Page 154 of First in Line

I let go of him and tug at the cups of my bikini, pulling them aside and freeing the heavy masses. His pupils widen at the sight of my hardened nipples, and he instinctively licks his full lips.

“Lean back a little,” I order, my voice unsteady.

He does as I asked, using an arm to hold himself at an angle, and I bring my heavy chest to his crotch.

“Fuck,” he drawls out as I tuck his spit-covered length between the heavy swells and squish them together.

We haven’t done this since we’ve started over. But he used to love it when I used my breasts like this. Seems like he still does, given the way his hips jolt up uncontrollably.

I keep my eyes on his as I gently rock up and down, pleasuring him in the hot, tight space I’ve made for him. As if overwhelmed, he leans back a little further on his elbow. That allows me to take the round tip in my mouth while still looking up at him. The salty taste of precum coats my tongue as it twirls around the smooth head, drawing more breathy moans and whimpered curses out of him.

He’s getting close. So close.

When I pull away, his tip is red, almost purple. His climax is nearly here.

“Where do you want to come?” I ask, voice laced with need.

He thinks about it for a brief instant, then decides, “Your tits.”

My clit pulses, and I know I’m soaked. When this is over, I’ll have to work him up to another erection so he can take care of me next.

Letting go of my breasts, I take him down my throat again, as if starved for it. He sits up while his hand returns to my hair, and he ruthlessly pushes me down, forcing me to take all of him. Tears well up in my eyes from the discomfort but also the frustration of being untouched when I crave it. I could probably come with a few flicks of my fingers. But I want him to do it. It’ll be so much better if he does.

His hips thrust up a few times, ramming his length as far as it can go, and he pulls me away by my hair. I rise so my chest is at the right height while his free hand wraps around his girth. He doesn’t even have to start pumping it for the first rope of white seed to spurt out.

He moans my name the whole time he finds his release, his big, powerful hand jerking his veiny length. His orgasm lands all over my exposed breasts, hot and thick. His gaze doesn’t know where to stay, jumping from my face to my chest. I’m just as indecisive, eager to admire his pleasure-distorted face or the cum that shoots out of him.

Eventually, his climax recedes, and the hand fisting himself slows. The one in my hair, still holding me right where he needed me, loosens, and my scalp prickles from the tug.

With my newfound freedom of movement, I decide to lower and lick the drops of his seed that dribble down his satiated length. Not taking all of him this time, I suck on the first third, making sure none of his cum remains.

Then, I look up and lift myself for a kiss. And he earnestly answers it, holding my face with more tenderness this time.

The heady grazes of his tongue against mine distract me enough that I barely realize him joining me in the pool. But when he rips his lips away from mine, my legs are hooked on his hips as he carries me around in the water. His hands are on my behind, cupping each mound, and I desperately need him to bring one a little farther, where I long for his touch.

He stares at me intently for several beats, then, like an impulse that needs out, says, “I love you so fucking much, Evie.”

Surprise wouldn’t be the word I’d use to describe how his profession makes me feel. I’ve seen this coming. I’ve known he felt that way all week, and even before that. But I still can’t help some amount of bewilderment hearing it.

Maybe because I don’t feel like I deserve it. Maybe because I blew my chance a while back, and knowing I get another one feels unearned. Maybe because I’m not entirely sure he means it. Not that he’s lying, but I can’t help but wonder if our timelines aren’t merging, confusing our emotions and feelings.

“Are you sure?” I ask timidly.

My answer is so unexpected that he takes seconds to process it. When he does, he chuckles. “Of course I’m sure.”

“I mean… Are you sure you love menow? The person I’ve become. Not who I used to be.”

His right hand lets go of my behind to surface out of the water, and its wet knuckles caress the side of my face, temple to chin.

“I loved you then, and I love you now, princess. I loved you at fifteen, and I love you at thirty. Just like I will love you at sixty.”

My chest is tight, overflowing with emotions. I can’t doubt his genuineness. Not when his eyes are so full of love like this.

“I don’t think I ever stopped,” he continues. “It was there, dormant, waiting for you to return. And ever since you did… Not only have my feelings for you awakened, they have grown stronger. Discovering the woman you’ve become, learning more about her, has only solidified my conviction that we’re meant to be together. You’re frustratingly defiant and annoyingly stubborn, but I’ll be damned if I don’t adore every single facet of you. Even the fierce independence that pushes you to be without me.”

“I’m stubborn? You swooped in, wouldn’t take no for an answer, stole my spark plugs, made me break off my engagement, and harassed me to come spend time with you in Europe. You’re insufferably tenacious.”

“I know what I want, and I stop at nothing to get it, princess.”