Page 21 of Waters that Drown Us

“Pick a word. Anything butstop. You say it, we break. That way you can beg menotto stop all you want.”

She hesitates for a moment, her eyes scanning the boat and the horizon like she’s trying to pick a safe word from her environment, which I find painfully adorable. Her gaze finally lands on my research equipment, a small grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Jellyfish,” she says, almost with a giggle. I can’t help my own smile in return.

“Okay, Pecas. Jellyfish it is,” I agree. There’s a small ledge next to the steering wheel that I settle her on, lifting her weight off my leg so I can have better access to all the parts of her I want. “You sayjellyfish, and I’ll stop. Until then, I’m going to find all the places on your body I’m allowed to kiss. Understand?”

She braces herself again, her knees falling slightly open as she nods at me.

I don’t waste another moment. Lifting the hem of her tee shirt and holding it near her collarbone, I kiss a line straight from her belly button to her sternum. Her breasts are still covered, and I take my time teasing the soft, pale skin of her stomach, the waistline of her shorts, the slight arch at her hipbone with two faded, parallel scars that I want to ask about.

The ocean rocks the boat, creating a tempo that Alice follows as she arches into me. Her soft sighs quickly melt into pleas, until I feel her fingers in my hair.

I’ve never been one to enjoy having my hair pulled. Generally I’m in the opposite role—controlling and giving, rather than submitting and receiving. But I’m coming to the very dangerous realization that I’d likely let Alice do whatever she wanted, if it made her come like that again.

I expect to find her expression supplicating, but instead she’s demanding. Insistent. Impatient. She tugs my hair a little, sending skitters down my spine.

“Don’t stop.”

What Alice wants…

I tug her shirt over her head roughly, and the sunglasses she had pushed back into her hair go flying. I don’t have time to care though, because a vision I’ve been dreaming of for far longer than I care to admit sits in front of me. Alice, messy and perfect and half undressed, barely-there freckles dancing along her skin and pale pink nipples hard and waiting for me.

I’m on my knees in front of her, my height places my mouth directly in line with her tits, which I take full advantage of. I immediately pull one of her nipples into my mouth, rolling on the bud as I press a hand into the small of her back, forcing her to arch harder for me. The sounds of pleasure coming from her suddenly become muffled, and I glance up to see her covering her own mouth. Which obviously will not do.

I snatch her hand away with my free one, placing it on her own tit and squeezing. My hand is so much bigger than hers, it covers hers and her breast completely.

“Who are you being quiet for?” I ask, flicking her fully hard nipple with my tongue as she stares at me, mouth agape. “No one can hear you out here except me. And I want tohearyou.”

I don’t wait for her to respond. I’m too consumed by the taste of her skin, the feeling of her delicate body leaning into mine, chasing her own pleasure. When I shift to give equal treatment to her other breast, she automatically switches hands, rolling the nipple I just had in my mouth between her fingers. I’d praise her for it if my mouth wasn’t so preoccupied.

As beautiful as she looks like this, I know what both of us really need. I work on unbuttoning the fly of her shorts, the cotton thin and too loose on her frame, and keep my eyes on hers the whole time. There’s a small bit of hesitation there, which is expected, especially if this is her first time.

It hits me all of a sudden that I am the first person to see her like this. Depending on how the next few weeks go, I may be the only person toeversee her like this. She is totally and completely mine. No matter how much we lie to each other, manipulate and avoid and obscure, that will always be true.

She doesn’t stop me as I drag her shorts down and over her shoes, dropping them in the captain’s chair beside me. Her plain cotton underwear are wet from her first orgasm and all the arousal of my mouth on her body.

“Anything you want to say?” I ask, my fingertips sliding under the elastic hem stretched across her ass.

That flash of defiance comes rearing back, and she lifts her own hips, sliding her underwear to the ground and forcing me backward on to my ass while she does it. She doesn’t open her legs back up—I don’t think she’s quite that brave yet—but she leans back on her hands smugly and tilts her chin up at me.

“Don’t stop,” she replies with a smile.

Thank god.

I slide my hands under her thighs and pull them apart, so fucking hungry for her it feels like I’m starved. I want to go slow, to take my time and tease her and make her beg, but I’ve decided that this will not be the last time I get to touch her, if I have anything to say about it. I’ll monopolize every second of the next five weeks of our time together to teach her to beg for what she wants, to pull her apart molecule by molecule and find all the touches and kisses that make her fall apart for me.

Trailing open-mouthed kisses up the inside of her legs, I inch closer and closer to her exposed pussy. She tried to arch toward me, to close her thighs in the face of all that tension, but I don’t allow her to control this. Instead I take my time, skimming over the soft indents in her waistline where her clothes bit into her skin as I reach the apex of her thighs. Keeping her spread wide for me with my hands on her knees.

It doesn’t take her long to start begging, whining my name, asking so sweetly for something she can’t yet name. I’m already obsessed with the sound, with how easily her brattiness is tamed when she really wants what I can give her.

Finally, when I’ve traced each leg from hip to ankle with my mouth, I give her what she’s begging for. What I’m begging for, too.

I drag my tongue from entrance to clit, savoring the taste of her, and the sound she makes when my mouth is finally on her.

“Fuck, Emily, oh my god,” she breathes, her thighs instinctively drawing together around my head until I push them back open, forcing her to experience this pleasure at it’s most raw.

“I know, Pecas,” I placate, gently drawing circles around her clit with the hand not holding her thigh open. “So good for me.”