Chapter 42
EVANGELINE
“Alittle one,” I mock, lowering my voice in an impersonation of Alaric as I stand in the middle of the aft deck, marveling.
I’m surrounded by cerulean water, and the sky is a picturesque, perfect blue with a few wispy clouds painting the horizon. It’s a perfect day to be out on the water.
There are six people working on this “little” yacht, and Alaric swears this is a skeleton crew since today’s charter was planned at the last minute.
I’ve met the captain, first officer, head chef, and head stew. The cook has been in the galley all day, and there’s another assistant steward floating around here somewhere.
“Anything else I can do for you?” Cassandra asks me. As head stew, she’s made a point to check in regularly since we set sail. Every person on board has been the epitome of professional, yet they have made me feel at ease on the Apex Steele.
“I can’t think of a thing.”
She smiles politely. “Perhaps you and Mr. Steele would enjoy some privacy. Dinner will be served at eight, so you have the whole afternoon to yourselves.”
“That would be lovely,” I confirm.
“No one will come up to the sun deck unless you call for us,” she says.
The implication there is clear, the discretion and privacy appreciated.
With a tilt of her head, she turns and takes off for the lower deck.
My cheeks warm, and not because of the sunshine hitting my face. No, my body temperature has risen because of the creative ideas swirling in my head.
“There you are.”
Alaric ascends the last few stairs, a Greek god rising against the backdrop of the Mediterranean Sea. He strides over to me, looking like sex on a stick with his tanned arms, lean waist, and hair-dusted chest on display.
He’s wearing American-length swim trunks, unfortunately. Though at least they sit low, showing off the muscular cut where his hips dip into his waistband.
When there’s no more space between us, he pulls my bikini-clad body against his bare chest.
Electricity sparks between us, the sensation quickly transforming into a tingly warmth that spreads through me.
On top of that, a sense of security envelops me. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced with another person. In his arms, I am safe. I’m considered. I’m respected and wanted and revered. I wish I could bottle this feeling and keep it with me always.
Planting my chin on his chest, I lick my lips. “How’s your day going so far, birthday boy?”
His brows knit together. “I’m not sure anyone has called me a ‘boy’ in at least two decades.”
“Okay, birthday man.”
His chest rumbles with silent laughter.
I lift a brow. “How would you like to spend the afternoon?”
He smooths a hand up my bare back, pausing momentarily to tease at the knot keeping my bikini top in place, then cups the back of my head, planting a gentle kiss on my crown.
“All I want to do is spread out on that lounge chair with you, angel.”
I pull back, peering up, fire igniting low in my belly. “That’s all you want?”
Rather than heat, his eyes are full of sincerity. “You. That lounge chair. This moment. It’s all I want.”
My breath catches in my chest. I believe him, yet his earnest desires still shock me.
“Come on.” He releases me, though he quickly captures my hand and pulls me toward the chairs.
He gets situated on one lounger, and as I shift over to the one beside it, he catches my hand, pulling me into his lap.
“Like this.” He repositions me so I’m where he wants me, and when he’s done, I’m draped over his front, with my cheek resting on his chest. Our hips are lined up perfectly, our legs tangled.
“You’re going to get awful tan lines.” I laugh.
I shift slightly, clocking his hard length between my thighs. With a sly smile, I wiggle my hips.
He clamps a hand down on my ass. “Settle.”
“And if I don’t want to settle?” I squirm again, planting a trail of kisses along his sternum.
He curls up and rests on his elbows, his abs tensing beneath me. “I have absolutely no qualms about taking you right here, angel. Do not lead me into temptation.”
I peek up, snaking my hand between our bodies and cupping his length.
“It is your birthday, Mr. Steele. You deserve to give in to temptation.” Over his trunks, I rub my thumb around his crown. My mouth waters on instinct as the flicker of heat in my core ignites into hotter, heavier need.
“Evangeline,” he scolds as we face off in a battle we both know I’ll win.
“The staff knows not to disturb us until dinner. And if memory serves, this is exactly what you wanted for your birthday,” I whisper against his throat, scraping my teeth against the stubble.
With a firm grip on his length, I jerk him in languid strokes.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” I say, even as I spread my legs wider and line my hips up with his groin.
He flops back onto the lounger, gripping my ass with both hands and shifting me higher.
With my hand still locked between our bodies, I draw out each stroke, relishing the way he grows harder beneath me.
As we rock and sway, I plant kisses along his neck and chest. Like this, I can’t reach his mouth, so I make the best of the situation.
My breathing hastens as I work him over, my own desire ramping up, and before long, I find myself grinding along with my strokes, rubbing against him in an erotic rhythm.
The soft slaps of water hitting the side of the yacht serve as background music to our heavy breathing.
“Enough,” he growls, digging his fingers into my hips to still me.
I crane back, searching his face. His hungry eyes are locked on me, his irises so dark they’re almost indistinguishable against his pupils.
“I need to be inside you,” he admits on a ragged exhale.
My pussy spasms, mirroring his sentiment.
“Out here in the open?” I glance over one shoulder, then the other, biting down on my bottom lip. There are no boats anywhere near us, and the crew insisted we’d have total privacy.
He pulls me higher up his body so I’m straddling his abs, then cups my face. With his thumb, he plucks my lips from between my teeth. Then he curls up again and kisses me, the familiar, warm strokes of his tongue against mine soothing my worries.
“We can be discreet,” he murmurs as he pulls back.
With one hand woven into my hair, he guides my ear to his mouth.
“Can I tell you what I really want for my birthday, angel?”
Heart leaping, I nod.
“I want you to untie those bikini bottoms and show me that perfect pussy.”
I spring into action, working both knots quickly. The fabric flutters away, the warm Mediterranean breeze kissing my freshly exposed skin.
“Sit up and let me see you.”
I obey, then take it a step farther. I rise to my knees, skirting my fingers up my inner thighs, then spread my lower lips, exposing myself completely. The wind caresses my skin, making me acutely aware of my own wetness. My fingertips graze my clit, sending sparks of need through my core.
“You’re breathtaking,” Alaric praises, tracing my exposed sex with a thumb.
He pulls back and promptly brings the digit to his mouth, groaning as he tastes my essence.
His gaze ping-pongs from my pussy to my face, like he doesn’t know where to focus.
Finally he clears his throat, eyes boring into mine as his attention settles on my face.
“Take my cock out.”
Eager to please, I hurry to free him from his swim trunks.
At the sight of him, my brain malfunctions. If I’m breathtaking, then Alaric is art personified.
His cock is spectacular: Thick but not too girthy. An impressive length that’s enticing opposed to scary. He’s perfectly proportioned, the veins along his shaft a roadmap to his thick, prominent crown.
“Put me inside you, baby.”
A little noise of surprise escapes me. We’re really doing this?
With a peek over my shoulder to confirm we’re alone, I hover closer. “You’re sure?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he swipes the rolled-up towel off the other sun lounger. He flicks it open, then drapes it over me, covering our lower halves.
“Now I’m going to be the one with weird tan lines,” I quip.
He smacks my ass over top of the terry cloth, grinning. “Get on my dick, angel. You’re about to make all my birthday dreams come true.”
Eagerly, I rise to my knees and grip him at the base. I take my time dragging his head along my center, coating him in my wetness.
After several agonizingly slow strokes, he growls, “Evangeline…”
Pressing my lips together to suppress a laugh, I finally sink down.
We moan in unison as I take him to the hilt without allowing myself time to adjust. The burning stretch quickly gives way to a deeper ache. The kind that brings with it intense, immediate satisfaction.
I roll my hips, grinding my clit over his pelvic bone, but before I can do it a second time, he plants his hands on my low back, stopping me.
“I don’t want you to move,” he says, focused on where we’re joined.
“What do you mean?” I shift my hips forward, teasing him.
With another smack to my ass, he arches one brow.
“I mean that I don’t want you to move an inch, angel. I don’t want you to ride me, grind on me, or rub that perfect little cunt on my lap. I want you to lie down and warm my cock. Do you think you can do that for me?”
No.
Worry twists my gut. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what to do or how any of this works.
As if he can read my mind, he chuckles and guides me down so my torso is pressed to his.
“You really just want me to lay here with you inside me? For how long?”
“Just try it,” he encourages. “You told me you wanted to feel me everywhere when we’re together, yes?”
Trepidatiously, I nod.
“I want to be buried inside you, just like this. I want to see how long we can make this last. Being with you soothes something inside me I never knew another person could touch. That’s the power you have over me, angel. I’ll talk you through it. And if at any point you want to stop, say the word.”
Okay.
I can do this.
And if I can’t, that’s okay, too.
Tentatively, I drape my arms over his chest and rest my chin on my forearms. With my focus locked on his face, I clench a little, testing his resolve.
“Angel,” he warns.
I bury my face in his chest until the hairs tickle my nose.
Hold your nerve.
We both settle in, the physical connection between us thrumming with a warm, wet connection that demands my full focus.
Soft slaps of water hitting the side of the yacht serve as background noise to our heavy breathing.
We rock and sway with the sea, the calm serenity of being on the water in sharp contrast to the achy, needy desire pulsating through my core.
Shifting, I peek up. Before I can ask if what I’m doing is okay, if this is what he expected, he groans quietly.
“You feel incredible, holding me inside you like this,” he says. “We were made for each other. I can feel you getting wetter, soaking me with your sweetness. I bet there will be a little puddle beneath us by the time we’re through.”
Oh fuck.
This time, I can’t control the way my core muscles clench.
“That’s it, baby. Relax for me. You’re doing such a good job. Such a perfect cock warmer. The longer we stay like this, the harder you’ll come when I flip you over and fuck you into this lounger.”
“Alaric.” I squirm, struggling not to give into the urge to grind against him.
“Shh,” he soothes. “I know it’s hard. But you’re doing so well. You’re the perfect vessel, Evangeline. Stay nice and still for me, if you can. I want to see how long we can make this last.”
He continues whispering dirty thoughts and praising me while I use all my willpower to hold steady.
Eventually, I slip into a meditative state—I can hear him, and I can certainly still feel him, but there’s a heady distance to my thoughts.
Every nerve in my body is on fire and my clit has its own pulse.
And yet… my mind is quiet. My body is so relaxed.
A dreamy haze envelops me as Alaric’s hands stroke up and down my spine.
Several more minutes pass. The throbbing in my core grows, and before long, my limbs start to tremble.
“Enough,” he rasps.
Then we’re moving. He lifts me with ease, keeping himself buried deep as he relocates us to another lounger, this one beneath the umbrella.
He lays me down on the cushion and sucks a mark into my neck. “Hard and fast?” he asks.
I nod roughly, my vision going spotty.
“Hang on, angel. I’ll get you there.”
As if it would take more than a few thrusts to send me hurtling toward release.
He presses his chest against mine, half-smothering me in the way I love. Like this, with him buried so deep inside me, we become one, and the world around me settles.
The sounds of the sea and the birds flying overhead go quiet.
There’s no longer any fear about who might see us.
I don’t stress about my to-do list or wonder if I’m enough.
I simply yield, eager for what I know will be the most soul-aligning orgasm of my life to hit me.
“Please,” I beg, my inner walls spasming in anticipation. “Please fuck me.”
He swells inside me, the connection forged with so much desire, passion, and trust that I can’t think of anything beyond this man and this moment.
I want to keep him buried inside me forever. I want to clench around him, locking him in tight, and never let him go.
“I need to paint your insides with my cum more than I need my next breath.”
I whimper at his confession, his words coating my own delusional possessiveness like warm, thick syrup. Our mutual desire is an endless pool of reassurance.
As promised, the first thrust is hard, making the legs of the lounger scrape against the deck.
He does it again and again, fucking me like an animal, wild, unabashed energy rolling off him. I’m already coming when he presses the heel of his hand into my clit, but the pressure sends me careening harder and faster toward my release.
Fireworks in every color detonate behind my closed eyelids, creating a spectacular display, each wave of release illuminating brighter than the last.
I feel everything and nothing at the same time, blissed out in a way I never knew was possible.
With a groan, Alaric goes still, then collapses on me, framing my face with his arms.
When I finally crack my eyes open and find him peering down with nothing but affection, my heart catches in my throat.
That was quite possibly the best orgasm of my life.
And yet that sensation has nothing on the way I feel right now, being held in his arms, drinking in his adoring gaze.