Page 157 of The Vacation Mix-Up
Raising my head to where he stands before me, the gold trophy outstretched in his hand, I accept it from him and then flop onto my back again, holding it with one hand in the air, the other covering my eyes.
Riles’s lips crash down upon mine, and even though I have no doubt embarrassed myself to within an inch of my life, I couldn’t care less.
I haven’t had this much fun… probably ever.
“Now we both have one,”Riles says as she positions the two trophies side by side on the desk in our cabin. “They’re twins!”
I step up behind her and dangle a banana over her shoulder.
“What the…?” She snatches it and whirls around to face me. “Where’d you get this?”
“The buffet.” I smirk. “On our way past.”
“You sneaky son of a?—”
I waggle my brows. “So, this banana trick….”
“Riley!”
“A promise is a promise.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
“Fine,” she huffs out. “I’ll show you.”
Greedily rubbing my hands together, I take a seat on the sofa and lean back as she kicks off her shoes and walks a lazy circle in front of me, her fingers delicately caressing the banana’s tip.
Heat waves over my body, my pants tightening at my groin. I shuffle to get comfortable, subtly adjusting myself as I swallow.
She flicks her eyes to my hand, then bites her lip seductively. “I haven’t done this in a while,” she says innocently, a faint blush warming her cheeks. “I’m not sure I remember how.”
“That’s—” I choke on my words before clearing my croaky throat. “That’s okay. Take your time.”
Riles smiles as if she’s playing with me, as if her memory is perfectly fine, and it excites me all the more. I love her modesty, especially when she’s faking it.
“You chose a big one,” she says, rotating the banana in her hand as she assesses its size.
I swallow again. “I did.”
“It might be too big.”
“I’m sure you can handle it.”
What the fuck am I saying?
I have no idea what she can handle or how she plans to handle it, so I should shut the hell up.
Her brow hitches before she twists at the waist from one side to the other, her fingers splitting the top of the banana ever so slightly. “I used to practice this a lot, at home, by myself,” she confides, her eyes flicking back to mine before she lowers to the ground, lays it by her foot, then leans back on her hands and opens her legs.
Fuck me, why isn’t she wearing a dress, or better yet… nothing at all?
I run my hand through my hair and swallow yet again, my throat thick, my cock hard.
“Do you like bananas?” she asks, licking her lips as she toes the length of it, her shiny, ink-colored toenails setting my body on fire.
A low growl escapes my mouth. “I do.”
