Page 58 of Making His Bones

I gasped when he slapped my ass. With a palm full of coconut oil, it made a sharp, hollow crack.

“There,” he said, satisfied. He proceeded to slap and rub, slap and rub. My inner cunt responded in kind—I’d never known I was susceptible to light bondage like that. Yet the quivering fluttered its way up to my uterus and I couldn’t deny it—I craved him.

I mean I really, really wanted his plump, long cock sliding in and out of me. I wanted to watch his face as it contorted with lust—for me. His prick would twitch inside me and lengthen as he closed in on his climax. His balls would slap my vulva, his hips would shudder, and he’d groan deep in his abdomen like a bear. I didn’t even care if we barebacked it. I was forty-two. I was old enough to bareback it!

But that wasn’t today’s plan.

Gray had hijacked my devious plan! I was hornier than he was, with my pussy lips bulging out either side of my stupid thong. I grabbed one of his wrists.

“Inner thighs,” I gasped.

But that was even worse. He grasped my fat and used his thumbs to rub tortuously close to my clitoris. What a toolbag. I snatched up the beach ball and fell onto it, clinging to it like a life raft. My cunt muscles were so aflutter I feared Gray was going to make me come without even touching my twat.

What were the next letters? Bingo. Bingo. B-I-N-G-O and Bingo was his name-o. Dios mío, I was regressing back to grade school.

N, that’s right, N. N stands for Nips. Oh no.

I gasped loudly just as Gray’s fingertips brushed my clit. I cried out, “Nips!” like a fucking angst-filled teenager.

And he sounded totally in control, mature. “Nips. Nice.”

I had a chance to pant like a steaming engine while he spurted more oil into his palm. He slipped his hands over my boobs by reaching up my ribs, under the bra cups.

Dios mío, Dios mío, Dios mío

No! “Gray!”

This was supposed to be a trick to turn him on, to tease him, and he was driving me so far over the cliff I wanted to leave my skin!

His greasy fingers fiddled with my nipples like a swarm of ants. Straight shots of lust arrowed down my belly into my uterus, which felt about to explode into orgasmic contractions any moment.

“What, my love?” he asked casually. As though his dick wasn’t about to burst against my ass!

“Too . . . too much!” Again, I grabbed a wrist and threw his hand away.

I could see him smiling. “But that’s N. What’s G?”

G, G, G . . .

“Gams,” I gasped.

“Gams? What are—okay!”

I flipped onto my back, half of me lying in the sand. I kept the ball to my chest covering my face, so he couldn’t see how close to the edge I was. Moving his hands again to my inner thighs, he greased me up like a pro. This was no better! His thumbs described circles against my gams, making my pussy clench and grip against an invisible penis.

When his thumb actually hit my labia, I jumped like a startled deer. He removed a hand to place it on my forehead, but his other fingers didn’t stop diddling. I swear I could feel his fingerprint as he toyed with my slippery slit.

And he murmured at me. “Elektra, my love. Just let go. Let me pleasure you, my sweetness. You deserve every orgasm I give you. You deserve it, Elektra, because you’re the best.”

I did. I let go.

I was afraid I’d spontaneously combust at first.

I held my breath. Once I made that split-second decision to surrender to Gray’s talented dominance, there was no taking it back. My uterus absolutely exploded in bliss, rapid waves of ecstasy rolling up my inner channel. My newly discovered muscles clenched tautly as Gray tickled the side of my button, encouraging each new contraction from me.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered hoarsely. He talked around the beach ball, which I kept gripped to my chest like protective armor. “Good girl. Keep coming. Come for your man.”

Oh my fucking God. The idea that this, this sultry, growly, sandy-haired bastard, was my man, completely obliterated me.