a glass of wine with dinner, but I don’t need to point this out to him.
“I know, alcohol police. I meant, hard liquor. And I’m on holiday. Most people drink mimosas at breakfast when they’re on holiday.”
“Sure they do, Double D.”
“Ugh. We still going with that nickname?”
“I like it. Suits you.” His eyes drop down to my breasts.
“I thought it was Double D because of my name, not because of my boob size.”
His eyes drag back up to my face. A cheeky grin in them. “Are they a double D?”
“Nope.”
“Well, there you go then. The nickname can’t apply to your tits.”
Is it weird that I get all shivery when he says stuff like that? Tits. Just so openly, but it sounds so dirty.
“What size are they?” he asks. “Just for educational purposes, of course.”
“Of course. They’re a D.” I place my hands on either side of my boobs and pretend to cup them.
His pupils flare as well as his nostrils.
“Definitely not a double?” he asks, eyes on them again. He is definitely a boob man, like he said.
“Nope. Just a solo D.”
“Well, I like them.” Gray eyes, almost blacked out by his dilated pupils, come back to mine. “A lot.”
My mouth suddenly dries. I lick my lips. “So”—I clear my throat—“are we drinking this then? See if it tastes better than it’s called? Although I don’t have any shot glasses.”
He pulls two from a back pocket in his shorts. “He left me these as well.”
“You got anything else in there?” I scan my eyes over his shorts. “Bottle of champagne? Cigarettes?”
“Just my big dick and some condoms, obviously. And you smoke?”
“No. But it’s been known to happen when I’m drunk and cigarettes are lying around. You never smoked?”
“Cigarettes, no. Weed, yes.”
I give a pretend shocked gasp. “But you’re a sportsman! You’re not supposed to do drugs.”
“It’s just a little weed. You never smoked it?”
“Course I have.” I grin, and he laughs.
“On the outside, you’re all sweetness and light. But on the inside, there is a bad girl just waiting to get out.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” I flutter my lashes innocently. “I’m pure all the way through. Although it’s a shame we haven’t got any weed. Then, we’d have ourselves a hell of a party.”
“I said, have a little fun. Not a rager. I don’t want you wasted. I have plans for you tonight.”
My brow goes up. “Sex plans?”
“Are there any other kind between you and me?”
I press my lips together and shake my head. Droplets of excitement trickle into my belly.
“But before sex, I was thinking we could have a little fun. Play a drinking game.”
“Ooh, I like games.” I give a little shimmy of excitement. “Which game are you thinking?”
“Never Have I Ever.”
“I’ve never played that before.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“What drinking games did you play when you were a teenager and wanted to get drunk?”
“None. I just drank and got drunk. Didn’t need a game to excuse my underage drinking habits.” I shrug.
“Badass.” He gives me a smile of approval.
“I know. So, what are the rules of the game?”
“Well, for example, I say something I’ve never done, like … Never have I ever eaten shit. And if you’ve done it, then you have to do a shot.”
“Well, I’ve definitely never eaten shit. But hypothetically, if I have done something you say you’ve never done, then I just drink my shot?”
“And remove a piece of clothing.”
Staring at him, I tilt my head to the side in question. “Is this an actual rule or your own rule?”