Captivated (Stranded) by Mia West Page A

pushing until her palm smacked his taint.
    He grunted.
    That was all he got out before she was moving again. Everything about her was in motion now—her mouth pulling on his dick, hand tugging his sac, finger sliding in and out of his ass, not to mention her nipples straining against her flimsy shirt, and her hips, which pumped up and down in the pool as if she couldn’t stop them. Widening his stance even more, he looked up at the sky, but the city light drowned the stars so he looked back down at the miracle between his legs. Forcing himself to let up on her hair, he cupped her head instead. He couldn’t help pumping into her mouth a little bit, and she greeted him with a loud groan that reverberated down his dick. The hand at his ass seated itself, and she began to use short, tight strokes there. The pressure inside pulled a wordless half-shout from his throat.
    She was a fucking genius , his Iowa, and God bless libraries, every one, and also schools that sent gorgeous, giving women overseas to read dirty books.
    “Keep doing that,” he pleaded.
    She doubled down, if that was even possible, pulling and pushing, sucking and moaning and swirling and twisting until—
    “Fuck, I’m gonna—”
    He came in her mouth, every part of his body rigid and focused on shooting cum. When he was able to take a breath, she kneaded his dick and pressed her finger in his ass, and he shot more. She milked him for longer than he’d known was possible, until it really was painful. Slowly, he came back down onto his heels and eased her hands away. She gave his dick one last kiss and stood.
    “You,” he said.
    She smiled and bent to retrieve the washcloth, cleaning the finger that thirty seconds earlier had been inside him. She tossed the cloth to the rooftop and faced him again. “Yes?”
    “You,” he said, chuckling.
    She grinned. “You’re on repeat. What about me?”
    “You’re in trouble,” he said, and squatting low, pushed her over his shoulder and splashed out of the pool.
    “Ah!” she yelled, writhing and laughing. “Put me down!”
    “Hush, Iowa.” He smacked her ass.
    She squealed, which he was totally going to tease her about later, but right now the only thing going through his head was panties, panties, panties.
    Stooping to grab his towel, which brought another squeal and another ass smack, he carried her to the far side of the roof. “Got a surprise for you,” he said and carefully set her on her feet.
    Her reaction was immediate. “Oh!” she gasped and looked down. “Grass?”
    He spread the towel. “Top secret lawn. Special clearance only.” He leaned down and spoke low into her ear. “Lie down, please.”
    Another oh , this one barely a breath, and then she stretched out below him.
    He joined her, supported on one elbow and looked her in the eye. “You’re still in trouble. It’s good trouble,” he said, plucking at the top elastic of her panties, “but I want to make sure it’s okay.”
    “Okay,” she said, smiling. “Well, everything but intercourse until we have a condom. Cool?”
    Until. “Cool,” he said. “Now these have got to go.”
    Her breath sighed out of her, until nothing moved but her eyes, bright and wide in the moonlight.
    He moved to kneel between her legs, spreading her just enough to accommodate his thighs. Smoothing two fingertips over the damp fabric, he pressed it to her skin. Above the panties, her abdomen rose and fell unevenly. He stroked a thumb up the light fuzz leading to her bellybutton. Her skin felt warm under his, and pulsed with her heartbeat. Leaning over, he dipped his tongue into her navel.
    She sucked a big breath.
    He grinned to himself. “Just getting started, troublemaker.”
    Gripping her hips in his hands, he moved his mouth to her waistband and slipped his tongue underneath, licking her from one hip bone to the other. He raised his head and gave her a serious look. “Removing panties is a delicate operation. Gotta work from the outside