Pleasure Beach

by P. J. Mellor

  His smile widened. “No problem. Neither did I.” He stroked her hair from her face. “Don’t look so apprehensive—”

  “I’m not! It’s just that, well, we really don’t know each other that well and—”

  “Hey, you’re the one who refused to tell me her name. You wanted to just enjoy each other. No strings. No commitment. Those were your exact words.” His eyes narrowed. “Changed your mind?”

  Her hair brushed her cheeks when she shook her head. “No. I think our original deal is still the best plan.”

  “You’re sure? I don’t mind if you want to tell me your name. Or anything else, for that matter.”

  “Hey, trying to change the rules before we even begin our weekend?” Her smile felt brittle. This was what she’d wanted. And he was right. Her idea, her rules. “Last one in the hot tub has to cook dinner!”

  Marc held up the sheer ruffled apron he’d found in the pantry and wondered at his sanity.

  He’d suffered a minor, but nonetheless terrifying, medical warning sign less than a month ago. If conditions did not change, he could have serious cardiac problems. Jack, his best friend and cardiologist, had just given him the green light for resuming normal activities a few days ago, along with news of his enforced vacation.

  He wadded up the apron and tossed it back into the pantry drawer. Jack would, in all likelihood, not consider his recent sexual exploits “normal activity.”

  Maybe it was his recent brush with his own mortality that had him wanting to howl at the moon whenever a certain blonde entered his thoughts, much less the room.

  Regardless, time away from the hospital was exactly what he’d needed. With or without sex.

  He walked toward the doorway and stopped to watch his date gingerly lower herself into the steaming tub on the deck. Within seconds, he’d shed his clothes and strode across the deck.

  How could the most intense pleasure he’d ever known hurt him? And even if it killed him…what a way to go!

  5

  Kinsey closed her eyes and concentrated on the churning water that lifted her breasts, jiggling them in a very intriguing way.

  The door behind her slid open and shut. Although she couldn’t pick up another sound, she knew immediately when he joined her.

  She opened her eyes to find him intently watching her. His stare set off a tingle deep within her. She’d never considered herself a particularly sexual being, yet found sexual thoughts constantly with her since meeting this man.

  Deliberately keeping her gaze cool, she returned his look. Neither spoke for several minutes.

  “I’m glad you agreed to spend the weekend with me,” he said, moving closer. “And I know we agreed to keep it anonymous. But…tell me your name?”

  In truth, she’d been dying to know his name, too. Would that put a crimp in the weekend? Probably not. “Okay, how about this…first names only. Can you live with that?”

  His mustache quirked with his little smile. “I guess it’ll have to do. For now.” He reached back and handed her a glass of champagne, then retrieved his own. “To this weekend, my beautiful but mysterious companion and…endless possibilities.”

  Their rims clinked. Eyes held as they sipped the cool wine. Kinsey concentrated on not breathing in the tiny bubbles as she drank, then held the champagne in her mouth to warm it before swallowing. “Okay, now that I’ve agreed, what’s your name?”

  His eyes looked impossibly blue over the rim of his glass. He took a leisurely sip. “Ladies first.”

  Should she reveal her real name? Would that lead to other complications, complications she wasn’t ready to deal with at this point? She could always make up something. After all, she didn’t even bring her purse. He’d have no way of knowing whether or not it was really her name.

  She dismissed that thought almost as soon as it came. Then again, she could use Karly’s name. As identical twins, they had at one time been one being, so the name was almost hers. But what if he called out “her” name during sex? Could she bear hearing another woman’s name during such an intimate act? Especially her sister? Nope. Too high on the creep meter.

  “It’s not a difficult question,” he said with a slow smile. “I bet you’ve known your name most of your life.”

  “Kinsey.” She wasn’t the only Kinsey in the world. It wasn’t as though she’d told him her entire name. So why did she feel so vulnerable?

  “Kinsey? Really?” He leaned closer and she nodded. “You’re sure you’re telling the truth?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He swept her onto his lap and held her close. “Hello, Kinsey.” His mouth brushed hers, his firm thighs pressing intimately against her bottom. “I’m Marcus—Marc to my friends. And you’re definitely one of my friends.” His lips took possession, his tongue boldly thrusting into her oh-so-eager mouth.

  Kinsey clamped her legs tightly closed, willing herself not to squirm on his lap. Wow! The guy—Marc—sure knew how to kiss! The combination of champagne, hot bubbling water and hot male was bone-meltingly potent.

  “Take me!” she demanded, her lips barely leaving his as she straddled him. “Now!”

  All it took was one powerful thrust of his hips. Her climax washed over her in a tidal wave of sensations, almost drowning her in its intensity.

  His hips pumped into her, faster and faster. His grip on her hips tightened to the point of pain. To her amazement, a fraction of a second after he stiffened and shouted his satisfaction, yet another wave washed over her, leaving her gasping in its aftermath.

  Too weak to lift her head, much less leave the warmth of his arms, she rested her forehead on his collarbone and took deep, shuddering breaths, waiting for her heart to resume its normal cadence.

  Marc’s hands shook when he pushed a tendril of wet hair from her face. His lips warm—also breathing irregular, she noticed—he strung tiny kisses from her hairline to the tip of her nose.

  “Kinsey?”

  “Hmm?” It happened again. Her bones had melted. She couldn’t move if her life depended on it.

  “Last night was amazing. Unbelievable. Earth shattering.” She felt him shrug. “Easily the best time of my life. But—Kinsey, are you listening to me?”

  “Uh-huh.” She snuggled closer.

  His hands slid to her shoulders and his grip tightened. He lifted her away, still gripping her shoulders. Drat. Must be important.

  She opened heavy lids and blinked sleepily in an effort to bring his handsome face into focus.

  “While it was wonderful, I have a confession to make.”

  That woke her up. “What?” She was almost afraid to hear his answer.

  “I’m exhausted! I need a nap.”

  She laughed and slumped against him in relief.

  “C’mon, lady. Let’s go take a nap.”

  “You mean a sleep-type nap?” Although the idea definitely appealed to her, the reality of actually getting any sleep next to such a splendid specimen seemed slim.

  “Eventually,” he said, then stood with her in his arms, grinning down at her. “I think I saw some body lotion on the bathroom counter. What do you say to a deep massage, then a quick nap?”

  She slid down his already partially aroused body until her bare feet touched the warm wood of the deck. She turned and immediately his arms went around her, his hands cupping her breasts. Their erotic reflection winked back at her from the glass doors. Although it was slipping quickly from her to-do list, she felt compelled to ask, “Marc? How about that massage now?”

  She watched the top of his head in the glass as he bent to kiss the sides of her neck. There ought to be some sort of law against being so gorgeous. Not to mention sexy.

  One of his hands reached to open the door while the other still toyed with her nipple. Before she could draw the next breath, he swept her into his arms again and stepped into the cool darkness of the house.

  Her eyes adjusted as he strode through the living room. It appeared to be decorated with a private retreat in mind, ju
dging by the amount of candles, the fireplace and varied textures of the plushly upholstered furniture.

  The stairway passed in a blur to open into a huge second-floor room, one whole wall of which was a gigantic curved window. The view of the beach and surging surf was breathtaking.

  She scarcely noticed the coolness of the quilted silk bedspread when he deposited her on the big, round brass bed.

  “Cool, huh?” He reached for a remote on the nightstand. “Watch this.” He pushed a button and a whirring sound filled the room. The curved glass began to part, sliding back into the walls.

  The sound of surf hitting the sand echoed against the curve of the opposing wall and bounced back.

  It was all so overwhelming, she could do little else besides smile. It was like being in the heart of a giant seashell. Amazing.

  Marc stretched out beside her, a bottle of body lotion in one hand. “I promised a weekend at the beach. Since we aren’t actually on the beach, I thought the least I could do was bring it to you.”

  She looped her arms around his neck and pulled his face close enough to brush his lips with hers. “It’s great! Thank you so much for bringing me!”

  “The weekend is just beginning.” He chewed his lower lip a moment, then asked, “Do you trust me, Kinsey?”

  With the next heartbeat, she knew she did and nodded.

  His hands slid down her arms to clasp her hands in his much larger ones. She blinked and found her arms above her head, her wrists held loosely in some kind of soft bond. She twisted her head to look. Velvet. Each wrist was secured within a padded red velvet loop that hung from either knob on the headboard. Her heart hammered. “What are you doing?”

  “They came with the furnishings.” He shrugged. “I thought we might give them a try, unless you don’t want to, but I thought maybe…” He leaned closer, his breath ruffling her hair. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “If you’re uncomfortable with it or want me to stop, just say the word.”

  Oh, she was uncomfortable all right, but loving every minute of it. “Don’t stop,” she whispered back.

  His teeth flashed white against his tan in the semidarkened bedroom. “The lotion was in a warmer, so it shouldn’t be too cold.” He squeezed and she watched with detached fascination as a stream of pale cream fell from his fist to draw a line between her breasts, down her abdomen, around her pubic bone, then down each thigh. Don’t move, don’t squirm. What’s he going to do next?

  The bottle fell to the carpeted floor with a dull thud as each of his big hands spanned her thighs just above her knees and began rubbing in the lotion.

  Slow, even strokes took his hands higher and higher. Moisture pooled and it was all she could do to stop from arching toward him when his thumbs brushed her weeping flesh.

  When his hands left her she swallowed a whimper, only to all but purr when they resumed the sensual massage, this time spreading the slick lotion carefully over each breast. His thumbs and forefingers rubbed and prodded her nipples into stiff peaks, making them ache for more.

  He smiled and blew on them, causing them to draw even tighter. The tip of his tongue flicked over the tips, then his hands continued their path downward. Rubbing, constantly rubbing the lotion into her hot skin, ever closer, ever lower.

  At her pubic bone, he paused. He leaned over and placed a tender kiss on her navel, the pads of his thumbs tracing the top edge of her bone. They followed what would have been her line of pubic hair had she not indulged in her first Brazilian wax. Slick and hairless, her skin was a quivering mass of sensation. He carefully rubbed the lotion into her skin, the pads of his thumbs brushing against her swollen flesh.

  She gasped and squirmed, anxious to return his torture, eager to touch as she’d been touched. “Please,” she said on a breathy sigh. “Untie me. I want to touch you.”

  His eyes sparkled, a dimple flashed. He slid up her, further inflaming her with a full frontal-body massage. His hands dragged lotion up the length of her arms. At the velvet bonds, he massaged her wrists, eyes locked with hers.

  “I want you to touch me, too. But not yet. If you do, it will all be over too soon.” He stretched to kiss the inside of each wrist, then slid back down until his hot breath fanned her moistness.

  “But I—ahh!” His tongue dragged along her opening, lapping at the proof of her arousal. She groaned.

  He groaned in response, setting off wondrous vibrations deep within her.

  The pointed tip of his tongue probed, then retreated before she could fully enjoy the sensation. Each thrust went a little deeper. But not deep enough.

  Her moans of frustration mingled with the sound of the surf. She felt the pounding of the waves on the shore with each beat of her heart.

  His tongue delved deep, swirling within her. Her cry of climax echoed with the surf.

  Did anyone ever die from coming so many times? She struggled for breath, then realized she’d clamped her thighs firmly together under the force of her orgasm. To her horror, she’d inadvertently trapped his head. She ordered her thighs to relax, but they seemed to have a will of their own.

  He didn’t seem to mind. His tongue was still doing almost unbearably exciting things to her nub. When he gently nipped it, wave number two washed over her.

  Gasping, she yanked her hands from their velvet prison, then pulled and tugged until he was positioned between her legs, the head of his penis so close she felt it pulse. Her hands gripped his firm buttocks and she pulled as she thrust her hips forward.

  He was buried to the hilt; his eyes widened and sought hers. Gazes locked, they began the ancient dance.

  Afterward he collapsed on her, his weight a welcome anchor. When their breathing returned to somewhat normal, he rolled to his side and tucked her tightly against him.

  He gently brushed her hair from her face and placed a lingering kiss on her temple. “So,” he said against her skin, “you’re not married, are you?”

  6

  “Married!” Her attempted laugh sounded forced, even to her. “Don’t be ridiculous!” A sudden thought hit her hard, caused her heart to trip. She twisted in an effort to see his face. “Are you?” More scared than she could remember being in her adult life, she could barely force the words from her lips.

  His arms tightened around her shoulder and he kissed the top of her head. “Married? Nope.” His thumb rubbed the side of her breast. “Never even came close.”

  It felt silly to be so pleased by his words, but she couldn’t help it. She snuggled deeper within his embrace, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat against her ear.

  What a wonderful way to fall asleep, she thought as she began to drift off, the sound of surf a gentle lullaby.

  Marc felt the last of Kinsey’s muscles relax in sleep and gathered her closer, kissing the top of her head. Her hair smelled of flowery shampoo and sunshine.

  He willed himself to relax and get some rest. The insatiable woman beside him would wear him out if he didn’t get some sleep.

  Sleep wouldn’t come.

  Instead, images flashed through his mind. Some good, like his first encounter with Kinsey. Some fantastic, like every erotic moment they’d had since they met.

  Some terrifying. Like the unholy pain crushing his chest as he drove himself to the ER, and the aching, almost useless feeling in his left arm. As a physician, he knew the symptoms of an impending cardiac arrest as well as anyone. He had them all. Funny, though—as he had lain on the gurney waiting for Jack, the thing that scared him most was the numbness of his arm and hand. Very scary stuff for a left-handed surgeon.

  Almost as scary as dying alone, with no one to miss you or grieve for you.

  Kinsey twitched in her sleep and hitched one smooth leg over his, causing a meltdown around his heart. A heart many had claimed impervious to feeling anything.

  He stiffened, trying not to crush her against him. Feelings of any sort were semiforeign to him. Yet when he looked at Kinsey, or even thought about her, fierce possession stabbed him. He swa
llowed and looked down at her face.

  Was this love?

  And if it were love, what would happen when the weekend was over? She’d made her intentions very clear. One wild weekend, no strings. He had agreed. Could he convince her to change her mind?

  The thought of their relationship—and yes, damnit, it was a relationship!—ending with the weekend was unacceptable. Somehow, between now and Sunday night, he had to convince her to stay or at least see him again.

  Kinsey woke slowly, sated lethargy deep within her muscles. She reached across the pillow to find nothing but cool sheets and an empty pillow. She traced the indentation where Marc’s head had rested, then raised her head and looked around. Where was he anyway?

  While they’d slept, the sun had almost set. A fine line of pink edged the water line in the distance. The air from the open wall had taken on a distinct chill.

  She sat up, pulling the top sheet around her. “Marc?” Emptiness answered her. Grasping the sheet, she scooted off the bed and padded toward what must be the bathroom.

  It was.

  Tiny lit candles surrounded a sunken whirlpool tub, its water quietly churning. Gardenias floated in several glass bowls filled with water, releasing their pungent aroma with the warm humidity.

  “He can’t be far,” she murmured. “May as well enjoy the bath while I can.” The sheet dropped to the plush, carpeted floor as she climbed onto the pedestal surrounding the tub and stepped into the water.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes. A girl could definitely get used to this.

  “Kinsey? Kinsey, wake up, babe. You’re turning into a prune.” Warm lips punctuated his words. Kinsey smiled and lazily opened her eyes.

  “Hi.” He sat on edge of the tub, smiling down at her.

  She reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers. “Hi, yourself.” She stretched and tried to hide her smile at the way his eyes tracked her breasts through the bubbling water. “Where were you? I thought you were exhausted and needed a nap.”

  “I was, but couldn’t sleep.” His smile broadened. “I think it had something to do with the sexiness of my bed partner.”