His Second Chance (Love Comes To Town)

“I’m actually pretty excited,” Wynona confesses as we head to my boat. “I’ve never stayed on a private island before.”

“Me too,” I tell her.

This time, on the boat, I don’t spend time enjoying the view. I consult the map provided by the Airbnb island owners and set sail. One brief conversation with Wynona later, and we’re there.

Wynona steps onto the sandy beach with a growing smile. “We’re here.”

“That we are,” I agree, taking her bag and hitching it onto my shoulder before she can protest.

Although she does frown at me. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

I let my gaze linger on her how it wanted to for the whole boat ride. “No, you’re in damn good shape.”

She gives me a playful whack. “Perv.”

I just shrug. “Just noticing the obvious.”

“We should work out together sometime,” Wynona says.

“I’d like that,” I say. “I’m pretty sure Greyson mentioned that our hotel has a great gym, though I haven’t checked it out myself. And back home, too.”

“Yeah, back home,” she says, trying to smile, a vague look coming into her eyes.

Probably just nerves.

It seems like the past few days, whenever I’ve mentioned ‘back home’, something has been off about Wynona.

Fuck if I know, though.

“So, what happens now?” she asks once we’ve unloaded our stuff into the pretty cabin further inland.

I unzip a bag and take out the snorkel gear. “Snorkeling?”

Wynona’s eyes light up as she throws her arms around me. “You think of everything!”

I wrap my arms around her, not mentioning how she told me that she’d never been a few days ago.

The next hour consists of getting on the gear, making out a little after Wynona changes into her hot little teal bikini—how the hell am I supposed to help it when she looks that good?—then dipping our heads under the just-right water and checking out the underwater world down there.

“I can’t believe there’s so much down there!” Wynona exclaims after our first head dip.

She’s right, too. Coral and fish of every color, shape, and size seem to be there. The crystalline water is easy to see through, too.

Late that night, after we’ve explored the sand-and palm tree-covered island from one shore to the other, Wynona cooks the pork chops I brought as a thank you. Then, we eat and sit in the swing that overlooks a tiny cliff overlooking the water on the opposite side of the island.

“This place is amazing,” Wynona says, snuggling her head into mine, her whole body a study in contentment. For just a glimpse of her like this, I’d do it all again. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” I reply. “For the pork. Wouldn’t have tasted that good if I’d made it.”

Wynona pats me with a lazy smile. “Well, you can’t be good at everything.”

I kiss the top of her head. “Oh, yeah?”

She turns into my lips with a “Yeah.”

Our kiss is nice. Slow.

Those pillows of her lips. How her whole body is leaning into me. Goddamn.

The kiss develops. Soon, our hands are all over each other, stroking, unbuttoning, undoing.

She’s wearing that teal cartoon cherry bikini I can’t get enough of. I thumb her breasts over the swimsuit cups, enjoying the hard nubs of her nipples before I dip my thumbs underneath. Then my hands.

Fucking hell, her breasts are perfect. So soft. Smooth. Full. Pert.

One hand enjoys one while my other hand enjoys the other.

Our lips meet again. Her hands are running along my shoulders, my back, my front, then... there.

“Someone’s excited,” she murmurs, pulling away with a smirk.

I take the back of her head and press her face back to mine. Then I press my own hand in between her legs. She’s wet, and the last time we swam was hours ago.

She kisses me hard and rough and rubs her hands painstakingly along my cock.

“That’s it,” I growl after a few minutes.

I yank off my briefs, and then her bikini, and then pull her to me.

Our kiss picks up where it left off, deepens. Our bodies ease together.

Fuck. I’m so close.

So fucking close.

My cock noses at her entrance, around it.

We both groan.

Another stab and I’m in partway.

So warm... tight... and warm... fucking hell.

A pussy better than all others.

Our kiss twists, pulls away, and then everything is in my next thrust. Dipping into her deeper...

...and deeper.

...and deeper.

And all at once, as we quiver together, it’s not enough. Not nearly e-fucking-nough.

Our pelvises are pounding together—“More, Emerson.”—needing more upon more. Faster. Harder. Better.

Until she’s crying out, trembling so beautifully in my arms, her glossy dark-haired head thrown back, throat bared as she comes.

Afterward, I hold her trembling form, my fingertips idling over her breasts, her ass.

Her half-lidded eyes are a deeper blue than I’ve ever seen them. She looks at me. “You.”

I press a kiss into her soft forehead. “You.”

Her lips part, then smirk, as if from some secret thought.

“What?” I say.