My captain

Cindy stretched out on the deck, the sun hot against her skin. She let her fingers trail lower until the need took over, and she pushed her bikini aside to stroke herself open. Nick caught the sight, dropped what he was doing, and sank to his knees between her legs. His tongue worked her slowly at first, then deeper, tasting how wet she’d already become. She pulled him up, guided him inside her, and they moved together in a steady, hungry rhythm that rocked the boat. Every thrust pushed her closer until she was gasping, thighs tight around his hips. When he pulled out at the last second, thick ropes striped across her face—her lips, her cheeks, her closed lashes—leaving her flushed and satisfied under the open sky.