Page 64 of Rebellious

He holds me for another moment, making sure I won’t drop again, but then he releases, pausing only to brush away the hair that had fallen onto my shoulder. “I want nothing blocking my view,” he notes.

“I’m not objecting.” I smile, gripping his shoulders as he picks up where he left off. His hands palm the underside of my breasts, squeezing gently but firm. Sand falls down my stomach as his finger slips between the fabric and my breasts, moving side to side as the sand continues to fall between us.

“So perfect,” he mutters.

He doesn’t have time to comment because a shot of pleasure consumes my entire body. His fingers roll my nipples into hardened balls of pure pleasure. “Please don’t stop,” I beg, my head leaning forward onto his hard chest.

“For years I’ve waited…” Inhaling, he sinks to his knees, his mouth replacing his fingers. His tongue swirls around my nipple and I cry out.

“This is what you thought the picture said, yes? That my tongue could do so much better than my hand?” he asks, referring to the selfies I took of the boob grab a few days ago.

I tangle his hair in my hands and pull his head forward and back to my nipple. “Shh…” I chide. “You can rub it in later.” No one needs him wasting mouth and nipple time with snide comments.

He chuckles but his hands go back to work, kneading and squeezing as his mouth nips and sucks me into complete oblivion. My breath is coming fast and my center aches for pressure.

“Oh my gosh,” I cry out, my legs restless.

“You need pressure?”

I nod, nearly in tears, bowing my head over his. “Yes.”

One of his hands drifts down over my hip, his fingers skimming the edge of my bikini, never slipping under where I want him. “Bennett.” It’s possible I might actually cry.

Lazily, he continues circling every part of me but my center. “Please,” I beg again as he takes a long pull on my breast, sending my knees buckling. I catch myself until two fingers press against my clit. “Holy shit.” I pant, folding over and using him as support as he presses through the thin material of my swimsuit. It’s torture when he doesn’t move his hand.

“Bennett,” I cry out. “Are you fucking serious?” I grip his hair and give it a little tug. “Move your fingers.”

He pulls back and swipes my nipple with his tongue. “Move your body.” Normally, I would argue, but my body is literally a ticking time bomb and if I don’t find relief soon, I am going to explode and not in a good way.

With his skilled tongue back to torturing my nipple, I move my hips, hiking one leg up and onto his hip. He grunts and moves his arm around my waist, allowing just his mouth to work me into a frenzy.

I grind against his hand as he switches his fingers to cupping my entire center. My heart pounds as I work the tortured bundle of nerves out on his hand. I’m sweating, groaning, and probably looking like a mess as I find the tingling deep inside me. I tug his hair again, fighting the urge to pull away against the sensation. “Oh shit,” I pant, my release finally washing over me as I crumble against him.

We stay that way, his face in my chest and me half-draped over his back. “That’s the best dust off I’ve ever received,” I joke.

Bennett laughs, his rumbling sound bringing a smile to my face right before he swats my ass and pulls back. “Now let me really get you cleaned up.”

He pulls his hand from between my legs and rubs his fingers together, showing me how wet they are.

I shrug. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“I didn’t say you should be.”

His face is smug. “If you didn’t have all those damn rules, you’d know that you can get me wet just by grumbling in the morning.”

I stand up straighter and grasp his cheeks in my hands. “Everything you do gets me wet, Jameson. The only person shocked by this is you.”

A hint of a smile graces his face before he shakes his head and stands. Sand falls from his knees and I stare on in awe while he focuses, reaching around me and unknotting my top, leaving only the top knot secured. The breeze skims against me while he pulls the fabric from my skin, carefully dusting it out so it doesn’t blow back into our eyes.

Seconds, minutes, neither of us really counting, go by as he works, removing all the sand. When he’s finished, he takes the strings in each hand, wrapping his arms around me. The heat of his body sticks to mine as he holds us there in a warm embrace.

Eventually, he pulls his arms up, places a kiss to my neck, and secures another knot at my back. “All done,” he says gruffly. “No more football for today.”

I bust out a laugh. “No, you can’t do that. The guys will want to play.” I rake a hand through his hair. “I’ll just stick to being the cheerleader.”

This time, it’s him who chuckles. “You’ve never been a cheerleader.”

I kiss his cheek. “You’re right—I’m justyourbiggest fan.”

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