“Yes.”

“My yard is big. My neighbors aren’t around today,” he said as he travelled up her body with the ice cube, watching her shiver as it left a wet path across her hot skin. He reached the hollow of her throat, making circles, watching the ice melt some. He leaned in and kissed the water away. Then he pulled back and said firmly, “Put it between your teeth.”

She opened her mouth, and waited for him to insert the cube. She held it in place with her teeth as he ran the back of his fingertips down her arm. “I could untie your bikini straps right now. Take off the top and tie you up with it. Flip you over onto your hands and knees and fuck you from behind on this chair,” he said, not looking at her, but instead reaching for his glass, and finishing off his drink.

He returned his focus to her, and the look in her eyes was already glossy, on the path to red-hot desire. “Would you like that?”

She nodded.

Starting at her collarbone, he brushed his finger to the top of her chest, then through the valley of those gorgeous tits, on a fast track to her legs. He danced his fingers along the waistband of her bathing suit, taunting her. “Or I could take these off right now and feel how wet you are. Since you’re all nice and slippery, right?”

She bucked upwards, giving her yes. A drop of liquid drizzled from the cube down her chin. He kissed it away. “Don’t let go of the ice,” he instructed. “Hold on ’til it melts between your lips.”

He moved his hands down her legs, placing his palms on the insides of her thighs. He spread them apart, and stared at her bikini bottom. “Or maybe I’ll just torture you by brushing one finger against this wet spot I love so much. Just play with your hot pussy through this bikini until you’re moaning, crying, and begging me to take it off.”

Her eyes floated closed momentarily, and she lifted her hips.

Desire tore through him, twisting and curling like a wildfire. He was desperate to quench it and bring her to orgasm. But he had to fight that urge and restrain all of his lust for her.

Waiting made everything better.

With her hands stretched above her head, hooked in the slats of the lounge chair, she was bound to him.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Every single answer was a resounding yes.

She was so wet, so turned on, so slippery, and all she wanted was his touch. She had no idea how long this torture would last. She could bite down on this ice cube now, but that would only prolong the waiting. He’d find a new way to draw out his touch if she defied him. She wanted him fiercely, with an intensity that bordered on criminal.

Lust and desire ricocheted through her body as she gripped the slats above her and writhed her hips on the lounge chair, baking under the hot sun.

Soon. He had to touch her soon.

Mercifully, he looped his hands around her neck and untied her bikini, then unsnapped the hook at her spine. Her first taste of freedom came as he lowered the straps along her arms, taking off the top. His breath stilled as he took in her breasts.

She willed him to lower his mouth to her nipples and suck, bite, and taste. Maybe she could send a telepathic message telling him to touch her; she tried valiantly by arching her back, lifting her breasts closer to him.

He got the message. Oh hell, did he get it. He reached for her mojito. “Let’s check how this tastes,” he said as he poured some of the drink down her chest. She drew a sharp breath, even with the ice cube melting in her mouth. He buried his face between her breasts, lapping up the liquid. She wanted to moan, to cry out, to shout yes to the sun and moon and stars. This was her taste of heaven—his mouth on her skin.

He looked up and ran his finger along the cube in her teeth. “You want this so badly, don’t you?” he asked.

She nodded. She didn’t even know what he was offering. Whatever it was, she’d take it.

“It doesn’t matter what I do, does it? You just want me to make you come?”

Yes. So much yes.

She arched her hips, seeking him out. His eyes roamed over her bikini bottom. She was soaked. Surely, he could see the evidence of her desire through the fabric.

He stood up and ran his hands over the thick bulge in his shorts. Killing her. He was fucking killing her. “You like that, don’t you? When I touch myself?”

She breathed a yes around the melting cube.

“How much do you want me to jack off on you right now? To come all over you?”

She nodded vigorously. He was dirty and filthy and she wanted it. She would beg, bargain, or steal for it.

He pushed his shorts down, freeing his cock—his beautiful, gorgeous shaft that she loved. She flicked her tongue against the back of the cube, and started licking it to free herself.

He took his dick in his fist and stroked. She rocked in the chair, as if she could draw him into her with her hips, her eyes.

“Ice is almost melted,” he said, cupping his balls in one hand and fisting harder with the other. “This is really making you crazy, isn’t it?”

Heat raced through her body, pooling between her legs.

“I know you want me to do this,” he said on an upstroke. “You want to watch me stand here, and get off to your beautiful body, right in front of you. Tell me that’s what you want.”

“Yes,” she hissed around the ice cube.

He let go of his dick, yanked up his shorts, and kneeled over her. He brought his mouth so close to her face she could feel his hot breath. “But I’m not going to. I have something better for you because you’re so fucking good.” He devoured her mouth, kissing her, taking the last chip of the ice cube into his own mouth, and getting rid of the obstacle between her and pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Then he tugged down her bathing suit bottom, pulled it off, and thrust a finger inside her.

Not a second passed before she started fucking his hand. She was so turned on, so worked up, and so aroused from him. Her hands were twisted inside the slats, the wood rubbing against her wrists, and she didn’t care. All she cared about was this pleasure, this incomparable, otherworldly lust racing through her body, flooding every last cell, bathing her brain in ecstasy.

She couldn’t even form words.

There was no point to speaking.

She was reduced to only moans and groans and murmurs as he crooked his finger inside her and hit the magic spot no one had ever discovered until Ryan Sloan walked into her life, fulfilling every fantasy.

This commanding, intense, powerful man loved to tease her, and loved to please her, and, oh God, he was doing just that. Her belly tightened. An orgasm insisted on appearing.

He added another finger, then one more, as his thumb rubbed her clit. She cried out oh God so loud she was sure California heard it. Her eyes squeezed shut. This was fucking epic. It was wondrous as he completely owned the center of her body, the center of her world, the core of her pleasure.

She gripped the wood as she writhed into his hand, his fingers deep inside her, and she hit the edge, detonating from the intensity that ravaged her.

Before the orgasm even subsided, he grasped her hands from the slats, released them, and threaded his fingers through hers, as ripples of pleasure continued to spread through her body like aftershocks. He’d taken off his shorts, and now he wedged himself between her thighs, and told her to wrap her legs around his hips.

She did as instructed, and then he sank into her. He filled her so completely, and the sheer intensity of him inside her was astonishing. She moaned loudly, her voice carrying across the heat of the afternoon, floating on the hot air as he buried himself deep. He gripped her fingers hard.