So I settle for the next best thing. The showerhead. All I can say is, thank God it’s removable. I adjust the spray to pulse and turn it against my chest, circling up and down and around my nipples until they’re rock hard little peaks. Then I move down my abdomen, moving lower and lower but bypassing the place I need stimulation most. Instead, I focus the spray on the tender flesh of my upper thighs.
“Spread your legs, Tessa.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
He takes my hand and presses it against his cock. “What do you think?”
“I think the minute you thrust this inside of me, I’m going to explode.”
“Mmm. Well, let’s find out, shall we.”
Oh God! The second the spray hits my clit, I shatter, dropping the showerhead and sliding bonelessly to the floor into a puddle of quivering goo. I’ve got one hand between my legs, riding out the aftershocks of my orgasm, and one caressing my lips, pretending it’s Nicolai kissing me.
By the time I make it downstairs, I find a freshly showered, delicious smelling Nicolai in the common dining area. “My cousin left fresh pita for us. There’s dip and olives. Cheese. Wine. Fruit. It’s not a feast but...”
“It sounds delicious.” I’m not thinking about food. How can I after the fantasy I just had starring the man standing right in front of me? My gaze feasts on every one of his six feet three inches of deliciousness.
“Are we the only ones here?” I ask, trying to sound casual when I’m really moving to a better vantage point to watch him bend over to retrieve serving dishes from a cupboard.
Although he’s busy, he glances over his shoulder at me. Does he hear the desire in my voice?
“Yes.” He stands. “We are alone.”
Moving up to him, I place my hands on his oh-so-trim waist and press myself against his back. He holds himself still. “Did you plan it this way?”
He leans against the cupboard. “I always stay here alone...if there are no guests.”
“I’m not a guest?”
The rate of his breathing has increased. “You’re a little bit more than a guest, I should think.”
“Mmm.” I send my hands up his broad back to his powerful shoulders and then back down.
“Take my hands,” I whisper. “Show me where you want them.”
He grasps my hands and holds them tight. “You know where I want them,” he murmurs.
Yes I do. It’s the same place I want to touch him too. But it’s too soon and I know for a fact if I touch him there I’ll get carried away and the lessons will go out the window. Sort of like in my shower fantasy.
“Where else?” I ask, huskily.
He turns within the circle of my arms and pulls my hands up to his chest. He looks down at me through those unbearably thick lashes. I stroke his chest, grazing the exposed skin at the neck of his shirt.
“Cover my hands with yours.” He does and I slide my hands up to the opening of his shirt and back down to the waistband of his trousers. His breath hitches and he closes his eyes and I let my hands linger there.
No. Not yet. Bad girl, Tessa.
With effort, I move from his waist up his shirt, undoing a few more buttons, breathing deep of his warm scent all while trying to force myself to calm down and slow down.
“When will it be my turn?”
“Hmm?” I’m too intent on his sculpted chest to process what he’s asking.
“I want to touch you too.” He watches me with a fevered gaze that nearly melts my resolve.
“No breasts today. But you can touch me here.” I indicate the side of my face and throat. “Use the backs of your knuckles.”
“Like this?”
“Mmm, yes. That’s nice.” I close my eyes and tilt my head, giving him better access.
“Do you always have such a sexual way about you?” Nicolai says as he strokes my neck.
I’m totally taken aback by his statement. “What do you mean?”
“The way you carry yourself. Your movement. Your voice. Everything about you suggests sex.”
“Hmm.”
“Even that little noise. I wonder if you do it on purpose or if it is natural to you.” He leans closer and he fingers the neck of my sleeveless blouse. “I think it must be your nature.”
Okay. What has happened? Nicolai is sounding an awful lot like the fantasy man from my shower.
But I manage to control myself. Yay me. I gather every ounce of my limited restraint and pull out of his embrace. “We’d better eat before...”
“Before?” There is a tone of hopefulness in his voice.
“Before we do something you’re not ready for.” I’m committed to this process and I have to admit, there’s something exciting in it for me too. Not since I was a teenager have I done this much flirting before sex. It’s painful. It’s torture. Yet, it’s also exhilarating.
We gather the rest of the food and head back out to the main terrace. The evening is cooler than last night and I run upstairs to grab a sweater. When I return, Nicolai has ouzo poured and wine breathing.
We eat and the food is wonderful. As is the conversation and pretty much everything about the evening. Like many Greek men, Nicolai’s an expressive communicator, talking with his hands and with great passion, which I find incredibly attractive. After some prompting, he tells me about his dream to go to school to become an architect.
“Why don’t you?” I ask.
“I plan to. I’ve applied to all the best schools in Greece. But it would mean I’d have to sell the guesthouse. Move away.”
“I thought you wanted to leave.”
“I do. But, prices are low now. It’s a bad time to sell.”
“If you’re ever serious about selling, let me know. I have contacts.”
“Contacts? What kind of contacts?”
“International contacts. The kind who would be very interested in buying a beautiful home in a quaint Greek village.”
We finish the bottle of wine on the terrace and then carry the dishes back inside. After washing and drying—who knew something so domestic could be so arousing? Warm water, soap, wet hands, it’s taking me back to my shower fantasy which is killing me—we put everything away and I motion for Nicolai to follow me upstairs.
Once we are at my door, I say, “Stay the night.”
His eyes go wide followed by a smile that does nothing to mask his delight. “No more lessons, then?”
“Oh no. By staying the night with me you’re going to be forced to learn one of the most difficult lessons of all.”
“What’s that?”
“Control.”
He groans and rolls his eyes but I laugh at his response, playfully pulling him inside. “Wait here.” I go change out of my clothes and put on an oversized t-shirt. No sexy lingerie for me tonight. That’d be just asking for trouble.
Padding barefoot to the sitting area, I call Nicolai. He’s out on my private terrace, looking up at the stars. When he turns to look at me, you’d think I was wearing the skimpiest teddy imaginable.
“Come in,” I say.
He follows me but hesitates at the open door to the bedroom. “I’m not tired.”
“Who said anything about sleeping?”
His groan is beginning to sound like a mantra. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Tugging on his hand, I pull him across the threshold. “Control. I suspect you have it in spades. Come on.”
Feigning reluctance, he follows me into the bedroom.
“Take off your clothes.”
He pauses before unbuttoning his shirt.
“Slower.”
His lips twist but he does as I ask. Oh, this is fun. Torture. But fun.
“Wait,” I say before he has a chance to shrug off his shirt. I walk up to him and spread my hands against his bare chest, enjoying the way his abdominal muscles contract beneath my fingertips. Pushing my hands up beneath the cotton of his shirt, I slide it off his shoulders, letting my hands explore his muscular form more th
oroughly.
Finally, I step back and say, “Take off your pants and then lie down on your stomach.”
He breathes deeply through flared nostrils. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“With you watching?”
“Of course.”
He doesn’t move for a few more seconds and then, after a deep inhalation, he begins to disrobe. Does he realize he’s turned away from me to do it?
“Do you need help?”
“No.”
He turns another half step away.
“Nicolai?”
“Hmm?” The material of his pants makes a swishing sound as he pushes them down his legs.
“You don’t need to be shy.”
Once his pants are removed, he stands and turns to me wearing a scowl. “I’m not shy.”
His hands are crossed in front of his crotch. Not shy, huh? I point to the bed. “Lie down. On your stomach.”
The bed creaks behind me as I reach for the tube of body lotion on the nightstand. When I turn around, Nicolai is lying on his stomach, taking up more than his share of the bed, his hands tucked beneath his chin.
“I’m going to give you a massage. Then you’re going to give me one. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I squeeze lotion onto my hands and rub them together. Carefully, I move to straddle Nicolai’s back, one knee on either side of his hips. I start with his shoulders, kneading the taut muscles and working the lotion into his skin. He’s got gorgeous skin. Tanned, smooth, supple. My God, this is hard.
I shift around on the bed as my hands move lower to his shoulder blades and then massage along his spine, working the tight muscles that run up and down. However, instead of relaxing beneath my touch, Nicolai becomes more and more rigid.
“Nicolai, what’s wrong?”
He rolls his head to one side and says raggedly, “What do you think is wrong.”
I stifle the urge to giggle. “You’ve got an erection.”
He doesn’t answer. He turns his head back down toward the bed.
Crawling off of him, I shake his shoulder. “It’s no big deal,” I say.
I’m not prepared for his anger. “No. To you it is amusing. To me it is...embarrassing.”
Undeterred by his passion, I shrug. “Then you’ve got a choice. Grin and bear it, control it. Or, go take care of it.” I motion toward the bathroom.
He doesn’t move or say anything. I lie down next to him. “Nicolai,” I say softly, stroking his back. “Do you remember what I said at the restaurant this afternoon? About desire? The fact that you are aroused means one thing. You desire me. There is nothing more exciting than that.”
He turns his head to look at me and I gasp from the fierce intensity. Reaching for his face, I say, “There. That look. The raw desire in your eyes. It’s not amusing. It’s incredibly erotic.”
He closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “So why does it feel like it’s eating me up inside?”
“Because it’s unspent.”
“Years of unspent...” He grits his teeth.
“I understand. I haven’t waited as long as you, but I feel it too. You know what I did in the shower earlier?”
Although he shakes his head, his expression tells me he has a pretty good idea.
“Yep. I masturbated. And, I did it while thinking about you.”
“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “This isn’t helping, Tessa.”
“It’s the truth. I don’t want you to be ashamed of something so natural and normal.” I give him a few seconds, waiting for him to make a decision.
He takes a deep breath. “Maybe if we talk a little, it will help.”
“Okay,” I say, crawling back into position. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me about your travels. You’ve been all over the world. What are some of your favorite places?”
“My favorite places,” I repeat thoughtfully as I resume massaging. Is he really asking me about places or is he asking me about lovers? “That’s tough,” I say. “Every place has its own appeal. Some are treats for the senses. India or Egypt for instance. The smells, the heat, the noise, the remnants of history on such a grand scale.” Of course I’m also thinking about Nadeem, a scuba instructor who lives by the Red Sea. The things he taught me about diving, the sea and making love on a boat, oh my. Then there’s Sanjay from Mumbai who helped make the Kama Sutra come to life. Yes, that’s what I’m thinking about when I talk about Egypt or India.
“But then there are places that are wild and untamed. The American West, for example. You can go for miles and miles without seeing a town or even another person. There’s something breathtaking and liberating about that.” Particularly when making love on a blanket, in the open air with a rugged cowboy named Dillon.
“Is there anywhere you’ve never been?”
“Sure there are lots of places. But I like returning to places I’ve been before. For someone who has no fixed address, it’s sort of like coming home.”
He lifts his head and turns it. “You have no home?”
“No.”
“Where do you keep your belongings?”
“Those bags you see are all I own.”
He lies still for a while. “Really?”
“Yes. I don’t get attached to things.”
“What about people?”
Moving down his length, I straddle his knees and squirt lotion on the backs of his thighs. His body twitches beneath me. “Of course, people are a different matter. I would much rather get attached to people than to places or things.” Starting on his right leg, I massage the tight muscles of his hamstrings.
Nicolai sounds breathless when he asks, “But never attached enough to stay?”
With both thumbs pressing against his hamstrings, I move my hands up along the tight band of muscle to the base of his briefs. The movement makes me lean closer and I whisper, “No, I don’t stay. But, I do return...sometimes.”
His thighs are so thick and powerful, it takes all my strength to work the muscles, but I don’t mind one bit because I’m thinking about how fortuitous it is that I’ve returned to Molyvos, to the Daphnis and Chloe Guesthouse...to Nicolai.
I eye Nicolai’s firm round buttocks. Yes. Very fortuitous.
My active imagination takes over and I see myself massaging his ass, sliding my hands up and down that lovely part of him, sliding my hand between his legs from behind. In my mind, I ask him to flip over.
“Why?”
“I’m going to massage the front of you.”
He turns while I straddle him and I can’t help but stare at the delicious bulge barely concealed by his boxers. First I start with his legs, slowing moving higher and higher until my hands slip beneath the leg of his shorts. I massage that tender place where legs meet pelvis, letting the backs of my knuckles graze his erection. Then I pull my hands from his shorts and slide them over the amazing ridge of his cock, rubbing him through his boxers, from tip to balls, squeezing until he groans and writhes beneath me.
His hands move to cover mine.
“Hands above your head,” I whisper.
His jaw tenses as he grits his teeth, but he complies, lifting his arms high, unconsciously showing off every single muscle that criss-crosses his sculpted chest and abdomen. I settle myself on top of his legs, playing with the waistband of his boxers, tugging on it, slipping my fingertips beneath it until Nicolai is crazy with need.
“Take them off, Tessa.”
His hands are fisted above his head, his eyes glow with tawny intensity.
I ease his shorts down, my breath coming quicker and quicker until he’s totally revealed. Olive-skinned, uncircumcised...erect.
My mouth waters as I take him in my hands and work the loose skin back and forth revealing the head of his cock. I lean down and lick him, just the tip, where a bubble of moisture has formed. His hands are no longer above his head but in my hair to keep me from sitting up, not that I want to. I’m too busy licking the length of
him, up and down. Pressing my tongue beneath the head of him, swirling, lapping.
“Fuck Tess.” He groans.
With a smile, I take him in my mouth. All the way.
My God.
My eyes are closed and my hands move absently to his other leg, massaging deeper while my fantasy—so vivid—consumes me.
I suck him until we’re both frantic. Then, finally, I crawl up his length and straddle his hips, using his cock to tease my clit.
Here, in the real world, my fingers delve beneath the leg of his shorts because I’m not paying any attention. I’m too focused on my fantasy, on the thought of my soaking wet pussy hovering only inches over his impressive erection. And, then, oh...and then, sliding down on top of him, inch by glorious inch.
All of a sudden, Nicolai jerks beneath me, throwing me off his legs. Without saying a word he climbs awkwardly off the bed and walks with a stiff-legged gait to the en suite. I eye the closed door for a second, entertaining the idea of breaking it down and finishing what I started in my fantasy. Instead, I roll onto my back and rub myself through my panties, not the least bit surprised by how soaking wet I am.
Chapter Eight
When Nicolai returns, flushed—whether from embarrassment or from the shower I heard going while he was holed up in the bathroom, I’m not sure. I’m sitting up in bed, reading the book Daphnis and Chloe, or at least...pretending to.
“Better?” I ask without looking up.
His response is a grunt.
I put the book down and pull my t-shirt up and over my head.
“What are you doing?”
I flop down onto my stomach and say, “You’re going to return the favor. I could use a massage.”
He doesn’t move but I can feel his heated gaze on the bare skin of my back. Finally the bed shifts as he crawls over me to straddle my hips the way I straddled him. His hands are cool on my skin and they’re so large they span the whole of my upper back.
“Don’t forget the lotion.”
He squirts cool lotion directly onto my skin and I flinch from the contrast.
“Sorry,” he murmurs as he starts to rub the lotion in large sweeping movements.
I marvel at how much more proficient he is already. I’ve had some pretty great massages and, although this one may not rank in my top ten, it’s a far cry from the way he touched me last night and much better even than my hand massage earlier.
Seduction in the Sun: Adult Romance Box Set (9 Sizzling Tales with BBW, Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males) Page 44
