Maybe We Shouldn't...| SCK AU story

23 • Vacation State of Mind

⚠️🚨 This chapter contains some  salacious content

 Eda       

       "Not sure if you got the memo—but just to be sure—I'm so turned on right now. I can just climb onto your lap and rock myself to orgasm—no fuss, no muss."

        "Watching you make yourself come will be sexier than any peepshow in Amsterdam's Red Light District. I just hope I don't jizz my pants!"

Is there anything dirty talker Serkan Hottie Bolat can say that won't make my body thrum for him?

       "I'm a little rusty on the flying solo bit. Haven't even touched my purple battery-operated buddy since—" I point a finger from him to me, and me to him.

       "Slide your bikini bottom to one side and rub my favourite pearl in small circular motion. Damn—I can get drunk on the aroma of your arousal. I wish I can crawl under the table and lick that sweet spot."

       "Serkan!" I gasp—louder than I intended.

       "Don't be embarrassed, sweetheart. Your scent is—I don't even have a word for it. All I know is, it's making my dick as hard as steel."

Needless to say—it would be very inconvenient for our waiter to show up with our cheesecake as I'm climaxing. The iconic restaurant scene from When Harry Met Sally plays in my mind. In this case, I would be Sally—the Meg Ryan character—who moans and groans and screams out, "Oh God—Oh God—Oh yes—yes—yes!" while she slams on the table during her fake orgasm. Let's keep my fingers crossed that I won't be anywhere as loud as she was. I try to tempt down the throaty noise that threatens to escape my lips, to not obliterate Serkan's tattering self-control. It's weirdly exhilarating to be doing something and hoping to not get caught. My gaze is locked on Serkan. He looks like Yellowstone's famous geyser, Old Faithful—ready to erupt at any moment.

       "Remember that time I made you come on top of my baby grand? When I lifted you up and put you on the piano—hiked your skirt up to your hips, asked you to spread your legs for me and I slurped on your delicious manuka honey with your stilettos on." 

He whispers—in his tantalizing phone sex operator voice. I can tell that he's twitching to touch me.

      "And when I was on bended knees and ate you out from behind while you were standing at the kitchen sink? You almost dropped the papaya on my head! You tasted like sin and heaven at the same time."

      I am reduced to nothing but this buzzing in my bones—as if every cell inside me has been dialed all the way up. My skin is hot all over—my lower spine begins to tingle, and I feel my core clenching. Serkan has always enjoyed spontaneous sex and dirty talking has always been his thing—but this level of dirty talking is cranked up a few notches. A wave of pleasure jolts through me like a flash of lightning when he murmurs, "let me taste your finger when you're done." Let's just say that the only thing missing in this scenario is a cigarette.

       "Oh God—Oh Yes—!"

I moan--as I lick the spoon clean and swipe the leftover off the plate, licking my finger for good measure. The delectable Tropical Cheesecake we polished off in lickety-split has earned its bragging rights. Any more food in my belly and Serkan will have to roll me out the front door and drag me back to the boat. Aside from the fact that I tossed my cookies earlier on, the day we spent together on San Diego's enchanted island was rom-com perfect.

                                                                                                      ***