Dirty Games (Tropical Temptation)

Christ. “Use two.”

“I can’t. Too tight.”

“Two,” he insisted, and pumped his cock, which suddenly struck him as monstrously huge. “At least two. Sink them in deep, and stir them around. Let me hear it.”

Her breath hitched as she did what he asked. Her cheeks were as flushed and damp as they’d been when she’d strained against the machine, except now she strained for him. A few more seconds and he heard it—the slick sound of her body accommodating the slow, sliding play of her fingers.

“That’s it. Keep going.” Without really meaning to, he pumped his cock to the rhythm she set. Moments later, he was about to explode, but she was still stroking herself and grinding her hips with increasingly frustrated energy.

Finally, she slumped back against the seat, somehow managing to look both imperious and exhausted, with her chest heaving and her hand down her pants. “I can’t. I told you I couldn’t. I need help.”

Damn, she was stubborn. “I told you not to say those words to me. Get your ass back up here and keep going.”

“Not everything is meant to be a workout, you know.” Despite the grumbling, she resumed her forward position, teasing him with the swing of her breasts. Breasts he’d confessed had the power to make him ruin his sheets while imaging his cock nestled between them. Molten heat rolled down his spine and pooled in his balls, a warning from his system about how well all this was working for him. The point of no return was fast approaching.

“If you do it right, it is.”

“This is right?”

“Do you want my help, or not?”

“You sadist. Yes. I want your help.”

He leaned in, too, and deliberately turned his face away at the last second so the side of his head brushed her breasts. He felt her nipple spear into his hair. His cock jumped in his fist.

Fast approaching.

“Oh God.” She lunged forward, chasing the sensation, but the incline of the seat kept her from pitching herself into him.

“Who’s in charge, Quinn?” His vocal cords felt thick and unwieldy. His whole body did, too, for that matter.

“You,” she whispered.

He rewarded her by leaning in and turning the other way. She bolted upright this time, and her head fell back, exposing the graceful column of her throat. Her arm came up to cover her breasts in a gesture at once so protective and revealing, it nearly undid him. Point of no return.

No return.

“Who’s in charge? Use my name.”

“You’re in charge, Luke. Luke—”

Her sudden inhale cut off the sound of his name, and then orgasm tore through her.

That did it. He groaned into his bicep and shuddered as three long weeks of unrelenting lust shot out of him in a white-hot fury.

Chapter Nine

“Damn, girl, you look like you just got it good. I don’t even bat for your team, and I might have a long-distance orgasm from staring at all your afterglow.”

Eddie’s teasing smile and laughing eyes filled Quinn’s phone. She automatically glanced up to the right corner of the screen, where her reflection stared back at her from a small square. Tousled hair. Flushed face. Shoulders bare to where the frame cut off, giving the impression she wore nothing but the dewy sheen of sex.

Yay, FaceTime. But oh, how she wished. Sadly, Luke hadn’t given her anything to get sweaty over except workouts since last week when he’d “taught” her to help herself.

“Well, that would be one of us enjoying an orgasm, then. I just finished two grueling hours of circuits.”

“Yeah, right. Why are you naked?”

“I’m not naked.” She took a seat on the wooden bench just outside the glass-walled, open-roofed shower installed between the gym and the pool house, and adjusted the tilt of her phone so Eddie could see the fluffy white towel wrapped around her. “I’ve been set free for the day. I’m about to try the open-air shower.” She lifted a brow. “Do you want to watch, or is there some other point to your call?”