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The silence that follows is heavy, your own surprise evident as your mouth parts like a fish out of water. Your heart working faster than your brain—but he breaks out into a smile so wide that it hurts him more, unable to contain his laughter.

Your eyes go wide, lifting off of his chest and sitting up straight as an arrow.

"Kyle– I'm so sorry–"

He pauses, flashes you a grin that he knows you won't decipher. Lets you steep in your anxiety even though your cunt is wet and slick around him.

"I know you can hit harder than that."

"What?"

He pulls your hand back into his own, his fingers smooth over yours—adjusting—your palm nice and flat as he brings it back to where it'd connected with his face moments ago.

By the time he collapses back onto his towel, limbs a little tired from the crashing waves, you've finally put your book down behind you. He fights the sunlight and squints to watch as you sit back on your legs, turned toward him, your brows just slightly furrowed, lips wet.

He reaches his hand toward you and finds your knee, squeezing it with wet fingers. "You okay, babe?"

"Mhm," you lean forward, your shadow touching him before your lips do. You're slow with it, tasting of mint and lime, parting from him just as he starts to get breathless.

Your gaze is fixed on his body. Trailing upwards, carefully, as though assessing every ridge and dip and–

You drop down quickly, as though trying to act before your doubts stop you, and lick a stripe straight across his abs, taking the water droplets still clinging to him with you.

His mouth parts, surprise choking him, his hand instinctively curling into your hair. There's a second of shifting, a hand planted at the other side of his body as you make yourself more comfortable and do it again.

"Jesus– Fuck–" His head tips back against the towel, neck straining as his fingers tighten over your scalp. You hum against his stomach and he can feel your smile there, the defiance and desire and ambition.

Fuck, it would almost make him proud if it didn't mean he was three seconds away from blowing his load right there in his swim trunks.

The next time your lips touch his skin he lifts you by the grip in your hair, gentle even then, coaxing you to meet his mouth again—obeying without hesitation, preening even more than you had before.

"Pretty fuckin' girl," he groans, slipping his tongue further.

"Taste s'good," you pant.

"Yeah?" Kyle smirks, his other hand reaching under one of your thighs, hoisting you up so you straddle his abs. "What do I taste like, baby?"

He guides you to grind down against him and you moan. "Salty–"

"Tha' right?"

You nod fervently, your hips settling into an uncoordinated rhythm against the hard muscle. He's burning underneath you, desperate to feel your core and the wetness gathered there.

It's a little clumsy as he tugs on the closest string he finds, yanking it when it doesn't give out under his touch the first time. His thumb rubs over your hip there before he's pushing as much of the damp fabric away from your cunt.

He's pleased to find you're burning too.

Gasping as the friction intensifies, brows pinched tight as he detaches his lips and kisses along your jaw, and neck, moving you as you see fit. Bringing your mouth close to his ear just so he can hear your breathy little,

"Mm, feels good. So good, Kyle– All mine..."

"All yours, baby," he coos, and when you sigh again he can't help it. His hands drop to his own trunks, hips lifting, taking you with him as he shuffles them the few inches down his thighs so his cock springs free.

It slaps against your ass, heavy and aching, and your eyes widen.

"Gonna take what's yours?"

You're quick to move down, searching behind you blindly, scratching until you find him. Curling your fingers around the base as you steady yourself, too lost to tease as you sink down on the tip.

Kyle swears under his breath, hands coming to steady at your hips as he usually does, usually guiding you to sink down, but you do it without warning. Burying yourself into the hilt, clenching around him fiercely, so tight and wet and hot Kyle thinks he might actually die here.

On his honeymoon. On a beach. Shadowed by his wife as she rides him like there's no tomorrow. Not the worst way he could go.

Your knees tighten around his waist, the sun above your head like a halo.

"Kyle," you breathe, dropping down onto his lap with increasing urgency.

"I know, baby," his thumb reaches between you for your clit as soon as you settle into a comfortable rhythm. Already swollen from earlier, he works firm circles into it, muscle memory taking over as he tries not to ruin this by coming so quick. "Been the best for me, yeah, you have. Wearing that pretty ring, sittin' here like eye candy. Knowin' you're only for me."

You keen and he's dragging you down to kiss you, drowning in your sweet KyleKyleKyle as your orgasm tears through you, a little painful but mostly delicious. Arching your back, trying to grind into and escape his touch at your cunt at the same time.

You collapse into his chest, breathing hard, he digs his heels into the blanket and thrusts up—short and sharp as his own high curls through him fast.

He has half the mind to pull out, come coating your bellies, heaving and flexing with the strain.

Kyle murmurs your name, catching his breath as the surroundings come back to him, your own sticky against his collarbone. He's selfish when he tightens his arm around you, proven by your whine about it being too hot, but he keeps you there, completely and utterly blissed.

"You're perfect-"

He's interrupted by smashing glasses.

Just as you look up from the crook of his neck, he strains to look back, met with a waitress covering her eyes, now empty tray in hand as she slowly backs away.

"I'm so sorry!"

She runs off down the path between the greenery and he's biting his lip to stifle his laugh—made harder when he sees your surprise.

You smack his chest lightly, "don't laugh!"

But you're already halfway there, spurred by his amusement. Your grin even brighter, squealing when he sits up with you still in his lap, licking a stripe up your neck.

"How much do you think she watched?"

"Kyle!"