Page 95 of Fire Island
“Close your eyes, baby girl.”
My eyes flutter shut of their own accord. My body, his plaything. His will, my command...
His tongue runs through my center, and I cry out, a quick arch pulling me off the bike. It moves under my weight and I still, torn between moving with the pleasure he brings and the need to not tumble off this damn thing.
“Evie...” he rasps. His tongue swirls around my clit.
I open my mouth to respond, and his hands squeeze my fingers.
No talking back, got it.
“Please, baby.”
He nips at my aching center.
I resist the urge to tilt my hips upward to his tantalizing touch. And fail...
“Let me come with you,please?”
His tongue dives into me, hot and fast.
The whimper that leaves with my exhale crumbles to a shattered cry.
One hand leaves. The pad of his finger—no, his thumb—brushes over my clit.
“Baby, take me with you. Wherever you go.”
Two fingers sink into my swollen core. He traces my soaked entrance with his tongue before lapping at my clit.
“Say yes, Evie. Let me come.”
“I—” I pant. Stars fade into my peripherals. “You?—”
I tighten around his fingers, now pumping in and out in a slow, torturous rhythm.
“Is that a yes?” he growls before sucking hard on my aching nub.
I come hard around his fingers. Each blissful wave heavier, more delicious than the last. The bike, almost forgotten, moves with my writhing weight. I settle with ladened breaths, hands hunting for Cal. For the man I will never leave behind.
Who am I kidding? He didn’t need to beg.
He’ll never need to ask for the things he needs with me.
Because the feeling goes both ways.
I need this man more than oxygen. At this point, suffocating would be easier, less painful than spending another day without him in my life.
An hour later, I’m standing beside Em on the Coast Guard boat, heading for the mainland for lunch with Iris and some solid library time. God, I have missed the internet, the smell of hundreds of books, the soft chatter of book talk as I tap away on my laptop, brain whirring, the story building.
Tensions rising . . .
Plot, plotti?—
“Iris is excited to have a girls-only date,” Em says, interrupting my reverie.
I chuckle, pushing my glasses up my nose. I really should wear my contacts. “I’m starving. Did she say where she’s taking me?”
“Some place over in Huntington, I think.”
