...“Eli.” She moaned and turned her head into his neck, where she drew in a deep inhale, smelling the salt on his skin. She’d always loved the way he smelled.

His hands came up to her shoulders, smoothed down her arms. His fingers threaded with hers again, squeezed, then let her go to untie the rest of her bikini top and drop it to the deck. He retreated a little to run his fingertips up and down her back and sides, his stroke light enough to make her shiver. Then he wrapped his hands over her breasts and pulled her back against him. She could feel his cock against her ass, hot through the thin pants he wore, and her pulse started to race.

This was not the same as it had been with Brady. They had retained the raw passion of their youth, the need to simply merge. With Eli, as ever, there were layers of complexity to his lovemaking. His touch was more seductive, more sophisticated, and he knew so much more about making her wait. He had always derived as much satisfaction out of his control over her desire and pleasure as he did from his own physical sensations. For Chloe’s part, she didn’t care that Eli was on a kind of power trip every time they made love, because the goal was still mutual pleasure, seeing how far he could drive her before she couldn’t take it anymore, or before he lost his own control.

This was likely to last all day, and she couldn’t want it more.

Eli kissed her neck again, biting down on the tendon between her neck and shoulder, pinning her in place. She shuddered, the movement making his palms glide across her nipples, and she arched, wanting more. He didn’t move his hands so she brought hers up to press them harder to her breasts.

Immediately, Eli backed off. He lifted his head and dropped his hands, catching her wrists to smack her hands onto the rail. “Don’t move.”

Heat raced through her, and she closed her hands over the cool metal. Eli moved his foot between hers, tapping them to spread, and she complied. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he moved his hands back up her sides while he caressed her back with his open mouth, occasionally brushing his tongue across her skin. Each brush brought a tingle, and each tingle made her wetter and hotter. She wanted to squeeze her legs together, but he kept his foot braced against her right one, his knee holding her leg wide. She ached for more, but knew better than to speak or he’d start all over again.

Finally his hands closed over her breasts, this time harder, filling his hands and abrading her nipples enough to make her gasp and bite her lip so she didn’t cry out. She was rewarded by Eli stepping closer, surrounding her with his body. His cock pressed between her cheeks, the fabric of her bikini and his pants an infuriating barrier. When she didn’t move, he rubbed, rocking his hips.

His breathing wasn’t so smooth and controlled now, giving her a surge of satisfaction. She slowly tightened her body, clasping his cock so his motions rubbed his pants against him. That elicited a growl. He didn’t move away, but he had other punishments. He grabbed her wrist again, pulled her hand away from the rail, and put it between her legs.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered in a low voice against her ear. “Touch yourself, but don’t move your fingers.” He pushed her hand to her clit, holding it tight as the nub throbbed. She held her breath until the sensation subsided. He rewarded her by sinking his fingers lower, into her wet cunt, before withdrawing them. He moved back a little, still holding her left breast tightly in his left hand while he untied the sides of her bikini bottoms and then his pants. They brushed her legs as they fell, and she shivered again. The shiver moved her against her fingers, and she cried out at the pleasure.

A mistake. Eli didn’t move away this time, though. He slammed her back against his body, grabbing her wrists and holding her so tightly she couldn’t move. Need screamed through her. His cock throbbed, its head against the small of her back. She swallowed a sob.