Page 29 of One Little Favor
“We’re here,” Tom says, his voice low, and I glance out the window to see that we’re pulling down the long driveway to our resort. The palm trees lining either side are wrapped in white Christmas lights, and as I watch them pass, I realize that, despite being so far from home, this might be the most magical Christmas I’ve ever had.
I’m off his lap before the valet opens the car door, and I soak in the gentle island breezes as I wait for Tom to pay the driver. The massive front steps leading up to the hotel are lined with garlands and lights, and there are huge Christmas trees decorating the front of the hotel. It’s nothing compared to the impressive lobby decorations, but it still gives me all the Christmas vibes. I didn’t think I would ever want to spend the holidays away from New York City, but apparently, I’m perfectly content with a tropical Christmas.
When Tom comes around the back of the cab, he doesn’t lead me inside. Instead, he takes my hand and we walk down a path that coils along the side of the building. Lush tropical foliage and low tiki torches line the walkway. His thumb runs lightly across the inside of my wrist, trailing circles around the infinity tattoo there, and the sensation is lighting my senses on fire.
I try to tug him to a stop at the pool, marveling at how all the palm trees are strung with lights and the whole view feels like Christmas magic. But instead of stopping, he turns, guiding me in front of him and continuing past the pool and down the stairs to the next pool that’s closer to the beach level.
“This is the view I’m after,” he says, gesturing to the white sand beach. There’s only a sliver of the moon visible in the sky, and it gives the ocean a soft turquoise glow. But the beach is concealed in shadows. “I didn’t want to be in full view of the resort.”
“Why not?” I ask as I lean down and slip my heeled sandals off my feet, grasping them in one hand before stepping onto the sand. Without the sun, the sand is surprisingly cold against my feet even though the air is still warm.
He follows me onto the beach. “Because I haven’t tasted you or properly touched you in hours. And I’m pretty sure you wore that dress just to drive me fucking crazy.”
It’s true that one of my main reasons for wearing this white dress tonight was because of the way it fit. It has a bustier top with contrasting light pink stitching, which highlights my waist. Even though it’s knee length, it hugs my body all the way down, with a long slit up the front of my left leg almost up to my hip. Every time I take a step, my entire bare leg makes an appearance.
I step into the shadow of a palm tree that’s growing from the base of the hill. I know I’m out of view of the resort, but if anyone were to walk by on the beach, I don’t know if I’d be fully hidden by the shadow of the tree.
“And what if I did?” I tease, running the tips of my fingers along the top seam of my dress where it presses into my cleavage.
“If you did,” he says, his voice low and dark, “then I’d say you’re going to get exactly the reaction you were hoping for.” He takes another step toward me and I step back, but there’s nowhere to go—I’m pressed against the trunk of the palm tree and the wide leaves of tropical brush growing on the hillside fan out on either side of me.
I tip my chin up, daring him to show me what he thinks I was hoping for, and he presses his body against mine, the firm ridge of his erection pressing into my stomach. “Be careful when you play with fire,” he says, his breath scraping across my earlobe and making goose bumps trail across my chest and down my arms. “You might get burned.”
“Maybe I want to get burned,” I say, running my hands over his shoulders. “Maybe I want to be fucking consumed by that fire.”
I’ve never, ever felt need like this. I thought I’d known what good sex was until Tom completely blew my expectations and past experiences out of the water, and now it seems that all I want is him. I feel like there’s a gaping chasm in me and only he can fill it.
“Good, because I have plans for that sweet pussy of yours,” he says, then drops to his knees in front of me. With light fingertips, he eases my dress up over my hips, then hisses in a breath when he sees the tiny scrap of fabric masquerading as underwear. “You’re soaking wet for me,” he says, running his finger over the underwear along the seam between my legs.
“Tom, I need you. Please,” I say, the words coming out more like a sigh.
With gentle hands, he takes the thin straps at my hips and slides the underwear down my legs, where I step out of them. He reaches behind one knee and lifts my leg, looping it over his shoulder, then trails his tongue up the inside of my thigh. He pauses once he’s at the juncture of my legs, and I glance up, letting my eyes skim along the expanse of the beach to make sure no one is around.
“Good girl,” Tom says, looking up at me, “asking so nicely. Keep quiet because if anyone does walk by and you make a sound, you’ll be easy to spot in this white dress.”
“Maybe I should take it off, blend in with the tree.”
He lets out a small chuckle at the ridiculous notion, but I’m feeling unusually brazen, so I reach under my arm where I know the zipper is, and drag it down to my waist. The way his eyes track the movement then flit up to my face, feels like he’s daring me. So I slide my leg off his shoulder and pull the thin straps of the dress down. I see the heat flare in his eyes as the fabric slides down over my breasts, and then I bend forward to push the dress down over my hips.
I let my eyes skim the horizon above his head again, making sure no one is walking by. I’m worried that I won’t be able to relax enough out in the open like this, but then Tom brings my knee back up over his shoulder, nips at the inside of my thigh, and enters me with two fingers and zero warning.
I push my head and shoulders back into the trunk of the tree and groan out a sigh of pleasure and then glance down at Tom, watching him fisting himself in his hand as he looks up at me. “Touch your breasts.”
He attacks my clit with his tongue—aggressive strokes that nearly have me screaming his name, but I clench my teeth together and stay quiet. He pulls back and I miss the sensation of his tongue the second it’s no longer pressing into me, but he’s still stroking inside me with his fingers. “Your breasts, Avery.”
I’d been so distracted by the pleasure he was providing that I’d forgotten what he told me to do. “Sure thing, boss.” I smirk down at him as I run my hands up my abdomen and cup the underside of my breasts before sliding my thumbs across my nipples. I know he feels the way my entire core clenches around his fingers, because he dips his face back toward me and mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like “Smart ass.” At this point, I think maybe that’s become my nickname.
But then he’s running his tongue over and around my clit with so much skill that, combined with his fingers inside me and my hands on my breasts, I feel the first traces of my orgasm already coming on.
“Tom,” I gasp, “I’m going to come.”
He leans back and looks up at me, and I almost cry when he slides his fingers out too. “You’ll come when I tell you to come, smart ass, and not a second sooner.”
CHAPTER10
TOM
“I’m perfectly capable of making that happen on my own,” she says, moving her hand down her stomach toward her sex.
