Page 90 of Hawaii Can Suck It

The vibrator purrs between us, and I switch it off.

“But regardless, I’m experiencing some pleasure right fucking now.”

I strut toward the bed, my pulse pounding, my skin burning with a need so intense it’s insane. I drop my robe, letting it slip off my shoulders and pool onto the floor like a discarded afterthought. The room chills my bare skin, but I’m already on fire, already too far gone. Slowly, I lie back on the massive, luxurious bed, stretching lazily and savoring the cool silk sheets against my flushed skin.

And then I do the most reckless thing I’ve ever done in my life.

I spread my legs wide open.

And Reece falls to his knees like I’ve punched the air out of his lungs.

“Oh my God.”

His voice is broken, reverent, as if he’s at the pearly gates but knows he doesn’t deserve to be there. His fingers tremble at his sides, every inch of him tense and frozen, staring as if he can’t decide whether to flee or bury his face between my thighs and beg for redemption.

I grab the vibrator, click it on, and slide it inside myself—never breaking eye contact.

“I… c-can w-w-watch?”

I smirk, shifting my hips as I press the toy deeper, dragging it slowly, teasing, until a shuddery moan escapes me.

“If that’s all you want.” My voice is breathless, knowing, challenging. “I’m happy to get off to your gorgeous, tortured face. Seems to be all I think about anyhow.”

The second it slips out, my stomach flips. Because—shit.Where the hell did that come from?

Reece’s breathing stutters; his brows pull together as if he’s processing the confession, dissecting it, maybe even tucking it away for later use.

And then the vibrator switches speeds on its own, the sensation turning sharp, insistent. “Oh fuck, yes.” The words slide out on a ragged moan, my back lifting off the sheets.

Reece growls, slamming his palms onto the mattress, his chest heaving, his fingers digging in. He looks ready to launch himself onto the bed and wreck me.

“Goddammit, Cam. I can’t. We shouldn’t—”

I press the buzzing device farther in, roll my hips rhythmically to meet the sensation, and moan shamelessly. “Finally. This feels so fucking good.”

A strangled curse tears from Reece’s throat, and before I even register the movement, he rips open his robe, shoves it off his shoulders, and grips his cock in one big, desperate fist.

Jesus.

I knew he was packing, butfuck.

Watching him pleasure himself, muscles tensing along his jaw, abs flexing with each deliberate stroke, his free hand gripping the bed like he’s fighting the urge to pounce on me.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

It’s everything.

“Tell me,” he grits out, his palm gliding over his thick, hard length. “Does it feel warm and deep, like it’s my cock inside you. Stretching you, filling you?”

I shudder, his words sparking an inferno within me—heat licking through my core. “Yes.”

“Fuck, you’d feel so good,” His mouth is close to my inner thigh, hot and teasing, but he doesn’t touch me. “Would you squeeze me with those hot-as-fuck inner muscles?”

I pant through the building pleasure, my thighs trembling. “Hard.”

His groan melts my inhibitions, urging me to go further than I should.

“So hard… you’d pass out… from forgetting to breathe.”

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