Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Pen
Because we have a hard time keeping our hands off each other, and August’s schedule is so tight, I try swimming with August at his house for my workout.
Workout is probably somewhat of a loose term for me, as I avoid doing certain exercises like the plague, i.e.
running or any type of class I’m expected to join in.
I tend to go for low-key things—the occasional yoga session from my home app, light weights now and then, or a long hike when it’s nice out—and hope it’s enough to keep me healthy.
Swimming, as far as I’m concerned, is a relaxing and easy way to get moving and tone my body.
Not like August does it. While I’m content with an even, turtle-slow breaststroke, he swims freestyle, cutting up the water like a scythe through butter.
With his powerful build, and long-ass limbs, he easily outpaces me, doing two laps for my one.
I don’t mind. It’s a beautiful thing to see. Inspiring even.
I’m done long before him and sit back on the little rest shelf built along one side of the pool to watch him move.
It’s all flashes of lean muscled arms, brown and gleaming wetly in the sun, the round caps of his shoulders, and the gorgeous slope of his back moving in perfect harmony. He never breaks pace or falters.
Endurance.
A delicious shudder goes through me. I know very well how excellent August Luck’s endurance is. Even now, when he’s busy honing that fine body, I want him. But I can wait. It isn’t easy, but I can.
I’m patiently sipping lemonade when he finishes, gliding up to the side of the pool to pop up. Water runs in glistening rivulets along the dips and valleys of his body. I bite my lip and look my fill as he gulps down the tumbler of water he left on the pool deck.
God, he’s delicious. Broad chest, tight waist, thick thighs. In deference to his workout, he wears body-hugging swim shorts that hide nothing. I’ve seen everything multiple times now, and it never fails to stir me. His body is art. But something about his particular art stirs my soul like no other.
With a satisfied sigh, he sets the tumbler down and then spots me looking. A gleam flickers in his silver eyes. He’s on me in the next breath, tugging me off the ledge and maneuvering me back against the pool wall. His mouth hot and slick, lips cool in comparison.
Gripping those strong shoulders, I kiss him back, greedily and deeply, loving the way he holds my cheek like I’m precious but ploughs my mouth like he’s fucking it.
Dirty but sweet. My August.
The kiss ends on a breath, mine quick and agitated, his deep and hard. Desire tightens his jaw as he looks me over with the satisfaction of a man who knows exactly how much he affects me, but that’s all right because I affect him just the same.
“Good workout.” His voice is gravelly with tempered heat. August, I’ve learned, loves to seduce me. As much as I love letting him.
“I enjoyed watching it.”
A brilliant grin flashes. “Did you now?”
He eases closer. A big hand hooks under my knee and guides my leg around his waist.
“Mmm.” With the edge of my thumb, I wipe a trailing bead of water from his brow. “You look real pretty swimming, Pickle.”
Distracted, he trails his fingers along my collarbone, then leans in to press a lingering kiss there. Soft kisses meander along my neck, and over to my shoulder.
He pauses at the bathing suit strap, and his finger hooks under it, running up and down it as though contemplating. Watching the movement, he tells me almost offhandedly, “I don’t think you should wear this suit anymore.”
“Oh?” My voice turns breathy; he’s kissing the corner of my mouth . . . the spot right before my ear . . . “And why is that?”
The strap eases over my shoulder. Helpful-like.
“Too constricting, for one.” He pauses in his work and gives me a reproachful look. “What if you damage these beauties?”
Amusement bubbles through my veins. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“But why risk it?” He shakes his head, tutting. The other strap slides down. “No, I think, either forego suits altogether, which would be my pick if you’re asking—”
“Which I’m not.”
He sighs tragically. “Then let it be a bikini.” Oh so gently, he eases my arms out of the straps. “Much easier to take off, you know?”
“You seem to be doing fine with this one.”
Slowly, the top lowers, over the crests of my breasts, pausing at the hard peaks of my nipples. He watches his progress with rapt attention, biting his lower lip in anticipation. I arch my back in impatience, and August, in a charitable mood, gives the top one final tug.
“Ah, there they are.” His smile would be tender—if it weren’t for the covetous look in his eyes. “Hello, babies. Daddy’s home.”
A shocked gurgle escapes me. “Daddy?”
“No?” he asks, cupping my breasts in his big hands.
I suppose I should mind. Societal norms and all that. Oddly, though?
“I’ll let you know.”
His grin turns downright lascivious. The blunt edges of his thumbs brush over my nipples. Such a simple action shouldn’t send pulses of heat straight to my sex. But it does. I resist the impulse to squirm or press myself against him. Not just yet. Besides, August is too busy having fun.
He leans in and kisses me just above my left nipple. His breath is warm, gusting over my skin on a sigh. “Oh, fuck, I love your tits, Pen. They’re so pretty.”
I know this. Any chance he can get his hands or mouth on them, he’ll take.
Of course, he doesn’t have to live with them on his body. I look down at them dispassionately. “They’re huge.”
“I know.” He grins up at me. “Isn’t it great?”
“Maybe for you. For me, it’s a pain in the butt to find clothes that fit over them.”
“Now, Pen, I won’t have you disparaging my girls.”
“Your girls?”
“Mine.” Tenderly, he peppers kisses over them, his voice becoming drowsy. “Besides, look how nicely they fit in my hands.”
“That’s because your hands are huge.” I can honestly say I never imagined my boobs looking small, but August’s wide palms and long fingers easily span their rounded weight.
“It’s like they were made for each other.” August beams, smug and triumphant.
Happiness floods my system. I cup his strong jaw and kiss him, pouring that joy into it. He makes a faint noise of surprise, and then sinks into the kiss, his hungry mouth giving me the luscious tastes I crave.
Cool water laps against my skin. Quiet descends around us, amplifying the sound of our increasingly agitated breaths.
The slick of his tongue slides over mine.
I open my mouth wider, desperate to get more of him.
His big body is hot and tight as it presses against mine, making my breasts ache.
I arch my back, trying to ease that swollen heat, and he dips his head down to draw a stiff nipple into his mouth.
A whine of need escapes me as he sucks. My fingers tangle in his wet hair.
August makes his way back up my neck, open lips gliding along my skin, while his hand slips below to pull my suit down my hips. It flutters along my legs and floats away. Clever fingers move between my thighs, finding where I pulse with need.
“Pen,” he says, stroking my clit just enough to make me squirm and grind into him.
“What? Yes?” I tug on his suit, dragging down over that fine ass so I can grab it.
A dark chuckle huffs against my neck. His hand moves to cup my butt with equal greed as he pushes himself between my legs. The hard length of his cock slides over my slippery sex like a taunt.
“You ever fuck in a pool?” Rhetorical question given he’s my first and only. But I appreciate the sentiment.
A smile dances on my lips as I brush them against his. “No. You?” It comes out breathless and weak. I’m too distracted by the way he rocks his hips, the fat crown of his dick nudging at my opening.
“Nope.” He pushes just enough to breach me then holds steady. “Want to try it?”
My eyes flutter. I catch his earlobe with my teeth. He shivers, and holds me tighter, as I wiggle my hips, trying to get him inside me where I’m empty and aching. But he won’t let me get my way. Not yet.
He presses firm kisses along the curve of my neck, sending shivers down my skin. “You didn’t answer the question, sweet Pen.”
I find his mouth, kiss him with messy need. “Yes, please.”
“So polite.” He grins against my lips. “Now, be a good girl and wrap those legs around me. That’s it. Just like that.”
With a dirty grunt, he moves those powerful hips and thrusts in slow and deep. I am filled. And there’s no more talking.