Page 53 of Born To Be Bad

I get up from the sun lounger, topless and a little unsteady on my feet due to the number of welcome cocktails I’d had. “I can’t believe we’re in Thailand. I can’t believe I get to stay in a fancy private villa. It’s a dream.”

“Well,” replies Alistair. “I can’t believe I get to share a villa with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

When I reach him, he stretches out lazily to barely touch my sun-warmed skin, but I feel the intense thrill of it. This is what they mean when they say that foreplay begins long before the main act. I’d had hours and hours of warming up: watching the palm trees sway in the breeze, the golden light, the hug of humidity, the spiced rum. Of course, being in Alistair’s company with his chiselled six-pack and strong arms doesn’t hurt either, especially when we’re hardly wearing any clothes. And the way he looks at me, with fire in his eyes—that gets me every time, whether we’re on a tropical island or in the gray city. That fire is more than desire. Yes, there is a steamy longing there, but there is also deep love and fierce protection, the combination of which is all I need to melt for him. To do anything for him.

“Fuck, you’re looking especially delectable right now,” he growls.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.” I inch forward, breathing deeply, skin tingling at just the idea of his hands on me.

Alistair moans quietly, as if I am touching him, but we are just being stimulated by each other’s mere presence, electrified by each other’s acute desire.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “What are you in the mood for?”

How am I feeling? “I’m warm, slightly inebriated, and horny as fuck,” I reply. “I’m in the mood for whatever you have in mind.”

Knowing Alistair, whatever he chooses to do to me will result in a mind-blowing orgasm, so I’m not too fussy about the path we choose to take. He has an amazing way of doing what he knows I like, but mixing it up so that it never gets boring. Sex with him is nothing less than a gift, and after the abysmal lovers I’d had in my life, it’s one I don’t take for granted.

“Where’s that SPF lube when we need it?” he jokes.

The sun is setting, casting everything in its golden light, so there’s no need for sun protection. I pull my bikini bottoms off and jiggle my naked boobs at him. “Where do you want me?”

“Oh, Ivy,” he replies, grabbing my hip. “I want you everywhere.”

We start on his lounger as he pulls me down, giggling, alongside him, face to face. Sunbaked skin presses up against sunbaked skin, his erection a huge rod against my soft belly. He kisses me lightly as he strokes my arm, my back, my neck, my ass. I swear I could climax from this ecstatic touch alone. I breathe him in and time dilates; clocks disappear.

“Ivy.” His voice is soft.

I open my eyes, feeling like a lazy cat stretching out in the sunbeams, and look into his.

“I love you,” Alistair says.

“I love you, too,” I reply.

His kisses deepen, and soon I feel like only we exist, only our mouths and bodies, and nothing else is real. I’m falling through the lounger, through the hot wooden deck, through the earth’s surface, not fearing the fall because I know he’ll always catch me.

Alistair pours warm oil on my breasts and massages them. It feels so good I wish he’d never stop—but when he moves down to my ass there is no complaining from me. With firm, generous strokes with his warm palms, he readies every nerve for pleasure. I’m already panting, already feeling the white-hot need for him to be inside me. Honestly, the man should give classes on how to touch a woman. He would make the world a much better place.

Alistair spends ages stroking, rubbing, massaging my whole body until I am putty in his hands.

“You can honestly do anything you like to me right now,” I say. “I’m yours in every way.”

This makes him growl again, and his grip tightens, sending an electric pulse through my pelvis. “Yes, you are. And I’m going to show you how that feels.”

CHAPTER 31

The League of Pussies

ALISTAIR

I’ve never seen Ivy so warm and relaxed before. Thailand suits her. She really does seem up for anything, which makes my cock painfully hard. There is no better feeling in the world, no amount of money, no experience or material possession that can beat this. To have the sexiest woman alive, intelligent, independent, witty, ready for you—no, wanting you—to take her any way you like. It’s everything.

I moan just thinking about it, palms full of her tropical skin, and kiss her again before moving down to her luscious parts, sucking her nipples on my way down. Ivy continues to massage her tits as I make my way with featherlight licks to her belly and inner thighs.

Kneeling on the ground, I pull her toward me so that I can get a face full of pussy.

Fuck. I love Ivy’s pussy. I love the way it looks, the way it smells, the way it tastes. Especially now, when it’s dripping wet. I could eat Ivy out all day long.

Before I begin, I reach into my traveling bag of tricks—the neat zip-up for smaller sex toys I use for travel—and take out the Polaroid camera.

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