Guns: The Spencer Book
Page 45

Of course, all that other shit went down and yeah, I haven’t even talked to Ronin in over a year. But I’m the one who made the reservation, the money came from my account. My Bombshell has never been to the Florida Keys, so here we are.
I drip cold water from the beer bottle on Ronnie’s back and she jumps, turns, flashes me her giant tits, and then turns over on her back and reaches for the beer. She lifts her head just enough to take a sip and then burrows the bottle into the sand and relaxes back again.
“Happy?” I ask.
“So, so happy,” she replies, her eyes closed.
“You love me for my beach access, don’t you?”
She wiggles a little in the sand, smiling and blushing. This is a game we play. You love me for…
“I love you for your big cock.”
I bust out laughing. “You love me for my bikes, don’t you?”
“I love you for your talented tongue on my pu**y.”
I shake my head this time. “You love me for my farmhouse, and my redneck trucks, and my beat-up barn, don’t you?”
She sits up this time and I reach for her tits.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she purrs.
I pull her into my lap and lift her breast to my mouth and suck. “Yes,” she says again. “The farmhouse, the dirty-ass barn, the redneck trucks, your tongue, your big cock, your perfectly muscled Greek-god body, your money, your tattoos—even though I’m the one who did them—your brain, your business sense, your bikes…” She pauses to laugh. “And the way you f**k me with paint every now and then.”
I release her nipple from my mouth and go to work on her lips. They are soft and lush. Plump, even. I bite the lower one and she laughs into my mouth.
“Do it again,” she whispers.
God, this woman says the most normal things in the most seductive way.
“Devour me, Spencer.”
My hands leave her br**sts. One slides up her back and slips under her hair to palm her neck. The other dips down between her ass cheeks. She squirms against my hand as I pull her pink bikini bottoms aside. I slip a finger into her wetness and begin with long, slow strokes.
“Easy and soft,” I say as she buries her head in my neck and begins to suck. That shit drives me crazy. She makes my whole body erupt in sensations that no woman has ever made me feel. It’s not just horny. It’s a whole other level of desire. It’s love.
“Baby,” she whispers.
The Bombshell likes to talk during sex now. When we first met it was like pulling teeth to get her to say anything but yes, and oh my God. But now…
“You’re so hard for me, baby,” she whispers. I like the whispers. She pulls away from my neck. Fuck me, she mouths silently.
I love the silent f**k mes even more.
But I shake my head. “Hard for me, baby? That’s amateur shit. That’s week two shit. I’m looking for graduation-day shit.”
She bites her lip and then the tip of her tongue begins to caress the center of her upper lip. “Do you know what I thought about when you walked up on stage at graduation?”
“You were proud of my academic accomplishments?” I tease.
“I thought about your cock, pressing against your jeans under your black gown. I thought about how my mouth was caressing it a few minutes earlier as you took me in the car in the parking lot.”
“Did you think about people watching us?”
“Mmmm,” she hums against my neck. “I saw a man peeking in the front windshield of the truck. He grabbed himself.”
“Fuck, did he really?” I’m sorta appalled.
“Spencer,” she laughs into my ear. “Stop, I need a f**k. How can I earn a f**k if you refuse to let me be serious?”
I lift her off me and lay her down in the sand. “Did you really see a guy watching us?”
“Yes.”
“Did it turn you on?”
“Yes, as long as you were the only one touching me, his watching for a few seconds was… exhilarating.”
“We’re probably being watched right now.”
She cranes her neck up to look around. We are on a private island, but it’s small and there are many other small islands nearby. Not to mention boats constantly traveling between them.
“Should we go inside?”
She shakes her head and bites her lip. “No, baby. I’m not done with my story. There’s something else I never told you about graduation day.”
“Oh, you’re holding out on me, Bomb. You wicked, wicked little tramp.”
She shushes me with a finger. “Now listen,” she says, once more in her dirty-talk whisper. “Because I was very bad that night.”
I lift my eyebrows. “I know, Rons. I was there. We f**ked in the back yard, under the moonlight.”
“Mmm-hmm. But I had a camera hidden away in the trees.”
“Are you serious?” I blurt, once again breaking her sexy seduction.
“Spencer!” She smacks me on the arm. “Stop!”
I seize her tiny wrists and lean into her mouth. “Are you telling me we have a sex tape and I haven’t watched it yet?”
She laughs. “Do you want to watch a sex tape of us?”
My hands wrap around her face. “Yes, baby. Did you bring it?”
Her nod starts out enthusiastic and my heart races as I picture all the dirty things we did in the backyard that night. But then her yes turns into a no. “What? Yes or no, Bomb. You’re killing me here!”