6. Jude #2
This one's not soft. Not testing. It's hunger and want and waited, patient, knowing my moment would come.
It's here.
I walk her backward through the water. Her back hits the pool wall and I pin her there with my body, hands bracketing her head, mouth on hers. She arches into me and I can feel every curve, every inch of bare skin, the rapid beat of her heart against my chest.
My hands find the strings of her bikini top, those thin, treacherous ties at the nape of her neck, still damp from the water. The knot fights me for half a second before surrendering.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmur against her mouth. My voice is rougher than I want it to be, but I keep it steady. Barely.
“Don’t.”
The single word nearly undoes me. I tug. The knot unravels completely. Cool air kisses her skin as the wet triangles of fabric peel away and drift downward, forgotten.
Her breasts spill free—full, heavy, freckled across the upper curves like scattered stars—and they press flush against my chest, nipples already tight from the water and the heat building between us. She gasps, sharp and startled, the sound vibrating through her ribs into mine.
“Jude—”
“I know.” I drag my mouth along her jaw, feeling the flutter of her pulse there, then lower to the delicate column of her throat where her heartbeat hammers against my tongue.
The taste of her—chlorine, sun-warmed skin, and something uniquely Nora—floods my senses. I keep going, lips brushing her collarbone, while my hands claim her breasts fully.
They’re so soft, so damn perfect, overflowing my palms. My thumbs circle her nipples slowly at first, feeling them pebble harder under the calluses of my fingers, then I pinch with just enough pressure to make her back bow.
She whimpers. A real, broken little sound that cracks something wide open inside my chest, raw and possessive. My cock throbs painfully against the confines of my trunks, but I shove the ache aside. Not yet. This is about her falling apart first.
I roll her nipples between my fingers, twisting with increasing firmness until her head falls back against the smooth tile of the pool wall. Her mouth drops open on a silent cry, lashes fluttering, freckled cheeks flushed deep rose.
The water laps at our waists, cool against overheated skin, but everywhere we touch burns. I watch her face like it’s the only thing worth seeing in the world—every twitch of her brows, every hitch in her breathing, every tiny, involuntary rock of her hips.
“Look at you,” I rasp, voice low and steady even though my pulse is jackhammering. “Already falling apart for your stepbrother and we’ve barely started.”
“Shut up.” The words are breathless, half-laugh, half-plea, and they make me grin against the frantic beat in her neck.
“No.” I nip at the sensitive spot below her ear, inhaling the scent of her shampoo mixed with the tropical breeze. My hand leaves her breast reluctantly and trails downward, fingers splaying over the soft curve of her belly, feeling the way her muscles jump and quiver.
I cup her through the soaked turquoise fabric of her bikini bottoms, pressing the heel of my palm firmly against her mound. She jerks hard, hips bucking into the pressure like she can’t help it, a needy little sound escaping her throat.
“You’re already so fucking wet,” I whisper directly into her ear, lips brushing the shell of it, feeling her shiver violently. “That all for me, love?”
“Jude—” Her voice cracks on my name, desperate and unraveling, and it goes straight to my dick.
I don’t wait. I slide my hand beneath the elastic edge of her bottoms, fingers gliding over smooth, bare skin until I find her slick folds—hotter than the Caribbean sun, drenched in a way that has nothing to do with the pool.
My thumb finds her swollen clit and circles it with deliberate pressure while two fingers tease her entrance. She moans, loud and unrestrained, the sound echoing off the water and the marble deck like a filthy prayer. It vibrates through me, settling deep in my bones.
Behind us, my brothers remain motionless. Silent sentinels. I feel their eyes like a physical weight—watching her arch, watching her tremble—but I don’t look.
This moment is mine. She’s clenching around nothing yet, greedy and untouched in that way that makes my chest seize with something fierce and primal.
I press one thick finger inside her tight heat.
She’s impossibly snug, walls fluttering and sucking me deeper as I curl forward, stroking that sensitive spot that makes her whole body seize.
The sound she makes then—raw, keening, perfect—burns itself into my memory like a brand. I know I’ll hear it in my sleep for the rest of my life. Her blue eyes lock onto mine, hazy and wide, like I’m the only man left on this island. Like I’m everything.
I withdraw my hand slowly, savoring the way she whines at the loss, hips chasing my fingers with shameless desperation. My control is fraying at the edges, cock leaking against the wet fabric of my trunks, but I keep my voice even.
“Wrap your legs around me,” I tell her. Not a request. A fact.
She obeys instantly, thighs clamping around my waist with surprising strength. I grip her ass—those perfect, plush cheeks filling my hands—and lift her effortlessly out of the water.
I crush my mouth to hers again, devouring, tongue stroking deep in time with the savage beat of my heart. One hand stays under her to support her weight while the other works between our bodies, fingers hooking into the strings at her hips.
A quick tug and they come undone. The bikini bottoms float away, disappearing into the turquoise depths, leaving her completely bare against me—soft, slick pussy pressed to my abdomen, legs locked tight, breasts crushed to my chest.
Naked. Vulnerable. Mine in this stolen slice of time while the sun beats down and my brothers watch from the sidelines.
I’m still trapped in my swim trunks, the fabric a cruel barrier between us, but I can feel every inch of her heat, every tremor, every rapid breath.
My mind is a chaotic storm of want and triumph and something deeper that hurts behind my ribs.
She chose this. She chose me right now. And I’m going to make damn sure she never regrets it.
I reach down between us, the water making every movement feel heavier, slicker. With one arm banded tight around her back to keep her locked against me, I shove the waistband of my trunks down just far enough.
My cock springs free, thick and throbbing, the cool kiss of the pool doing nothing to ease the heat pounding through it. The head nudges against her bare, swollen folds, so fucking ready, and I have to bite back a growl at how perfectly she fits there already.
"Love," I rasp, my voice shredded down to gravel. "Tell me?—"
"Yes," she gasps, the word tumbling out before I even finish. "God, yes."
I slide into her.
Slow. So fucking slow it nearly kills me. Inch by thick inch, her pussy stretches around me, hot velvet that grips and flutters like it’s trying to pull me deeper.
The sensation is obscene—wet heat swallowing every ridge, every vein—until my vision whites out at the edges and my lungs forget how to work. She’s dripping down my shaft, her arousal thicker, sweeter, marking me.
Nora drops her forehead to my shoulder, her breath exploding against my skin in hot, shaky bursts.
Those little nails of hers bite into my back, dragging sharp lines that sting in the best way.
The pain sharpens everything: the slap of water against our joined bodies, the distant thump of music, the heavy scent of sunscreen and chlorine and her.
"You okay?" I manage, the words scraping out of me.
"Don't stop." Her voice cracks on the plea.
A rough laugh tears out of my chest before I can catch it.
Even balls-deep inside her, thoughts splintered like shattered glass, hands trembling where they grip her ass, I laugh—because she’s perfect, because this is insane, because I’m so far gone for this girl it’s terrifying.
I’m in trouble. Deep, irreversible, chest-aching trouble.
I start to move. Lifting her plush little body with ease, then dragging her back down onto my cock in long, grinding strokes that make the water slosh violently around us.
Her full tits crush against my chest with every thrust, nipples hard as pebbles scraping over my skin. She’s making these sounds—tiny, broken whimpers and gasping moans that punch straight through my ribs and lodge somewhere vital.