Page 53 of Last Ticket to Paradise

Sensing the tenseness of her body, Jake brushed his lips against her earlobe. “I want you to come again. I want you to come all over my cock.”

His words broke her. She released with a cry, her legs wrapping around Jake’s hips as he moved in and out of her, coaxing every last drop of desire from her.

As she started to relax, her body turning to warm honey beneath him, his frame stiffened. His thrusts became harder, stronger, more insistent.

He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, nudging her head up. “Look at me while I come inside you. I want to see your face as I fill you up, make you mine.”

Their eyes locked, and she drew his thumb between her lips and sucked on it to the rhythm he set between her legs.

A flush rose from his chest, which dripped with sweat or water, she couldn’t tell. It suffused his face. The line of his jaw hardened. His eyes, still gazing into hers, turned a dark, stormy blue.

He howled his orgasm as he pumped into her over and over, digging his fingers into the flesh of her derriere, forcing her along on his ride. He came long and hard, as if wanting to make sure he emptied everything inside her.

While in the waning stages of his orgasm, he kissed each of her breasts and pressed a kiss against her lips—the stamp of Jake. He was claiming her as his own. And she wanted to claim him, too.

Curling her arms around his neck, she kissed his face, skimmed her teeth across his collarbone, ran her tongue along the glistening skin of his chest. She nibbled at one brown nipple and traced her fingers along the crease of his backside.

He hugged her to his chest, and they both fell backward into the hot tub, still connected to each other in the most intimate way.

Jake rolled onto his back, floating on the surface of the water with her perched on top of him. “That’s quite a finish.”

She slid off of him and landed on the step. Dropping her lashes, she said, “What would you say if I told you I want more?”

“I’d say, give me about thirty minutes and a gallon of water to drink.” He cupped his cock in one hand and stroked it.

“I could do that for you.” She rubbed her palm across his tip.

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “And we have a whole king-size bed to do it in. I wasn’t kidding about that water. We only had salt water to rinse the ash from our mouths.”

She reached over the edge and lifted her glass. “And wine.”

He stood up, the water sluicing off his muscled frame. “Let’s shower and get comfortable. I can run down to your room and pick up a bag—clothes, toiletries.”

“Toiletries?”

“After Jean-Claude’s...accident and the fire, you don’t think I’m going to allow you to stay in that room by yourself, do you?”

“I-I hadn’t thought about it.”

“I’ve been thinking of nothing but your safety...well, and your body, and making love to you, and tasting you, and kissing you, and...”

She held up a hand. “If you want to get out of this hot tub in the next few seconds, you’d better stop talking.”

“Your beautiful skin is going to start wrinkling.” He climbed from the water and extended his hand to hers, pulling her up.

They hugged and gazed at the view. Georgette pointed to a hump in the water. “Is that another island? I meant to ask you before.”

“It’s my island.”

She pinched his bottom. “Like Palumba is yours?”

“No, that’s literally my private island. It doesn’t have a name, but the locals call itPalarita.”

“I can see why you don’t name it that—you don’t want the association with Palarosa.”

“I’ll take you there someday.”

As he grabbed his shorts from the tile, Georgette gasped. “The postcard.”

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