Page 52 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

Is the water getting hotter? Do I see steam?I’ve lost all rational thought.

“Yes, harder,” I murmur against his lips, our breaths mingling, hot and desperate.

I shamelessly grind against his shaft. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but he’s stimulating my clit with a featherlike rapidness that is teasing me to the edge. But I need more than teasing. I want release.

“Harder,” I demand.

“Fuck, yeah,” he says in a low growl that sends shivers down my spine.

His grip intensifies, but his “clit rhythm” remains gentle. He’s battling the waves and trying to connect with me where I need him. Yet, I yearn for more firmness.Odd.

“Adjust your dick and apply pressure.”

“Are you really directing me right now?”

“Clearly, you need some guidance. Points for the fast flicking action, but where’s the pressure? It’s going to be dark before I come.”

“The waves aren’t making it easy to hold on to you.”

“Okay, stop. Seriously. Ethan! Stop flicking my clit!”

“I’m not touching you,” he says, his brows furrowing in confusion.

What the…

“Get it out!” I scream, flailing my arms and splashing. “It’s touching my pussy!”

“Chase! Be still.”

“The thing is trying to swim inside me! Oh God! Gross!”

Ethan grabs onto me, plunging his hand down my bikini bottoms.

“It’s so slippery!” he yells, his fingers moving wildly as the mysterious creature wriggles and squirms. “Is that a—?”

“Goddammit! Get it!” I order.

Ethan’s hand locks around the slimy intruder, and he yanks it out with a look of utter revulsion. As the creature surfaces, I’m greeted by the horrifying sight of an ugly, blunt-nosed fish with long whiskers. The aquatic pervert wears a smirk that says,Was that as good for you as it was for me?

The fish wriggles free from Ethan’s grip and lunges toward me, its mouth opening and closing like it wants to give me a disgusting, unwanted kiss.

“Stay back, you clit-flicking fish!” I scream, splashing and thrashing frantically.

In my frenzy, I accidentally smack Ethan square in the face. “Ow! Fuck!” Ethan exclaims, rubbing his cheek.

I’m still flailing when I hear a boat engine approaching. In true Nolan fashion, he has materialized out of nowhere and looks supremely uncomfortable.

“Hey,” Nolan says. “Are you two having ocean sex? Cuz I can leave.”

I gape at him, my thoughts scattering like a flock of seagulls spotting a dropped hot dog. “What? No! There was a fish—and it—and then I—and Ethan—” I splutter.

Great. I’ve officially lost it.

Ethan, the gorgeous jerk, can’t stop laughing. “Sorry about that, bro. Chase was just trying to shake off some affection from a catfish Casanova. Apparently, she’s irresistible to all species.”

I shoot him a glare, then swim to the boat without looking back. As I haul myself up, I form a two-step plan:

Step one: No more ocean, or Gulf, or whatever the fuck it’s called.

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