Pleasure Beach

by P. J. Mellor

  She returned his smile. “Really? I slept just fine.”

  “Thanks.” He tweaked her nose. “Are you hungry? The place comes fully stocked, but I don’t want to take time to cook on our first night. I figured we could either order out or go somewhere. There’s a list of good restaurants by the phone in the kitchen.”

  He helped her get out of the tub, his eyes busily raking her from head to toe. She wrapped a yellow bath towel securely beneath her arms and smiled up at him.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Marc, I’m a little, ah, underdressed to go out to dinner.”

  He slid his arms around her and tugged her close to nibble her neck. “Oh, yeah, I noticed all right.” He pulled the towel from her and captured a peaked nipple between his lips.

  Just as her knees were about to buckle and all thoughts of food left her mind, he released her and stepped back, replacing the towel. When he’d tucked it securely, he smiled at her. “While you were snoring—”

  “Excuse me? I do not snore!” Clutching her towel, she stepped back.

  “Of course, my mistake. As I said, while you were sleeping, I went shopping.” He reached beside the tub and held up two bulging shopping bags she hadn’t noticed. They were from a pricey boutique she’d always dreamed of patronizing. “Let’s go inspect your loot.” He grabbed her hand and led her into the living room.

  A fire blazed merrily in the fireplace. He stopped at a shaggy rug in front of the stone hearth and sat down, pulling her onto his lap.

  “My towel will get your shorts all wet,” she protested as she tried to scoot away.

  “Good point.” Before she realized his intentions, he whisked the towel from her and tossed it onto the couch. Well out of reach. “Now stop wiggling or you’ll get more than you bargained for, shorts or no shorts.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “Most likely, no shorts would be my guess.”

  Feeling more carefree than she’d felt in ages, she made a big production of getting settled, delighted when he growled in her ear.

  “Are you finished, ma’am?”

  “For now,” she answered smugly.

  “Brat.” He reached into the first bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bunch of strings. “Here’s a bathing suit for you, in case you don’t feel comfortable on the beach naked. Although I vote for naked.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She reached for the silken strings of vivid colors. “This has to be just one step above naked. You call this a bathing suit?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Saw it on a mannequin myself. Soon as I laid eyes on it, I knew you’d be dynamite in it.”

  “Uh-huh. A mannequin. Do you by chance remember how the mannequin was wearing it? Because I gotta tell you, it’s a stretch for me to even see this thing as a bathing suit.” She dangled the multicolored strings in front of his face. “If you don’t remember how it goes, I can’t see me ever getting the thing on correctly.”

  His smile gleamed white by firelight. “Well, even if we can’t figure out how it goes, we’re bound to have a hell of a good time trying to figure it out.”

  Heat filled her cheeks and she looked away. “What else did you get?”

  He stiffened beneath her, as though expecting a physical blow. She shifted to get a better look at his face. The guy actually looked embarrassed. What could he have possibly bought that would embarrass him, especially after the last twenty-four hours?

  “Marc? What is it?”

  He swallowed. Hard. “Now, keep an open mind, Kinsey.” He reached into the bag. “And try to remember how sexy I think you are and how much I want you. All the time. I—”

  “Just show it to me, Marc. Please.”

  He pulled out a short length of filmy, almost totally sheer dark fabric, followed by a scrap of the same fabric masquerading as a pair of panties. Risqué, yes. Sexy, definitely.

  “They’re lovely.” What there was of them.

  “They’re from a sex shop,” he said bluntly.

  “Really? I had no idea those types of places carried fine lingerie. They—”

  “Have holes.”

  “Huh?” What was he talking about? It was immediately apparent when he demonstrated by sticking a finger through a large embroidered hole in the crotch of the panties, then inserted an index finger through the tip of each cup on the top. “Oh,” she finished in a weak voice.

  “Yeah, ‘oh.’ And it gets better. Check this out.” He moved the panties closer to the firelight and stuck his finger through them again. Then she saw it. Around the embroidered hole, there was a pair of embroidered hot pink lips.

  She couldn’t help it. Laughter bubbled up and erupted in a shriek. At his stunned expression, she doubled over, trying desperately to contain herself. What if Marc was hurt by her hilarity? Wiping her eyes, telling herself to get a grip, she turned to see Marc’s shoulders hunched. Oh, no.

  She touched his cotton-covered shoulder and he turned. Tears of mirth streaked down his face. He took a deep breath, then went off again, deep laughter beaming off the walls. He held up the panties and wiggled his finger. The crotch looked like it was sticking its tongue out. Kinsey lost it, rolling on the floor.

  When they’d finally calmed down, she wiped her eyes with the edge of her discarded towel. “Marc, no offense, but what possessed you to buy those things?”

  “You,” he answered softly, his gaze caressing every inch of her exposed skin. “When I’m with you, or, obviously, thinking about you, I become sex crazed. There’s no other logical explanation.” He sighed and tossed the lingerie back into the bag. “I’ll take them back tomorrow.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  “What? But I thought you—”

  “I’ve never had anybody want me the way you want me, Marc.” She stroked his jaw. “If you think I would look sexy in them, then I’ll wear them. For you. Tonight.”

  “Tonight is too far away.” He loomed over her, yanking at his open shirt. “So is the bedroom.” The shirt hit the floor and slid halfway under the couch. “While I was shopping, all I could think of was you. How you looked. How you tasted. How I wanted to make love to you in every room in this house.” He shucked his safari shorts, revealing no underwear beneath. “I want to start here. Now.”

  “Yes,” she said against his lips as they sank back onto the rug.

  7

  Marc rubbed Kinsey’s bare shoulder. She sighed and burrowed closer to his heart. “Kins?”

  She immediately tensed.

  “Kinsey? What’s wrong?” He leaned back so he could see her face. “Did I say or do something wrong?”

  “No, of course not. It’s just…well, my sister calls me Kins.” She shrugged. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Would you rather I didn’t call you that?” He held his breath.

  “No, it’s fine. Really. Just unexpected.” She settled back against him, one hand petting his chest.

  So she had a sister. Were they close? What was their age difference? Did they look anything alike? Of course, he couldn’t ask those questions without breaking their agreement. But it was a minor victory that she’d shared that much more of herself.

  Maybe by the time his vacation was over he would know all about the mysterious Kinsey. Maybe it would be enough to get her out of his system.

  He watched the rise and fall of her breast against his side and gnashed his teeth.

  Maybe not.

  “Marc?” Kinsey came back in and sat down on the sofa, legs curled beneath her, wearing nothing but his shirt. The woman made his teeth ache.

  He cleared his throat and turned from stoking the fire. “Hmm?”

  She handed him the cell phone she’d asked to borrow a few moments before. Presumably to check her messages. “Thanks. Um, are all those things from, you know, a sex shop?”

  Only in my darkest fantasies. “No. They’re from the same place I bought the bathing suit.”

  She shifted, giving him a brief glimpse of her smooth folds. He’d never had sex with a woman w
ho had no pubic hair. It was erotic as hell. He couldn’t imagine doing it the other way again. Hell, he couldn’t imagine having sexual relations ever again in his life with anyone other than Kinsey.

  He blinked and made a production of replacing the fireplace tool while he absorbed that last revelation. The shock immediately gave way to an intense feeling of rightness.

  But, as revelations go, it was big. Maybe even life-altering. He hoped.

  Now…to get Kinsey to see it that way, too. That might prove to be a major problem. Luckily, problem solving was one of his strong points.

  “So,” he said as he sat down and oh-so-casually put his arm around her shoulder, “do you want to check out the rest of the stuff I bought for you or will you trust me to pick out something for you to wear to dinner?” He held his breath while she hesitated. She shifted against him and it was all he could do to restrain himself from running his hand up her smooth expanse of leg to play with all that soft skin.

  “I think…I’ll trust you.”

  She didn’t look all that sure, but he jumped from the couch with more than a little relief. If she trusted him enough to wear what he picked out in public, trusting him with more details of her life had to be close at hand.

  “Let’s take a shower, then get ready and go.”

  She shied away from his hand and stepped toward the hall. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Marc. I see that gleam in your eye. I’m hungry. If you get in the shower with me, we both know it will be a long time before I get any food.”

  “Okay, but make it snappy. I’ll lay your clothes on the bed.” He stepped to the hall and called after her, “And don’t use up all the hot water! I don’t know how big the tank is.”

  Kinsey nodded her thanks to the waiter and sat down, resisting the urge to pull at her neckline. The sundress Marc chose had a built-in push-up bra. On anyone who wore less than a C cup, it would be perfectly modest. On her double-Ds, it was almost illegal.

  The sweetheart neckline plunged deeply between her breasts, its edge barely concealing her areolae. The stretchy fabric of the skirt portion—well, what there was of it—was so clingy that even a thong left a panty line. Which was how she came to be sitting in one of the island’s more posh restaurants in no underwear. She tried not to think of her sandals as hooker shoes. Even her toes felt exposed.

  Did everyone know she was braless and pantyless? If the attention she’d drawn as she walked into the dining room was any indication, they did.

  And she’d never actually seen anyone devour something with their eyes until she saw the way Marc looked at her. Her perfume made even her own mouth water; somehow he’d known her taste and bought a small one hundred-dollar-plus bottle of the fragrance she’d been lusting after.

  Marc signaled the waiter. She hadn’t even picked up her menu. Surely he wasn’t planning to order already.

  “Yes, sir,” the waiter said, approaching their table, eyes glued to her cleavage.

  “Would it be possible to be seated in the aquarium room?” Marc asked, discreetly folding a bill into the waiter’s hand. “A booth, perhaps?”

  “Of course,” the waiter said with a smile. “Just give me a moment to prepare a table.”

  At her raised brow, Marc explained, “They have a huge aquarium surrounded by high-backed, padded booths. It’s spectacular. Very secluded.”

  Oh, she knew how secluded it was, all right. She and her date had dined here on her prom night. She’d bet she could pick out the very spot where she’d lost her virginity, even after all these years. For that reason, she’d always avoided this restaurant like the plague.

  Odd—now that she thought about it—that she’d felt only a rush of pleasure at the thought of coming here with Marc tonight.

  The waiter returned and led them toward the back, through a padded arch and down a ramp into the center path around the aquarium.

  Kinsey braced for the flood of bad memories, but instead found the aquarium breathtaking with its myriad of brightly colored fish. The gentle bubbling of the water soothed her and she realized there was nowhere else she’d rather be at this moment. With this man.

  “Do you like it?” Marc’s voice was low and intimate, sending shivers up her bare arms.

  “Yes, it’s beautiful. Thank you. It was a wonderful idea.”

  He grinned, obviously pleased by her words, and opened a menu.

  Their waiter set a basket of hot bread and a vial of melted butter on their table and left as silently as he’d come.

  An instant later, she felt Marcus’s hand glide along her thigh. He paused briefly before skimming her hipbone to delve long fingers between her legs.

  Their eyes met.

  The very tips of his fingers danced in and out of her moist folds. Eyes never leaving hers, he whispered, “Close the doors.”

  It was then that she noticed they were in a privacy booth that had fold-back doors with an internal hook-style lock. She rose on unsteady legs, tight skirt bunched around her naked hips, and reached to tug the doors shut, the fabric of their padded edges whispering against each other.

  When she turned, he was standing, the breadbasket on the far end of the booth beside the neatly folded tablecloth, the stoneware pitcher of melted butter in his hand.

  He inclined his head, his other hand reaching to help her up on the table.

  Cold marble met her heated skin, sending a bolt of longing through her. Regardless of what Marc had in mind, she was more than eager to participate.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she grabbed handfuls of dress and swept it off and over to join the tablecloth.

  Her naked back met the tabletop, the coldness causing her already aroused nipples to pucker even more.

  Marc stood between her spread legs. He raised the pitcher and let a fine stream of warm melted butter dribble between her breasts, down her stomach. Downward it trickled. Its oily warmth traced her groin, skimmed along the crease of her feminine folds. It took tremendous effort to not squirm under his sensuous assault.

  She watched Marc slowly lower his head, and held her breath. Hot hands slicked the butter over her thighs, spreading her wider, opening for the first touch of his tongue.

  The tip of his tongue drew lazy circles around the very place that yearned for his touch. Kinsey bit her lip to keep from begging.

  Finally, finally, the pointed tip of his tongue outlined her opening before lazily lapping every drop of butter from her folds, paying special attention to the hard nub until she grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it in her mouth to keep from screaming her pleasure.

  Marc’s fingers replaced his tongue, driving her even higher, her sex at the fever pitch. All during the time, his tongue busily licked and sucked all the remaining butter from her skin.

  She came twice before she could get his pants down to his knees. Scooting to the edge of the table, she pushed at his arms. “Hands above your head,” she whispered, licking her lips in anticipation.

  He obeyed, his heated gaze devouring her, nostrils flared in anticipation.

  She poured the remaining butter into her palm. “Oh, no. It’s almost gone.” Her grin devilish, she looked him in the eye and rubbed her palms together. “Oh, well.” She sighed. “I guess we’ll just have to make do, huh?”

  Marc couldn’t have formed a coherent sentence had his life depended on it. Instead, he just swallowed and nodded. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts, her pebbled nipples, and knew she was just as turned on as he was. If she didn’t get on with it, he might actually have that heart attack he’d feared.

  Her small hands felt hot when they slid up and down his rock-hard cock, gliding in the butter. But their heat was nothing compared to her talented lips and mouth. He groaned and forced his knees to lock in order to stay standing.

  When she’d licked every bit of butter from him, plus a little, he could stand it no longer. Gripping her upper arms, he lifted her back to the table and thrust deeply.

  “Yesss!” she hissed
, pulling him tightly against her while she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  She tensed and clenched around his sex. He swallowed her moan of satisfaction. Within seconds, she returned the favor to keep their tryst from becoming public knowledge.

  Damp and shaking with suppressed laughter at their ridiculous situation, they finally separated and tidied their clothes.

  “I can’t believe what we just did,” she said as she helped him straighten the tablecloth and replace the basket.

  He nodded. “Yeah, it’s not like we’ve been exactly depriving ourselves of sex or don’t have a perfectly good bed at home.”

  Home. A wave of sadness washed over Kinsey at the thought of their weekend drawing to a close. “Speaking of home,” she said with forced lightness, “I should probably get back. I have to work tomorrow.”

  He stared pointedly. “What do you do?” He raised his hand to stop her protest. “It’s not like it’s a state secret.” He leaned closer. “It’s not, is it?”

  “No, of course not.” She chewed her lip, then said, “I’m a kindergarten teacher.” Well, Karly was actually the teacher, but it seemed like a better profession to have with a lover than to tell him you were a financial analyst. “What about you?”

  His smile was white against his tan. “I’m not a teacher.”

  A slap in the face could not have stung her more. Tears immediately blurred her vision. With a last tug at her dress, she stood and unhooked the doors. The waiter stood directly in front of her, a smug smile on his thin lips.

  “Call me a cab, would you, please? I’ll be in the bar.” With that, she charged toward the bar, not turning or even slowing down at the sound of Marc’s voice calling to her to come back.

  Kinsey stirred her mimosa and wondered if she should have turned down the man’s offer to buy her another. A glance over her shoulder confirmed she’d made the right decision.

  Marc stood in the bar doorway, fists clenched, blue fire shooting straight at her. She’d run, but there was no place to go.