The Two Week Stand (Sizzling Beach 1)

The hand around my waist slides down to my butt, gripping it, and he urges me up onto my tiptoes.

I feel so tiny compared to him.

He’s so fucking built. I’ve never been with a man as big as him. It’s probably stupid to think, but he makes me feel girlie. Feminine. And I really like it.

His other hand leaves my hair and grips my other butt cheek. He lifts me, and my legs go around his waist.

We don’t even break the kiss.

He presses me back against the door. His lips move from mine, kissing down my neck. He starts thrusting his hard dick against me, sucking on a sensitive spot on my neck. The sounds coming from me are unintelligible.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, trailing his tongue over the swell of my breasts.

My hands slide into his hair, and I tug his mouth back to mine, and then we’re kissing again.

His hand moves up my side and under my top.

His fingers trail just below my breast. My braless breasts. I came over here, forgetting that I had no bra on. Because I was in bed, and really, who wears a bra to bed? Not me—that’s for sure.

When his fingers touch the bottom of my boob, he freezes. “You’re not wearing a bra,” he says against my lips.

“I was in bed.”

He groans. “I need to see them. You. Now.” He pushes off the door, taking me with him.

He strides into the main area of the villa, and I’m lowered to my feet next to the bed. I tilt my head, staring up at him. His lips are swollen from my kisses, his hair messed up from having my hands in it.

He looks fucking beautiful.

And right now—and for the next two weeks—he’s mine.

Rough, strong fingers curl into the hem of my pajama top, and it’s lifted. I raise my arms above my head, and West tugs it off.

My hair falls around my shoulders.

Dropping my top to the floor, West takes a few steps back and stares at me.

My skin prickles under his perusal.

Normally, I feel self-conscious when I’m naked in front of a man. Even one I know well. But with the way West is looking at me right now, I feel nothing but desired.

I can’t ever remember anyone looking at me the way that he is right now. With such open hunger. Like he’s going to devour me whole. And I’m going to let him.

A shiver moves through me.

“I was right.” His voice is rough.

A gulp. “About?”

“Your tits. They’re real.”

Huh?

“You thought I had fake tits?”

“No, I thought you had real tits, and I was right.”

“Okay … question … is this what men think about when they see a woman naked for the first time—if she has real or surgically enhanced tits?”

“I don’t know what other men think about. But I’m just a tit man. It’s been a long while since I last saw a pair that hadn’t been under the knife.”

“I honestly don’t even know what to say to that.”

His lips quirk up into a dirty grin. “You don’t have to say anything.” He takes a step forward, back to me, and cups my boobs in those large hands of his.

My breath stutters. Nothing has ever felt so good as his rough hands against the soft skin of my breasts.

“They’re perfect.” He rubs his thumbs over my nipples. “You’re perfect.”

Then, he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me again. His lips trace a path down my throat and to my chest. When he lowers to his knees and slides his tongue down the valley of my breasts before wrapping his mouth around my nipple, my legs almost buckle.

Holy sensations.

His hands grip my hips, like he knows I’m having trouble keeping upright, while his mouth and tongue work their magic on my boobs.

When his tongue slides lower, down my stomach, and dips into my belly button and his fingers start to tug my pajama shorts down, I know I’m not gonna be able to stand up, even with his help, if he’s heading where I’m really hoping he’s heading.

He slides my shorts and panties down my legs tortuously slow. When they reach the floor, I step out of them and kick them aside.

West’s hands slide around my calves and up my legs to my thighs, fingers curling around them.

I’m standing here, completely naked, in front of this man that I barely know, and I feel nothing but sexy and wanted.

It’s strange, yet it feels amazing.

He sits back on his heels. “Fucking gorgeous,” he says, eyes roaming my body. His voice is as rough and dirty as the look in his eyes.

He stares up at me. “Sit on the bed and spread your legs, so I can fuck you with my tongue. I wanna taste you, Dillon.”

Holy. Fuck.

He’s so demanding. His mouth is so dirty.