Baddest Bad Boys(84)

Ellie felt an instinctive shyness at being displayed in broad daylight, but it quickly disappeared as his fingers stroked her.

“You’re wet,” he said.

“That happens when you swim.”

He laughed, his hand moving more intimately against her. He inserted a finger into her. “Are you going to tell me that swimming makes you hot and horny, too?”

She moaned, wanting more. “No.”

“Mmm. But you are hot.” His thumb sought her clit, massaging it, lightly at first, then increasing the pressure until she bucked forward and grabbed his shoulders. He slid another finger up inside. Then he leaned in, licked one nipple and pulled away. Purposely holding back. Teasing her. The man was relentless.

“’Fess up, El. If swimming didn’t make you hot, what did?”

“You make me hot, Max,” she admitted. “Only you.”

“Good. Hold on.”

10
The man sat outside, on the café’s patio, sipping coffee while staring at his laptop’s screen. Like all hotels these days, the one he currently stayed at offered Wi-Fi, but he’d come here because it was close to the docks. His gaze swept the crowded café, a favored spot amongst tourists waiting to take one of the day cruises that departed Charleston harbor.

He set his cup aside and scrolled through the latest online version of Hot Life. The tabloid promised that its upcoming print edition—hitting newsstands in one week!—would feature an exclusive interview with Il Diavolo. The headline hinted the story would set straight all the rumors swirling about him, his former sister-in-law Ellie DeLuca, and socialite Bridgette St. Regis.

There were teaser photographs of Max DeLuca boarding his private jet in Boston, and disembarking from that same jet in New Zealand. He studied the photographs. Neither one was current. An aerial shot of the fabulous DeLuca compound near Auckland had an overlaid sketch indicating where a tent might be erected. Celebrity Wedding? the caption read.

Nice trick, he admitted grudgingly. Someone—his client, most likely—had handfed this news to Hot Life. As expected, the paparazzi had flocked to Auckland. Fools. Only he knew the truth, that Max DeLuca had Ellie sequestered on San Regale.

Once again he wondered about the inside source his client had. He wouldn’t have found Ellie this quickly on his own.

A waiter drifted close, offering to refill his coffee. He shook his head, then took one last look at the tabloid’s photographs. Time to go.

“Soon, Ella-baby.” He closed his laptop and prepared to leave, his mind ticking off items on a mental checklist. He’d already found the perfect place to take her. A quiet cabin, in the middle of nowhere, two hours north. He still had a few supplies to get. Rope. Latex gloves. Food. They’d be there at least a day, until he made certain his final payment hit his account. Then the real fun would begin.

11
Max carried Ellie back to the blanket and gently lowered her. Determined to take his time, he hovered over her and kissed her mouth, long and slow. Then he nuzzled her neck, easing his way toward one of her breasts.

Her fingers were tangled in his hair, stroking, encouraging. They tightened in tactile approval when he started sucking.

After a minute, he switched to her other breast, laving that nipple with his tongue. Ellie writhed beneath him, her thighs squeezing his cock in a tempting, sensual massage, trying to rush him. Except Max refused to be rushed.

He released her nipple. His mouth made wet noises as he pressed kisses along the underside of her breast before trailing down to her navel.

He heard her sharp inhalation as his tongue delved and swirled before he dipped lower still. With teasing bites, he nipped the tender skin of her lower abdomen. His hand cupped her core, parting her, as he moved his body downward. He shifted his hands, reached beneath her buttocks, lifting her. The musky scent of her readiness perfumed the air.

Max blew softly across her damp curls before closing his mouth. His tongue drew over her, lapping at the sweetness. She tasted like heaven.

Ellie bucked, her movements frantic. “Max! Wait, I—”

He paused and looked up, his mouth bare inches from her flesh. “Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m just afraid I’ll…climax too soon.”

He started to say, so come, then realized the real reason she was nervous. They were having sex outdoors, in broad daylight. He sought to reassure her. “No one can see us.” He eased back, but only slightly, and pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee.

“We’re safe here, Ellie, okay?” He pressed a kiss lower, to the inside of her mid thigh.

“Okay.”

“Relax.”

She did. He lowered his mouth and felt her fingers brush his scalp. Her trust humbled him. He took his time. Soon she was thrusting beneath his hands, restless. Raising slightly. Eager for more.

He gave it. He licked, nibbled, feasted. She made sexy little noises and arched herself against his face, her hands holding him in place now. Encouraged, he pressed two fingers up inside her again, probing and stroking while his tongue teased her.

She shuddered, her breathing erratic. “If we keep this up, I’m going to lose it.”

He raised his head, looking at her as he eased a third finger inside of her. She squirmed against his hand, seeking pressure, needing relief. Needing an orgasm.

“Then lose it, El. I’ve got you.” He dropped his mouth back to her and increased the pace, until her body tightened beneath his mouth.