Page 28 of Capri

“You a workaholic too?” I ask seriously but also playfully.

She smiles. “Hardly. I’m a teacher.”

I wasn’t expecting that. Capri gives off attorney or wedding planner energy. Something with structure and a planned system. But she’s giving me a small piece of herself, so I’m gonna take it.

“No shit? I never would have guessed that.”

Her smile is kind. “And why’s that?” She twirls the rainbow paper umbrella between her fingers and takes another sip of her frozen drink.

“I don’t know. You seem very…organized.”

“Teachers are organized,” she says, convincing me I misjudged.

“They are. You just have this sexy, attorney vibe going on.” I smirk and gesture naughty things with my eyes.

“I’ll have you know, I look just as sexy in my teacher clothes, Captain. Pencil skirts and all.”

Fuck. She’s cute.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it one bit, Capri. Not one single bit.”

Her eyes turn dark, telling me this conversation is about to shift direction. “You know…I’m still waiting on you to get moving on the whole ‘you wanting to fuck me’ thing.”

She runs her hand up my thigh, teasing me with her touch.

“That what you want, Capri?” My eyes penetrate hers.

Her hand drifts higher, sliding over my board shorts to where my bulge grows, fighting against the seam.

“You know I do. Like you said, we don’t have much time together. Might as well make the most of it,” she whispers in the sexiest tone before cupping me through my shorts.

“Fucking hell, woman.” I can’t hold back my groan.

She attempts to pull her hand away, but I stop her in time. “Not happening. You touched it, and now you get to play with it.”

Capri’s eyes bulge, likely realizing I won’t ignore her touch. I could never. It feels too good.

“Tell me what you want, Jones. Tell me how to make you feel good.” Her hand softly massages me, and it’s not enough. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s giving instructions. I’m a bossy motherfucker, and it’s a trait I’ll never apologize for.

I need to dirty her up.

“Come stand in front of me.”

Her eyes search for people around us, finding a few tourists close by but not close enough to make out what we’re doing…or what Capri’s about to do, I should say.

She stands before me in her purple bikini, hair mussed and messy, yet never more gorgeous.

“Mmm. I prefer this view,” I tell her, locking eyes with her full breasts. Fuck, I can still taste them—feel the pink pebbles of her nipples against my tongue.

I drag my finger softly from her clavicle to the cleavage down the center.

Capri is patience personified, waiting for my command, and I realize her perfect obedience makes me more prideful than warranted.

My golden girl likes to be bossed around.

Such a contrast for a woman who seems to blossom under structure.

“On your knees, sweetheart.” My voice is strong yet gentle.

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