Page 123 of Gin and Lava

Naomi skips back into the kitchen and thrusts her phone in my face. I flinch, having flashbacks of the ball smashing into me.

“Sorry!” she apologizes, pulling back and flipping open the Pinterest app. She opens one of the boards. “You count pins,” she says with a twinkle to her eye, “and I’ll get the ice.”

“Reeeaaaally?” I ask, starting to flip through the images.

“Maybe,” she says with an eyebrow twitch, then she turns to the side door and heads for the back shed. I count as I walk, following her out of the house and behind the beach house to where the kayaks and beach equipment are kept.

“Thirty-six, thirty-seven,” I count out loud, walking through the gated fence that surrounds the shed. Surfboards and pool noodles and all manner of boating equipment lines the wooden slats. Naomi opens the shed door and peeks back at me with a flirty smile. “Forty-two, forty-three.”

I eye her back; we’re definitely getting to fifty.

The Pinterest board is a mix of jewelry product shots. They’re the perfect inspiration for the shoot I’m setting up. Some images have models wearing the pieces, and others have the jewelry draped over stationary objects. There’s a sensual beach vibe to all of them: a ring in the sand, a necklace sparkling between lava rocks, an anklet on feet that are splashing in the surf.

Naomi strides to the back of the shed where the ice machine is stuffed in a crowded corner. She flips open the lid and bends forward to scoop ice chips into a bucket. Only, that tiny white bikini is basically a thong. My head is throbbing, but there isn’t another medicine in the world that’s as good as Naomi bent forward, practically mooning me. Maybe that’s because all my blood is rushing somewhere else. And if the peach of her backside wasn’t enough, a tiny strip of white fabric peeks out between her thighs—her pussy begging for me to lap it up like a soft marshmallow.

My dick gets hard.

Yesterday’s hot coffee ain’t a problem today.

“Fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four,” I say out loud. There are more pins. I could keep counting. “Someone’s an overachiever now, isn’t she?”

“You were right,” Naomi chirps, reaching into the machine with her body pitched forward. “Once I got out of my head and started pinning, it was super easy.”

I saunter up behind her, lining my swim trunks up with all that gorgeous flesh. She startles when she feels me against her ass.

“Oh …” She exhales in a ragged shiver, her thighs clenching as she realizes how hard that bikini has already got me.

“I think someone needs a reward for all her hard work.” I swivel my hips, rubbing my crotch against the seam of her ass.

“But w—what about your head?” she asks, her hands clutching the ice bucket.

“It’s a different head that’s throbbing now, Princess.”

She lets out a needy mew of heat, her desire getting the better of her as she drags her ass along my length. God, I love how she’s not afraid to show me she’s turned on.

I snag her hips, tangling my fingers in those bikini strings and grinding those perky globes against my hardened length.

“Mason,” she pants. “You’re already so … big.”

I remember when I was on her massage table, thicker than this, and how she told me that just thinking about my cock got her wet. “You thirsty for me, Princess?”

She drops the bucket of ice and grips the side of the machine, pushing back against my straining swim trunks. “You do things to me I can’t describe,” she confesses.

I look around the shed. It’s crowded, full of pointy tools, and surfboards, and dusty boxes. There aren’t any good surfaces anywhere. I could forget the foreplay and push those bikini bottoms down right here—fuck her with her body bent forward and her face in the ice.

But that’s too brutal for my beautiful girl. She did her homework. She deserves a real reward. I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her up, pulling her away from the machine and walking her out of the shed.

“What are you—?”

We’re out in the sun when I drop her back to her feet and turn her around to face me. Her face is flushed pink with heat and surprise, those plush lips slightly parted. The sun beats down on her tan skin as I push her back up against the outside of the shed. It’s painted in bright Hawaiian colors like the Gin n’ Lava: pink and lime and turquoise. The fence that surrounds us is rickety and old, but the gate is closed.

Naomi moans as I mold my weight against all of her naked skin, that bikini covering next to nothing. I kiss her—hotly—angling her face up to mine and devouring her sun-pinked lips. She licks me back, salt on her tongue, her skin drenched in the scent of tanning lotion.

“You’ve been driving me crazy in that bikini all morning,” I gruff out, sliding a hand up her ribs to cup her breast. Her nipple is an iron thimble against that white triangle of fabric, erect from the brisk ice, or the way my cock presses against her stomach. She moans when I push the triangle aside and dip my hand inside her bikini top, massaging that wickedly taught nipple with my fingers.

“Oh, yes,” she praises and I lean in, pressing her hard against the wood, thrumming and teasing her nipple till she’s mewling. I grab that long Viking Princess blonde hair in my other fist, raking my mouth over hers and swallowing her gasps. “Someone could—” she says between breaths. “Someone could walk up and—and—see us.”

Her back arches into my finger’s assault, her body begging as her words protest.

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