Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
I chuckled and sank lower in the water, welcoming his arms around my shoulders. “There’s plenty you can do back there too.”
“Like what?” he asked curiously. The innocence in his tone… He would never understand what it did to me.
“You can play with Daddy,” I suggested. “Explore him with your fingers.”
“Oh,” he breathed out. “Do you like that?”
“Mmm, very much.” I eased off the sandy bottom and swam with him on my back, and every now and then, I felt him bumping against me. “It would be a travesty to waste my body on only stereotypically dominant acts when I can finger myself to orgasm without even touching my cock.” I was blessed with a sensitive prostate, something I had discovered years before I learned that I preferred to be in charge.
It’d made it a challenge to find partners when I craved power but wanted to bottom at least as often as I wanted to top. In BDSM, I’d met too many switches, and I’d had to explain that the control never left my grasp. Turning off the dominance was not an option. It was part of who I was, and, for the first time, I opened up about it to Peyton. I shared a bit of my history in the world of kink.
I’d never been at the center of a large community or anything, but I’d had a couple friends who had introduced me to it, and I’d attended an event or a party when my hectic schedule had allowed it. It’d been fun to explore physically, though I believed the theory of it all still appealed the most. Likely because I’d tried to have my cake and eat it too.
“You have to be open and give as much as you want to take,” I said. “But back then, I had one foot out the door. I said I wanted something serious, but my heart was never fully invested. Combine that with my sexual orientation and my fetishes and it becomes impossible to get very far.”
“I understand.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder blade while one of his hands snaked around my middle. “Where did you work before you got involved with Westwater? Sounds like you’ve always been a busy man.”
“Nothing,” I answered. “I’ve always been at Westwater, but I was a location scout for many years. It was my job to predict where a hotel would do well.”
“Huh. And then your grandfather thought you should have a more central role?”
“Exactly.” I surprised him by diving underwater, and I heard his yelp as I swam along the pristine ocean floor.
The waves on the surface danced in the sunrays across the white sand, and I drew my fingers through it before I went up again. At the deepest, the cove was no more than five feet. I stood on my toes when Peyton swam into my arms and told me I couldn’t get away from him.
I wasn’t trying.
He didn’t get a tan like I did, but the sun turned him out-of-this-world beautiful in other ways. Faint freckles were appearing over his nose, and his hair had become a shade or two lighter.
Fuck, how I wanted to kiss him.
“What about you?” I murmured. “You’re a natural submissive with me. Have you been involved in BDSM before?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I mean, I haven’t lived under a rock—I’ve known about it. But I don’t know. Never really occurred to me to look into it further.”
I brushed away his hair from his forehead. “A whole world for you to explore, then.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.” He tugged at my hand and swam backward, toward the shore. “Come on. I bet you brought something good in that cooler.”
Of course I did.
There was a large selection of tropical fruit, fresh bread, juice, vodka, goat cheese, saltines, a bottle of wine, and potato chips. In the heat, I craved everything that had a bit of extra salt to it.
Especially Peyton.
Nine
“I never wanna leave Jamaica.” Peyton groaned around a mouthful of pineapple and rolled closer to me.
I smiled sleepily and kept my eyes closed. The bed was admittedly an amazing touch. We’d done a decent job at keeping the sand away too. Peyton had protested at first when I’d directed him to the shower after every dip in the ocean, but now he got it.
“Are you pretending to sleep?” He tapped my nose.
I chuckled drowsily and pulled up a knee along the mattress, and I hugged my pillow to me. “No, I’m just relaxing.”
He hummed and crawled half on top of me, dropping a sweet kiss to my spine. “There’s another cooler by the ice in the supply closet. It’s got your name on it.”
“It’s dinner.” I yawned and pushed out my ass a bit when he ghosted a hand over it. “One of the chefs prepared foil packets with fish, potatoes, and vegetables. We’ll throw them on the grill later.”