Breaking Perfect

Sean recalled learning about mermaids in a mythology class at Duke. They were said to be sirens of the sea, capable of enchanting sailors to walk right off their decks and also provoke shipwrecks. Their song and beauty could enthrall even the most devoted man and seduce him straight to his death. He imagined Mason as Poseidon, the great king of the sea, and Liberty as Amphitrite, his lovely queen. That left him as Odysseus, the one lured to a great demise by the siren. He was not going down.

His competitive nature crept in and it became imperative that he catch her. He needed a new strategy. He dove under the water and swam from one end to the other. When he immerged he only listened. Without calling Marco he dove back under and went to where he heard her excited breathing. As close as he could tell, he swam to her and stood. “Marco?” he growled.

She was silent and then, her breath warm on his back, she whispered, “Polo.”

Sean turned with the speed of a wild animal and grabbed hold. She yelped and laughed as he pulled her slick little body against his front. She was so tiny. Her legs floated out from under her as he held her in his grasp. His cock swelled as her pert bottom pressed against his lower body.

Laughter faded and she stilled, not in a panicked way, but in the way a woman melts into a man’s care when she submits. Subdued under his strong hold in a display of beautiful, natural surrender, the speed in which he was able to gentle her only added to his arousal.

The water settled and their breathing filled the air. The rumble of Barry White’s voice faded away as the song drowned to an end. His palm lay flat against her soft abdomen as his other arm banded around her midriff. He wanted to reach up to her breasts. He wanted to grind himself into her.

Her small fingers gripped the bulk of his forearm, tiny pink nails pressing into his skin, and he could feel each breath as it filled her lungs. “I gotch’you,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“What now?” she whispered.

What now? Excellent question. Sean breathed in her scent mixed with a touch of chlorine. What was he doing? Mason was his friend, his ex-lover. His common sense seemed to be muffled, because that certainly wasn’t the part of him that spoke. “What do you want?”

His fingertips moved slightly and the edge of her suit surrounding her soft, exposed belly greeted his touch. His fingertips pressed under the wet material clinging to her skin and the prick of her nipples pressed into his arm. His cock swelled further in response.

“Sean?” She spoke his name more as a pleading breath than a warning.

“Mm-hm?”

“We can’t.”

“I know.”

Her arms fell away and she seemed to yield a bit more in his grasp. He held her buoyant, inconsequential weight. His hand moved slowly upward and he cupped the curve of her breast. His wrist twisted and his thumb found the small point, lightly brushing over it once. She probably was outraged. She should have been, but rather than push him away, she moaned and another rush of blood flooded his cock.

Sean reached for her other nipple and touched it in the same way, but this time adding a tight pinch. Her bottom pressed into his cock as her chest eased forward to fill his hand. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to the curve of her shoulder, brushing his lips over her soft, damp skin and wiping away the clean droplets that clung there.

“No,” she whispered with little conviction.

“No,” he repeated in agreement. The large humid room seemed hollow, their breath an echo altogether too loud. He shut his eyes and inhaled her scent then released her. She stood, but didn’t move away. Goose bumps scattered over her narrow shoulders. He stepped back. “Go, Liberty.”

She turned and looked at him, confusion showing in her big blue eyes. Her lower lip quivered. He was a bastard.

“Go. Now,” he barked and she quickly turned and waded to the steps.

He glared as she climbed out of the pool and gathered her towel around her shivering body. Just as she seemed ready to turn and face him again he guzzled a breath of air and dove under the surface like a coward. He held his breath as long as he could and when he emerged she was gone.

Chapter Eight

Filthy. Her mother was right. She was a filthy whore, a temptress. Liberty’s skin still tingled from the nearly scalding shower she’d taken after leaving the pool. A deep rosy blush seemed burned into her flesh, yet it did nothing to relieve or excoriate the putrid grime running through her veins. She was disgusting.

Why had she allowed Sean to touch her? He was Mason’s friend, a guest in their home. She needed to tell Mason what happened, but feared he would rage at Sean. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Nothing would’ve happened if she weren’t such a dirty girl.