Page 108 of Champagne Fizz

Other than that flimsy bikini top, she’s naked. Fuck, she’s so damn gorgeous, it’s breathtaking. And I’m the asshole in this moment, because all I want to do is push my shorts down and sink my cock into her—fuck her hard and ruthless and in all the ways she can’t handle.

If I push my shorts down—my cock will be out.

If I push between her folds, I’ll feel her come on my engorged head.

If I push deeper, she’ll come again—just as her eyes fly open, realizing I didn’t ask permission, realizing I’m fucking her and she’s no longer a virgin.

She didn’t ask for that, but it’s all I can imagine—her coming on my cock, me deep inside her pussy, begging for me to pound.

I stand up and drop my glasses on my towel.

I head for the ocean, feeling my angry cock throbbing against my leg. I plunge myself into the icy cold water—instead of her pink entrance—dousing the heat that’s boiling me red.

My body stings viciously, and I deserve it.

I swim deeper into the surf, because I was too close to losing control and breaking every promise I made to Kendall.

I told her we’d take this slow, but I’m not.

I told her I’d be in control, but that’s not how addiction works.

We need to be taking this a thousand times slower than we have been, but every time I touch her, I want more.

I want all of her.

I want her now.

I dive under water, pushing myself deeper below, until my lungs are burning. I can’t let myself lose control. I can’t let myself touch her, or taste her, because she’s too tempting, and I’m too much of a risk.

We both thought we could handle her letting me between her legs, but that was an illusion. She comes too fast and too often, and I’m just getting started when she’s already limbless and gone.

This is a problem.

I surface and climb out of the water, stalking up the beach to find Kendall fully clothed and swaddled in her towel. Her knees are pressed close to her chest, and she looks like a terrified child.

That’s not how I want her to react to my need.

I grab my glasses and a shirt, putting them both on even though I’m soaked.

“Are—? Are you alright?” she asks tentatively. “You scared me when you ran into the ocean.”

“Kendall …” My voice is thick, heavy with all the things I don’t want to admit. Her brown eyes get large, and I know she thinks she did something wrong. There’s a better way for me to do this, I’m sure, but I don’t know what it is.

“I can’t do this,” I say, motioning between us, motioning to the towels in the sand.

Her face gets tight, white washing out all the colors of pink. “W-why?”

“Because I’m an asshole,” I growl, angrier than I mean to be. “An asshole like every other guy you’ve ever known. I don’t know how to be patient.”

Her face wounds. I really am all the men she’s afraid of.

“W-what do you mean?” Her voice trembles as her brown eyes dare to meet mine.

“I mean, I can’t take your virginity!”

She flinches—like when I touch her—only this is the bad kind of touch. The kind that puts up all her red flags and makes her want to hide from her desire. It’s an arrow to my gut, and all the trust I earned by being patient before flies out the window.

“Dammit, Kendall—” I point at the divot in the sand where I was just between her legs. “Just now, I almostdidtake your virginity! And running into the ocean was the only way I knew how to stop myself.”

---