Everything was wet where he touched me. Everything slick and tingly.
“Oh God.” I gasped. Two words in separate breaths.
“Don’t worry,” he said against my temple. “I’ve got you. No one is looking. It’s just you, me, and the stars.”
And his fingers doing such amazing things. Even so, I had to consciously push aside my shock at my own behavior. I had to allow myself to live in the pleasure of the moment while the tension in my belly coiled tighter and tighter. My eyes were closed now. I pressed back against him and pumped my hips up to his fingers. I had no control and no desire to stop the freight train of need he was building inside me.
“Yes,” he murmured against my ear. “God, yes.”
Exactly what I would have said if I’d had breath. Then he shifted his hand. I didn’t know what he was doing until suddenly he pinched my clit. Hard and sharp.
“Oh!” I cried and I shot over the edge.
I came so hard, I bucked like a wild thing. He kept me contained. His legs supported me below, while his left hand kept me pressed against his torso. But the other hand, that wicked right hand, pushed deep into me with three fingers. He shoved hard and kept them there while I writhed in ecstasy.
And I kept contracting. Over and over. Orgasms don’t last that long for me, but this one did. Pulse after glorious pulse, while my mind shimmered with light. Flashes, peaks, all bursting behind my eyelids and down below as wave after wave rolled through me.
Wow. Just wow.
Eventually it faded. I held onto it as long as I could. I writhed on the pole of his fingers and wished it were something else. I wanted it to be that hard, hot part of him that still burned into my backside. He didn’t push. He let me bask in afterglow as long as I wanted.
After a time, he pulled his hand out of my panties. He straightened his legs, so my knees were no longer spread to capacity. He even zipped up my shorts, though the rumble of the zipper set off extra sparks across my skin. And then he pressed a kiss to my temple. Or maybe a few dozen kisses. It took me a while to differentiate sensations and to realize he was grinning.
“You’re pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?” My voice was throaty and still breathless.
“Yup.” One word, but it was layered with laughter and a bit of smug joy.
“Well,” I admitted. “You should be. That was pretty great.”
I expected him to push for more then. After all, his penis was still very hot and hard. But he didn’t say anything. In fact, he seemed content to just sit on the beach with me. The shadows felt absolute around us. The stars and the ocean somehow more present than the partiers who still wandered across the sand.
I had the distinct feeling that tonight was a magical night. That he was the man who would make all my fantasies come true. All I had to do was be bold enough to ask. But was I that bold? Was I? Apparently so because the next words out of my mouth stepped into one of my favorite fantasies.
“I need a shower.”
I felt him flinch, the reaction as bold as if I’d slapped him. “What?” he said.
I played back my words in my head and realized too late what that sounded like.
“No, um. Not like that.” I took a deep breath and waded in. “What I meant was, would you like to take a shower with me? Like, um, back in my hotel room?”
Chapter Four
Rob
I couldn’t believe she’d just said that and I struggled to get my “yes” out fast enough. Nothing like the image of getting wet with a hot Asian girl to short-circuit my brain. Better yet, it wasn’t just any Asian girl, but Heidi, who laughed at my jokes and was smarter than I’ll ever be.
“Rob?”
“Yes!” Okay, too rushed an answer, but forgivable. After all, this was Heidi who acted prim…except when she was in a wet T-shirt contest or coming all over my hand. She’d already blown my mind twice tonight, and it sounded like she wanted to do it again. Which had every cell in my body leaping into horndog territory. “I mean, um…”
Don’t blow this. Don’t blow this.
I took a steadying breath. “Yes. If you’d like to.”
“I do,” she said, her face canting away but her eyes remaining on mine. It was a shy look for her, but one filled with mischief. And, incidentally, it was the same look she’d had on stage. The one that had made me so hard, I’d nearly poked a hole in my shorts.
She fixed her bra—a crime, in my opinion—and started to stand up. I scrambled to help her, but she was all smooth grace where I felt clumsier than I’d ever felt in my life. God only knew if I’d be able to walk, given my current boner. Fortunately, I managed it. We linked hands and started moving. I was hyperaware of her wetness on my hand. No way was I wiping that off. It was ambrosia, pure and simple.
