His face is amused as he swings a leg over and straddles me.
‘Oh, baby, I’m not finished yet.’
‘No?’
His hands move in my hair. Smoothing it off my face. Combing it out. He leans forward and kisses me on the lips. Mouth open. Tongue gently teasing mine. Sits back up.
‘Nope. Close your eyes. I haven’t told you yet what I’d do to you in the pool if we were having an affair.’
Oh, Jesus. I close my eyes and squirm in anticipation. He mentioned certain knowledge, didn’t he? It appears the gooddoctor knows exactly what he’s talking about. Thewonderof not knowing what he’ll do next, combined with thecertain knowledgethat it will be off-the-charts good, is hot as hell.
His palms make contact with my nipples.
Just a soft swipe, and then nothing. I try to arch my back but he has me pinned beneath him. The top half of my dress is around my middle.
He makes contact again.
And again.
He’s palming my breasts in a circular motion and applying more and more pressure before he switches to his fingertips, pinching and rolling and pulling. The ache he’s creating is building and building and going straight between my legs, where I’ve already soaked through my totally ineffectual thong.
He speaks again, the struggle he’s having with his self-control evident from the raspiness of his voice. His fingers continue their torture.
‘If we were in the pool, and the others were around, I’d lead you over to the near side, so it looked as though we were having a nice chat.’
He lifts off me and edges my dress downwards. Oh, God. I raise my hips to let him. I half expect him to pull my thong down too, but he leaves it. When he’s got rid of the dress, he’s back on top of me, his erection hard against my pelvic bone.
‘You’d be more dressed than this. You’d be in that swimming costume, or that little white bikini you wore on your first day here.’
His hands glide up over my hips, my stomach, my breasts. And back down. Up. And down.
His breathing is harder, and I can’t resist the urge to open my eyes and enjoy the effect I’m having on him.
He shakes his head in mock disapproval.
‘You are… a sight for sore fucking eyes. I can’t tell you what I want to do to you. I want to do everything. Be everywhere. Taste everywhere. Now, close your eyes, please, baby, because I’m running out of self-control.’
He runs his tongue over his lower lip and I’m struck by the fact that I haven’t experienced real, red hot desire for a long time. Not like this. Not like the burn I feel all over my body when I see Noah on top of me, his face a study in intent, his ice cream-coloured shorts bulging and his unruly hair falling over his eyes. And the fact that he’s still fully dressed and I’m pretty much naked is even hotter. The contrast seems to be doing it for him too.
I close my eyes again, for him, but mainly for myself. It makes my other senses sing; it makes the tension and the expectation churning inside me all the more potent.
‘I’m having a hard time staying on track.’ His laugh is a shudder. ‘As I was saying.’
A fingertip glides down between my breasts, over my belly-button, and teases the top of my thong. He takes his weight off me and edges my legs apart with the other hand. Further apart. Further. I let him, gladly, sliding my feet upwards so my legs are slightly bent. He kneels back between them, his fingers brushing my inner thighs.
‘If we were having a friendly chat in the pool, I’d have to be very careful. But you’d have to be more careful not to react when I did this.’
One hand reaches the top, and he grazes my soaking thong and the surrounding flesh with his knuckles. The tickle is too much, and I gasp and jolt and push into his hand.
‘That’s definitely what I would call a reaction, baby. But we’re only practising, so I’ll let you off. Besides, you wanting me to touch you is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.’
He pushes the thin fabric of my thong aside and his fingers stroke, stroke, stroke. They dip inside me and begin a leisurely wander around my wetness, avoiding the one spot I’mdesperate for him to touch. It’s clear that’s by design, and it’s infuriating. I grind into his fingers.
‘I’d make you come like this, with my hand inside your bikini bottoms.’ His finger finally moves north and I begin the heady process of unravelling before he pulls it away.
‘But I don’t think you’re going to be capable of being very discreet. So instead’—he rears up again and pulls off my thong, before settling back between my legs—‘I’d have to wait till we had the pool to ourselves. Like, at this time of night. And I’d sit you up on the side and I’d spread your beautiful legs as far open as I could, and I’d make you come like this.’
His hands move my knees further apart, and I let them fall to the sides. And finally, finally, he delivers the killer part of the pitch. His tongue on me, taut and circling with deadly focus, exactly where I need it. A couple of fingers from one hand inside me as I push against him. His thumb massaging just south of his tongue. And his other hand stroking up my stomach to find my breast, and rubbing, rolling, squeezing, tweaking.
