Page 11 of Rum Sips and Salty Lips

His other hand plays with my nipple, pinching it harder than I’m used to, but I like it. With the way he has me, I’m completely at his mercy. But all he cares about is making me feel good.

My orgasm builds. I’m almost embarrassed at how fast it happens. Right before I’m pushed over, he removes his hand from me.

“Fuck.” I squeeze his arm.

How did he know?

“Not yet.” He kisses the side of my neck.

“Why not?” I reach to put his hand back where it was.

“Beg,” he commands.

“No.” But I want to. This is new for me. Games in bed that are for my pleasure, not his. A challenge about me breaking in ecstasy, rather than how much I can bend for someone else.

If I drag this out a little longer, I’ll be rewarded.

He nibbles my earlobe. “Come on, Carina. Be a good girl and beg. I bet you do it perfectly.”

I haven’t felt such clarity as I do in this moment with him. We’re both playing a role with each other. We both want this, and he could thrust into me easily. But he’s not getting me ready to take him. He’s enjoying giving me pleasure. The game makes everything better.

He’s right—I hide from everyone else. I’m terrified of anyone seeing my flaws. I can be perfect for him and give him what he wants. He’s already stripped me down. I don’t have to be afraid of him.

“Please, Orion. I need you.”

He turns my head to face his and kisses my lips. At the same time, his other hand resumes its position in me. “Good girl,” he whispers. It only takes a few touches on my clit before I come hard. My entire body tense, and then relaxed, and I feel completely wrapped up in him.

I catch my breath as he holds me against his chest.

“Glad your phone got left behind?” he whispers as he peppers my neck with light kisses.

“I’m starting to wonder if you hid it to get me here.”

“I’ll manipulate you in bed, but never out of it. I don’t have the energy for that.”

“Good.” I move onto my back and inch away from him slightly. I want a better look at him. He’s about to be inside me. I want to memorize his face.

The lights are low in the cabin. It’s dark outside, but I see enough. I love the lines of his jaw and his perfect amount of scruff. What I can’t wrap my head around is the look he’s giving me. Like I matter to him.

This is supposed to be transactional. We both get off and move on. But he’s not looking at me like it’s a transaction and this doesn’t feel empty.

He grabs the condom and pulls his shorts down. The anticipation builds in my stomach.

This could wreck me. I take a deep breath and remind myself of my rules. It’s one time. He won’t get under my skin if I don’t let him.

His cock is out, and I reach to stroke it while he unwraps the condom. It’s heavy and thick and suddenly the stretching he did with his fingers feels necessary.

I’m relaxed and feel like I’d do anything to have him. I’ll beg again if he asks.

Once he’s sheathed himself, I lie back on the bed.

“How are you doing this?” I ask.

He follows me down, his body hovering over mine as he casually tosses one of my legs over his shoulder and then wraps the other around his hip.

He leans down, pushing my knee to my shoulder, somehow knowing it’s an easy position for me. “You think you’re not an active participant in this?”

I’m not passive in bed. But most men I’ve been with haven’t given me much to work with—we pick one position and ride it out until he orgasms. They take advantage of my flexibility to get a good look at my ass while they’re in me and it works for them. I can get myself off.

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