Emma’s fingers tightened around Ashton’s wrist as they reached the weathered dock, the late afternoon sun painting the water in gold and bronze. She hadn’t let go of him since they left the café—two blocks, one kiss, and now the heat between them was a living thing, pulsing against her thighs. Her long blonde hair swayed with every step, the braid loose, strands escaping to tease the freckles dusting her shoulders. Tattoos moved beneath her skin—Ashton’s name curling around her hip bone, an anchor sprawling over the soft swell of her left breast. She wore a cropped tank top and cutoffs, the fabric barely containing the way her nipples pressed against the cotton.
Ashton didn’t bother with a shirt. Why would he? The sun warmed the ink coiled across his chest and arms—dark swirls and lines that told stories she’d never read but wanted to. His boxers were thin, the outline of his cock already half-hard just from the way Emma kept biting her lip at him. His dark hair, sun-streaked with blonde, tousled from her fingers when he’d pinned her against the alley wall thirty minutes ago.
“You’re staring,” he murmured, voice rough.
“You’re naked,” she shot back, voice dripping with false innocence.
He smirked. “You like it.”
She did.
They climbed onto the houseboat, the wood creaking under their feet. The air inside was thick with salt and something else—something warm and electric, the kind that made Emma’s stomach flip. Ashton flipped on a lamp, casting a soft glow over the compact space. The bed dominated the room, unmade, sheets rumpled. Emma froze.
“Wait.”
Ashton turned, his blue eyes darkening with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Emma swallowed. “This bed…” She swallowed again, her pulse thudding in her throat. “My mom told me once… this is where she met your dad.”
Ashton went still. His eyebrows lifted. Then, slowly, he grinned. “So? Fate’s got a sick sense of humor.”
Emma exhaled, a laugh bubbling out of her. “Yeah. Fucking sick.”
Ashton’s hands were on her waist before she could finish the sentence, pulling her flush against him. The heat of his skin burned through her clothes. “I’ve wanted to get you in this bed since the first time I saw you,” he growled, nuzzling her neck. “Since you walked into the tattoo shop with those fucking shorts on and your tits nearly spilling out.”
Emma moaned as his teeth grazed her earlobe. “You’re so fucking rude.”
“You love it,” he countered, hands sliding under her tank to palm her breasts. His thumbs brushed her nipples and she arched into him with a gasp.
The bed dipped under their weight as Ashton pushed her back, covering her body with his. Emma’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and desperate need. His cock pressed against her thigh, thick and demanding, and she whimpered into his mouth.
Ashton broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her jaw, her throat, lower. He tugged her tank up, exposing her tits, the anchor tattoo glistening under the lamplight. He groaned. “Fuck, Emma. You’re perfect.”
Emma arched her back as he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Her hands fisted in the sheets as pleasure shot straight to her clit. “Ashton—”
“Shh,” he murmured around her breast. “Let me.”
He worshipped her body with his mouth, tongue, teeth—licking, sucking, biting until she was a trembling mess beneath him. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her cutoffs, yanking them down her legs along with her panties. Emma kicked them off, completely naked now, her skin flushed and slick with sweat.
Ashton stood, stripping off his boxers in one fluid motion. His cock sprang free, hard and veiny, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. Emma bit her lip as he crawled back over her, his hands spreading her thighs wide.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled, his breath hot against her pussy.
Emma gasped as his tongue lashed over her slit, slow and deliberate. He licked her like she was his last meal, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her open for him. She moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair again, holding him there.
“Ashton—oh god—”
He chuckled darkly against her, the vibration making her hips jerk. “Not god. Just me.”
Then he fucked her with his tongue, deep and dirty, curling it inside her before dragging it up to swirl around her clit. Emma cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. She was close—so close—
Ashton pulled back, his mouth glistening. “Not yet,” he commanded. “I want you to come on my dick.”
Emma whimpered as he positioned himself between her legs, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. She was so wet, so ready, but he took his time, teasing her, making her beg.
“Please,” she gasped.
Ashton smirked. “Please what?”
“Fuck me,” she demanded, her nails digging into his shoulders.
He didn’t need to be told twice. With one deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, filling her completely. Emma screamed, her pussy clenching around him as he bottomed out.
“Fuck—” Ashton groaned, his hips snapping forward. He set a punishing pace, his cock pistoning in and out of her with relentless precision. Emma met him thrust for thrust, her tits bouncing with every move, her nails raking down his back.
The bed creaked. The houseboat rocked. Their skin slapped together, the sound obscene and intoxicating.