Her low whimper and the flood of wetness I felt was the answer I needed.

I gripped her ass in my palms, spreading her cheeks and stepped closer, nestling my c**k flush with her core. “This ass is so f**king sexy, baby.” I gently squeezed and Emmy let out a soft groan. “You want me inside you?”

“Bennn . . .”

Hearing my name fall from her mouth excited me. And she seemed to use it often, addressing me in that sexy, unsure way she had.

I pushed forward, the head of my c**k disappearing into her tight pink opening. “Ah, f**k,” I groaned as I watched myself slip inch by inch deeper inside her.

Emmy pushed her ass out, her hips grinding back against my slow thrusts.

My hands planted themselves on her hips. “Slow down, angel. I don’t want to come yet.”

Snaking one hand around her front, I found her sensitive nub, and though I knew from her frantic, jerky movements that she wanted me to touch her there, I took my time, circling the tender spot to draw out her pleasure. Emmy groaned, her hand closing around my wrist to keep my hand where she wanted it, and my dick went even harder, if that was possible.

Increasing my pace, I pumped my hips against her, pounding into her until I was fully buried. Little gasps escaped her lips as she rested her cheek against the cool tile.

Finally I flicked my fingertips over her clit and her hips bucked forward, working against my hand. “That feel good, honey?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“This pu**y’s mine, baby.”

“Yours,” she moaned.

I circled her clit faster until uninhibited moans were tumbling from her mouth, as if her body were an instrument designed for my pleasure. I felt her pu**y clamp down around me as her orgasm hit.

“Bennn . . .” she groaned long and low in her husky voice.

“Baby. Ah, f**k . . .” Her body went limp after she came and I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her body up and down on my c**k a final few times. Biting into the soft skin on her shoulder, I came in long spurts deep inside her.

• • •

Later, once we’d fed each other dinner in bed and were wrapped up snuggly under the sheets, I caressed Emmy’s back, lulling her to sleep.

“Baby?”

“Mmm,” she groaned sleepily.

“About tomorrow’s shoot . . .” I hesitated. Her eyes blinked open and found mine. “The photographer mentioned wanting to get some topless shots of London tomorrow. Nothing too revealing—hands, and limbs would be strategically placed, but still, I wanted to warn you. You might not like what you see.”

“Oh.” She was quiet, but all her attention was trained on me.

“So I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”

“Okay.”

I brought my palm to her cheek and lightly stroked her smooth skin. “I’ve called and scheduled you for a session at the hotel’s spa tomorrow. But only if that’s something you want. Otherwise, of course you can come to the shoot. I have nothing to hide. I just want you to be comfortable.”

She thought it over for a minute. “As your assistant, I should be there,” she said, finally.

I took her hand, lightly stroking her knuckles with my thumb. “Yes, but as my girlfriend, I want to make sure you can handle it.” There was more . . . but I didn’t want to upset her. Deciding on complete honesty, I continued, “The set assistant today made some comment about not bringing significant others to the shoot.”

“Oh.” She stiffened. I knew we were both remembering how she’d stormed off across the sand once I’d started shooting with London.

I stroked her hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I should have prepared you better.” Which was true. Swimsuit shoots tended to be sexier, and this one happened to be with my ex. I wasn’t thinking. It was a dickhead move.

Her eyes lifted to mine. “Actually the spa sounds lovely.”

“Good.” I pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “Your appointment is at ten.”

“Thank you,” she whispered and then curled herself into my body.

11

Emmy

I entered Nirvana spa with ten minutes to spare and was greeted by the soothing sounds of steel drums and ocean waves pulsing low through the speakers.

I approached the reception desk and was greeted by a young woman. “Welcome to Nirvana.”

That had quite a ring to it. I gave her my name and she flipped a page in her notebook—no computer system here—and tapped her finger against the paper. “Yes, you’re starting with a hair and scalp massage, followed by a warm seashell full-body massage, then a sugar glow, banana leaf wrap, exfoliating facial, waxing, and then manicure and pedicure.

Wow. Ben had really gone all out. Booked everything on their spa menu by the sounds of it. I nodded as a slow smile uncurled on my lips.

I was led into a small, dim room with a massage bed in the center. The soothing music was playing in here, too, and I was instructed to remove everything but my underpants and slip under the crisp, white sheet. I did as I was told as soon as she was out of the room, already anticipating this experience.

When the door reopened, an older lady who couldn’t have been much over five feet tall entered and greeted me with a warm smile.

“Welcome. My name is Elenoa. Are you ready to begin?” She had a pretty Polynesian accent, her voice gentle with almost a singsong quality to it.

“Yes, very much.”

She graced me with another warm smile. “You’re really getting the full package today.”