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“I thought we agreed not to bother if we only have five minutes?”
He groans and the sound is all endearing petulance, his brows furrowing and lips pouting, though his eyes maintain a mischievous and hungry shine. Ever since the last recoupling, after a night spent in the hideaway, a new door has opened between the two of you. Past the silly, “succulent” facade he wears like his favorite hoodie is a thoughtful man who makes your heart and your pussy clench. Keeping your hands off each other when you’re both always half naked is almost an unfair ask.
Despite your light, teasing words he knows you share his frustration. Sharing a communal bedroom destroys all semblance of privacy, limiting you and Bobby to heavy petting under the covers most nights.
Both impatient, you went in search for a door with a lock in the villa, away from curious eyes. Though Bobby loves showing you off, soaking in your choice in him, unthreatened and secure, there are some things you need to do alone.
Now you’re in a rarely used bathroom in one of the back corners of the villa, sandwiched between the counter and Bobby’s lithe, corded body. You’re far away from the voices of the islanders, no chance of hearing the telltale beeping of an incoming text. It should matter but in this moment it doesn’t because he presses his hips against yours and you can feel him, hot and heavy through the thin layers separating you.
“Timing’s perfect, babe,” he bends down to place a line of wet kisses across your collarbone. He stops in the dip separating your neck from your chest, tongue darting out to taste the salt on your skin, evidence of a long day spent in the sun.
A pulse starts thrumming between your legs and you remember the last time his head was there, when he alternated between using the point of his tongue and pressing it flat against the most sensitive parts of you. The pulse travels outward in thrumming waves and you’re aware of it spreading down to your toes and up your thighs before reverberating further still to the tips of your breasts. There are drums beating behind the skin of your palms and your nipples pebble. You imagine his mouth there too, laving and teasing and nibbling.
You push his head down so that he can do exactly that and he acquiesces easily, just as eager as you. His hands, so unfairly perfect, travel from your hips to the thin straps holding your top together. He makes quick work of the fisherman’s knots, movements just barely crossing that line between controlled and frantic as he presses harder against you, trapping you against the counter. He peels your top away and takes the opportunity to slide his hands down your newly exposed chest. The calluses in his hands, hard earned from work, catch slightly on the soft, sensitive skin of your breasts and you can’t help the whisper that rises up from deep inside your belly, plaintive and dripping with want.
“Bobby …”
His lips finally close around your nipples and you arch against him, one hand on the back of his head and the other gripping the taut muscle of his shoulder. Your fingernails dig into his skin and he groans. He switches over to the other side, his mouth spreading fire across your body. One of your legs curls around his, your ankle locking into place against his knee. The new position gives you leverage to tilt your hips closer to his. He’s hard, so hard, and you clip your clit against the curve of him, using the leg you have wrapped around his to pull him into you.
He pulls back from your chest and a deep sense of satisfaction blooms in you when you hear his ragged breaths. His hazel eyes meet yours, flashing gold with want. He uses one of his hands to palm your ass and he squeezes as he presses you even harder against him and moves along with your rhythm. He drops his forehead to yours without breaking eye contact and behind the blatant desire you can see a shy and almost incredulous hope reflecting back at you.
You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. His lips are so soft and taste faintly of the mint lip balm that he keeps in your shared nightstand. The kiss starts off as tender, blanketing you in something more than just wanting. Your chest tightens and you’re keenly aware of everywhere you’re touching and the forceful beats of two hearts pounding against each other. You take his bottom lip, full and plump, lightly between your teeth and suck. His other hand cups the back of your head and he tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling slightly. His tongue finds yours and you dance around each other.
Your world shrinks to the cradle that he’s created for you in his arms. That spark electrifies the air around you and you’re heady from the weight of it, mind flitting from the white hot intensity fueling your kisses to the soft admiration you’ve been slowly revealing to each other like a hummingbird zipping through a garden. The nectar is sweet, like the way that Bobby speaks to you, like the banana pancakes you share for breakfast.
Your hands travel across his shoulders, down his chest, catching his nipples between the sides of your fingers. Your hands are inquisitive, this… thing between you still so new, shooting up like bamboo towards the sun. You’re eager to map out the planes and lines of his body, still learning what makes him gasp and where he prefers the soft pads of your fingers or the sharp points of your nails.
Your thumbs find the dip of his hip bones and you feel the skin under your fingertips bristle. Bobby inhales sharply, breath short. You grin against his lips and delicately trace the line of his pelvis, your touch feather light. One night you told him that you loved the way the V of his hip bones disappeared into the waistband of his trunks, teasing as to what was underneath. He told you that he loved catching you stare.
The points of your fingernails scrape against his hip bone and he bucks into you jaggedly. He rips his mouth away from yours in response and nips your earlobe instead, drawing a ragged moan from your throat. He holds both of your wrists behind your back with one of his hands.
“You are the biggest tease.”
You can’t help the shameless expression that you send his way, eyebrow arched and lips uplifted at the corner.
“Good thing I always follow through.”
“Have I told you that I adore that about you?”
“Maybe a few times — though right now I’d rather you show me.” You emphasize your point with a roll of your hips.
He tugs at the strings of your bikini and pockets it instead of letting it fall to the floor, even now having the capacity to be considerate. His eyes rove over you and darken, taking you in. You feel exposed, like a live current ready to jump from one conductor to another. He rushes into you to meet your lips and his kisses are emphatic, urgent.
“You’re absolutely stunning,” his sheepishness gives way to need and he pulls back a few inches to reach into his trunks and open a foil wrapper. He sheds his clothes and wraps a condom around himself before bringing his index and middle fingers to your lips, tapping them open. You suck on his digits and watch his face as he worries his bottom lip with his teeth and stares at you, transfixed.
He drags his now wet fingers down your sternum, past your belly button, and presses on your slit. Your hips jerk against his hand and he lets out a chuckle from deep in his throat. The pad of his middle finger traces circles around your clit. The pressure is perfect and you gasp out his name. He’s so fucking good at this and he knows it.
“Tell me what you want.”
His words are raspy and you get the weight of his full attention. There are no jokes now. He perches you on top of the counter. His body is tense, poised to act and his finger is still rubbing against your clit, making it impossible to make decisions.
“You. All of you. I want to feel you deep—”
Your words are cut off as he secures his hands—one still gripping your ass and the other lifting your thigh, bending your leg back by the swivel of your hip—and drives into you. You’re so wet, and there’s no resistance, just the slick joining of your bodies, and you need this and he fills you at the perfect angle, hilting himself completely at a relentless pace.
“I just,” he grounds out. “cannot say no to you, darling.”
With one of your legs dangling from his grip, you have little leverage as he rams in and out of you. You’re overwhelmed with the sense of how right this is and rational thought recedes behind the pleasure growing each time he hits that spot inside of you.
You strain to put your lips on his neck, tongue lapping at the sweat beading on his skin. He lets out a shuddering moan and he holds you against him tighter. He presses his head against yours, dropping mindless, open-mouthed kisses behind your ear.
His hand leaves the swell of your ass and he makes room for his hand between your bodies, flipping his wrist so that he can press his middle finger once again on your clit. This time it’s not nearly as controlled, and you can feel the tension curling in him as he tries to get you off before he completely loses himself.
“Just like that, just like that,” your words trip over each other, so wrapped in pleasure that the thought of him stopping makes you feel frantic.
Your eyes shut and you can feel stars exploding behind your eyelids. Nothing exists outside the rhythm that you two have created together, bodies syncing up, reaching for a bright light within each other. The feeling of him inside you, hitting the spot that corresponds with the nub under his finger, is overwhelming. The fullness of him, the delicious friction of his hot, hard length… it’s too much—
A particularly perfect thrust launches you over the edge and you overflow, feeling like a cup full of liquid gold that was knocked over. Your legs wrap around his waist, hips stilling as you crash into a bright light. You muffle yourself by groaning against his skin. You can feel your walls clamping down on him, pulsing, squeezing — thump thump thump— as he stills, groaning as you jerk erratically against him.
When you come down he starts moving again, hips pistoning in a staccato beat, chasing his own release. Your shoulders press against the wall behind you and he lifts your hips. Your elbows support you from the counter though he’s doing most of the work, his toned yet wiry frame deceptively strong.
“Gemma, fuck—”
You coax him, your orgasm leaving you raw while your frayed nerves draw out the aftershocks. You crane to reach his ear and whisper encouragement, telling him how good he makes you feel and how you want him to burst apart at the seams inside you. His name comes out of your mouth in pieces, the syllables separated by a choked gasp, and he comes apart in your arms. He’s completely still for a few heartbeats and his arms wrap around you, tight enough to make your breaths shallow.
After a moment he sags, pulling out as he lets you down, supporting you as you stand on wobbly legs. The loss of him inside you is a fleeting thought, wiped away by the complete satisfaction of being thoroughly fucked.
“Wow.”
You chuckle, returning the sentiment.
“Same.”
Neither of you have the energy for more than one word sentences so you tilt your lips up and he kisses you. This one is soft and bright, like stepping out on a breezy summer day and feeling the sun warm your skin.
He cups your face and his thumbs caress your cheeks. He’s unhurried now, the feelings under the wanting eager to display themselves. You feel your body completely relaxing, no more tension in your shoulders or in your brows. Right now it’s just you and Bobby and this thing that you’re both growing together.
“You’re something really special, you know that right?”
Your smile grows against his lips and you pull back to look him in the eyes.
“Well how else am I supposed to feel after that?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins at your levity. He’s smug and you let him have it. His gaze is so open and honest and you intentionally reflect it back to him. He boops you in response and you wrinkle your nose as his lips touch it.
“You ready to get back out there?” He asks, handing you your bikini and reaching behind you to help you secure your top in place.
You huff, exaggerating a little. Your eyes drag over his body one last time as he lifts his trunks back around his hips. They sit low, just how you like them. “If we have to.”
He drops one last kiss on your lips, touch full of promise, and takes your hand as you step back out to the villa.