Embrace Me Forever (Hartley Brothers #3)

22. Georgia-May

22

GEORGIA-MAY

Blake’s Lambo glides across the road, weaving through the hills as we escape the city’s clutches.

“Should I put on some country tunes?” he offers.

“You remember,” I coo, giving his arm a playful squeeze.

“Of course I remember.”

“No, let’s play your music,” I decide, curious to hear his choice.

“All right, let’s see how you handle this.” He voice-activates an album. Linkin Park , the dashboard announces.

“Who’s Linkin Park?” I ask innocently.

He gives me a dramatic eye roll. “Really, Code Queen? You don’t know? They were my teenage survival kit! I practically wanted to be them.”

Turns out this guy had dreams beyond handcuffs and chasing bad guys. As the music kicks in, he bobs his head to the beat, looking unexpectedly adorable. Watching him, I can’t help but try to picture him as a teenager, hairbrush microphone in hand, dreaming of rock stardom. Honestly, this version of Blake, unabashedly jamming in his seat, is him at his absolute best.

The drive feels too brief, but a new marvel unfolds before me. It’s like stepping into a hidden world, a secluded resort nestled among towering palms and lush greenery.

Blake parks the car, and as we step out, I take in the serene surroundings. The resort is stunning, with elegant, low-rise buildings that blend seamlessly with the landscape. Paths lined with tropical plants lead to private bungalows, each tucked away behind a veil of nature.

“This is spectacular,” I whisper, in awe of the tranquility around us.

Blake leads me down one of the pathways. “Thought you might like it.”

We reach our suite, where the door opens into an airy room with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a breathtaking view of our own private garden. The decor is minimalist but glamorous, neutral tones accented with touches of natural wood and crisp white linens.

Beyond the sliding glass doors, there’s a private terrace surrounded by greenery and blooming flowers, creating a sensory paradise. The garden is completely enclosed, creating a world of its own. And in the middle of it, there’s a hot tub.

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” I admit.

Blake tries to maintain a straight face. “Didn’t I tell you to get everything you needed?”

I fumble for words. “Well, you didn’t specify ‘might need.’”

Laughing, Blake wraps his arms around me from behind, his breath warm on my neck. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ve taken care of everything. We won’t miss out on this special moment.”

He briefly steps back inside, then reappears, holding a sleek black box tied with a gold ribbon.

Eagerly, I lift the lid and peel back the delicate tissue paper to discover what’s inside. My eyes widen at the sight of a navy blue bikini, its fabric catching the light with subtle, elegant accents. The strings are intricately woven with golden threads and embellished with tiny pearls. And as if he anticipated my every wish, there’s also a matching silk robe.

It’s been a while—since before Coco was born—that I’ve even thought about being near water, aside from bath time. The prospect of slipping into a swimsuit rattles my nerves, yet the idea of doing it for him stirs an unexpected jolt of excitement. Somehow, just as he said, it feels special.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” I stammer, lost for words. My fingers trace the fabric again, hardly believing these fine garments are mine.

“It’s not just for today. Now you and Coco can splash around in Rob’s pool. Remember the doctor said it’d be good for her?” He adds a wink.

That’s an idea!

Recalling the website he once showed me, where prices were conspicuously absent, I can’t help but tease. “Why do I get the feeling you’re quite the expert at shopping for the ladies?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

He grins. “Honestly? Never done the whole bikini shopping thing before. But you wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve mentally rehearsed this moment. You know, the ‘fake it till you make it’ strategy?”

“Hmm…” I muse, playing along. “I have to say, your practice paid off. I love it.” I brush my fingers fondly over his arm.

His lips curve. “Good. It crossed my mind that I should’ve gone for the frilly type.”

I giggle as I picture myself looking utterly frou-frou. Then, I meet his gaze, letting the anticipation between us build. “I’ll be right back,” I say, retreating briefly.

I slip into the bikini, surprised by how comfortable I feel. It’s not just the fit. It’s the way it makes me feel ready to embrace a moment just for myself.

When I return, I’m wrapped in the bathrobe that makes me feel like a million dollars, with the new swimwear underneath.

Blake’s eagerness is palpable as he unties the belt of the robe, then discards the fabric, launching it onto the nearby daybed. Glancing toward the discarded garment, I glimpse a mysterious bag underneath, but before I can investigate further, he pulls me to him.

“Damn…what have I done to be blessed with such incredible luck?”

A blush creeps up my cheeks, but I can’t resist the moment. I spin around, posing like I’m on a runway. “Had you said yes to that fashion scout in Anchorage, you’d be surrounded by models wearing this all the time.” I run my hand down my side to show myself off. “Or maybe even with less on.”

Blake’s gaze never wavers from me. He shakes his head slightly, and in that moment, I feel like the only woman in the world. Those other models don’t even register. It’s a heady feeling, one I don’t get to experience nearly enough.

He steps closer and whispers, “You’re stunning, Georgia-May.” His fingertips press into the curves of my buttocks, snugly embraced by the bikini briefs.

And he’s a sight I’d never witnessed in other men. The glistening of his muscles catches the mute sunlight, their definition absolutely magnificent. Clad in a snug bathing suit, the contours of his flesh, both on his back and front, are clearly visible. The scene is a sensory feast, with the sight of his chiseled physique captivating my eyes.

We ease into the hot tub, the water instantly soothing my tired muscles. Blake leans back, his arms resting on the edge, watching me with a contented smile. The bubbling water is like a blanket wrapping us up, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed. The sounds of the garden—birds chirping, leaves rustling in the breeze—are the only noises.

My hand trails through the water as I settle beside him. “Thank you,” I whisper, resting my head on his shoulder. “I needed this more than I realized.”

He turns to me, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to thank me, Georgia-May. I’m just glad to see you smile. And for you to listen to Linkin Park.”

I pinch his cheek. He’s so cute like that.

For a while, we simply sit in silence, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Everything we’ve been carrying feels lighter here as if the steamy water is suspending our burdens.

Blake eventually repositions himself to face me, his body sliding between my open legs. Our lips meet, starting off tenderly but quickly igniting into a passionate flame. The heat of our bodies melds together, mingling with the steam and our own perspiration. The surrounding bubbles, warm and effervescent, create a symphony of sound as they mix with the splashing caused by our eager movements.

“I love the way you sway,” he whispers, his fingertips tracing the contour of my hip, descending to caress my buttock and thigh.

I rub myself against his taut pec muscles, my hand under the water—just checking his level of excitement. Mamma mia! ‘Rock-solid’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. What on earth made me think it could be any different?

In response, his skilled fingers find their way to my intimate areas, swiping my bikini bottom to grant himself access. He caresses my clenched entrance, and I arch my back, my ass lifting from the seat of the hot tub. As our hips move in sync, his mouth continues ravaging me, his kisses carrying an unquenchable thirst. The stubble of his beard grazes my neck, creating delicious friction.

I writhe, lost in a sea of euphoria as my body responds to his every touch. My reaction seems to trigger his own liberation, prompting him to take a different course of action.

With his strong arms, he lifts me out of the water, settling me on the daybed. My eyes remain shut, surrendering to the cascade of kisses that rain upon me—from my lips down to my neck, chest, belly, and finally, my crotch.

As if by magic, he produces a satin eye mask, brushing the hair away from my face and locking his intense gaze upon me. “This is a kind of special you never imagined,” he whispers, placing the mask over my eyes.

A sigh escapes my parted lips, my anticipation climbing. With something soft, possibly the belt of the robe, he expertly binds me. “Blake…” A thrilling surge of excitement mixes with apprehension about what he has planned for me.

“I won’t hurt you.” His whispered promise eases any lingering doubts.

Once stripped of my vision, my other senses heighten, allowing me to perceive every subtle motion from Blake’s actions. The touch of his lips and the soothing lap of his tongue wake up the pores on my skin as if ready to absorb what he’s offering. His drying beard deliberately brushes against my sensitive flesh, sending pulses down my core.

Slowly, he removes my bikini top, revealing my breasts that eagerly protrude, shamelessly craving his touch and intentions. People envision heaven as a realm of white, but with this man, I find the deep black not just bearable but beautiful.

As I relax into the flow, a foreign sensation caresses my chest. Its texture is familiar, but it has never touched my skin this way—never even dreamed of it. Flighty, then unexpectedly firm and coarse, a cluster of what I’m sure are feathers twirls around my nipples. I raise my chest with a gasp of delight. But Blake, clearly expecting more, changes tack and strokes the feathers on my stretched armpit down the side of my torso while his tongue feasts on my already sensitive nipple.

I laugh and scream simultaneously. “Blake, you’re mean!” I whimper, helpless to suppress my tactile sensitivity. Having luxuriated in hot water, each pore on my skin is now tender to the slightest touch.

My remark seems to empower him to advance his assault on the rest of my body. My hips shudder and sway from side to side, my legs kicking wildly, eliciting an erotic grunt from him.

Briefly, the feathers pause, only to reveal that he is removing my bikini bottoms—which are already sagging. As the tickling strokes resume over the landscape of my inner thighs, I feel the wetness of his tongue tasting my opening. Taking his time, he expertly discovers my sweet spot, delighting in it with an insistent rhythm.

My body convulses as I scream without restraint. The mix of sensations teeters on the edge, exerting hypnotic control over my senses, even as an exhilarating crisis dances at the brink of my bladder.

“Fuck…don’t stop, Georgia-May,” Blake rasps. I can tell he’s enjoying watching me squirm as I discern his unmistakable scent. My blindness doesn’t stop me from imagining him hard, with precum dripping off the tip of his crown.

My arms stretch against their restraints, but the thought of freedom doesn’t cross my mind. Why would you forgo the exquisiteness of being his captive? Feeling like a subject to a sexual deity?

The temperature rises as his firm body hovers over mine, his tantalizing hair waking up my pores. His palms glide around my mid-section, the scars on them leaving an imprint of his mark.

Then he grasps my groin. “Move for me, baby,” he keeps on growling while his skilled fingers venture into the depths of my core, stroking, occasionally manipulating my clit.

I buck as wildfires rage within me. His actions soon grow increasingly primal, signaling a desire that cannot be contained for much longer.

In that moment, he withdraws his hand, nudging my thighs to widen to accommodate his hips. Then, I feel the solid, broad head of his cock throbbing against my opening. Once he enters, there’s no holding him back.

Glorious. Fucking glorious.

“Blake…” I huff. His grip is so tight it feels as if the pleasure I’ve been receiving is being preserved. The intensity of the play has been so gratifying that his penetration threatens to explode me right here, right now.

But I hold. I won’t allow myself to climax, not while Blake is still relishing our connection. With the blindfold obstructing my vision, I rely on my other senses to guide me. The experience is almost mystical. As if I’m floating while the man I adore indulges me without any limitations.

Overwhelmed, I finally confess, “Blake, I can’t hold on any longer.”

“Let it go, baby. Let it go,” he encourages.

And there it is. A powerful orgasm, filled with a fanfare of passion, sensitivity, and a sense of rebirth. There’s sex, there’s making love, and then there’s Blake. His hips tremble as he reaches the peak of his pleasure, his ecstatic cry compelling me to press my restrained body against his as if I could encapsulate it within myself.

After a few breathless moments, he removes my blindfold. His gray eyes meet mine, emanating a sense of peace and satisfaction that is unique to him. As he pulls out, his hardened member still sheathed, he rolls to the side and frees my hands.

“Talk about special,” I pant.

He responds with a smile as if fulfilling a promise. The lines around his eyes form, tickling me in a different way. I mean, those crow’s feet are definitely high on my list of favorites. And his eyes—obviously—and let’s not forget that smile, his broad chest, those biceps, his strong legs, his bulbous ass. Pretty much everything, honestly.

The afternoon is giving way to the hint of dusk, the world beyond our small cocoon forgotten. His hand drifts up to stroke my hair, each movement slow, almost reverent, as if he’s memorizing the feel of me in his arms.

We’ve found something that words could never capture. Just us, here, now. And that’s enough.