Page 18 of King of Jokers

“Everything,” I breathed and it was the last thing I said before his lips were on me in a way they never had before.

His mouth was soft and warm, the lightest of kisses pressed to the edge of my mouth, his hands brushing wet strands of my hair from my face. I, on the other hand, was frozen, my hands still gripping the edge of the pool, my eyes closed. I could hear my own breaths, fast and shallow, my body coming alight when his lips pressed another kiss to the other side of my mouth.

He took his time, each touch of our bodies precise. The entire day reduced to this one singular moment. Every spot he tasted left sizzling under the memory of where he just was until he parted my lips with his own, slid his tongue into my mouth and lit up every corner of my being.

The vibrant burst of citrus sparked across his palette, tasting so much better than any of my drinks tonight. Like a switch, my hands left the safety of the edge and reached around his neck as if he was my life jacket in the darkest of oceans. The tenderness of his touch was deliberate, the awkwardness of intimacy with someone new nowhere in sight because this was Jack. One of the only people I was my truest self around.

The water swirled around us, encouraged by the urgency of our movements as I pulled him in closer, the softest of moans escaping the confines of my throat when his bulge grazed my most sensitive part. Suddenly, in a collision of unspoken feelings, his gentle caress became needy, his touch urgent as his hands were everywhere, sending goosebumps across my skin.

His mouth parted from my own, teasing the skin of my neck, his heavy breathing all I could hear.

“Tell me to stop, Win.” His words pleading, while his hands played an unstoppable tune. And I didn’t want him to stop, because with a single kiss I felt alive and like an addict, I was suddenly hooked on the enigmatic affinity between us.

With stark realisation it hit me that I was only going to have this for a few short weeks. It was never meant to last, never meant to be real, only ever happening under the guise of research. In a few weeks, he would leave Willow Bay behind yet again, leaving me to live my mundane 9-5 life without him. I might never, ever again experience the electrifying newness that came alongside the quiet affection of being with someone you trust. Being with your best-friend in such a way.

Which meant I needed to trust my instincts to guide me. No past experiences compared to this so I needed to close off the warning bells of my heart and simply focus on the beat pulsating underneath my skin telling me this was exactly where I should be.

“Please don’t stop,” I begged and he pulled back, reading me for uncertainty or fear, none of which he would find. “I need to know what happens next,” I murmured and at my quiet vulnerability he flew back at me, reefing me towards him and up against the cool tiled wall of the pool. The chill against my back barely noticeable with the inferno between our suddenly ravenous bodies.

If this was just research then I was ruined.

Destroyed.

Because it wasn’t just perfect. It was inevitable. And when I succumbed to everything our mouths were fighting to have, it was wild.

My hands greedily mapped the width of his wide shoulders, his skin as smooth as you would expect, only the water around us made it so much more intense.

His hands gripped my arse, my legs wrapping around him and locking him in a snare to ensure he didn’t move – didn’t stop.

My skin tingled under his contact and when he again broke the kiss, I was panting with need. Dizzy on the friction of him rubbing himself against me perfectly. Even with two layers of clothing and surrounded by water, the sensitivity was blinding.

Good Lord.

I wanted to strip bare and offer myself to him.

The pulse between my legs only intensified when a low rumble emanated from his chest as his lips bit at the skin of my neck. His hands sliding up and down the outside of my thighs, gripping me in a fashion which allowed his very obvious need to move erotically against my own.

“Godddd,” I panted, the night sky dancing around us.

I was going to come if he didn’t stop. The primal desire for him to continue grinding against me was a craving – causing an ache only he could dissolve. The throbbing pang which started in my core was now everywhere.

“You’re making me feral, Win.” The husky edge to his voice summoned every cell of my body and it was all I could do not to purr in response. His hips undulated against me recklessly, our mouths wildly seeking each other out.

I was too far gone.

The friction of my swimwear rubbing against my swollen bud in the most delectable of ways.

The feel of how hard he was with every crushing thrust, the pressure sending me feverish.

I wanted to tell him to stop because things felt too fast. Too intense. Too much.

This was like nothing I’d ever experienced, nothing I could or would recover from.

But I couldn’t have stopped even if I tried.

I was so close to the edge that the faintest of breezes would send me free-falling.

I needed more of him.

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