Beach Bar Baby Page 6

  ‘Can I see you naked? Please?’ she asked.

  His answering laugh sounded strained. ‘I guess so, seeing as you asked so nice.’ He dropped her suddenly, clutched her arm as she stumbled. ‘Race you.’

  She giggled as he hopped around on one foot, wrestling to get his boot off.

  ‘Don’t just stand there.’ He tossed the boot across the room. ‘Lose the damn pants or you’ll have to pay a forfeit.’

  Unbuttoning her jeans, she slipped them over her hips, going for the full stripper effect as she wiggled out of them, and loving the way his nostrils flared as he lost the other boot.

  His wicked grin spread, and her heart rate accelerated, as he unhooked his trousers, shoved them down and kicked them off, not once taking his eyes off her.

  Her gaze caught on the magnificent erection, standing proud in the nest of tawny curls. ‘Wow...that’s...really rather exceptional.’

  He laughed. ‘Have I told you, I love your accent?’ He inclined his head towards the last piece of clothing she had on. ‘Now lose the panties, before I rip them off.’

  She whipped them off, twirled them on her finger and flung them away with a flourish.

  ‘Good job.’ He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the bed, lying down beside her on the surprisingly comfy mattress.

  She shivered, the light breeze coming through the shutters scented with the ocean.

  His thumb trailed down her sternum. Then circled one heavy breast. She lifted up on her elbows to kiss him. The taste of the cola he’d been drinking all evening was as sweet as the weight of that exceptional erection cradled against her belly. Anticipation roared through her system. It had been so long since she’d felt this sexy, this aroused, this playful.

  Ruby was right: why had she always been so serious about sex after college? She planned to correct that right now—she licked into his mouth, loving his staggered groan—with this gorgeous, hot, wonderfully reckless guy who was a gift she couldn’t wait to unwrap.

  His hands framed her face, his fingers plunging into her hair. She wrapped greedy fingers around the thick erection, slid her hand from root to tip, assessing its girth, its length, imagining it embedded into that aching, empty place between her legs.

  But he swore softly as her thumb glided over the plump head, gathering the slick drop of moisture—and grabbed hold of her wrist, to tug her hand away.

  ‘I’m way too close for that, sweetheart, but how about...?’ His voice trailed off as he traced his thumb between her breasts, circled her belly button, then delved into the hot, aching flesh of her sex.

  Moisture flooded between her thighs.

  She drew her knees up, let her head drop back, her sobs of pleasure loud over the sound of surf and the rustle of the breeze against their sweat-slicked bodies.

  He circled and toyed with the slick nub, teasing the perfect spot. ‘That’s it, baby, I want to see you come for me.’

  One large, blunt finger entered her, then another pushed in beside it, stretching her, stroking the walls of her sex as his thumb continued to play, to provoke. Sensation fired across her skin, trapped her breath under her breastbone. The coil of need tightened like a vice, the pleasure turning to devastating, delicious pain as it built to impossible proportions but wouldn’t let her go.

  Clinging to his shoulders, urging him on, she pumped her hips into his hand, riding that wonderfully devious touch as she gave herself up to the riot of sensations.

  Then he moved down on the bed, and disappeared between her knees. She shouted out in shock and delight as his tongue lapped at her swollen clitoris. Then he captured the slick nub between his lips and sucked. The coil yanked tight and then exploded in a dazzling shower of sensation. She sobbed—the long, thin cry of completion trapped in her throat as his mouth drove her through the last magnificent swell of orgasm.

  She pressed her legs together as he lifted his head, collapsing back to earth. Shuddering and shaking, she opened her eyes as he grinned down at her, his lips slick with her juices.

  The rumbled hum of his approval folded around her heart like a caress.

  ‘Sweeter than a Rum Swizzle,’ he whispered, the sensual, playful grin even more beautiful than the rest of him.

  The sight was so unbearably erotic, gratitude swelled in her chest, turning her voice into a throaty purr. ‘Thank you.’

  His lips tipped up at the edges. ‘No need to thank me, baby, the pleasure was all mine.’ He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. ‘But we’re not finished yet,’ he added, reaching across her to grab a foil packet from a glass jar on the upturned crate that doubled as a bedside table. He held it up. ‘You want to do the honours, or should I?’

  She lifted it out of his hand, her mouth watering at the thought of exploring that magnificent erection. And silently thanking him again for keeping things light and fun. ‘Let me.’

  She pushed his shoulder, until he lay on his back, that proud erection jutting up towards his belly button. Holding the packet in her hand, she licked the new bead of moisture off the tip. Savouring the taste of him. And eager to torment him the way he’d tormented her.

  But the guttural groan was followed by a harsh expletive and before she could take him into her mouth he clasped her cheeks to hold her back.

  ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we’re going to have to save that for later. I’m not Superman—and I don’t want to disappoint you.’

  He couldn’t possibly disappoint her, she thought. But only laughed at his look of panic. ‘Are you sure you’re not Superman?’

  ‘I used to be...’ The confident smile returned as he rolled on top of her and snagged the condom packet out of her hand. ‘But you’re zapping all my super-powers.’

  Ripping the foil with his teeth, he sheathed himself quickly, before nudging her thighs apart and settling between them. She felt the bulbous head nudge at her entrance as he held her hips, angling her pelvis.

  She groaned as the thick shaft speared through the tight sheath, overwhelming her senses as her slick, swollen flesh stretched to receive him.

  At last he was buried deep, pushing at her cervix. She gasped, astonished at the fullness, and how right, how exquisite it felt. She stroked his nape with unsteady fingers, enjoying the weight of him, the feeling of intimacy, and unity.

  ‘I think you’ve boldly gone where no man has gone before.’ She laughed, surprising herself with the ridiculous comment. But her heart felt so full, her body so magnificent, impaled on his. Could she come again? So soon after an orgasm? She certainly never had before, but with Cooper anything felt possible.

  He swore, panting, the sinews of his neck straining beneath her fingers as he began to move. ‘Damn it, woman, don’t quote Star Trek at me now,’ he grunted, between thrusts. ‘Can’t you see I’m trying to Klingon here.’

  She snorted a laugh that choked into a sob as he stroked a place deep inside that triggered another unstoppable rush towards orgasm.

  Goodness. I have a G-spot. Who knew?

  ‘Touch yourself,’ he demanded. ‘I want you to come with me.’

  She spread her own folds, blindly rubbing the stiff nub as he directed, feeling wild and untamed, greedily pursuing her own pleasure as the wave became sharper, sweeter, more glorious.

  She rode the crest, his ragged grunts matching her loud moans, and soared towards oblivion with tears of joy and laughter—and staggered astonishment—hovering on her lids.

  * * *

  She drifted back to consciousness, the euphoria of afterglow slowly replaced by discomfort from the thick penis still lodged inside her.

  He lifted off her, making her groan as her tight flesh struggled to release him.

  ‘That was seriously awesome.’ Flopping over onto his back, he lay with his arm over his face. ‘You’re incredibly tight.’

  She felt he
rself blush, an odd combination of pleasure and acute embarrassment at the intimate comment. ‘Only because you’re so big,’ she said, trying to find the playful tone again.

  ‘While my ego and I thank you for that...’ he dropped his arm to find her hand and thread his fingers through hers ‘...I’m not that much bigger than the average guy.’

  The blush glowed. Maybe it wasn’t just his size that had made him feel so large. Maybe it was because she hadn’t done it with anyone in at least a year. And certainly never with that much energy or enthusiasm.

  He turned onto his side, and cupped her cheek, his palm cool against her heated flesh. ‘Has it been a while?’

  She blinked, disconcerted by the perceptive comment. ‘Are you a mind-reader?’

  He touched her cheek, the tender, curious smile more seductive than the tangy scent of sex that surrounded them. ‘How long?’

  She huffed out a laugh, the embarrassment burned away by a new surge of arousal. ‘Far too long, it seems.’

  He hooked his thigh over her legs, shocking her when something stiff prodded her hip.

  ‘Is that...?’ She looked down, stunned to see him hard and ready again still sheathed by the condom.

  He lifted her chin, grinning. ‘Yeah, it is.’ The cheeky grin—not to mention his astonishing powers of recuperation—made him seem very boyish. Too boyish.

  ‘How old are you?’ she asked, before she could think better of it.

  His lips tilted. ‘Nearly thirty.’

  She propped herself up on her elbows. Good grief, he was still in his twenties. ‘How nearly?’

  ‘I’ll be twenty-nine next month. Why? You planning to give me a present?’ He cupped her breast, licked at the nipple. ‘I can think of something I’d love to see gift-wrapped.’

  ‘You’re twenty-eight.’ She scooted back. ‘But that’s...practically a toy boy.’

  He chuckled, then grabbed her shoulders and shoved her onto her back, anchoring her in place with one hard thigh. ‘Oh, yeah? So how old are you, then?’

  ‘I’m thirty-four,’ she said, indignantly.

  His gaze drifted over her face. ‘You don’t look it.’

  There didn’t seem to be any judgment in the tone, but still she felt...embarrassed. ‘Well, I am.’ Maybe it was only six years but it felt like the wrong six years. ‘Let me up.’

  ‘Not going to happen, old lady,’ he teased.

  She struggled, trying to buck him off, but he didn’t budge. ‘Please, this feels awkward now.’

  ‘Why? You’re at your sexual peak. And so am I.’

  Given the now-prominent feel of his erection, she had to agree. ‘I know, but it feels weird.’

  ‘It’s not weird, it’s cool.’ He rubbed his shaft against her hip—making it fairly obvious he wasn’t put off in the slightest by her vintage. She looked down at the thrusting erection. ‘Although FYI, I’m not a toy boy,’ he added. ‘You’re a damn cougar.’

  A laugh popped out before she could stop it, but cut off when he cupped her sex. His fingers delved, stroking her oversensitive clitoris, the touch light and fleeting but enough to send shock waves of need echoing through her.

  She thrust her fingers into his hair as he opened her thighs to position the impressive erection against her entrance. ‘Well, I suppose, if you put it like—’

  Grasping her hips, he thrust deep in one long, smooth, all-consuming stroke, stealing her breath and cutting off any more pointless protests.

  Oh, sod it.

  Six years was nothing, she decided, especially once he’d established a slow, lazy, teasing rhythm that quickly became more intoxicating than the rum.

  * * *

  Hours later, Ella struggled to focus on the radiant glow of dawn peeping through the shutters. Contemplating the tenderness between her thighs and the soreness in other, previously unknown and now thoroughly exercised muscle groups, she conceded that, while the years might not be a problem, the mileage definitely was.

  ‘I should go,’ she mumbled, her fuzzy brain latching onto the fact that lingering past daybreak had the potential to be a lot more awkward than their age difference.

  But when she lifted one tired limb, a muscular forearm banded round her midriff from behind and hauled her back into his embrace.

  ‘Nothing doing,’ Cooper’s sleep-roughened voice murmured against her hair. His big body cocooned her, his chest solid against her back, the soft hairs on his thighs brushing the backs of her legs and the softening erection still prominent against her bottom.

  She debated arguing with him, but couldn’t fight the thundering beat of her pulse, the fatigue dragging her into oblivion or the novelty of being held so securely. Maybe she could stay and snuggle, for a little bit? Grab one more hot memory to sustain her through the difficult truth she would have to face when she got home?

  This was her holiday of a lifetime, after all, and Cooper Delaney—toy boy extraordinaire—her passport to no-holds-barred pleasure.

  She relaxed, warmed by the comfort of his embrace. ‘All right, but I’ll go soon.’

  Her lips tilted into a smile as he grunted. ‘Shut up and go to sleep.’ His forearm tightened under her breasts. ‘You’re going to need to get your strength up, my little cougar. This toy boy isn’t finished with you yet.’

  She choked out a laugh—that became a wistful hum as his arm became slack and her own body drifted towards sleep.

  Colourful images collected behind her eyes—the glitter of pink sand beaches, the darting sparkle of blue-finned fish, the tangerine glow of fruit juice and rum, and the piercing jade of Cooper Delaney’s eyes.

  She swallowed to relieve the clutching sensation in her chest, and tumbled headlong into the rainbow dream.

  FIVE

  ‘Hey, Coop, get your butt out of bed, it’s past eleven. And I’ve got exciting news.’

  The muffled musical voice intruded on Ella’s dream. She squeezed open an eyelid, grateful when the brittle sunlight hitting her retinas didn’t appear to be accompanied by any pain, despite the definite thumping in her head.

  Flopping over onto her back, she squinted at the empty bed beside her, the rumpled sheets striped by the sunlight slanting through the shutters. And heard the thumping again. This time, though, it was definitely not in her head, but coming from the hut’s door, which shook on its hinges as the same musical voice from her dream, lilting with the lazy rhythms of a Bermuda native, shouted: ‘No use hiding, man. Henry told me you’d be here.’

  Ella shot upright, clasping the bed’s thin sheet to her naked breasts, and swayed as several questions bombarded her at once.

  How long had she been asleep? Where were her clothes? Where was Coop? And who the heck was that woman banging on the door?

  The answer to number one was hours, if the brightness of the sunlight was anything to go by. Scrambling out of bed as furtively as possible, she located her clothes in a neatly stacked pile on the arm of the sagging sofa, answering question number two. Questions three and four remained a mystery though, as she dressed as soundlessly as she could manage while continuing to scan the hut for any sign of her host.

  She jumped as the banging began again.

  ‘Hey, I can hear you in there. Avoidance won’t do you a damn bit of good.’

  Rats, do you have bionic hearing?

  She waited a few more strained seconds, while debating opening the shutters and escaping onto the deck, but eventually discarded the idea—given the girl’s hearing capabilities.

  The banging continued, and her not entirely settled stomach churned. What if this girl were Cooper’s girlfriend? Or his wife? Was that why he’d disappeared? Because what did she really know about Captain Studly, except that he was gorgeous, knew how to dance the soca and had magic fingers, a very inventive tongue, and a huge and permanently
stiff...

  Don’t go there.

  Squaring her shoulders, she swung the door open ready to face the consequences, to be greeted by a stunningly beautiful barefoot young woman of about twenty, wearing a pair of Daisy Dukes, a T-shirt with the message ‘Don’t Mess with a Libran’, tightly braided hair decorated with multicoloured beads, and a stunned expression.

  ‘Hi.’ She craned her neck to search the hut’s interior, having gained her composure a lot faster than Ella. ‘Is Coop around?’

  ‘Um, no, apparently not,’ Ella replied, opting for the only answer she could give with any confidence.

  ‘Uh-huh?’ The girl gave her a thorough once-over that had the heat steaming into Ella’s cheeks. ‘I guess he’s up at the big house.’

  The big house? What big house?

  ‘Sorry to wake you,’ the girl said. ‘Henry didn’t tell me Coop left the Runner with company last night. Just that he headed for his beach hut. Suppose Henry was messing with me. And Coop.’

  And me, thought Ella, annoyed by Henry the barman’s joke, and acutely embarrassed that this girl now knew she was the sort of woman who got picked up in bars.

  What had seemed wildly romantic last night, now felt pretty tacky.

  Ruby had encouraged her to let her inner flirt loose, but there had definitely been no mention of getting tipsy on rum cocktails, then getting nekkid with Captain Studly and jumping him four...no, five...oh, heck, make that at least a half-dozen times during the night.

  ‘You Coop’s new lady?’ The girl interrupted Ella’s panicked reappraisal of her behaviour.

  ‘Um, no, we’re just...’ What? Snorkel mates? Dance partners? Bonk buddies?

  The burning in her cheeks promptly hit maximum voltage as she searched for the appropriate term while recalling in X-rated detail exactly how intimately she and the invisible Coop had got acquainted last night, after very little provocation. ‘Friends,’ she finished lamely.