Hit the Spot Page 17

My eyes snapped back up to meet hers again and quickly narrowed. “Your what?”

“My lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“I’m your three o’clock.”

What the fuck?

“No, you’re not.”

She kept smiling at me, arguing, “Yeah, I am,” as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, swaying her hips a little.

I cocked an eyebrow, thinking she was acting weird. “Quit playin’. You ain’t my three o’clock.”

“Actually, yeah, it totally is me.”

My jaw clenched. Jesus. I turned and squared off with her, facing her fully now and only keeping breath between us I was standing so close.

“Legs, for real, arguin’ with me ain’t gonna do shit,” I informed her, watching that damn smile of hers keep. “You’re not my three o’clock.”

“Yes, I am your three o’clock. I swear I am. Promise.”

I breathed slowly, keeping annoyance at bay and the urge to toss her hot little ass into the ocean under control while thinking back to the name printed on the sign-up sheet.

I’d checked it this morning before heading out. I knew who my lesson was with.

Then seeing that name materialize in my head, I allowed my face to relax, gave her a smile back, and shared, “Nice try, babe. Seriously. Like the effort you’re putting out, too, but you want a lesson with me, you need to call the shop. My three o’clock is with a Mira.” I tipped my head at her towel, ordering, “Have a seat. You can watch me with her. Know that’s what you’re really here for anyway. Not this bullshit about enjoying the weather.”

“It’s My-ra. Like My Girl,” she said, tilting her head side to side for emphasis.

My brow tightened again.

“Say what?”

Tori giggled. Her hand came up and swept some stray hair out of her face, tucking the strand behind her ear.

“Aw, look at you. So confused. Myra is my middle name. Tori Myra Rivera.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “It’s terrible, I know, but I had to use it. If I would’ve called and told Cole the lesson was for Tori, or Legs, you would’ve known who to expect and I didn’t want you expecting anything.” She tipped her chin up. “You know, for the sake of the bet.”

I stared down at her, blinking as everything—the timing, the location, this entire sex-shop bikini charade—started coming together in perfect fuck-me unison.

“Are you shittin’ me? You’re Myra?”

Tori’s eyes went round as she pinched her lips together, fighting laughter.

“Straight up?” I pressed.

“What? You can’t handle it?” she questioned. Her voice was pure innocence. “Is there a problem with me getting a lesson from you or something?”

I felt my chest quake with a laugh. Jesus. She was giving me a run.

Good. I liked that.

“Babe, you messed up,” I told her, smiling at her reaction and the lengths she’d gone to.

Her eyebrows lifted in question. She wanted to know what I meant.

Fine.

Never had a problem being up-front with Legs before when it came to what to expect out of me. Sure as fuck didn’t have a problem being up-front about it now either.

There was no way I was losing this bet. So I shared.

“Not sure how Cole does it or anyone else for that matter, but the way I give lessons, I’m hands on with it. Not with everyone. Sure as fuck not with another dude lookin’ to learn, but you?” I let my gaze dip down the length of her, getting an eyeful before settling on her face. “Straight up. My hands are gonna be all over you for the next hour and don’t even think for one second I’m not gonna take advantage. You wave opportunity in my face, and babe, I’m takin’ that opportunity, meaning you’re fucked, Legs. Just bein’ around me gets to you. Now you’re offerin’ this? You might as well throw in the towel now. Or just start moaning right here. We both know that’s comin’.”

When I finished speaking, I noticed she was no longer fighting laughter. In fact, she was back to looking at me the way she always looked at me—like everything I said pissed her the hell off.

And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed that look a little. Pissedoff Tori was sexy as shit.

“Is this part of the lesson?” she griped. “Listening to you build your ego up? ’Cause honestly? It’s not worth the money I paid.”

I chuckled. Fuck. I could go all day with her. And she was setting me up for it too.

“Only thing buildin’ during this lesson is gonna be your need to rub one out later,” I shot back. “Which, you do that, and you’re callin’ in the bet, meanin’ I win.”

“That won’t be happening,” she snapped. “The building part or you winning anything. You see what I’m wearing.”

And there it was.

Game plan revealed.

I smiled big, confirming, “Yeah, I see it. I see a lot of bikinis doin’ what I do. And I get your play here, Legs, but for real, you are out of your fuckin’ mind wearin’ that to surf.”

No joke. I was predicting a minute in the water before something shifted and popped out.

“I think I’ll manage,” Tori argued, reaching around her neck to loosen the strings of her top.

She pulled them tight and went about reinforcing the tie, thinking she was making things more secure but really only causing her tits to bounce and push up higher.

I watched this happen. I had to.

Jesus.

Guys typically had a preference when it came to size. Big. Small. Not me, though. Tits were tits. I liked them big. I liked them small. I liked them spilling out of my hands and fitting into my mouth. Whatever. But seeing Tori’s tits in the getup she was wearing? Getting the view I was getting right now? Yeah … now I had a fucking preference.

Hers.

I stared openly at the shadow of her cleavage until her arms dropped to her sides, signaling she was finished, and still, I stared for another full second before lifting my head.

Who wouldn’t? She was putting shit on display for me. And on top of that, she was making her shit bounce.

Besides, looking wasn’t begging. I could look all I wanted.

“Well?” She pulled her sunglasses off and tossed them on her towel. “You ready?”

I looked her straight in the eyes. Fuck yeah, I was ready. Was she?

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I reminded her, stepping back and holding my arm out.

She walked past me toward my board, grinning like a winner, swaying her hips and checking over her shoulder to make sure I was watching.

I was.

Tori didn’t just have the tits. She had the ass, too. And I was looking my fill.

Then I moved to stand on the opposite side of her, putting the board between us, and went about going over some basics.

Everything was protocol. I started off the same way as every lesson. Except instead of telling Tori where to put her body, I put her body in the positions I wanted her to be in, explaining my steps as I went along and adjusting her even when she really didn’t need adjusting.

I was playing the game. And I was taking opportunity.

“Bend your knees more. Drop lower,” I said, standing behind her and pressing close, cock to ass, running my hand down the back of her thigh and pushing it out while my other hand fit around her waist and flattened on her stomach.

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