Page 131 of The Dixon Rule

“Eyes forward,” he whispers.

Swallowing again, I turn my head and gaze out at the pool. From the front, I’m fully covered. From the back, my ass is exposed to Shane’s ministrations. I feel the tip of his cock gliding up and down between my ass cheeks.

He brings his mouth close to my ear. “If you make a noise, I’ll stop.”

Oh my God.

We’re out in the open. The warm, late-summer breeze floats over us, tickling my scorching cheeks. Shane drags his dick down my ass, toward the place that’s aching for him. I bite my lip hard to stop from crying out when the tip pushes inside me. He’s the one who makes noise, much to my delight. A strangled groan.

“Quiet or we’ll have to stop,” I mock.

That earns me the sting of his teeth as he bends down to bite my shoulder. “You have no idea how amazing this feels. You’re drenching my cock.”

He’s right, I am. This is the first time we’ve gone bareback, and I’m so wet. Everything about this encounter is turning me on. The night air. The fact that we’re out in the open. To a passerby, it would appear like we’re simply standing on the balcony with Shane behind me. Admiring the stars, perhaps.

Only I know that half his dick is lodged inside me.

He inches back, withdrawing until only the very tip hovers at my opening. Then, with an equally indolent stroke, he pushes forward, inch by inch. He does that once, twice, a dozen times. It’s excruciating. The pace is sheer torment. There’s nothing I want more than to buck my ass against him and fuck him hard and rough, but when I try to push back, he digs his fingers into my left ass cheek in a rebuke.

“Don’t move. Just stand there and take it.”

That should piss me off, but it doesn’t. I want to take it. I want to stand here and let him fuck me. Fast, slow, any way he wants.

His lips are at my ear again. “Trust that I can take you there.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s difficult to yield to him because I know my body better than he does. I know what I need.

But I’m wrong. Shane also knows what I need. He proves that by pushing me forward slightly, positioning me so I’m directly in front of one of the vertical railing slats.

“Bend your knees a little.” His hands are still on my ass. His dick still inside me.

As I do what he says, he nudges me forward and my clit touches the slat.

I moan.

“Diana,” he warns.

“Sorry.” I gulp wildly.

Oh my God. Now, every time he thrusts, there’s gentle pressure on my clit from the railing. This has gone from torment to pure torture. My heart is beating way too fast. I can’t even hear my thoughts anymore. Not that it matters. There’s only one thought left in my head anyway, and it’s more, more, more.

He gives it to me, pulling back, then filling me nearly to the hilt, rotating his hips each time. I hear his breathing quicken. He’s not even touching me with his hands. He’s got both on the railing on either side of my body, his fingers next to my clenched fists.

My clit is throbbing. The next time it gets pushed into the railing, I start to feel that impatient burn of need. This is the naughtiest sex I’ve ever had. I want to move faster, but he asked me to trust him to get me there, so I do. And it isn’t long before he’s fucking me in long, deep strokes. I feel the orgasm trying to breach the surface. If he goes a little faster, just a little bit faster—

“Hi there.”

I freeze. Shane goes completely still.

Down below, Dave and Marnie stroll down the path holding their tennis rackets.

Now? Now is the time they’re choosing to go play tennis?

Fine, the courts are lit until midnight, and they are a tennis family, so I guess it’s not terribly out of character. But still.

“Nice night, huh?” Shane’s voice holds a rasp of gravel.

“Gorgeous,” Dave confirms.

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