Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(53)

His chest moved with an unsteady breath, a soft, rough, dark sound escaping from his throat and into my mouth.

I responded with a soft whimper, circling my hips against him. He felt so big, probably bigger than I’d have wanted to handle if I was in my right mind, but my right mind had gone on vacation for this.

One of his big hands moved to my ass, holding me in place as he grinded against me. The other moved up my side, and over my ribs, hovering just below my quivering breast.

With an impatient little moan, I reached down and pulled it up over my breast. He cupped my flesh, then kneaded softly.

He pulled back, but before I could protest, he was perching me on the edge of the pool, his head buried between my br**sts. He peeled the material of my bikini aside with his teeth, sucking my nipple into his mouth.

I gripped his head, trying to get a good handful, but it was too short. “You need longer hair,” I gasped.

He grunted, turning his head, kissing his way to the other side. His mouth was hot on me, and I writhed at the contact.

We were both panting when he pulled back. The second his head left my hands, I leaned back on my arms, trying to remember how to make my brain work again.

He gave me very steady eye contact. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice low and rich.

I nodded at him to go on, far past the ability to think myself.

His hands moved to my stomach, and he started rubbing and then kneading my sides and my waist. I trembled as he kneaded deep into the muscle tissue just below my navel.

“I have an idea,” he offered, one big hand dipping to rub at my hip, caressing the flesh inside and down…

I let out an unsteady breath as his hand skimmed past all of the rest, and began to rub my inner thigh. I squirmed, my legs falling open for him.

“Do you want to hear it?” he asked, stepping away.

I just watched him as moved to grab one of the long floats that was lying along the side of the pool.

“Do you?” he asked, and I couldn’t have guessed what he was asking about to save my life.

“What?” I asked.

“Do you want to hear my idea?” he repeated, pulling the float to me.

He showed no visible strain as he lifted me onto the rolling surface. He pushed me to my back on the inflatable plastic with a firm hand, and I gasped as water splashed into my lap, and onto my stomach with the movement.

“Yes,” I said raggedly.

“I don’t like relationships,” he explained.

“You don’t,” I agreed.

“And you don’t like casual sex,” he continued.

“I don’t.”

“So let’s try this. I get you off. That’s all. It’s perfectly innocent. You won’t feel used, and we stay friends.”

My brain felt too fuzzy just then to argue with the twisted logic he was using. My brows drew together, and I latched onto the biggest gap in his argument.

“What do you get out of it?”

He smiled his best smile, the one that ruined me for every other smile in the world.

I had it worse than I’d realized until just that moment.

“I’ve become obsessed with the idea of making you come. Ever since you told me that no one could get you off—”

“I said hadn’t, not couldn’t,” I argued.

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that you weren’t supposed to take it as a challenge!”

“Well, ever since then, it’s all I can think about. I’ve even been dreaming about it. And then the other morning, when we woke up like that…”

As he’d been speaking, I’d started to regain some brain function, but it went away again in a little puff of smoke when he mentioned that wake up session.

He swallowed hard, his hands moving to rub my stomach, water splashing over the sides of the float and hitting me in gentle waves with his movements. “When I helped you…pleasure yourself, well, I’d thought I was obsessed with it before that, but it got worse…Let me get you off. Don’t worry about me. I’ll go take a shower when you’re finished.”

“I’m not that easy to get off,” I warned him. “I usually take a lot of time, and a vibrator.”

He lifted one of my hands to his mouth, palm first. “How about a vibrating tongue?” he asked against my hand.

What he did next defied all explanation for me. He moved his tongue in fast, jerky little circles on my palm. He was so fast, in fact, that it felt like vibrations.

“What is that? What are you doing?” I asked, trying in vain to pull my hand free.

“Demonstrating what I’m about to do to your clit. Any objections?”

I couldn’t think of one.

He’d made a pretty spectacular promise, but he didn’t start there.

He began rather innocently, his hands massaging the sides of my legs. Of course, his eyes weren’t innocent. My bikini was askew, the triangles still pulled aside to reveal most of each breast, and his eyes were drinking in my dishabille.

He moved one hand to my inner thigh, shifting it so he could step between my legs as his huge hands worked on one lucky thigh.

“You have great hands,” I told him.

“I’m here any time you need a masseuse,” he reassured me.

“I need a masseuse.”