“Half the town is involved in it, pretty much. I’m not one of the main guys—my dad is though. But Jake, Scott, Rayah and Alex are all trained to do it. We grew up here and we know the hills and the caves well. Jake and Scott are both cave divers too, so when we all ended up back here, we signed up to be volunteers,” he said without any show.
“There are caves?” she said. “Of course there are—I have the underground river in my guide for guests.”
“And you haven’t done it yet?” he said with a smirk. “You need to try out our tourist attractions, Sorrell. Then you’ll be able to advise your guests.”
She felt her shoulders relax and laughed properly for what felt like the first time in months. “Are you suggesting I try out Jake and maybe Scott? According to the non-gay bridesmaid, they’re definitely part of the tourist attractions round here.”
He pinched his lips, probably to stop himself from smiling, possibly to stop himself from berating his brother and cousin.
“Maybe I need to, you know, to give my single guests some advice on the local wildlife,” she teased. He had edged closer to her, close enough that she could easily touch him like she wanted to, if she had the courage. Because as well as her wedding date, Mark had taken some of that where men were concerned too.
His finger touched her lips to silence her. “Never speak of my brothers and cousin in such terms again. Else I’ll be disposing of their bodies in a cave.” His words were smooth and his voice was husky. She heard need in it and desire and felt half-shy and half-wanton, a contradictory mix.
Something—the Gwensi-ness in her—made her touch his fingers with her tongue, her eyes focused on his face to read his expression.
It was one of lust and need, her heart rate rising as she saw his pupils dilate and the smirk become something sultry.
She took his wrist in her free hand, lightly holding it and then guided the tip of his middle finger to her mouth, softly biting it and then applying the slightest bit of suction for just a second before releasing his hand.
He didn’t say anything, leaving his hand where he had let it fall on the tops of her thighs, close enough to her centre to make her pussy clench. Then his fingers trailed up, slowly, as if he was memorising every centimetre of her skin through her sweater.
The silence clung around them, not even the faint murmur of music to break the intensity of the moment. His hand paused just below her breast and she wondered what his next move would be. He was hesitant, unsure, as if he was stroking a feral cat who would run skittishly away so she seized the moment and stole his hand, interlacing her fingers with his and studying the contrast between their skin tones; hers pale against his darker hand, as if he had been grown in the fields and permanently claimed by the sun.
Then he moved, scooping her up under her legs and depositing her on his lap, the last of the prosecco spilling over the sides of her glass, making her laugh.
He still said nothing, instead picking up her hand and inspecting it, as if questioning its viability of being real. Then the soft skin on the top of her hand was raised to his lips and he brushed them against it, the gentle sensation enough to elicit a slight gasp from her. She felt him smile then press a kiss against her before running his mouth down to her little finger and taking it in his own mouth and sucking as if she was the tastiest morsel to ever enter his mouth.
Zack removed her hand, keeping hold of it and replaced it with her lips, keeping the kiss slow and light, sucking softly on them. He kept hold of her hand, using the other to thread his fingers through her hair, keeping her mouth pressed to his.
She had never been kissed like this, as if she was someone’s first taste of chocolate.
“I want to stay,” he said, once he broke away, his hands still on her. “I want to make you forget all about your ex and any idea you had of being married to him but if I do that tonight I’m worried it will just be one night.”
She shook her head, words not within her capability at the moment. But her hands were working at capacity. She put her glass on the floor, not caring if it was knocked over and took the bottom of his sweater in both hands, pulling it over his head.
He laughed, but she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, her hands went to work on ridding him of his T-shirt, exposing his broad chest with a smattering of hair across it, growing denser down the centre of his stomach and trailing down to his belt and beyond. His stomach was firm and defined, the result of being active rather than hours at the gym.
She met his eyes, feeling her face flush even more. He was assessing her reaction, clearly proud of how he looked but curious as to her judgement.
Sorrell didn’t use her words. Instead she used her fingers to trail across his chest, slowly reading his skin as if she would discover all his hidden secrets.
“Sorrell,” he said, his voice husky. “I have my limits and right now you’re close to pushing them.”
“What will you do?” She heard courage finally cracking through her voice. “If I push them?”
His hands moved hers away so he could pull off her top, exposing her bra and pale skin. She didn’t try to hide. She wasn’t flawless, but she was confident enough to be proud of what he was looking at. High breasts captured in a pretty white bra that gave her enough cleavage to lose an earring in. It was low cut, barely covering the edge of her nipples and she watched him as he looked his fill, feeling wetness pool between her thighs, soaking her panties.
“Take it off,” he said. “I want to see.”
The power was hers, both to undo the garment if she chose and then afterwards. Her hands shifted to the front clasp and undid it, letting her breasts spill out.
Immediately, his mouth was on a nipple, his tongue using the same tenderness that he had applied to her lips. Her hands went to his head, combing through his hair pulling slightly as he left one nipple and tended to the other, one of his hands pinching the nipple he’d just left and eliciting a moan from her mouth.
She felt his grin against her flesh, another flash of wetness soaking her.
He moved away, looking at her face and then at her tits, his hands cupping both, weighing them. Her nipples were hard and puckered, eager for more of his attention. Then they went south, undoing her trousers. Sorrell lifted her hips, allowing him to pull her pants down along with her panties, leaving her bare.
For a moment, he looked at her, spreading her legs so he could see her most intimate parts. Then he sunk to his knees on the floor, the brief clattering of a glass suggesting that she should’ve finished the prosecco but that was her last reasonable thought as that tongue found her clit and that gentle suction he’d applied to her fingers started to pull a much needed climax from her.
