Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
EVE
D inner with Kit is surprisingly nice.
I don’t mean nice as a negative, either. Not vanilla yogurt nice or good parking spot at the gym nice . More like the nice where we never run out of things to talk about.
“He fucked your cousin in a sex swing?”
“Yep.” I shovel the last bite of soufflé in my mouth, feeling warm and relaxed all over. “Right there in his office.”
The wine’s flowing freely, so we’ve both lost our filters at this point.
“How original.” Kit lifts the bottle of sauvignon blanc from the ice bucket, topping me off before he tips the rest into his glass. “Please tell me you cut the rope when you caught them.”
“I wish I’d thought of it. I was too shocked to do more than just stand there, watching his stupid, hairy ass pumping away.”
“Thank you for that visual.”
“I shouldn’t be the only one with that picture burned into their retinas.” Maybe it’s the wine, but I’m finding myself more bemused than angry. “Want to know what pissed me off the most?”
“Absolutely.”
“Six months before that, I bought him a gift card for Madame Butterfly.”
“The sex toy company?”
“Yep.” I trail a finger around the rim of my glass. “We’d been together a while and I wanted to spice things up. But he opened the card and you’d think I’d given him a certificate for free back waxing.”
Kit nods sagely. “Appropriate, maybe, if his back matched his ass.”
I bark out a laugh as I pick up my glass. “He folded the card back into the envelope and looked at me like he felt sorry for me or something.” I pitch my voice low, doing my best Brock impression. “‘Don’t you think that’s a little bit tacky, Eve?’ Like he thought I’d agree with him.”
“What did you say?”
Not much, I’m ashamed to admit. “I said if he could avoid kink-shaming me, I’d avoid pressuring him into doing anything sexually he didn’t want to do. I thought it was a good compromise. That’s what relationships are, right?”
“Maybe.” Kit frowns. “Some things can’t be compromised.”
There’s an edge to his voice that says we’re not just talking about my ex. I shouldn’t push. I really shouldn’t. But did I mention the wine?
“What went wrong with Miranda?” I bite my lip. “It wasn’t just about your father’s funeral, was it?”
“No.” He shakes his head slowly, but he doesn’t look sad. “Basic incompatibility, really. We wanted different things.”
“You were together a long time.” I don’t know the exact duration, but they met in high school and traveled to London together. “You lived together, right?”
“Off and on. We did undergrad together but went separate ways for grad school. Both did fellowships in London, followed by several research partnerships that took us to—” He stops with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Sorry, I’m turning this into an academic presentation. Bad habit.”
“Reciting your resumé?”
“Taking the fun out of things. Being too serious.”
I snort so hard I feel wine tickling the back of my nose. “Yeah, I was going to say you’re no fun at all, between tying me up in your hotel room and eating me out on a massage table.”
It’s Kit’s turn to snort, his face lighting up as he laughs. “Thanks,” he says. “I needed that.”
“No problem.” I try to recall where we were in the story. “So you and Miranda lived separately sometimes?”
“She wasn’t big on sharing space. Or anything that felt like a traditional relationship. Her parents had an ugly divorce, so she was determined not to be tied down by anything or anyone.”
“Did she want to have kids?”
There’s a flicker of pain in Kit’s eyes and I wish I could take back the question. “Nope. It was something we agreed on in high school.”
The way he says that tells me plenty. “You changed your mind?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He glances down at his hand, twisting his wineglass by the stem. “It was my fault thinking she’d change, too.”
That makes me scoff. “Like anyone knows what they want in high school. Or even right out of college. Isn’t that when we’re all just trying things on?”
He gives me a look like I’ve said something surprising. “True,” he says slowly. “Sometimes it’s tough to know the line between core values that won’t ever change and beliefs that are malleable.”
“Malleable.” My slightly tipsy ass likes the sound of that word. “I mean, in high school I flopped back and forth between pleasing my uber-conservative parents by wearing a purity ring and proclaiming my urge to be a wife and mother, to pleasing myself by getting railed in a sundress in the janitor’s closet at graduation.”
Kit laughs. “True story or illustration?”
“Totally true, and no regrets.” I lift my glass in a toast to myself, then feel my frown start to wobble. “I say that now, but it’s been a struggle. Figuring out what I wanted.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” He scrubs a hand over his chin. “I guess in a way, that’s what went wrong with Miranda. I kept hoping for the flip flop, but that’s silly. You don’t enter a relationship with someone hoping they’ll change.”
“To be fair, it’s probably hard to know where someone might flip or flop.” The wine makes my tongue a bit floppy. “Was there a final straw?”
“It probably started when I came home to visit. This was a month after Dad’s funeral, after Miranda got out of the hospital.”
“I remember.” I’d gone to see my mom in Seattle, so we never crossed paths. “Your mom said you helped her organize all their wedding photos.”
“I did.” He looks almost embarrassed. “Maybe that made me sentimental. That, and losing my dad. I told her I’d been thinking about marriage. About the loving partnership they’d had for forty years. Next thing I know, Mom’s pulling out her mother’s engagement ring and giving it to me with her blessing.”
“Oh, Kit.” That breaks my heart. I’d heard he proposed, but not with a family ring.
“I knew better,” he said. “I knew it wasn’t something Miranda wanted. But the whole family got into planning my proposal. Probably my fault, letting everyone get so invested, but we needed a source of joy right then, and—” He stops himself there, clearing his throat. “I should have known it wouldn’t go well.”
“What happened?” That’s a silly question. “I mean, I know she said no.”
“I took her to our favorite park, hired a string quartet to play in the background, and I got down on one knee.” He looks more bemused than embarrassed. “Gave this sappy speech about joining our families. Our mothers were good friends by then, and my sisters loved her sisters. I thought I’d appeal to her sentimental side. In hindsight, it was selfish as hell. I was grieving, but that’s no excuse.”
“God, I’m sorry.” I get the sense he doesn’t want pity, so I leave it at that. “Did you break up right away?”
“More or less. We were already keeping separate apartments at that point, since she was teaching near Liverpool and I had a research grant for a study based in London.”
“I haven’t been anywhere in the UK,” I admit. “But it sounds like in some ways you already lived separate lives.”
“That should have been a sign she wanted something completely different than I did. She told me over and over how she didn’t want to be tied down. That being in a relationship felt like being stuck . I’m the one who didn’t listen.”
“I mean, you were in a relationship for the better part of a decade.”
Kit sighs and looks out over the moonlit sea. “Sometimes it feels like we were having two completely different experiences. Two relationships, one in each of our minds.” He chuckles and offers a halfhearted shrug. “I’ll admit it, the rejection stung like hell. And it’s hard not to take it personally when someone says, ‘No, I don’t want to marry you.’ That’s what I kept hearing in my head. What she actually said was, ‘No, I don’t want to get married.’”
“Ah, I get it.” That does make a difference. “It wasn’t personal. She wasn’t rejecting you, but the idea of marriage.”
“Pretty much.” Kit smiles. “I believe how she put it was, ‘You want the white picket fence, and I want a fucking yard full of flamingoes.’”
“Flamingoes?” I laugh. “Isn’t that a symbol for the swinger lifestyle?”
“It can be.” Kit shrugs. “They can also symbolize balance and grace. In ancient Egypt, they were represented in hieroglyphics as the god Ra, and Aztecs viewed them as a symbol of love and passion. People ate flamingoes in ancient Rome, and the tongue was considered a delicacy.” Wincing, he shakes his head. “There I go, turning a playful metaphor into a fucking sociology lesson.”
“I think it’s charming.” I’ve always been smitten with smart boys. “I hope you find what you’re after. For that matter, I hope Miranda does, too.”
“Guess you didn’t get a chance to meet the new boyfriend.” Kit meant to introduce me at the event, but we kept missing each other. “He’s a professional rugby player, so he’s gone all the time. Miranda has her space, so I’m sure she’s happier. Like I said, it wasn’t personal.”
“That’s such a healthy attitude.” I could learn something from Kit.
“It wasn’t a rejection of me as a partner. More like marriage as an institution. The idea of being stuck with one person forever.”
“To each their own.” I just hope Camille and the rest of the sisters can let go of their anger eventually. “Probably smart to give yourself this opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
I grin and take a small sip of my wine. “The chance to fuck tons of strangers on a tropical island. Sounds very therapeutic.”
Kit laughs and knocks back the last of his wine. “Speaking of which, I got a hot tip at orientation.”
“Oooh, do tell.”
He leans close like he’s sharing a secret. “Your threesome desires are common, which means consorts book up quickly. If there’s something specific you want, or someone you’d like to request?—”
“Ah, got it.” I grab my phone out of my purse. “Hang on.”
“I didn’t mean right this minute.”
“Shhh.” I hold up a hand, tapping the tabs with my thumb. Gotta give props to the Crystal Bliss tech team for the app’s ease of use. “I’m a very busy woman, Kit,” I tease as I toggle my screen. “Things to do, strangers to f— hey ! Give me that.”
He holds up my phone with mirth in his eyes. “Did you just shush me?”
“It was more of a shhh than a shush .” I make a halfhearted grab for my phone, but really?
I want him to look.
He starts to hand back the phone without a glance at the screen, but something must catch his eye. He draws it back to read it. “You’re requesting a session with Topher? Tonight ?”
“Trying to.” I sigh as he hands back the phone. “But it looks like you’re booked for the rest of the evening.”
“I am.” Folding his arms on the table, he leans close. There’s heat in his eyes and a rasp in his voice that prickles the hairs on my arms. “Want to know what I’ll be doing?”
My pulse ticks up at that rasp. “What?”
His eyes lock with mine and he smiles. “You.”
* * *
We’re back in my room in ten minutes, which might be a personal record. Thank God for the resort’s all-inclusive meal plan. No need to waste time flagging down servers or settling the check. Just a quick discussion on our sprint to The Villa ensuring we’re sober enough to consent.
As I reach for the light, Kit slides a hand to my waist. “Wait.” His breath warms the back of my neck. “Leave it off.”
“Okay.” When he’s growly like this, I’ll do whatever he asks.
It’s the reason I booked him tonight. That, and the way he’s kissing the back of my ear. This man knows my body, which buttons to push. Kit’s a quick learner, and between last week’s tryst and today’s massage, he’s got my blood simmering in seconds.
“It’s a nice night,” he murmurs, walking me toward the sliding glass door. “Don’t you want to admire the sea?”
“I, um—” I start to say that I’d rather admire his cock, but the press of it at the small of my back propels me toward the door. “Yes,” I breathe, as he shoves open the slider.
Warm ocean air caresses my shoulders and legs. Kit’s big hands glide over my arms and it feels like a threesome with nature. The lick of the breeze, the scrape of Kit’s teeth on the back of my neck. The sharp brine of sea air and the scent of his skin. The taste of our shared chocolate soufflé as he spins me around for a kiss.
“You’re delicious,” he says, and I giggle. He smothers it with his lips, kissing me hard and deep as he backs me up against the balcony rail.
The kiss leaves me breathless, and so does the roar of the waves. It’s like feeling an ocean churning inside me, with Kit’s tongue lashing mine.
His hands find their way to the hem of my dress and he hikes it up slowly. “Eve,” he says again, palming my ass. “You’re bare under here.”
With an innocent blink, I lift my eyes. “I always do what I’m told.”
That’s not even a little bit true, but maybe it is with him.
Moonlight sparks in his eyes. “In that case, turn around.”
Biting my lip, I spin so I’m facing the ocean. There’s a faint golden glow where the sun dipped down under the waves. Other than that, the sky drapes dark velvet over the sea. Three tiny fishing boats twinkle and bob on black water. On the shore where the waves lap soft sand, moonlight sparkles on wafer-thin waves.
“Beautiful,” I breathe as Kit begins kissing the back of my neck.
“Yes.” His mouth trails the curve of my shoulder, fingers sliding my dress down as he goes. “You are.”
My light-yellow sundress slides down my body like a waterfall. It puddles at my feet and I kick it aside, thrilled to stand naked in moonlight. The screens that shielded us during my massage have been stored for the night. Can anyone see us up here?
Or maybe the question is whether I mind.
I don’t.
I want to be seen as Kit kisses his way down my body. “You have the softest skin,” he breathes into the small of my back. “Jesus, this ass.”
Marking his point, he sinks his teeth into my right cheek. I yelp then gasp as his tongue soothes the bite mark. I try to reach back, to thread my fingers through his hair or draw him to his feet.
“Hands on the rail.” The steel in his voice spurs me to obey.
“Yes, sir.”
Kit chuckles then nips my left cheek. “Fuck,” he growls, placing a hand on each cheek. “I can’t get enough of this ass.”
Spreading me open, he licks his way over my tailbone. Not there —not yet—but enough that I white-knuckle the rail.
With a growl, Kit glides his tongue through my sopping wet slit. “I could eat this pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
“Gah,” I manage, as his tongue swirls my clit. “Kit.”
His response is a muffled moan that vibrates my swollen lips. He sucks on my clit, then dives down to fuck me with his tongue. Do they have cunnilingus tryouts at Crystal Bliss? I wouldn’t mind signing up as a test subject. Only Kit has ever devoured me with such gusto. He’s licking and sucking, plunging his tongue deep inside me.
My knees start to buckle and the rail in my palms is the only thing keeping me upright. “Please,” I pant, squeezing my eyes shut. “Oh, please.”
“Eyes open,” he orders, and I wonder how he knew.
I force myself to look at the water, and I’m glad. Stars sparkle and gleam on dark bands of moonlit sea. A nightbird calls out, the cry overpowered by my own whimpers. “Yes.”
Kit kisses his way from my slit to my ass and I draw in a breath. His hands cup my cheeks to draw them apart. “Fuck, Eve.”
Before I can speak, his skillful tongue teases my back door. I gasp as he swirls that tight pucker. He’s taking his time, making everything tingle as I hold on to the metal for dear life.
This feels insane; the dizzying pleasure, the taboo thrill of it. Kit’s tongue probes and tantalizes, building the tension inside me. This was on my wishlist, but I never expected it to feel so…so?—
“Oh, God.” I cry out as his tongue dips inside me. “That feels?—”
I can’t even describe how it feels. Naughty. Forbidden . So fucking good my knees start to crumple. Could I actually come like this?
My brain tangles up in bright, twisted knots. I’m happy I showered before dinner. I’m amazed by how decadent this feels. As orgasm inches close, I grip the rail harder.
Then Kit moves a hand to the front of my body, zeroing in on my clit. Without even looking, he locates the sensitive nub. I arch into his fingers, urging him right where I need him. The friction delivers a mind-blowing bliss. With his tongue in my ass, it’s almost too much.
“Jesus,” I gasp as my climax creeps closer. “That feels fucking amazing.”
He growls a response as his mouth works its magic. Rolling my clit with his fingers, he coaxes me right to the edge. My hips jerk and I whimper.
“That’s it,” he growls with a swipe of his tongue. “Come for me.”
And I fucking do.
“Oh my God.” Clutching the rail, I cry out. His tongue probes my ass as my pussy spasms and clenches. He keeps teasing my clit, coating his hand with my juices. I can’t even tell where the pleasure’s all pulsing from. It’s not just between my legs, but also in my fingers and toes and fuck me , the tips of my hair.
As the spasms ebb, Kit lightens his touch. Everything’s tingling, from my ass to my knees to my elbows.
How the hell is he so good at that?
There’s a rustle of cloth and a sound like the tearing of foil. Then he’s clutching my hip and using his knee to widen my stance. “Eve.” His voice in my ear sounds a little bit strained. “Need you.”
Before I can breathe, he’s nudging my entrance. I’m so sopping wet that he slips out at first, but he uses a hand to guide himself into me. I suck in a breath as his thick cock slams home.
“Oh, Jesus.” Gripping the rail, I tip back to engulf him. I’d forgotten how huge he is. “Fuck me.”
He grabs both my hips and thrusts himself harder inside me. “Can’t stop,” he growls, and a sharp little thrill rolls through me.
I did that. Me , the woman whose spineless fiancé fucked someone else.
Yet here I am bringing a professional sex god to his knees.
“Kit,” I cry out as he bottoms out inside me. “Harder.”
He obliges and slams into me. He’s wild and unleashed and my God it’s amazing to feel him so out of control.
“All fucking day,” he grunts, slamming inside me again. “Wanted you. So fucking bad.”
I know the feeling. As he thrusts again, the head of his cock nails my G-spot. “Jesus, you’re deep.” My toes start to curl and I let go of the rail to rub my clit.
“Hands on the metal,” he barks.
I slap my palm back to the rail as Kit drags a hand to my clit.
“When I’m inside you, this pussy’s mine.” He starts to stroke me and my head lolls back. “I will always make you come. That’s a fucking promise.”
“Oh God.” This time I can’t keep my eyes from fluttering shut. It’s too fucking good, the crash of his body into mine. Pinpricks of light paint the backs of my eyelids and I feel myself starting to crumple.
“I’ve got you,” he says, fucking me harder as his fingertips dance in my wetness. “Come for me, Eve.”
And for the second time in ten minutes, I do.
The scream that rips out of me sounds primal and fierce. I hold on to the rail like it’s the only thing anchoring me upright. Like pleasure might grab me and fling my whole body off this balcony.
Kit gives a guttural moan. “Fuck,” he grinds out as he spasms inside me. “So goddamn good.”
I can feel myself pulsing and squeezing, the walls of my sex wringing his cock dry.
His thrusts start to slow and I draw in a breath. My knees turn to jelly, but Kit holds me tight to his chest. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing my temple. “Relax.”
It’s becoming a habit, this knee-jerk response to obey his commands. I smile to myself as I wish Brock could see this. Not just another man’s dick sliding out of me—but yeah, I can’t lie, that’s a nice thought.
But mostly, I wish my ex knew what it’s like to transport me to this height of bliss. We might’ve shared a life, but he never saw me like this. So raw and wild and unencumbered by shame.
Brock never met the Eve who gets railed on an oceanfront balcony. Carefree Eve ditching panties for dinner. The Eve who comes hard with a stranger’s tongue in her ass.
The Eve who loves every damn second of it.
As I slump against Kit, my eyes flutter shut. In that instant, I make a vow to myself.
Never, for as long as I live, will I turn my back on that version of me. I smile to myself as a nightbird cries out and Kit’s hands stroke my bare arms.