His Second Chance (Love Comes To Town)

“What?” I joke. “You don’t go to parties now?”

“No,” she says. “But if that’s your idea of a surprise...”

“They are called surprise parties for a reason,” I quip, although I’m already shaking my head. “It’s not that.”

“Hmm.” She taps her lip. “You got them to give us a private boat ride?”

“Guess again,” I tell her.

“I’m all out of guesses,” she says. “Tell me!”

“It’s ours,” I say nonchalantly, striding onto the boat.

Wynona stands there, staring at me. “Ours?”

“Okay,” I amend. “It’s mine, but yeah. I bought a boat. Crazy, yeah?”

She laughs, grins, then nods. “Yeah.”

“Too crazy for you to even consider coming on?”

Next second, she’s taken my hand and stepped onto the boat. “Not that crazy. Although I should ask, do you even know how to work this thing?”

“Nolan and I went boating in a friend’s that was similar before the wedding,” I say. “Plus, Dad would always have us drive him around in his motorboat when we went to his Florida condo.”

“All I ask is that you don’t kill us,” Wynona says primly.

I just smirk. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Jerk.”

“Winnie.”

“Don’t you dare call me that. You know I hated it when Josie used to!”

I catch her in my arms, and then we’re laughing and kissing and laughing at how awkward laughing makes our kissing.

“You,” Wynona says, pausing to press a purple-nailed finger into my chest.

She looks delighted and disgruntled and wildly beautiful.

I want to kiss that purple lipstick off her. I want to kiss her all over this boat.

She extricates herself, though, smiling shyly. “Did you show me this boat to use it or to kiss me on it?”

“Why not both?” I say, though she has a point. “Now, let’s see what this baby can do.”

Minutes later, we’re off the coast, in the deep blue sea, zooming along at top speed.

Wynona’s sitting at the prow on the leather seat, beaming as we zip along.

I’d have bought this boat just for that, the sight of just how happy she is right now.

“What are you going to do?” she asks.

“Huh?”

“With the boat.” A smile, like it’s obvious. “When you leave, silly.”

I smile too. “Haven’t decided yet.” I shrug. “Maybe resell it before I leave. No concerts on the immediate horizon, so...”

Wynona nods in understanding.

“Though I do have savings,” I tell her so she doesn’t think I’m completely hard up.

A judicious nod, an extravagant eye flutter, a falsetto voice, and Wynona declares, “Glad you’re not after me for my money.”

“Hell no.” Making a face, I cut the power, reaching for her. “I’m after you for your ass.”

“You ass!” she declares, laughing and smacking me.

I take her in my arms and spin her around, my hands settling on her firm, so-good ass. “But it’s such a nice ass.”

Our lips meet, although she peels away to declare, “You’re a complete perv.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” I kiss back.

Fuck yeah, she feels good in my arms.

A kind of rightness that defies words. Logic, even.

How our bodies move together... shit.

I kiss her into the steering wheel, kiss off her loose-fitting boho top and teal cherry-print bathing suit top.

“But Emerson.” She couples her protest with a half-hearted attempt to extricate herself.

I gesture at the 360 degrees of blue. “There’s no one for miles.”

She cranes her neck around, then, apparently satisfied as her lips reach for mine, says, “If anyone sees, I’ll kill you.”

“A risk I’m willing to take,” I say, and then my lips are claiming hers again.

With her on my slouched lap, I get a nice close-up of those beautiful pert tits, the creamy white skin of her breast, the jutting pink of her nipple just begging to be caressed.

Naturally, I oblige.

So soft, so firm... they fit so nicely into each of my palms.

Her head droops back, spilling her jet-black hair behind her, and a long, low moan rolls out of her elegant throat. I tip her chin back toward me and straighten myself upright so my lips can have hers some more.

‘Kissing’ isn’t the right word. Not for what happens when our lips find each other. Or how our tongues join in, sometimes just punctuation, sometimes leading, sometimes nothing at all.

How our bodies join in, stroking and feeling and touching and exploring and finding.

Her nipples are hard between my fingers. Her hand strokes my hardness harder.

She smells damn good, tastes even better.

Her shorts come off easily, showcasing a matching bright teal bathing suit bottom with vibrant red cherries depicted on it. Although I only spare them a passing glance. It’s her ass I can’t seem to draw my hands away from.

“An amazing ass,” I murmur.

She throws her head back and laughs, the big, contagious kind that you can’t help but be swept up in.

I caress it and smack it and enjoy how she croons. I jiggle it and hold it, and then my hands slide forward, meeting at the front of her cherry bikini bottoms, pressing into the wetness that isn’t from swimming.