Inside the leg of my dress pants, my cock swells to life. More so when she feels it rise against her pussy and bites that bottom lip. “What do I do to you?” I ask, sounding like a wolf in a pasture, except my eye is on one single sheep and it will remain that way forever. “Fair warning, angel. Don’t answer that question unless you want to circle Amsterdam for the next hour while I punish you for looking like goddamn Sleeping Beauty for seven hours on our jet.”
“Our jet?” Veda murmurs, releasing my hand in favor of sliding all ten of her fingers into my hair. “I’m not your wife.”
She intends it as a light joke, but her humor fades when I sit forward, bringing our foreheads together. Grinding them together. “Not yet.”
For long, heart-pounding moments, we simply breathe against one another’s mouths. I didn’t intend to reveal how determined I am to make Veda my wife—and I would complete that particular mission if she were still in high school, without shame—but I’m glad it’s out in the open. That’s right, angel. Look at me. I’m out of my fucking mind over you and that will never change.
“Let’s stay at our place.” Her swallow is audible. “The place you rented, I mean.”
“Done.” I give her a light kiss on the lips, trying not to be obvious that I’m relieved. “Tell me why.”
Her fingernails rake my scalp lightly. “You work so hard. You should have your own space…with me. Your own vacation.” Her blue eyes are intent on mine. “I don’t want the whole weekend to be about me. My birthday present. I want us to spend time together, too. Can we?”
Does she really think she has to ask? “Veda, I wouldn’t bring you across the Atlantic without a plan in place. One designed to remind you how special you are to me. You should know that by now.”
“Tell me the plan,” she breathes, scooting forward on my lap. “Are we going to smoke pot? I heard that’s why people come here.”
I start to say hell no, because I hate the idea of Veda anything other than clear headed, but she smirks to let me know she was joking, as if she’s aware I’m unlikely to allow drug use of any kind. “After we drop off our bags and change, we’re going to take a private boat tour of the canals. We won’t see your father until tonight at dinner.” I give her ass a light slap and decide to surprise her by disproving her obvious belief that I’m predictable. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you smoke a little pot during the boat ride.”
Veda rears back with wide eyes. “No way.” I feel her giggle all through my cock. “Oh, my God, my boyfriend is so cool.”
“Don’t forget it.”
I can taste her enthusiasm in her kiss, her tongue finding mine and stroking it, flicking against it. Teasing, then delivering, teasing, then delivering. She pushes her cunt down on my hard-on and gives me the kind of lap dance that makes a man come in his pants. Of course it does, because Veda is the one delivering it, her thighs spread wide enough to do the splits. I slide my hands up beneath her skirt and urge her faster, growling when she grips the back of my seat and rides me, her face flushed, hips working like she’s trying to get pregnant through my pants.
The car pulls to a stop, and the driver turns off the engine, rapping once on the partition to let me know we’ve arrived at our destination. Veda makes a pouty face and slows to a stop on my lap, falling forward to bury her face in my neck. “How long do we have before our boat ride?”
“Not long enough,” I growl, my teeth gritted from the agony of blue balls. “I meant to have you at least twice on the plane, but—”
“I fell asleep. I promise I’ll make up for it,” she murmurs, running her flattened palms down the front of my shirt. “It’s been a while since I…”
A down low punch of need makes me groan. “Since you sucked my cock?”
She chews her lower lip and nods. And fuck, it has been a while. In fact, she’s only done it a grand total of once since we met, beside the pool in my Tribeca home. She left me that same afternoon, and my sole focus has been her pleasure since she returned, so although I’ve been burning up with the desire to see my dick disappearing into her pretty mouth, I’ve held off on asking. Or demanding.
“You don’t have to make up for anything, angel.” I drag my thumb roughly across her lips because I can’t help it. Can’t help being aggressive when the topic of getting Veda on her knees is being discussed. “But if it’s something you want, just know that I would die to feel your mouth down there again.”
Her smile is radiant. “Okay, Ramsey.” Biting back another obscene groan, I lean back against the seat so she can unzip my pants, my pulse escalating until I can barely hear, but she pushes the car door open and bounds out of the vehicle instead of freeing my aching erection. “Later for sure,” she calls back cheerfully.
Chapter Four
I’ve been to Amsterdam several times on business, but most of the time I don’t even leave the hotel until it’s time for an off-site meeting. Being isolated is something I’ve been accustomed to since childhood. The only child being tutored in the quiet, opulent den of my family’s home. No one showing up at boarding school on my birthday, an unsigned card arriving in the mail instead. Staying late at the office when everyone had gone home. This has been my life.
Until Veda danced out onto the roof of my Manhattan building, I never realized isolation had dulled my senses until I wouldn’t have felt my skin burning if I was on fire. Hearing her voice was like taking my first gasp of air after waking from a coma. My blood runs for her. It changes color according to her mood.
So while my instincts—and maybe even something in my DNA—urge me to keep her to myself, locked away where she can’t escape or find someone who didn’t spend their entire life broken, I am even more intent on giving her experiences. One thing I am confident in is this: No one can give her the experiences I can. No one. And I plan to show her so much of the world, she can describe its every corner in vivid detail. Maybe if I show her enough color, exhilarate her enough with everything life has to offer, she’ll feel an ounce of how I do when she walks into a room.
When we arrive at the boat, I can tell it’s not what she was expecting. Really, she should expect the best by now, but it’s a goddamn pleasure to watch her react when the boat pulls up. In true Dutch style, the boat is long and low, a lot like the ones sailing up and down the canals, packed with tourists. Ours, however, is made almost entirely of glass windows. Late afternoon sunshine glints off the polished surface, making it look like a jewel where it bobs in the canal at the end of a dock.
“Is that for us?” Veda spins around on one pointed toe like a ballerina and leaps into my arms, her face glowing. “It is, isn’t it?” I make a sound of confirmation, my throat too clogged for an appropriate response. “You’re never going to top this birthday present.”
“Watch me,” I say.
“Mr. Beckett.” The captain approaches with an outstretched hand, and we shake, his eyes widening a little when he turns his attention to Veda. “M-Ms. Rose. I’m so pleased to meet you both.” His Adam’s apple lifts and plummets, but he manages to tear his eyes off my girlfriend in the nick of time. “Right this way please and we’ll begin your tour.”
I’m satisfied when we climb inside the boat and everything is as I requested. The floor is made up of plush carpeting and dozens of oversized pillows arranged on one end, a small but efficiently stocked bar in the opposite corner, champagne chilling on ice. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, turned down low, along with the thrumming music.
Veda glides through the space, turning around and around, looking stunned. She runs her fingers along one of the glass walls that look out over the canal. “Everyone can see us in here?”
“No,” I answer. “We can see out, but they can’t see in.”
“Wow.” As if she’s forgotten the captain’s presence, she throws herself down on the massive mountain of pillows, stretching out with a girlish laugh, the conservative white dress she’s wearing becoming revealing as it rides up her thighs. High. Enou
gh that her thong peeks out where it runs up between her ass cheeks. “This is so amazing,” she breathes, probably unaware that more than one cock is rising to the occasion. “The only boat I’ve ever been on is the Staten Island Ferry.”
Knowing if I even glimpse the captain’s expression and find him lusting after Veda, I’ll want to do bodily harm, I turn just slightly and keep my eyes averted. “We’re here to see the sights, not you. Leave us now.”