Page 61 of Villainous Summer

“No. Let me have something to look forward to.”

As he climbed off me, air grazed my exposed flesh, a reminder of how bare I was to the radiant sky.

As I dressed, he went back behind the wheel to start up the engine.

As the water behind us frothed like churned milk, less than a minute later, he hit the throttle, and we headed back to the port.

We moved from the wide expanse of Puget Sound to the narrower passages between land. On our left was the town of Illahee and to our right, the posh island of Manzanita, home of millionaires, California transplants, and—if rumors are to be believed—the summer homes of members of the rock band Prevalent Notion.

Van motioned for me to join him at the front, letting go of the wheel. His hand on my waist, he positioned me behind it.

“Have you ever driven a boat before?”

I shook my head.

As a child, my father and my uncle Victor would go out crabbing with my older boy cousins, while Autumn and I got left behind. The urge to drive a boat, even a little cuddy cabin like this one, never occurred to me. But I had to admit it was a rush to grasp the wheel and cut through the water, the sizzling heat cooling in the rush of salty air over my face.

He rested his hands on my hips, pulling my ass into his still-hard cock. As we sliced through the blue-green waves, his mouth trailed to my ear, telling me all the dirty things he wanted to do to me back at his house.

He moved to the front of my unbuttoned shorts, playing with the seam of my bottoms. “Could you keep the boat straight while I touch you here?”

My grip tightened as he eased one finger inside me, then another. His thumb traced over my clit.

Still sensitive from the orgasm, I felt the tension coiling from the slightest touch.

Leaning back against him, I let my eyes drift shut.

His hard cock rubbed against my ass as his fingers moved in and out, taking me closer to another climax.

Across the waterway, another boat passed but was too far away, but the knowledge that other people were out on the water while Van was knuckle-deep inside me thrilled me.

If I had known how to cut the engine, I would have done so, turned on my feet, and sat him in that pilot’s chair to ride him—condom or not.

I pulled his hand out of my suit and placed it on the steering wheel. Turning my body to face him, I made sure his arms were on each side of me.

I’m short enough. He could see over my head.

“Keep your hands on the steering wheel,” I ordered.

“What are y—”

Sliding down his stomach, I moved down to his cock. I palmed it, gripping it under the thin fabric.

“I don’t think—fuck.”

When his hand fell from the wheel, I tutted at him. “Hand on the wheel, Hot Rod. I’ve got you.”

Grabbing the front of his shorts, I pulled his cock free and kept my eyes on him as I spit into my hand.

The tendons in his arm tensed as he cursed under his breath.

I slid my hand up and down, gripping tight.

He tilted his head down to watch my motion.

I shook my head, pausing. “Eyes on the water. Keep us straight, and I’ll keep going.”

Tightening one hand, I used the other to cup his balls, my short nails running along the area behind them.

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