Summer Indiscretions Read online

  Her hand snakes inside the door, and she sets an iPod dock on the dresser. Some song I’ve never heard before pulses through the speakers, but it’s got a sexy beat.

  I can feel the giant smile on my face. She’s going to strip for me.

  She sidles in, every step deliberate, only now she’s wearing panties, a tank top, and my black button-down. Her in my shirt does things to me and I sit up, unable to tear my gaze from her and the way she undulates her hips as she walks around the bedroom. She’s stiff at first, but as she concentrates and immerses herself in the music, her motions become more languid, sexier as her confidence grows.

  The buttons on my shirt take a second for her to undo, but she turns her back to me to open it and strip it off. She peeks over her shoulder and must see something steadying in my smile, because she winks and gives a little shake as it hits the floor.

  Her tank top follows suit, and I swallow hard. My hands itch to touch every inch of her exposed skin—and all the bits still hidden from me beneath fabric and inhibition.

  I lie back to enjoy the sight.

  Mel shimmies and swivels, dancing to the beat of the song, swaying in her light-purple panties. My cock pulses in time with her movements. Her quadriceps are gorgeously defined. Her weight shifts her body from side to side while she steps out of the pants, laughing a little at her clumsiness.

  “This is supposed to be sexier.”

  “No.” My voice catches. “Trust me. You’re doing perfectly.”

  She moves closer, reaching back to undo her bra.

  I sit up, barely breathing. “You’re so sexy.”

  Mel walks over and turns her back to me when I move to the edge of the bed. The backs of her smooth thighs rub against my legs as she grinds her way up my legs. She takes her time reaching my erection, teasing it against her ass.

  I kiss her back and the nape of her neck, but I keep my hands to myself. She smiles and stands, tossing her bra at me. She covers herself with her hands, turning to the side and stripping her panties off.

  “Let me see you.” I swallow hard, salivating at everything I can see and tortured by what I can’t.

  There’s a split second of hesitation, but her gaze flickers to my very hard dick. She turns to face me, dropping her hands. Even my fingertips throb with wanting. She slowly spins around, letting me drink in the sight of her.

  That’s it. I can’t not touch her anymore.

  I stand and grab the back of her neck, savaging her mouth with deep plunges of my tongue to make up for the agony of pleasure she’s subjected me to with this teasing dance. She moans into my mouth when I squeeze her ass, reveling in the way it feels in my hands. It’s like she’s been a dream, an illusion this whole time, and I’m in a frenzy to prove to my body that she’s real and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to have her.

  Soon.

  I nip her earlobe and pull her tighter to me, maximizing the amount of contact between us. I rub against her until she pulls at my ass too, trying to draw me closer. Her nails claw at my back, painful and gratifying.

  I grab the backs of her thighs, spread her legs, and lift her against me. She’s warm and wet, soaking the top of my shaft. She takes advantage of the proximity and crushes her lips to mine again, rubbing against me, killing my self-control.

  I walk us backward toward the bed and pull her legs down so she’s standing. I sit on the bed, shuffling over on my back so my head’s on the pillow where it should be. I gesture for her to come to me. She climbs on top, kissing her way up my belly and chest, and then pauses as though unsure what comes next.

  I gently grip her hips. “What’s up?”

  Her eyes flick down and she smirks. “Aside from the obvious? I’ve never really done this.”

  “If that dance was anything to go by, you should give your imagination a longer leash.” I run my hands down, then up her thighs.

  “I know, but…”

  “But what?”

  She hesitates.

  “Close your eyes,” I say. She does. I slide my fingers from her hips in toward her belly. She shivers, and her nipples pucker into tight little buds. “How’s this feel?”

  “Nice.”

  I move my hands lower, down her pubic bone, past her clit. I dip my fingers into her wetness and slick it back up, rubbing in light, slippery circles.

  She moans. “So good.”

  “Put your hands on my chest.” She does. I sit up and flick a nipple into my mouth, giving it a leisurely suck while I continue gliding my hands back and forth, using my four fingers as ridges of pleasure. When her breath turns to mewls and pants, I increase the pressure and speed until her nails dig into my chest. She sits up straight, twitching, and more honey coats my fingers.

  “God, Blake.”

  Her lips are swollen and dark pink, the blood making her face deliciously flushed as well. When she comes, she moves so languidly it’s like she’s in slow motion. She forgets to be self-conscious. I can’t take my eyes off her. Off that slow smile.

  I palm her breasts. “What do you want now, Mel?”

  “Just you.”

  “Which part of me?”

  She bites her lip and takes me in her hands, leisurely stroking. “This part.” Her gaze burns into mine, bold, sure of herself. She knows what she wants and isn’t scared to take it. Coming does this to her.

  I want to make her come every hour so she floats through her days exactly like this. This sure of herself, this gloriously unself-conscious.

  “Get a condom,” I growl.

  Her lips curl into a wicked grin, and she milks me a few more times from root to tip. She tells me with her actions that this time she wants to be the one in charge, and I should lie back and take it.

  No arguments from me.

  She scoots back and bends, caressing the tip of my cock with her tongue. Heat lances through my belly and spreads up my torso in time with her licks. As lightly as I’m able, I trail my fingers through her scalp and hold her hair out of the way.

  I don’t need to direct her movement, but the urge to thrust invades every cell of my body, screaming at me to do it. I keep my grip loose but thrust up to meet her—giving in to the impulse, but giving her the freedom to back off.

  She doesn’t.

  She draws me deeper, sucks harder, pumps her hand faster up my shaft.

  This time I firmly push her away.

  “Condom. Now.”

  Chapter 15

  Melanie

  I’m so aroused I can feel the wetness on my inner thighs, the pulsing between my legs as insistent as though my heart lies there instead of in my chest.

  His body is tense, muscles ropey and flexed like he’s holding back. I don’t want him to hold back. I don’t want to hold back.

  That’s why I danced for him—something I’ve pictured doing before, something to turn him on. I never could have imagined how hot it would make me as well.

  I grab a condom from the nightstand and open the packet.

  I want us to crash together with everything we’ve got. A tsunami of pleasure, forcing away everything but our bodies and this bed. He tenses when I roll the condom down his cock. His taste still lingers on my tongue. When I danced for him, I felt sexy. When he made me come, I felt free. Free from obligations and worries and doubts and indecision.

  Unshackle me, Blake. Unchain me from the restrictions I use to tether myself to the person I think I should be.

  He reaches out a hand to guide me. I take it and rise onto my knees to slowly move into position, spread above him. I try to keep my gaze on his when I sink down, but the way he fills me is too good, too much, and my eyes drift shut.

  Blake’s hands claim me more with every caress of my hips and breasts and belly. I claim him back by rocking back and forth, giving him everything I can. I open my eyes again, finding his.

 
I want to see in his eyes that he’s mine as well. That I’m erasing everything else in the world for him like he does for me, buying us a brief time of pure bliss.

  How does he connect me to a line of confidence? Is it because I want to drive him wild so badly it makes me forget all my inhibitions? Wanting to see the lust in his eyes transforms me into the sexy version of myself I’ve always wanted to be. With Blake, it’s easy to be her.

  How do I keep this feeling alive inside me when he’s not?

  His fingers dig into my hips, a firm pressure reminding me that we’re making this together. I cover his hands with mine—laughably small compared to his—and smile down at him. “I could do this forever.”

  “Promise?” He thrusts up harder, nudging against a deep place inside me, and I gasp.

  I want more. I want it to hurt when I sit down, want to ache inside for days knowing it was Blake who left me so deliciously sore. Secret marks only we know about.

  All I want is more, and more, and more, but a dull pain in my left hip is replaced with a sharp cramp that throws off my motions. Blake sits up, wraps his arms around me, and lies me down on my back.

  Still buried deep inside me, he kisses me slowly, lingeringly, and somehow that turns me on even more. But it’s nothing compared to what him pinning my hands above our heads does. My nipples ache, and my pussy convulses around him with greedy want.

  He pulls back. “Mmm, Mel. I could do this forever.”

  “I want it forever. I want it now.” The words come out husky, laced with need.

  He gives it to me. God, he gives it to me. Pinned to the bed with a giant smile on my face, I feel my breasts bounce with every thrust of his skillful hips.

  Blake keeps looking down at them, shaking his head and groaning as he fucks me harder, deeper. He must like how that looks almost as much as his reaction makes me feel.

  I want to wrap my arms around him, hold his tight ass hard, and pull him against me like I can draw him farther inside. But his grip on my hands is unescapable—not that I want him to let go. Instead, I spread my legs wider. So much sensual friction whips me around, making me dizzy inside myself. Every nerve is lit with awareness, sizzling with the slightest touch.

  I didn’t know it could be like this.

  I didn’t know I could be like this.

  He’s breaking my expectations, smashing them with every thrust, showing me that I need more. Should want more—from lovers—for myself.

  I tense deep inside, on the verge of coming. I want to hold off, to draw this out forever, to live on the edge of perfection with Blake.

  But he already knows my body too well, and with one last thrust, I completely unravel beneath him.

  * * *

  “I think that’s all of it.” I squint critically at the kitchen, trying to find an errant blob of dough, but we seem to have gotten it all.

  Blake nods and yawns. “Leaving it to dry probably made it easier to clean.”

  Instead of smearing, it let us just pick off the spots and sweep them along. Not that waiting was a conscious choice. After we got sidetracked, we fell back asleep. I woke him up early for our date and we were talking wistfully about coffee before remembering the kitchen disaster and got to work cleaning it. “Yeah, but I’m kind of starving. It’s too bad we don’t have those biscuits.”

  He smiles and embraces me from behind. “I could go get another tube.”

  I snuggle against him, enjoying the perfect fit. “No way. With our luck, we’d have a raging case of déjà vu.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Spending time cleaning when we could be doing…other things? That’s a waste.”

  He nuzzles my neck. “What other things?”

  “I want to get really wet with you.” I grin and pull away. “And if that clock is correct, we’ve got to be at the beach in twenty minutes.”

  “For?”

  “A thing I arranged.”

  “What thing?” His voice goes slightly higher with excitement.

  “It’s a surprise.” And another thing I’ve always wanted to do.

  “Mmm. I have ways of making you talk.” His lips find the sensitive spot where my neck meets my jaw, and for a dizzying moment, I forget what we were talking about.

  He turns me around, moving me like I’m the clay beneath his potter’s hands. His kiss can change me on fundamental levels. I think it already has.

  Warmth slides up my spine an inch behind his hand, sending a parade of tingles through me. It makes me shiver even before his tongue caresses mine.

  “That only works in the movies.” My body is swollen with need again, but I pull away before he realizes how much I want to throw him to the floor and climb on top—and damn my plans. If they slept until noon and then cleaned and are just now getting on a charter bus for Marathon, they won’t be getting there until 4:00 p.m. at the earliest. Is that okay? I tug him toward the door and lock it behind us.

  “There?”

  “Marathon.”

  He squints and doesn’t ask me to elaborate, but I can tell he’s intrigued.

  We walk hand in hand to the beach, silent. He refuses to ask, and I refuse to offer any further information—even when we board a charter bus with a group of other tourists. His strong jaw works, but his lips stay in an amused smirk. We rumble down the road in our air-conditioned chariot, and for a while we sit in silence.

  “Hey.” Blake turns to me. “I thought you had motion sickness.”

  “No, I haven’t been bothered by that since I was sixteen.” Mortification hits a moment later.

  The last time I had motion sickness, we’d gone on a camping trip—and Blake had been invited along as Shawn’s friend. I’d ridden in the very back of the van, the boys deciding they needed the bucket seats in the middle row. I’d been so self-conscious and distracted by the idea of sleeping next to Blake—if only through the walls of our separate tents—that I’d been unable to focus on my book. I kept looking out the window.

  Big mistake. The only way I got through road trips longer than twenty minutes was by keeping my nose in a book the entire time.

  I’d asked, voice as weak as my stomach, if we could stop for a minute. Shawn had turned and yelled, “Dad! Melanie’s green!”

  Fortunately, I’d stress eaten nearly a whole bag of chips—and then I puked them up back into their bag. Horrifyingly, I’d made eye contact with Blake just before they came up.

  Now, he laughs. “I’m glad you got over it.”

  “Me too.”

  I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, dating someone who was there to witness your most mortifying formative years while he looked like a dream. I can’t rewrite history and pretend I was smoother than I was. But on the other hand, I don’t have to waste energy pretending I was perfect. Pretending to be perfect.

  Blake knows me and hasn’t run screaming from the state yet. Here in Florida, I’m the most myself I’ve ever been, and it’s because he knows everything. It’s more than that, though. He knows everything but doesn’t lock me into the cage of expectation.

  I bite my lip, watching the foreign landscape go by.

  When you’ve known someone forever, you expect them to behave in certain ways, even when you don’t see them that often. You lock them in a static place where they keep the shape you expect them to, and you resist when they change.

  A militant carnivore becomes a vegan. Someone gets the travel bug and embraces other cultures, developing worldly affectations that make you feel like they’re a stranger.

  But that’s not fair. It’s another kind of limitation, trying to force them back inside the skin of the person they used to be.

  Blake knows who I was, but he accepts me for the person I am, the one I’m trying to be. That’s rare. I take his hand and lay my head on his shoulder, glad he’s here w
ith me. If anyone else had shown up on the beach, who knows how things would have changed? I might have jumped back into the ill-fitting box and stayed cramped inside to meet their expectations.

  It makes me glad to go on an adventure with him.

  It makes me want to go on every adventure with him.

  Chapter 16

  Blake

  Dolphins feel like a wet, peeled, hard-boiled egg.

  It’s fucking awesome.

  The life jacket rides up in a way that’s impossible to feel cool in, but we’re swimming with dolphins. The thought derails any pretenses. Mostly.

  I’ve felt Mel’s gaze on me off and on all day. Jolts of awareness slide up my spine in an electrically pleasant way to let me know when she’s looking. I like knowing she’s staring. I like seeing her blush when I catch her.

  I like it even better that she hasn’t noticed me staring in her unguarded moments.

  She’s especially beautiful today—sexy in an effortless way. Maybe it’s because of the way she was in bed last night. I don’t know. But she’s calmer. The perma-frown left her brow sometime in the last few days, and her neck has elongated since the tension eased from her shoulders, letting her relax. I wonder if she even remembers how her shoulder hurt just a few days ago. I guess it’s been over a week.

  Time flies in paradise.

  The dolphin cackles at me with its squeaky voice and squirts me with a jet of water from its mouth.

  Mabel is a jealous girl, apparently. I laugh and rub her tummy, focusing on her again. “Aww, don’t be jealous, Mabel. You know I love you.”

  She waves her left fin, and I grab a fish from the bucket on the dock and feed it to her. Happiness radiates from her bottle-nosed face. Dolphins are supposed to be one of the smartest species on the planet, and I believe it.

  But I didn’t know they could be so human with their quirks and personality.

  Mel brought me to the Dolphin Research Center in Marathon. It was a long drive but worth it, spent talking about old times. It’s funny how I never knew about Mel’s crush on me. Maybe because she was young and I was focused on other things, not seeing it because I never expected to see it.