Behind His Lens(67)

He carries me like I’m a rag doll, barely exerting any effort as he drags us deeper into the water. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know the sun’s going down and that we shouldn’t go out too far, but I trust Jude.

Water laps around us as we go deeper and deeper. It inches up my calves and thighs, finally coming to rest at my waist so that both of our lower bodies are concealed by glassy water. It seals our bodies tighter, wrapping us in serene layers of salt, sand, and lust. My mind doesn’t even register the temperature, not when I have Jude’s warm body pressed against my thighs, overwhelming my equilibrium. Oh God. My hands run down his chest, trying to commit each sinewy line of muscle to memory. It’s impossible though. His body is a work of art; one that would take years to memorize.

I tilt my head back, breaking our kiss and capturing a sliver of my sanity again. My eyes scour over him, adding another sense to my exploration of his body. Even his torso is a shade darker than when I saw him playing soccer the other day. I wonder if he took his shirt off after I left the photo shoot.

“What are you doing?” he asks, tightening his hold on the back of my thighs. His fingers are just close enough to the edge of my bikini bottom that my toes curl in response.

“Looking at you,” I explain simply, tracing down his broad shoulders to wrap my hands around his hard, muscled arms. My fingers don’t even come close to wrapping around his bicep, and I can see his amusement out of the corner of my eye.

“I want to keep you in this moment forever,” I smile dreamily, letting my hands caress down his chiseled abs. He’s being so patient, letting me touch him like this, though I know it won’t last. He’ll regain control soon, but for now it feels like he’s my own personal paradise and I revel in the thought.

“Your hands are torture, Charley,” he breathes huskily, spurring me on even more. The pads of my fingers drag along the sharp v-cut under his abs. I’m barely an inch above his board shorts and I can feel his body reacting to my touch as he subtly grinds against me, separated only by flimsy swimsuits.

Suddenly, his hand reaches down to capture my wrist so that he can pull my hand up to his lips. I stare up at him in shock, as he slowly, deliberately dips my fingers into his mouth and sucks each one until I’m puddy in his hands.

“I want to taste every inch of you, Charley, and tomorrow I will. But for right now, your pretty little fingers will have to do.” Fucking hell. I’ve never had a man say things like that to me before. I realize why he does it though; hearing him declare the yearning to deliver sexy deeds turns me on almost as much as if he were actually performing them.

With predatory movements, he takes my hand from his enticing mouth and drags it down my own body. It’s his hand forcing mine, but the combination bewitches my senses as if I’m touching myself while he watches me, commands me. He skips over my bikini top, skimming down my stomach and creating a surge of butterflies in his wake. I know where he’s leading our hands but I can’t process it, it’s too raw, too exposed and it sends my mind into overdrive. Our hands sink below the water and he presses my fingers along the tiny piece of triangular fabric of my bikini. Oh. My. God. Can I do this? Do I want to stop this? No. Hell no.

In the next moment, every thought dissolves from my mind because our hands pull my bikini aside, exposing my sensitive flesh to all of Jude’s mischievous deeds.

He drags our fingers lightly over my folds and my head falls back in ecstasy.

“God, you’re so soft, so silky. Do you feel that, Charley?”


His words ricochet through me, dripping with every titillating promise of what he’ll do to my body. His hand presses against me— feeling me, marking me, owning me. I’m unraveling beneath him and attempting to keep up is hopeless. I yank my hand away from his and pull him toward me so I can show him what he’s doing to me the only way I know how: with my lips. I tug his hair, hard, and press our bodies together. He responds with greedy pets and long, delicious strokes before he finally slides a finger into me, and I’m lost. I’m no longer rooted down to earth.

This is pure bliss.

His finger drives possessively into me as his other hand grips my ass. He’s not letting me go anywhere. His hands hold me tightly against him so that I have no reprieve from his overwhelming touch. As gravity and the ocean’s current push me down, he slides another finger in to join the first. He knows exactly where to stroke, how to curl his fingers and find the spot that seems to be the center of my universe.