Chapter 9
Camille
Alexander's suite feels different tonight—or maybe I'm the one who's different. The romantic sail has left me feeling both euphoric and vulnerable, like some protective layer has been stripped away.
I watch him move through the space with his usual confidence, shedding his linen shirt. My body already hums with anticipation, conditioned now to respond to his proximity, to the knowledge of what those hands can do to me.
"Would you like a drink?" he asks, moving toward the bar cart in the corner of the living area.
"No," I say simply. Whatever comes next, I want to feel every second of it with complete clarity.
He turns, studying me with those penetrating green eyes. Something about my tone must betray my thoughts, because his lips curve into that knowing half-smile that makes my pulse skip.
"Come here," he says, his voice dropping to that commanding register that leaves me feeling weak.
I cross to him without hesitation, my sandals silent against the polished floor. When I reach him, he doesn't touch me immediately. Instead, he looks down at me, his gaze traveling from my eyes to my lips, then lower.
"I've been thinking about getting you out of that dress since the moment I saw you walking to the marina," he says.
"What's stopping you?" I ask, surprising myself with my boldness.
His eyebrow arches slightly. "Patience is a virtue, Camille." His hand finally rises to trace the neckline of my dress, just barely skimming the skin above it. "And anticipation can be... delicious."
My breath catches at his touch. After everything we've done together, it shouldn't still affect me this way—a simple brush of his fingers setting fire to my skin.
"I thought we might try something different tonight," he says, his finger continuing its maddening path along my collarbone. "My suite has a private hot tub on the terrace. There are things that I want to do with you there."
I feel myself clench internally at the idea. "I didn't bring a swimsuit."
That dangerous smile appears again, the one that promises both pleasure and a hint of something wild. "I don't think we'll need them, do you?"
He doesn't wait for my answer, taking my hand and leading me through the suite to the private terrace beyond.
The hot tub sits in the corner, steam rising from its surface, soft underwater lights casting a blue glow that turns the bubbling water into something otherworldly.
Beyond, the night sky spreads like black velvet, scattered with stars so bright and numerous they seem impossible.
Alexander releases my hand to adjust something on the control panel. The jets come to life with a gentle hum. When he turns back to me, his intent is clear in his eyes.
"Let me," he says, stepping behind me. His fingers find the zipper of my dress, lowering it with deliberate slowness. The warm night air kisses my skin as the fabric parts. He pushes the dress from my shoulders, letting it pool at my feet.
I stand before him in just my underwear, acutely aware of his gaze on my nearly naked body. Without a word, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my panties, sliding them down my legs. My bra follows, and then I'm completely bare under the Caribbean night sky.
Alexander's eyes rake over me, hot and possessive. The vulnerability of being completely naked outside while he remains half-dressed sends a thrill through me.
"Get in," he commands.
I step into the hot tub, sighing as the warm water envelops my body. The jets pulse against my skin, creating sensations that make me shiver despite the heat. Alexander remains at the edge, watching me with that intense focus that makes me feel like the only woman in the world.
Instead of joining me, he sits on the edge of the hot tub.
"Touch yourself," Alexander instructs, his voice low and rough.
I look at him questioningly, not sure what he means exactly. "Where?"
His eyes darken with desire. "I want to watch you. Show me how you pleasure yourself when you're alone."
Heat floods my cheeks, but it's not just embarrassment—there's something thrilling about this new dynamic. I've never done this before, never touched myself with someone watching. The idea of being so exposed, so vulnerable, makes my heart race.
I lean back against the side of the hot tub, the water lapping at my breasts. Hesitantly, I bring my hands up to cup them, feeling their weight before grasping my nipples between my fingers. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through me.
My fingers continue to tease my nipples for a moment longer before I slide one hand down through the water, past my stomach, between my thighs.
The first touch makes me gasp—I'm already swollen and sensitive.
I begin tracing small, deliberate circles around my clit, my eyes never leaving Alexander's.
His breathing changes, becoming deeper and more ragged. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moves to the front of his linen pants, palming the obvious bulge there. He begins to stroke himself through the fabric.
"That's it," he growls. "Touch that sweet pussy."
I increase the pressure slightly, my body responding instantly. The combination of the pulsing jets, my own fingers, and Alexander watching me with such raw desire has me climbing toward release faster than I expected.
"From now on, when you touch yourself ,I want you to think about me." His voice is strained, his control slipping.
"Every time," I answer, my voice barely audible over the bubbling water.
This response seems to break something in him. In one fluid motion, Alexander stands and strips off his remaining clothes. His erection springs free, thick and hard against his stomach. He steps into the hot tub and moves through the water toward me with predatory grace.
He sits next to me and his arm slides around my waist, pulling me half onto his lap. This position brings my face level with his, and he takes immediate advantage, capturing my mouth in a kiss that starts slow but quickly turns hungry.
His hands are everywhere—cupping my breast, sliding between my legs, gripping my hips to position me exactly as he wants. I respond eagerly, straddling him properly now, feeling his hardness press against my center.
"You've been teasing me all evening," he growls against my throat. "Looking like every man's fantasy."
"Only yours," I gasp as his teeth graze my throat.
"Damn right." His hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back to expose more of my neck to his mouth. "Mine. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to hear the sounds you make when you’re being fucked."
His words send electricity racing through me. I roll my hips against him, seeking friction, seeking more.
"Already ready for me," he murmurs with approval. "Tell me what you want."
"You," I breathe. "Inside me."
He shifts beneath me. "Shit. Let me get a condom from inside."
I catch his arm as he moves to stand, surprising both of us. "Don't."
His eyes narrow slightly. "Camille—"
"I want to feel you again," I say, my voice steadier than I expected. "All of you. With nothing between us."
He studies my face, his expression unreadable. "That's not a good idea."
"I track my cycle meticulously," I tell him, pressing closer, feeling his resolve wavering in the tension of his body.
"I'm in the safest part right now—almost zero chance of pregnancy.
" I lower my voice, lips brushing his ear.
"And it felt so good yesterday in your office.
I want that again. I want you to come inside me. "
Something in his eyes changes—darkens, intensifies. "If we do this, there's no going back. You understand that?"
I'm not entirely sure what he means—no going back to using protection? No going back to pretending this is just casual? But in this moment, I don't care about the implications. I just need him.
"Yes," I whisper.
With one fluid movement, he lifts me slightly, positions himself, and then pulls my hips down, impaling me on his length in one smooth stroke. I cry out at the sensation—the fullness, the heat, the slick slide of skin against skin with nothing between us.
"Fuck," he grunts, his fingers digging into my flesh.
I begin to move, rising and falling on him, the water creating an unusual buoyancy that changes the angle, the pressure. His hands guide my movements, setting a pace that quickly has me gasping.
"That's it," he growls, one hand sliding between us to slowly rub my clit. "Show me how much you need this cock."
His words push me higher, closer to the edge. The combination of the hot water, the night air on my wet skin, and his relentless rhythm is overwhelming. When his mouth closes around my nipple, sucking hard, I shatter, as waves of pleasure flow through me.
"Good girl," he praises, his voice strained as he fights his own release. "So fucking beautiful when you come for me."
He stands suddenly, lifting me with him. Water cascades from our bodies as he carries me to a padded lounger at the edge of the terrace. He lays me down, still inside me, and begins to move with renewed purpose, his strokes deeper, harder.
With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and groans, his body shuddering as he empties himself inside me. The sensation—hot, pulsing, intimate beyond anything I've experienced—triggers another climax, even more intense than the first.
For long moments afterward, we lie tangled together, his weight a delicious pressure pinning me to the lounger, our breathing gradually slowing.
I feel him softening inside me, feel the evidence of his release beginning to leak from where we're joined.
There's something profoundly intimate about it—something that feels like a claiming, like I now belong to him in some primal way.
"You're full of surprises, Camille Montclair," he finally murmurs against my hair, his voice holding a tone I haven't heard before—something almost like wonder.
And as we lie there beneath the Caribbean stars, I realize I've crossed yet another line I never intended to cross. The question now is whether Alexander is crossing it with me, or if I'm making this journey alone.