Say My Name
Page 90
“About two hours.”
I glance at the sky. It’s four, and the sun is already making its descent. “It’s October. By the time we get there, we’ll barely have an hour of light.”
“Good thing my bedroom’s on board. We can start fresh in the morning.” He grins, and looks so much like a delighted boy that I can’t help but laugh.
“Fine. You win. Tell me all about her.” I pause. “Wait. Bedroom? You live here?”
“It seemed prudent. And more economical than continuing to bounce from hotel to hotel whenever I was in town. Of course I considered pitching a tent on my land, but the boat has plumbing.”
“You made a good decision,” I deadpan.
“I thought so.”
“The truth is, I’ve had meetings with a few clients in Santa Barbara. This way, I can bring my office to them.” He points to what appears to be the second level, an enclosed space with walls of windows. “She has a huge area just behind the top deck designed for entertaining. I converted it to a workspace. Lots of natural light. Ocean breezes. And I’ve always loved boats.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I told you my dad wasn’t around much, but the one thing he did right was teach me how to sail.”
I let my eyes drift over this monstrosity of a vessel. “This isn’t a sailboat.”
“Look at you. I didn’t realize you were so up-to-date on all things nautical.”
I smirk, then walk the length of the boat until I’m at her end. Which may or may not be the stern. Unlike Jackson, I have no clue about boats. I do, however, know they have names. This one is Veronica.
“Who is she?”
“The boat,” he says.
“Funny man. I mean, who is she named after?”
“Who says she’s named after anyone?” He holds out his hand. “Come on. Let me show you around and let’s get moving. I really do want to see our island.”
I take his hand and follow him on board. I don’t push about the name, mostly because it’s so obvious that he doesn’t want me to. But I can’t help my curiosity any more than I can help the unpleasant and unwelcome flush of jealousy.
That fades quickly enough once we are on deck. It’s hard to stay jealous of a name when a man’s hands are all over you and his mouth is hot and demanding against yours. “Do you have any idea how hard it was not to take you into the bathroom at Stark’s place and fuck you blind?” he asks, sliding his hand up under my dress.
“Do you have any idea how much I wanted you to?” I haven’t gone without underwear in forever, and certainly never because a man has demanded it of me. A man whose hands I’ve been craving for the last several hours. So even though I’d managed to put it aside and function as a responsible corporate employee, the reality that my panties have been tucked in his pocket has been making me a little bit crazy.
“Actually, I do,” he says as he cups my sex, finding me very wet and very ready. He nips at my lower lip. “It’s been my pleasure tormenting you.”
“Bastard.”
He chuckles as he thrusts his fingers inside me, making me gasp. “You’ll forgive me when I make it up to you.”
“Someone might see.” My protest is feeble, because now he’s slowly teasing me, thrusting deep and then stroking my clit when he withdraws, and I am sliding down into a sensual haze.
“No one is here.”
“Jackson.”
“No. Quiet. The only sound you get to make is when you come. Do you understand me?”
I say nothing, but nod in acquiescence just like I’m supposed to do. Then I tilt my head back to meet his eyes and find them dark with lust and need. I shift my stance, deliberately giving him better access, and watch as that evidence of my surrender reflects on his face, like a building storm ready to unleash.
He makes a low sound of pleasure, then hooks his other arm around my waist to hold me steady as he teases me with his fingers, and then slants his mouth over mine to get his tongue in on the action. I am completely at his mercy, uncaring that we might be seen, wanting only more of what he is giving. This wild sharing, this spiraling pleasure.
I’ve been on edge all day, and as much as I want to relish the sweet sensation of his touch, I cannot hold back, and before I am ready, the force of my orgasm surprises us both. He breaks the kiss, then pulls me close again. “Do you know what that does to me? Holding you? Feeling you respond like that to me?”
I manage an impish grin. “Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”
I glance at the sky. It’s four, and the sun is already making its descent. “It’s October. By the time we get there, we’ll barely have an hour of light.”
“Good thing my bedroom’s on board. We can start fresh in the morning.” He grins, and looks so much like a delighted boy that I can’t help but laugh.
“Fine. You win. Tell me all about her.” I pause. “Wait. Bedroom? You live here?”
“It seemed prudent. And more economical than continuing to bounce from hotel to hotel whenever I was in town. Of course I considered pitching a tent on my land, but the boat has plumbing.”
“You made a good decision,” I deadpan.
“I thought so.”
“The truth is, I’ve had meetings with a few clients in Santa Barbara. This way, I can bring my office to them.” He points to what appears to be the second level, an enclosed space with walls of windows. “She has a huge area just behind the top deck designed for entertaining. I converted it to a workspace. Lots of natural light. Ocean breezes. And I’ve always loved boats.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I told you my dad wasn’t around much, but the one thing he did right was teach me how to sail.”
I let my eyes drift over this monstrosity of a vessel. “This isn’t a sailboat.”
“Look at you. I didn’t realize you were so up-to-date on all things nautical.”
I smirk, then walk the length of the boat until I’m at her end. Which may or may not be the stern. Unlike Jackson, I have no clue about boats. I do, however, know they have names. This one is Veronica.
“Who is she?”
“The boat,” he says.
“Funny man. I mean, who is she named after?”
“Who says she’s named after anyone?” He holds out his hand. “Come on. Let me show you around and let’s get moving. I really do want to see our island.”
I take his hand and follow him on board. I don’t push about the name, mostly because it’s so obvious that he doesn’t want me to. But I can’t help my curiosity any more than I can help the unpleasant and unwelcome flush of jealousy.
That fades quickly enough once we are on deck. It’s hard to stay jealous of a name when a man’s hands are all over you and his mouth is hot and demanding against yours. “Do you have any idea how hard it was not to take you into the bathroom at Stark’s place and fuck you blind?” he asks, sliding his hand up under my dress.
“Do you have any idea how much I wanted you to?” I haven’t gone without underwear in forever, and certainly never because a man has demanded it of me. A man whose hands I’ve been craving for the last several hours. So even though I’d managed to put it aside and function as a responsible corporate employee, the reality that my panties have been tucked in his pocket has been making me a little bit crazy.
“Actually, I do,” he says as he cups my sex, finding me very wet and very ready. He nips at my lower lip. “It’s been my pleasure tormenting you.”
“Bastard.”
He chuckles as he thrusts his fingers inside me, making me gasp. “You’ll forgive me when I make it up to you.”
“Someone might see.” My protest is feeble, because now he’s slowly teasing me, thrusting deep and then stroking my clit when he withdraws, and I am sliding down into a sensual haze.
“No one is here.”
“Jackson.”
“No. Quiet. The only sound you get to make is when you come. Do you understand me?”
I say nothing, but nod in acquiescence just like I’m supposed to do. Then I tilt my head back to meet his eyes and find them dark with lust and need. I shift my stance, deliberately giving him better access, and watch as that evidence of my surrender reflects on his face, like a building storm ready to unleash.
He makes a low sound of pleasure, then hooks his other arm around my waist to hold me steady as he teases me with his fingers, and then slants his mouth over mine to get his tongue in on the action. I am completely at his mercy, uncaring that we might be seen, wanting only more of what he is giving. This wild sharing, this spiraling pleasure.
I’ve been on edge all day, and as much as I want to relish the sweet sensation of his touch, I cannot hold back, and before I am ready, the force of my orgasm surprises us both. He breaks the kiss, then pulls me close again. “Do you know what that does to me? Holding you? Feeling you respond like that to me?”
I manage an impish grin. “Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”
