Page 55 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

Her cheeks turn pink. Those dark circles she sported under her eyes are on their way out. Even her hair seems thicker and shinier. A day away from her ER and her duties, and she already looks so much healthier.

"I’m not keeping track." She shoots me a sideways glance. "Besides, an orgasm is a normal bodily function. It’s only a crescendo of autonomic nervous system activation."

"Hmm." I tap my chin. "That was some crescendo your voice rose to earlier when I fucked you against the window of our cabin."

The pink in her cheeks turns a fiery red. "A gentleman wouldn’t point that out, after the fact."

"As I recall, you loved that I didn’t behave like a gentleman. As the print of my palm on your left butt cheek will attest to."

"Wha-a-t? I don’t have a print on my bum."

"What’s this then?" I lean over and place my right hand on the print over her left arse cheek.

She huffs out her breath. Her throat moves as she swallows. "That… That’s because you put me down heavily on the galley counter." She pouts.

"Only because I needed to feel your legs around my waist and fill up your pussy with my already engorged cock."

She draws in a sharp breath, then manages to school her features into one of boredom, which I don’t buy, at all. "As I recall, you’ve done so a few times today already." She sniffs.

"As I’m finding out, it’s not enough." I slide my hand down to cup her core through her bikini bottoms.

"Oh." She twists her mouth into a delicate pout, but her hazel eyes go green, revealing how turned on she is.

I slide my fingers inside the gusset of her bottoms, and she gasps.

"So fucking wet for me," I growl.

She shivers. I run my fingers down her slit, and she whimpers, "Connor, I can’t possibly come again." She’s gripping the sides of the sun lounger, the skin across her knuckles stretched white.

"Are you sore?" I pause, looking into her face.

She hesitates, then nods slowly. "A little."

I pull my fingers back and bring them to her mouth instead. She takes in my fingers, down to the knuckles, and licks them clean.

"Good girl." I trail my fingers down the curve of her shoulders and to her back. "You don’t need this." I flick the knot at the top of her bikini.

"But—" she begins to protest but I’ve already undone her bikini top.

It falls to the side. I reach for the sunscreen and pour a liberal amount onto my palm.

Placing a knee on one side of the lounge, I straddle her hips without leaning my weight on her.

I begin to massage the sunscreen into her back.

She groans. "That feels amazing."

"You work too hard." I dig my knuckles into the muscles in her back and feel the tension drain out. "You need to take more time off."

"When you specialize in trauma, it means you’re dealing with accidents, which means, it’s mainly periods of high stress and high adrenaline. And when there’s an emergency, I can’t say no to coming in." She looks up at me from the corner of her eye. "I imagine, it’s the same for you?"

I pause, then dig my knuckles into the muscles on either side of her spine.

It draws another groan from her throat. "You’re so good at this."

"Learned it from going undercover as a masseuse."

It’s her turn to go quiet. "You went undercover as a masseuse?" She clears her throat.

"I did. Being good at giving a massage is a useful skill in impressing women, as it turns out."

"Hmph. You had a lot of women to impress in your undercover assignments, huh?"

I allow myself a small chuckle. "You sound jealous."

"I’m not."

"If you insist."

"Are you allowed to tell me all this?" She scowls.

"All what?"

"About your assignments."

"I’m not giving away anything."

"Well, I don’t want to know any details, especially of how you impressed women," she says in an irritated voice.

"Definitely jealous." I knead the muscles of her shoulders, and she makes a whimpering sound.

My already alert cock does an imitation of being a loaded gun ready to go off.

I reach down to adjust myself, then continue to work gentle pressure down the length of her spine.

I reach the small of her back and trace the flare of her hips with rhythmic strokes.

She shifts restlessly. "Umm, I think that’s enough. "

"Am I turning you on?"

She blows out a breath. "You know you are. Just like you’re also getting turned on."

"Touching you is the most erotic, most satisfying experience of my life. Smoothing the stress from your body is more gratifying than any assignment I've undertaken."

She cracks her eyes open and stares at me over her shoulder. "You mean it." She sounds surprised.

I hold her gaze. "I have never told you something I didn’t mean, and I never will."

Her lips part. Her eyes shine. She turns over. Her bare breasts are revealed to me. Perfectly crafted. Just right to fill my big palms to overflowing. Her pink areolae are puckered tightly, begging for my mouth. My teeth. To bite down into the nipples topping them like buds made of candy.

Without breaking the connection, I lower my chin and close my lips around one of them.

I tug on it, and she whimpers. She throws her arms over her head, pushing them further into my mouth, while arching her spine.

I nip and suck and curl my tongue around her nipple, biting into it, then licking away the hurt.

She squeezes her thighs together and writhes around, raising her hips until her core brushes against the column in my swim shorts.

"No cheating." I press my hand into the center of her chest, holding her down, which only makes her squirm further.

"Connor," she protests.

“Hold still.” I grab her bathing suit top.

I tie it around her wrists, then anchor it to the horizontal bar just behind the headrest—at the top of the sun lounger’s frame.

"What are you doing?" She tugs at her wrists.

I make sure the knots are loose enough to not chafe at her skin.

"You’ll see." I slide her bikini bottoms down her legs and toss them aside. Rising to my feet, I shrug out of my swim trunks, then look up to find her watching me with lust in her eyes. Her gaze slides down my chest to where my cock stands at attention.

I grab one of the towels, then use it to tie her ankle to the metal bar at the base of the lounger, near where her feet rest.

Then do the same to the other. When I stand at the bottom of the sun lounger, I look at my handiwork.

She’s tied spread-eagle with the sun's rays gleaming over her. A trembling grips her. The sweet scent of her arousal mixes with the nutty one of the sunscreen. A powerful aphrodisiac. I walk around to stand behind her. She looks up at me with curiosity.

I pour out more of the sunscreen into my palms before placing my knees on either side of her head. I massage her breasts in ever widening circles. Breathless cries of need whisper from her as she undulates her hips with need.

I move down to her stomach, circling the flesh and dipping into her belly button.

She whimpers and jerks.

When she opens her mouth again to gasp, I position my cock at her lips. "Swallow it," I order.

She instantly closes her mouth around my cock and begins to lick around the crown. Sensations light up my nerve endings. It’s as if I’ve stuck my fingers into a source of electricity; it buzzes through my veins. I squirt some of the sunscreen across her thighs. Then I begin to stroke it in.