Page 83 of Passing Ships
“Behave,” she murmurs.
She starts to sway, a leisure, hypnotic rhythm, her hips rolling in time with the music, and I’m completely at her mercy. Every movement is deliberate. Her goal is to drive me crazy, and it’s working. I can feel the tension coiling in my gut, the heat spreading through my veins as she presses against me.
I swallow hard, focusing on the way her body feels against mine, the way she moves with such confidence, like she owns me. And maybe, in this moment, she does.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes glittering with mischief. Her lips curve into a wicked smile as she rolls her hips again, a little harder this time, a little slower. The friction is maddening, sending jolts of pleasure through me that makes it impossible for me to sit still. My hands tighten on her hips, pulling her closer, needing more of that connection.
Amiya’s hands slide up from my shoulders to the back of my neck, her fingers playing with the short hair there, sending shivers down my spine.
She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear. “If you let your hair grow out, does it curl at the ends, like Sebastian’s?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve never let it get longer than my ears before. Why? Do you have a thing for my brother’s hair?”
She reaches up and runs her fingers through the strands that fall to the nape of my neck. “No. I just thought it might be fun to be able to fist it the way you do mine and hold on while I ride your face.”
I reach into her hair and grab a fistful, just like she described. I tug her head back.
“The shit that comes out of your mouth,” I growl.
“Not nearly as good as what comes in my mouth,” she purrs.
The comment flips a switch, and now, I’m not just watching her anymore. I’m part of this, part of whatever game she’s playing.
My hands move on their own, tracing the curve of her waist, teasing the hem of her panties. Her skin is warm and smooth, and I want to touch every inch of it. She arches her back, pressing closer to me, and I can feel her heartbeat racing in time with mine. It’s intoxicating, the way we’re connected, the way we’re feeding off each other’s energy.
She tilts her head back, exposing the long line of her throat, and I can’t help but lean in, pressing my lips to the pulse point just beneath her jaw. She moans quietly, a sound that vibrates through me, making my whole body tense with need. I want to hear that sound again, louder this time, more desperate.
Amiya’s hands flit down my chest, her nails scraping lightly across the fabric of my shirt, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She’s teasing me, taunting me, and it’s driving me insane. I want to flip her over, pin her to the couch, and show her exactly what she’s doing to me. But I hold back. This is her dance, and I’m more than happy to be her audience.
She grinds down harder, and I can’t stop the groan that escapes my throat. It’s too much and yet not nearly enough. I want more—need more.
“Patience,” she whispers, her voice a low, tantalizing drawl that makes my blood burn. “I’m not done with you yet.”
God, she’s killing me. Every second feels like an eternity, every movement a deliberate act of torture designed to unravel me. And it’s working. I’m coming apart at the seams, and all I can do is hold on, praying that she doesn’t stop.
She shifts again, pressing down harder, and I feel a shudder run through me. I’m so close to losing control, and I have to force myself to stay still.
The women in the club tonight, with their choreographed dances and seductive words, couldn’t hold a candle to this woman.
Her breath is coming faster now, her motions a little less controlled, a little more frantic. She’s getting caught up in it, too, and that thought sends a thrill through me. This overwhelming need, this desire, is threatening to consume us both.
She leans down again, her lips capturing mine in a kiss. It’s all heat and urgency, a clash of tongues and teeth, and I lose myself in it, in her. My hands roam her body, and I pull her closer, needing to feel her, all of her.
And then she pulls back, her chest heaving, her eyes dark with lust. “Lennon,” she breathes, my name a plea on her lips, and I know that whatever comes next, we’re both about to lose control.
“Yes, Legs?”
“I need you to fuck me now.”
At her request, I immediately stand, taking her with me. “Yes, ma’am.”
Amiya
The ocean stretches out before us, shimmering under a thick blanket of gray clouds that have been threatening to break open all day. It’s supposed to be a beautiful, sunny afternoon for the wedding rehearsal. But the wind has been picking up, teasing the waves into whitecaps, and the sky looks more like a storm waiting to happen than the backdrop of a perfect wedding.
I tug at my dress as the wind tries to turn it into a kite.
I glance over at Avie, who is standing barefoot in the sand, her light-pink dress billowing around her. She’s grinning, completely unfazed by the weather. Unlike her mother, who is panicking.