Low Tide Bikini (A Pleasure Island Romance) (26 page)

She wrapped her fingers around his base and drew him to her mouth. He stroked her hair and gazed down at her lovingly. Running her tongue along the ridge of his tip, she closed her eyes. He didn't force himself into her mouth. He waited patiently for her to suckle him down as deeply as she felt comfortable. Six slow bounces of her head, then she slid him back out so she could catch some air. When she pulled him into her mouth again, she took him as deeply as she could, relaxing her throat.
 

He sucked in a breath. His face looked tortured, but his eyes revealed pleasure.
 

She wanted to show him how he’d made
her
feel, force him to empty his mind and just enjoy her mouth bathing his manhood. His entire body stiffened, and his breathing was a series of held breaths followed by deep exhalations. She gave his veiny length an upward swipe with her flattened tongue. He shuddered and stepped back.
 

Within seconds, he'd pulled a condom from his wallet and had it on. He held something small in his fist, but she couldn’t see what it was.

He crawled onto the mattress and pulled her back to his chest. She turned to gaze into his eyes. He covered her mouth with his and snuggled his arousal against her bottom. With a firm grip behind her knee, he lifted her leg and glided himself inside her slick sheath, stretching her and filling her completely. His forearm draped across her upper chest, and his hand rested on her breast. They were a perfect fit, just as she’d remembered. Maybe better, because there was no “first time” nerves messing with her head. He felt like home, and she relaxed completely with Brock buried deep inside her.
 

She lowered her head onto his shoulder and clasped his forearm. Slow strokes in and out stretched her open and fed the aching hunger in the swollen heart of her.
 

“Sam.” He kissed her forehead. “You feel so good. I’ve missed you so much.” He gently ran a fingertip around her nipple, barely touching.
 

By the ease of his strokes, she knew she was soaking wet.
 

His affectionate force conveyed she was desired, and she let his passion claim her. He’d come back to her. He still wanted her, wanted her more than she’d realized their first night together. It was as if there was a veil of emotion around them, fusing them together, until they breathed as one.

He lowered her outer leg to his and supported it with his raised thigh, keeping her open as he continued to rock himself in and out.

She heard a faint buzz and looked down. On the tip of Brock’s middle finger was some sort of silicone, nubby thing. It was clear with a carnation-pink center. He touched her sensitive fleshy button with it, and she arched at the vibrations.

He held the toy against her once more, and she quaked inside.

He moved the device in tiny circles and increased the speed of his thrusts within her.

She turned her head and looked into his eyes. He kissed her and
 
continued to rub her with the tiny vibrator attached to his finger as he pumped harder.

“God, baby.” She couldn’t believe what he was doing to her. It felt incredible.

He thrust hard and grunted, then again, ramming in unison with his sexy grunts as he tortured her deliciously with the fingertip vibrator.

She clawed at his arm and screamed as her orgasmic spasms jumped and leapt deep within her. It was as if her body ignited into a thousand particles that dispersed and radiated down her legs and up her torso simultaneously. He kept pumping, but pulled his hand away.
 

Another wave began to crest inside her. How could she be about to come again? How was he doing this to her?

He flipped her onto her stomach and smacked her rump then rubbed the sting away. She gasped at his unexpected movements, her mind focusing on what he was doing. He smacked again. She loved it. She’d always thought it was silly when people talked about spanking as a sexual action. She’d never been interested in having it done to her, but the way Brock was doing it—like each open-palmed pop to her bottom was confirmation he was in charge—made her toes curl with desire.

She buried her face in the sheet and pushed her bottom into the air. He spanked her again with his big hand, stinging and rubbing, making her whimper and want more.
 

His breath replaced his hand, and he bit into her soft flesh, growling, and sucking.
 

She opened her thighs wider.

He ran his tongue over her dripping center. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Dear God, he was an animal and so erotic. She whispered, “It’s yours.” Circling her hips, she bit the sheet, and he buried his head between her thighs, growling and ravishing.

With both hands gripping her hips firmly, he raised up and entered her from behind. Hard. Fast. Groaning. Taking. Taking.
 

His hips pounding, hands squeezing. Sounds she didn’t recognize exploded from her throat, primal, needy, hungry sounds.
 

When he reached under her and gently swirled her clitoris as he pounded from behind, her explosive cries were absorbed by the dense foam beneath her. She convulsed with delight.

He groaned, and pushed deep inside her one last time and shuddered while holding his breath.
 

As he let out a deep exhale, his grip loosened on her hips. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “You’re amazing.” With his lips against the nape of her neck, he murmured. “Twenty-three more condoms to go before we need to leave the house.”

Her laughter laced with exhaustion was muffled by the mattress. “I can’t take anymore right now.”

He kissed her spine from the nape of her neck to her lower back and up to her neck again. “I’m in no hurry. I hope this lasts forever.”

So did she. God almighty. So did she.

Brock pretended to be asleep, his eyelids barely cracked open. Sam slipped from his embrace and got out of bed. She put on her panties and tank top, then retrieved her phone from the pocket of her shorts that were lying on the floor. She stepped onto the balcony, leaving the sliding glass door ajar.

Who did she need to sneak away and call? That Tox person?

He crept out of bed and tip-toed close to the door.
 

"Leah. You won't believe this. Brock came back.”

The tightness in his shoulders loosened when she said Leah.

"Yes. Okay, okay you were right. Myrtle was right too. All of you saw it coming, but I was being stupid."

He smiled.

 
"No. It wasn't anything like that. He had a family emergency, that's all. He'd left me a letter, but it got blown off the nightstand and went under the bed. When we finally found it, I read it, and it was so touching I cried. In it he'd asked me to call him. I’d convinced myself he wanted nothing more to do with me. He’d convinced himself of the same when I never called."

"Right. Just a simple case of crossed wires, or lack of wires, or whatever."

"Oh my God. There are no words for what he does to me."

And there were no words for what Sam did to him. A whirl of happiness filled his chest. Knowing his affection was reciprocated would make taking things to the next level a lot less stressful.
 

Sam perched her feet atop the balcony railing. Her toes wiggled as if they were dancing.
 

"Ha. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say, I never knew I could have so many orgasms in a row."

"I'm not saying. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. I can't believe it myself. Honestly, I couldn't think clearly enough to count."

Remembering her face in ecstasy and how her body quivered around him caused Rebel to stir. Hopefully she’d be off the phone soon, and they could have another go. He’d be happy to keep count for her.

"My God. He's the sweetest man. I feel like a queen in his arms. I can't explain it."

Sweet? He wasn’t so sure he cared for that adjective, but he enjoyed knowing she felt like a queen in his arms.
 

"Well, no. He isn't Mr. Oh-So-Proper in bed. Quit being a dork. Listen, all I know is he's Mr. Perfect for me in bed, out of bed. I’ll take him anyway I can get him.”

“Crushing is putting it mildly.”

Amen to that. A crush wasn’t even close to the intensity of his feelings for her. He was glad her emotions mirrored his own.

She stood, and he rushed to the bed and crawled back under the covers.

"Oh shit. I forgot about that freaking interview."

She peered into the bedroom and whispered into the phone. "Crap. Tox is going to be pissed if I'm late. I barely have time to shower, much less primp for a camera crew. Get over here and help me pick out something to wear. I'm jumping in the shower now. I'll tell Brock you're on your way."

Brock sat up in bed. The reflection in the mirror over the dresser revealed his big, goofy grin.
 

Sam burst through the door and gasped with rounded eyes. “I thought you were asleep. How long have you been—“

He stretched and rubbed his eyes. “Hello, beautiful.”

She studied his face for a moment. He pretended to be groggy and oblivious to the way she was looking at him.

Finally a smile spread across her lips. “Hey, handsome. I’m running late for a big interview with this local band. I’ll explain more later, but Leah is on her way to help me get ready. Could you let her in?”

“Of course, but I’d rather help you wash your hair.”

“No time. Can I take a raincheck?”

“Only if I get to wash the rest of you later.”

She walked over and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I like the sound of that.”
 

Before he could grab her and pull her into his arms and into his bed, she disappeared into the bathroom.

He slid his jeans back on and the white v-neck t-shirt he’d worn earlier. As soon as he walked into the living room, there was a knock at the laundry room door.
 

He opened the door for Leah, an attractive, thin woman with dark hair and the most amazing pale green eyes. Her hair fell to her shoulders, and she wore tiny white shorts and a black bikini top. Her feet were bare. “Hello, Leah. Sam’s expecting you. She’s upstairs in the shower. You’re welcome to go on up.”

“Hi, Brock. I’m so glad to see you. I was worried you weren’t coming back.” She brushed her sandy feet on the mat. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I just came in from the beach.” She pointed inside the house. “I hope I’m not being rude, but I really need to hurry if Sam has any chance of making that interview on time.”

“What time is her interview?”

“In half an hour. It’s at Provisions, which isn’t far, thank the Lord. Anyway, it’s for national television so it’s a huge deal.”

“National? Like a Barbara Walters interview?”

“Yeah, something like that. VH1 to be exact. Have you heard of VH1?”

“Yes.” He’d watched many videos on VH1 and MTV through the years. Why were they interviewing Sam? Was she a famous musician and he didn’t know it?

Sam called from upstairs. “Send Leah up when she gets here.”

“Coming.” Leah blew her hair out of her eyes and hurried around the corner of the stairwell.
 

Ten minutes later, both women walked back down to the living room. Sam looked incredible in a light blue, sleeveless, knee-length dress that hugged her curves. The dress had a modest neckline. Her hair was piled high on her head in a sophisticated bun. She wore nude pumps that blended with her tan, making her legs appear even longer than normal. Her lips were a bright, berry shade, and her lashes were darker and fuller than usual. Diamond stud earrings sparkled on her lobes. She clutched an envelope style snake-skin purse. Fit to meet the Queen, and a vision of elegance—he gawked at her.
 

She blushed as she walked in front of him. “Do I look okay?”

“Okay? That’s an understatement. You look like a modern Grace Kelly, absolutely gorgeous.”

“I didn’t have time to dry my hair, so Leah put it up in this bun. I hope it doesn’t look funny.”

“No. It doesn’t look funny. It’s regal and shows off your face—a perfectly lovely face I might add.” He stood and nodded toward Leah. “My compliments to the hairdresser.”

Sam walked toward the laundry room. “I’ve got to get going. I hate to ask this, Brock, but I’m worried I’ll mess up my dress. Would you mind helping me get my bass downstairs and in my truck?”

“Sure, but I have a better idea. Let’s take the elevator.” He couldn’t wait to try the elevator out.

Her mouth flat-lined. “I’m not much into elevators.”

“You haven’t tested our new elevator yet?” Damn. He let “our” slip. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice.

“No, I haven’t tested out
our
new elevator.” The curl of her lips and sparkle in his eyes conveyed her fondness for the word “our.”
 

Duly noted. He’d use it more often. “Neither have I. Come on, let’s give it a go. It’ll only take a second.”
 

He quickly retrieved her bass from the laundry room, slipped on his flip-flops, and grabbed his keys that hung on a peg by the door. He motioned the women over to the large utility closet and flipped on the light. The pocket door leading to the elevator was pulled closed. He pushed the down button on the wall and the machine sprung to life. When the green light came on above the doorway to signal the lift had stopped in front of them, he slid the pocket door open. The entire elevator was a cage. There was a half gate that swung outward for entry. He held the gate open.
 

Giving a nod to Sam and Leah, he said, “Get in.”
 

Leah stepped in without hesitation. Sam was more cautious.

He noted the nervousness in her eyes and said, “Don’t worry. There’s no way you can get trapped inside. I’ll show you the trick. Hop in.”

She eyed him with skepticism, but managed to shuffle into the elevator. He rolled her bass in and pulled the gate closed.
 

“Look at this.” He slid an accordion-style, side gate open and pointed to a large pole. “That’s a fireman’s pole. If we lose power during a storm while in the lift, all we’ll need to do is open this gate and slide down the pole to safety. There is no possible way we can be trapped. Plus, look up.” He pointed to the skylight. “There will always be natural light in here during daylight hours.” He tapped a domed light on the back wall, and incandescent light filled the entire elevator shaft. “In addition, I have a solar powered emergency light. Just call me Bond, James Bond.”