Oh, yes. This.
My back arches, and my breath hisses as his tongue touches down on my most sensitive flesh. Slowly. Gently. Tenderly. He strokes back and forth, never quite going all the way to my impatient clit.
His fingers wrap around my ankles, sliding gently up and back, mirroring the movement of his tongue. Skimming my hands up my belly, I push the straps of my bra down, exposing tight and aching nipples. As I roll them between my thumb and forefinger, electricity pulses through me, striking hard between my legs.
He smiles against my flesh and then hums. The vibrations reverberate through my whole body, and it’s sublime.
I’m so close to coming undone. I can’t hold back a groan, and it’s as if that’s what he was waiting for because suddenly, his mouth is clamped on my clit. Sucking, nipping, licking, devouring. And I’m coming with enough force to stop the rotation of the Earth, my teeth trapping my bottom lip to hold in the shout, lest I wake the entire town.
My muscles are still jumping and quivering and sparking when Ethan, who somehow got a condom on in record time, slides home. Our gazes collide, and I can’t look away. There’s something in Ethan’s eyes holding me captive. Something that matches what I feel in the deepest part of my soul.
He starts out slow. Long, almost lazy strokes. A steady rhythm that builds imperceptibly to hard, fast, desperate thrusts that take us both over the top and down the other side of our orgasms. Harsh, panting breaths wind down, slowly returning to normal as the sweat dries on our skin, causing shivers.
With quiet efficiency, Ethan takes care of the condom, slides the covers down and over me and tucks himself in behind me as the big spoon, arms around my waist, legs pressed tight against the back of my thighs.
“I know we need to talk about this. But can we leave it until tomorrow? Do you think we could just park all the reasons why this is not a good idea at the door and enjoy what’s left of the night?” Ethan’s voice is full of the same longing, the same yearning I feel.
“That sounds irresponsible and dangerous,” I reply. His body tenses. “But it would be a shame to waste all those condoms. They’ll only go to landfill now the box is open.”
I feel his smile in the lips he presses against the skin of my shoulder. A tiny nip of teeth.
“Quite right. That would be a waste. And we do need to take care of the planet.”
“What happens in Bangalay, stays in Bangalay,” I say, as if this is Vegas and we’re in a rom-com.
“Deal.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ethan
After we’ve finished with the second condom, I pull my jeans on and sneak next door to get the other pack. We still have one in reserve, but it pays to be prepared. It’s after one am, and there’s not a soul around.
When I let myself back into her room, Sadie is in the shower. How is a man supposed to resist a woman with lavender-scented soap suds trailing down her shoulders and across her breasts? I’m only human. If tonight is all I ever get of Sadie, I’m damn well going to make the most of it.
I drop my pants and step into the stall behind her. Grabbing a fistful of her tangled hair, I tip her head to the side, giving my mouth access to the tender skin of her neck, warm and wet from the water. I slide the other hand around her ribcage and find her already tight nipple, rolling and pinching it in my fingers. Her knees buckle for a second, and her hand comes around to grasp my hip, holding her steady against my body.
The shower stall is narrow and long, so I bend her over, hands braced against the wall like I did when we fucked on the front verandah of my house. I didn’t know her then. Other than she was funny and smart and sexy. But now I do. What I also know is this is not just fucking. But in true Ethan Carter style, I’ll deal with it later. Certainly not when I have a glistening pussy begging for attention.
The noises she’s making suggest she likes this position. A lot. Which is handy because I do too.
Her spine is a straight line down her smooth back, bracketed by sharp shoulder blades at the top and a pair of dimples at the bottom. Warm water slicks her skin as she pushes back, meeting me thrust for thrust.
Every moment of our first encounter is imprinted on my memory. I remember what made her explode. So I slide one hand from her hip across her belly, and my middle finger finds her clit. The sound she made when she came that first night, part snort, part gasp, erupts from her again, and I have a second to appreciate the spasming grip of her muscles before I lose my mind and explode into the condom with such force I wouldn’t be surprised if the end blew out.
We dry off, climb back into bed, and start to kiss. Nothing more. Just kissing. And more kissing. It feels warm and close and intimate and all the things a hookup shouldn’t be. It also feels right.
I haven’t kissed any of the women I’ve hooked up with since Jess. All three of them. Including Sadie. Tonight, I can’t get enough of her taste. Her full lips. Her smooth tongue. It also hasn’t escaped my notice that, for the first time in a long time, I’ve indulged in the intimacy of face-to-face sex. And I don’t regret a second of it.
It’s late. It’s been a long, demanding and emotional day. Our kisses slow, morphing into butterfly kisses, nuzzles, delicate brushes of lips, until we drift off, foreheads pressed together.
Years of working on digs have made me an early riser. The sky is beginning to lighten when I wake. Sadie is sleeping so soundly I put my hand on her chest to check she’s still breathing. Sadie does sleep exactly as does she awake. With total dedication. Deep and full and committed.
A curling tendril of hair is tangled across her forehead, and I brush it back. She doesn’t even stir. So I pull her tighter against me and go back to sleep, enjoying the long-forgotten simple pleasure of sleeping with a woman. Of physical closeness and affection. The joy of a cuddle. Of a simple touch. An emotional connection beyond release.
A few hours later, bright sunlight pours in through the curtains we never bothered to close, waking us from deep sleep. It’s still early, and we have plenty of time for a round of sleepy sex before we have to shower and check out.
We don’t have breakfast in the B & B, even though it smells divine and I’m starving, because we’re having brunch with the entire family at Will and Freyja’s at eleven. Which gives us time to grab a heart-starter coffee at a cute little café called Bangalay Beans. Okay, maybe I also slip in a delicious raspberry and pistachio danish because … I’m sure I don’t need to explain.
