Page 46 of Forbidden Fruit

I shift down his body, my confidence growing with each appreciative sound he makes. Settling between his powerful thighs, I take a moment to appreciate him fully—thick and hard, yet the skin impossibly soft under my fingers. My heart pounds with anticipation as I lower my head.

"Rebecca," he breathes, his voice strained as I take him into my mouth.

I start slowly, exploring what makes his breath hitch, what draws those deep groans from his chest. His hands tangle gently in my hair, not pushing or controlling, just connecting. I look up to find his eyes locked on mine, the intensity in his gaze making heat pool between my legs again.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, his thumb brushing my cheek as I hollow them around him.

I take him deeper, loving his weight on my tongue and the taste of salt and musk. His thighs tense under my palms as I establish a rhythm, using my hand to complement what my mouth can't reach. The yacht rocks gently beneath us, the motion adding to our shared cadence.

When I swirl my tongue around the sensitive tip, Clive groans my name like a prayer. His restraint is palpable—hips barely moving, letting me set the pace. It's so different from what I'm used to, this respect for my comfort even in the throes of passion.

"Rebecca—I'm close," he warns, his fingers tightening slightly in my hair, allowing me to pull away.

Instead, I increase my pace, looking up at him through my lashes. The sight of him—head thrown back, muscles taut, completely undone because of me—is intoxicating. I want to be the one who makes this powerful man lose control.

"God—Rebecca—" His voice breaks as his release hits him. I stay with him through it, accepting everything he gives, feeling triumphant at bringing him this pleasure.

When I finally pull away, he immediately draws me up his body, kissing me deeply. There's something profoundly intimate about it—no shame, no hesitation, just raw connection.

"Come here," he murmurs, gathering me against his chest.

I curl into him, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow beneath my ear. His fingers trace patterns on my back as the cabin fills with the sound of our steadying breaths. The gentle rocking of the yacht and the warmth of his body make me feel safe in a way I've rarely experienced.

"What are you thinking?" he asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I trace a fingertip along the line of his collarbone, considering. "That I've never felt this way before," I admit. "This... free. This present."

His arms tighten around me. "You deserve to feel this way all the time."

"With you, I think I could.”

Clive

Ilift my head to look at her face, my heart thundering against my ribs. Becca's eyes are luminous in the dim light of the cabin, her skin still flushed from our earlier passion. Something primal stirs in me again.

"I'm not done with you yet," I whisper, rougher than intended.

Her lips part slightly, and I capture them with mine, tasting the sea salt still lingering on her skin. My hand slides up her bare thigh, feeling her tremble beneath my touch. The yacht rocks beneath us, mimicking the rhythm my body desperately wants to find with hers again.

"Clive," she breathes against my mouth, and hearing my name on her lips drives me mad.

I roll her beneath me, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other explores the soft curves of her body. She arches against me, seeking more contact, more pressure. I give her what she wants, trailing kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, lower still until she's gasping.

"Please," she begs, writhing against the sheets.

"Tell me what you need," I demand, my control slipping as her legs wrap around my waist.

"You. Just you."

Those three words snap something inside like a taut string breaking under pressure. I release Becca's wrists, and she immediately threads her fingers through my hair, pulling me upward into a fervent, desperate kiss. Our bodies collide with an intense urgency, all tenderness cast aside as we chase something raw and essential, a primal need that cannot be ignored. In a heated frenzy, I thrust into her welcoming warmth, our bodies moving together in a fervent, harmonious rhythm that obliterates everything else.

The yacht pitches with a larger wave, sending us sliding across the sheets. I brace one arm against the headboard, using the motion to drive deeper into Becca. She cries out, her nails scoring lines down my back that I'll wear proudly tomorrow.

"You’re so wet, baby, and I’m about to make you so much wetter," I groan, my voice a deep rumble as I plunge deeper, harder, faster, feeling my heart pounding like a wild drum, threatening to burst through my chest. The tension coils tighter within me, a storm on the verge of breaking. "Do you want that? Do you want me to fill you up?" I ask, my words laced with urgency.

"Yes, please. Don't stop," Becca pants, her breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps. Her eyes are locked with mine, wide and pleading like a sea of desire pulling me under. "Please, please, please don't ever stop," she whispers, each word a soft insistence, a melody of longing that echoes in the charged air between us.

I couldn't even if I wanted to. Not with Becca. Not now. Our bodies entwine feverishly, the tender caresses of earlier morphing into a raw, primal dance. I study her face intently as waves of ecstasy ripple through her, committing to memory each lustful expression and every intoxicating moan she releases.

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