Sprinkling it over
the face that was no doubt lighting up with freckles, she frowned when some found
its way into her mouth. There was no
harsh taste of chlorine or other pool products in the droplets. This water was light and crisp… both tart and
sweet, and…
Delaney sluggishly lifted her
head to peer at the glassy surface that should be aquamarine but was instead a
gorgeous pale pink. Licking her lips,
she discovered that the water wasn’t actually water but Hampton Water, and she
groaned with decadent delight. In what extravagant
world did one get to ride a flamingo through pools of wine?
Heat prickled her
skin, making the skimpy swimsuit she wore even too much to bear, and she pulled
at the ties that allowed the garment to float away from her inflatable
chariot. That still didn’t do enough to
relieve the scorch that had gone deeper than the outward singe of her
skin. Her insides were starting to
simmer, pressuring her squirm on the flamingo’s back until she couldn’t stand
it anymore.
Slipping into the
depths of crisp rosè provided both instant relief and erotica. Gallons of pale pink perfection caressed her
naked flesh, gliding over her nipples and delving into her most intimate
crevices. The weightlessness was so
enrapturing that she stayed down far too long.
The swish of wetness against her nakedness combined with the burning of
her lungs was as intoxicating as the gulp that crept its way down her throat
She couldn’t
survive in a sea of wicked perfection, though.
Delaney had to push against the bottom of the pool and gasped when
breathlessly breaking the surface.
“Mornin’ Mou.”
The sexy greeting was filled with gravelly roughness –
and came from between her legs. It
wasn’t rosè that licked her most intimate crevices; it was Jon, and his
seductive grin shone the same pink as the wine.
“What are you doing?” she murmured, languidly rolling her
hips and furrowing the fingers of one hand into his hair. He’d pushed her thighs wide and appeared quite
comfortable, making her wonder how long he’d been fueling her dreams.
They’d never gotten around to having sex again last
night. The remainder of their evening was
spent nestled into the couch cushions while watching Die Hard on
network TV and making out during the commercials. It was one of the nicest dates
she’d ever had. When the movie ended and
they decided to call it a night, they kissed a little more – Jesus, the man
could kiss! – and rolled to separate sides of the bed. She remembered waking up on his chest once,
but that’s the only recollection Delaney had until now.
“I woke up hungry,” he rumbled against the crease of her
thigh before mopping it with his tongue.
“And found what I was dreaming about eating – your soft, warm pussy.”
“Mmnnhh.” Her head
lolled back into the pillow when he dove in again, and she gripped his
head. “I’m starting to think you have an
oral fixation.”
“You’d be right.”
He fixated his oral mastery on her with a series of
maneuvers that had Delaney’s pelvis lurching into his gluttony. No matter what the man’s fetishes were, he
shared them generously and her fetishes were awfully happy about it. The way he kneaded her thighs like a brutal
kitten while he devastated her Pandora’s box with the softest, slickest
mauling…
“Ti mou kanis? What are you doing to me?”
His only response was to do it again – and again and
again – until she couldn’t breathe.
Never had a man been so invested in thoroughly tasting every one of her
folds. Jon rolled them in his lips,
curled them under his tongue, and blanketed them with the coarse texture of his
taste buds. He jammed her with
persistent fingers while tugging, nibbling and outright biting all the silken
softness he could find until Delaney was physically incapable of doing anything
but gripping his hair, grunting and mewling like a cat in heat.
He. Was. Incredible.
Perfect.
Best. Lover. Ever.
“Ohhhh,” she groaned at the ceiling, her knees flopping
back and forth amid Greek vulgarities as he drove her closer to the edge. Frantic heels dug into the mattress, finding
purchase to push against the lascivious licking. It was amazing – better than amazing. Maddening.
Sensual. Provocative.
It just wasn’t what Delaney required to finish the
job.
“Make it hurt,” she pleaded.
The hand that held a bruising grip on her thigh brought
it in tight against his face – against his working jaw and its veneer of
morning whiskers. The unforgiving
prickle was like sandpaper against her inner thigh, and she gulped a relieved
breath.
He knew. He knew
what she needed.
One scrape after another, he was devilishly ruthless. Scouring, scuffing and marking against both
tight-pressed thighs until the tender flesh was raw and stinging.
“Oh oh oh oh!”
That sting was the magic carpet that floated her over the
falls, and Delaney screamed while hurtling to the bottom. She shuddered into his gobbling mouth with
each aftershock until pain was no longer pleasure but actual pain and
sensitivity.
Clutching his hair, she pushed him away to gulp air like
a drowning woman.
“Again… Thank you…
for… your perseverance… in the pursuit of… excellence,” she panted as he kissed
his way over her belly, hips and up until he straddled her rib cage.
“Thank me by holding your titties together so I can fuck
them.”
His growl forced another contraction in her nether
regions, and when he spit in his hand to swipe it over a straining shaft,
Delaney might have had another mini-orgasm.
Her big boobs tempted men in a lot of ways and had been the bun to more
than one hot dog, so his move was one she’d seen before.
Just not from him, and never administered with such
purpose. He wasn’t asking permission, he
was unequivocally telling her and backing it up with action. Delaney thought she might actually enjoy this
and eagerly squished her girls together to receive company.
“Beautiful,” he approved, slicking the moisture from his
weeping tip across the head and pressing against the fleshy crevice she
provided. “Oh, yeahhh... So fucking soft.”
He canted his hips, tunneling through the oversized
globes and groaning when he was met with a wet swipe of tongue on the other
side. It was a pattern he liked and
repeated, rewarding her tongue bathing with sharp tweaks of the nipple that had
Delaney squirming again. He would mutter quiet encouragement and praise in
between muffled grunts of pleasure, and it was embarrassing how much it excited
her to please him.
His words were coarse, dirty and filthy yet delivered
with such desire that she reveled in them.
She loved the way his head fell back with a guttural breath,
highlighting his corded neck and the protrusion of his Adam’s apple. She
adored watching his eyes close as he concentrated on the finish line.
Jon was the perfect male specimen.
Not only did looking at him bring pleasure, but he’d delivered such physical pleasure that Delaney wanted this to be good for
him.
“Wanna slide in my mouth and let me finish it for you?”
“No.” His rhythm
picked up a bit but didn’t falter. “This
is perfect. Just talk Greek to me.”
She told him how sexy he was. How deliciously dirty she found him. That she hoped they got the chance to do all sorts of raunchy things together. That he
made her crazy and she wondered where he’d been all her sexual life. Basically, she spilled all her innermost
thoughts because she didn’t have to worry about his reaction. His mind was translating into whatever he
wanted to hear, anyway.
“Fuck,” he rasped, jerking from her heated breast cocoon
and snatching a frantic fist along his shaft.
The first splash hit the hollow of her throat, and Delaney
peeked up to find his exquisite features contorted into the same ecstasy that
his throaty noises conveyed. Dilated
eyes that appeared so very heavy were made to stay open so that he could witness
the creamy drops spewing over her breasts and nipples, searing and sticky like
hot caramel. Cruel fingers wrenched
everything he had out onto her chest until it was decorated to his
satisfaction.
His eyes still clung there as his other hand dragged over his head and he smiled dimly.
“That was good.”
She chuckled and lay very still, letting him survey his
handiwork. “What is it with guys and
this?”
“Mou,” he replied instantly, using a thumb to rub one of
the sticky spots completely into her flesh.
“Told you your body was mine. I’m
just marking my territory.”
Her nose crinkled with distaste. “Could you use different terminology? I prefer not to feel like you just hiked your
leg on me like a dog.”
Putting his weight onto one palm against the mattress, he
leaned down to deposit a laughing kiss on her forehead. “I promise I’ll never piss on you. Wanna shower with me?”
A quick look at the bedside clock reading eight-thirty
told her that wasn’t a good idea. “Yeah,
but if I do, I’ll be late to work so I’m not going to.”
Jon moved the next kiss to her lips. He liked that she was responsible and not
willing to blow off the important stuff to play. There were few things sexier than a woman who
had her shit together – and liked to play rough, drink wine and watch action
films.
Delaney was seriously fucking sexy.
“Alright,” he acquiesced, rolling to the side and further
until he could sit up and put his feet on the floor. “You go first then.”
“Thanks. Is coffee
an option? And something to eat?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He grinned into the phone that was already at his ear
when the post-sex foodie closed the bathroom door. This morning, she could eat whatever the hell
she wanted since she was going to work.
Next time they got together, though, he would exercise more caution in
providing food.
You’ve got no room
to complain.
That was true, Jon admitted to himself. Morning sex was never complaint-worthy in any
of its varied forms, and last night’s naked festivities were beyond belief. It was also a lot of fun just wasting time
together in front of the television with her.
For a guy who got served with divorce papers yesterday, he was feeling
pretty damn good about life and planned on seeing a lot of this girl in the coming
days.
He was just hanging up the room phone when his personal
phone rang. Picking it up from being face down on the nightstand revealed that it was Matt, which was odd for
this time of day.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Hey,” his little brother returned just as
efficiently. “Two things. One, how you doin’ after yesterday?”
Smirking at the warbled lyrics of a Bon Jovi song coming
from the bathroom, he assured, “I’m pretty fucking fantastic, actually.”
“Ah. You must’ve
seen Delaney.”
“Yep.” The
self-righteous tone didn’t even bother him.
“What’s the second thing?”
“You’re not even going to tell me how she took the
news? I guess she was happy. Half the women in the damn world are nuts
over you, so I can’t see why she’d be any different.”
Delaney was exactly what he’d suspected and hoped she
would be, seeing him as just a guy rather than a stage presence.
When Bruce Willis waded barefoot through broken glass in
the movie last night, she’d teased Jon by saying he didn’t have enough órcheis – balls – to do it and then kill
half a dozen bad guys while hobbling around on shredded feet. He’d been forced to agree with her but added
that few people were as bad ass as Bruce in that movie.
Jon didn’t mind that he wasn’t Superman in her eyes. It only meant that when he fell off his
pedestal, the drop might not kill him.
“You’re a nosy fucker lately, you know that?”
“Your fault for leaving a crack in the door of your
privacy. Now give it up. Was she pissed?”
“No,” he confirmed as the shower went quiet. “Stunned, if anything. It’s all good and we’re discreetly seeing each
other.”
“Seeing? Not just
fucking?”
The bathroom door cracked to emit a billow of steam, and
he could make out her towel-wrapped body wiping at the mirror. A second towel was twisted around her hair,
and she unwound it to start scrubbing at hair made even darker by the
water. The taboo tattoo rippled on her
shoulder blade as a physical reminder that he was most assuredly interested in non-physical aspects of her.
“Seeing.”
“Damn. I was
kidding when she first showed up, but she really is gonna be your rebound
girl. Will Dorothea shit a brick when
she finds out?”
“She knows and is fine,” he recited absently, watching
Delaney wield imaginary maracas while she made the shaking noise with her mouth. When the towel slipped and left her naked, she danced
around the resulting heap without missing a single imaginary beat, but Jon’s heart skipped
at least one. “What else you need?”
“Oh. That friend
of mine… the realtor?”
The one who was supposed to be finding Jon some
apartments to view so he could get out of this hotel. “Yeah?"
“He got busted for some kind of fraud, so he isn’t gonna be
able to hook you up.”
“Fuck,” Jon sighed.
Hotel life wasn’t exciting him and living in Jersey until that house
sold didn’t interest him. He wanted to
be here in the city and hated the last woman he’d worked with. Matt had promised this guy would be perfect. Perfectly crooked, obviously. “Alright.
Did he have any recommendations for another agent?”
“Uh… The whole
agency kinda went down.”
“Of course it did.
Well, I’m not going to worry about it.
There are hundreds of realtors in the city. Surely one of them can find me a fucking
place to live without making me nuts in the process.”
“Yeah, absolutely.
And if I can come up with somebody, I’ll let you know.”
“Do that. I’ll
talk to you in a few days. Later, man.”
“Later.”
When he looked up from setting the phone aside, it was to
find Mou in the bathroom doorway watching him. Her hair still hung in wet ropes, but the
wayward towel was once again knotted between her breasts as she regarded him
with a speculative gleam.
“You need a realtor?”
“Yeah.” Arching a
curious brow, he inquired, “Don’t tell me you sell property, too.”
Dimples burrowed into fresh-scrubbed cheeks. “No, but I can tell you who the top agent in
the city is.”
“A Google search can probably tell me that. What I want is an appointment and five
potential apartments by tomorrow.
Preferably today.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.
Can I give her your number, or do you want hers?”
If Delaney had just solved his crisis of the day with no
more effort than a shake of her imaginary maracas, Jon was going to be a very
happy man.
“I’d rather not deal with it at all. Any chance you’d take care of it?”
“Uh. What?”
Her shell-shocked expression made Jon laugh while
crossing the room to drop a kiss to her nose.
“I don’t mean pick out a place for me. Since you seem to know the agent personally,
can’t you just pass along my requirements and arrange the appointments for me? I hate that shit.” He also hated playing nice with people paid
to kiss his ass, but that tidbit wasn’t critical to this conversation.
“I… guess.” She
still didn’t seem too sure about it but took a deep breath and nodded. “It’ll cost you, though.”
Settling both arms around her waist, he nuzzled cajoling lips
against hers. “Cost me what?”
“I don’t know yet.
But I’ll think of something.”
“Well, when you do...”
Jon took another taste of lips that had thinned with contemplation just
like her one musing gray eye. “Factor in
the cost of going with me to see them.”
“I am not going to pick out an apartment with you,” Delaney
flatly refused, stepping out of his arms toward the living room and her bag. “That’s insane. Stupid, in fact.”
She was cute when she got her non-existent panties in a
wad to fearlessly call him out, and Jon grabbed an elbow to reel her back
in. “Relax, Mou. I didn’t ask you to move in. My kids have already dealt with ‘apartment
shopping Dad’ twice in the last five years and refuse to do it again. I just want somebody to keep me company while
I look. That’s all.”
“Don’t you have a freeping assistant for this crap?” she
demanded with a stubbornly tilted chin.
“I do, but I pay her enough to believe I’m always right.”
“Well,” his little Greek goddess snorted. “Nothing personal, but there’s not enough
money in the world to make me believe that.”
Which was precisely why Delaney Gardner was the one he
wanted – in a growing number of ways.
No comments:
Post a Comment