by Lisa Suzanne
We follow the directions to our paradise for the day, an oasis in the desert.
As soon as we set down our bags, a waitress who introduces herself as Joelle appears to take our drink orders.
Brian glances at me. “You drinking?” he asks.
I shrug and smile at Joelle. “Mimosa.”
“Bloody Mary for me,” he says.
She nods and scampers off, and I start tapping a text on my phone to let Jill and Tess know we’re all checked in.
Brian is suddenly inches from me. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Texting Jill and Tess.”
He places his palms on my biceps and leans in toward me. “Now why would you want to do that?”
Nerves rattle around in my belly at his proximity. “Because I don’t want you to waste your money.”
“Don’t worry about that. Put your phone down.”
I listen to the command in his voice. I don’t send the text, and he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on one of the chairs.
He wears swim trunks that are navy and have some striped design on them, but who can pay attention to all that when he’s not wearing a damn shirt? My eyes center squarely on his abdomen, the hard cuts of muscle begging for my touch. I eye each individual muscle and count. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
That’s definitely an eight-pack he’s got going there.
My mouth waters and my body roars with an intense ache for him. I know he sees me staring at him, but there’s little I can do to mask it.
“Why don’t we take advantage of the privacy?” He slides his big, strong hands along my sides and around my back before he presses his lips to mine.
I pull back. “Are you suggesting we finish what we started last weekend on the chair in the library room?”
“I’m suggesting we start over.”
“What about Joelle?”
“Surely there’s some sort of do not disturb sign around here somewhere.”
I watch him for a few beats as he looks around. My eyes are automatically drawn to the muscles in his abdomen that stretch and flex as he moves around the three hundred square feet of our villa.
This is the life. A hot guy in a villa overlooking the pool. Privacy and sunshine just for us.
I force my eyes off his body as I pull off my cover-up and set it on a table, and then I kick off my flip flops. I glance up and see Brian watching me, his eyes glazed with lust.
It’s sort of nice that I can see I’m having the same effect on him that he has on me.
Joelle returns with our drinks, sets them on a counter, and leaves. Brian stalks toward me. I’m bent over a lounge chair, spreading out a towel, when I feel his fingertips gripping my hips. He gently bumps his hips to my ass, sending a tremor of lust through my stomach and landing squarely between my legs.
I straighten and he does it again. I can feel his rock-hard length against my backside. My only primal thought is there are too many damn clothes separating our bodies.
He grunts when he does it a third time, and I turn around. His chest is warm against mine. His hands remain on my hips, and he yanks me against him. He bends to kiss my shoulder, the hairs of his stubble rubbing fire against my skin.
“I’d guess we have a few minutes of privacy,” he says, his voice soft and meaningful, his fingertips digging into my flesh. My fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they trail up the muscled planes of his arms and link around his neck. I want to touch those gorgeous abs, but our bodies are pressed together, and my hunger for the feel of him against me is stronger than my need to touch his abs.
I glance over his shoulder nervously. “What if Joelle comes back?”
“Then she’ll get a show.”
I giggle. I’ve never been an exhibitionist, but lust takes over. I want this. I want Brian.
He drags his lips from my shoulder to my neck and finally up to my mouth. He opens his mouth to mine, and he reaches down and cups my ass, squeezing and massaging. He yanks my body hard against his and thrusts toward me, eliciting a moan from me as his body roughly connects with mine. All that separates us is his swim trunks and my flimsy bikini.
I’m painfully turned on, my body aching for him, needing him. He kisses me with need, with intensity, with desire. He backs me up until my ass hits the counter inside, his lips attached to mine as we move. We’re out of sight for anyone who might be looking in our direction.
“Hook your leg around my waist,” he whispers, and I do. He easily lifts me up and sets me on the counter. My leg is still around his waist, and we’re at the perfect height for sex.
His hand trails up to my breast, and he slips his fingertips into the cup of my bikini top. My nipple hardens into a tight bud under his touch, and he backs up and looks at me with eyes so full of lust that I know I’ll let him do whatever he wants to me in this moment.
He pinches my nipple between his fingers and grunts. “God, I want to taste it,” he murmurs.
“Taste it,” I say.
He trails kisses down my neck, down my chest, and stretches the cup of my top around the globe of my breast. He laps once with his tongue then drops his hand and touches me on the outside of my bikini bottoms. My hips jerk, but he uses his other hand to brace my hip and hold me still.
With my nipple still in his mouth and my leg still wrapped around his waist, he tugs my bikini bottoms aside. He runs a finger through me, gliding easily in its slick path, and then he pushes his finger inside. I groan at the entry as he tugs on my nipple with his teeth, and I’m already about to fall apart beneath his touch. I need to feel him, need to touch him, and as he starts pumping his finger in and out of my body, I reach down between us. I massage him on the outside of his swim trunks, and he grunts against my breast. My thoughts are jumbled, focused solely on his body, so big, so hard, and his touch, so good, so perfect.
I move to reach into his shorts, but he bucks his hips away from me. He wants this to be just about me, so I grip onto his shoulders. The pleasure mounts as he sucks my nipple back into his mouth, and then he adds a second finger down below as he works my clit with his thumb.
It’s too much pleasure all at once. I fall apart on the counter, my body quaking as it uncoils, my fingers digging into his flesh, my nails scratching his skin. He lets go of my nipple as I come, his finger still working me until at last my body stops shuddering.
“Gorgeous,” he whispers, and then he presses a soft kiss to my lips. He pulls his fingers out of me and readjusts my bikini bottoms. He fixes my top while I hunch back breathlessly on the counter.
He backs away and I clear my throat.
“Your turn,” I say softly, my eyes on the obvious erection tenting his swim trunks.
He grins and reaches for our drinks, handing me the mimosa. He touches his glass to mine. “I’ll get mine. Later.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “So I get to be the exhibitionist?”
He chuckles. “Something like that. You didn’t seem to mind.”
“And you seemed like you knew what you were doing.”
He shrugs and shoots me a wicked grin. “I have many talents.”
“There you are!” Jill’s familiar voice calls from the entrance to our villa. Tess, Becker, and Jason trail behind her.
I let out a breath of disappointment and take a sip of my mimosa. I was hoping for more one-on-one time with Brian.
“Wow! This is awesome,” she says.
We get to work arranging our chairs and ordering more drinks while we enjoy the heat of the sun and our private pool. And even though Brian just took care of my needs, I can’t help the burning desire flaming in my veins every time I look at him in those gorgeous, unneeded swim trunks.
*
The day is filled with longing glances and mimosas. We decide to head right over to the Hard Rock Hotel for the Noteworthy show in our swimsuits since it’s a poolside concert.
I’m hot and tired after sitting in the sun, reapplying sunscreen, and day drinking
. I’m starting to think it was a bad idea to schedule a concert at night after a day of drinking. I’m only twenty-seven, but I’m feeling my age as people bump and sway all around me. It’s too crowded in here, it’s nearly impossible to make our way to the bar to get a drink without losing our places next to each other, I’m sweating—and the band is only on their fifth song. I glance over at Jill, and she looks as miserable as me. I finally lean over and ask, “You want to go?”
She nods and gives me a look like she’s grateful I even suggested it. I ask Tess, too, but she’s into the show. This is one of her favorite bands. Jason volunteers to stay with her, and Brian and Becker follow Jill and me out toward the front of the hotel. Brian volunteers to drive us home, but I have a feeling that means a lot more than just driving me home. We politely decline and head home. Not only am I exhausted after spending the day outside, but I’m just not ready for whatever comes with Brian driving me home.
*
Jill wakes me up on Sunday morning when she comes bounding into my room. “Holy shit!” she yells.
“What?” I grumble, pulling the covers up and tucking them under my chin.
She bounces onto my bed then turns her phone in my direction. I catch the headline of the article that’s got her all excited.
Bad Boy Mark Ashton Steals Noteworthy Show.
I grab her phone out of her hands and read the short article.
It was a night filled with surprises. Noteworthy unleashed a powerful set filled with their classics, but they also debuted two songs from their upcoming album, set to drop July 1. The biggest surprise of the night came when Vail’s Mark Ashton took the stage during the final song of the set. He sang along to the tune of Noteworthy’s “Unabashed” with lead singer Sebastian Cresswell, and then he treated fans to a few bars from a song he said he just wrote a few days ago, a powerful ballad that’s sure to appear on Vail’s next album.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. All the feelings I had for Mark come right back to the surface—the feelings I thought I’d managed to push away in favor of something real with Brian.
How would I have felt if I’d seen Mark on that stage while Brian was by my side?
What if our eyes connected, him up on that stage and me down in the crowd as they had just a couple weeks ago?
I wonder if I’d have felt some degree of satisfaction. He didn’t want me for more than one night, but the man I attended the Noteworthy show with seems to.
How would Mark have felt if he’d seen me with another man?
He wouldn’t have cared. He wouldn’t have even remembered me. I’m just another nameless body he spent the night with, one of hundreds.
Jill peeks at the article beside me even though she’s clearly already read it. “Why the hell did we leave early?”
“I’m glad we left. If I’d have seen him up there…”
“What?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I’m glad I didn’t.”
“But we were in the same place as him.”
I hand her phone back to her. “And we didn’t talk to him, didn’t see him. It doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“He didn’t say he wanted more than one night. He didn’t bother to track me down.”
“That’s a ridiculous expectation. You didn’t leave your number.”
“He didn’t ask for it,” I counter.
“So that’s it? What if I get a press pass to their next event? I could figure out a way for you to see him again.”
I blow out a breath. “I thought you wanted me to move on.”
“I do. But I also want you to be happy.”
“I’m fine.” I whisper the words, sure I don’t believe them.
eleven
It’s not even noon on Monday when a text from Brian comes through.
Brian: When can I see you again?
I text him a selfie.
Brian: Very funny.
Me: When do you want to see me?
Brian: Right now would be nice but I’m at work.
Me: Dinner, then?
Brian: Can’t. I have a dinner meeting.
Me: After dinner?
Brian: I can come by your place when I’m done if it’s not too late.
Me: I don’t even care if it is too late. Come by anyway.
After waking up to the article Jill showed me yesterday morning, I realize now more than ever I need to take a different direction. I need to push myself to move forward. With that in mind, I think tonight’s going to be the night.
The night.
We’ll have all the privacy we could ever ask for in my bedroom, and I’ll be on my home turf. I text him my address before I have the chance to change my mind.
*
He texted me ten minutes ago saying he was on his way, and I’m trying not to pace nervously. I’ve already guzzled one glass of wine, but it didn’t do much to dull my nerves. Instead, it seemed to intensify them. I’m working through my second glass. Jill is out with Becker; he couldn’t wait to see her again, either, so I’m alone with my nerves—probably a good thing considering what I decided to wear.
Since we both know where this night is headed and we’ve got my place to ourselves, I picked up some lingerie. I can’t decide if that was stupid or smart.
It’s black, meshy, and lacy, with a corseted top that does a nice job of pushing up my breasts that are glowing with a tan from our weekend by the pool. The bottom has leg garters, and I attached them to some black lace stockings before I slipped my feet into my tallest black heels.
I’m second-guessing myself. I look good, I suppose, but is this way too forward? Is this jumping into things too quickly? Or is this exactly why he’s coming over and exactly what I should be doing to celebrate Reese’s Summer of Sin?
If I don’t do it, I won’t do it. I want to bite the bullet and give into the desire I’m feeling for him. The past is the past. I can’t change it, but I can forge ahead. I can move on. I can stop thinking about another man by filling my thoughts with someone new.
I hear a car pull into the driveway, and a minute later there’s a knock at the front door. I second guess my outfit choice for the millionth time, but he’s standing on my front porch and it’s too late to change.
I peek through the peephole in our front door to make sure it’s him. It is, and he’s cradling a bottle of wine in his hands and wearing a suit. I open the door, using it as a shield to hide behind, just peeking my head around it.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Hey,” he says, stepping into my house like everything’s normal. Except it’s not. I’m wearing sexy clothes I bought with his reaction to them in mind.
I close the door and he glances around my entry before he turns back toward me. A soft grunt escapes his lips.
The corners of my lips tip up tentatively. “You like?” I ask. I take a sip from the wine glass I’m holding.
“Jesus Christ, Reese,” he whispers, making a show of adjusting himself in his pants. My smile widens—and so do his eyes as they travel the length of my body. He grips that bottle of wine tightly in one of his hands, like it’s his lifeline. “Uh…yeah. I like. I more than like.”
He’s staring, and I’m self-conscious. I duck past him and head toward the kitchen that opens into our family room, and he follows close behind me.
He sets the bottle of wine down on the large kitchen island.
“Would you like a glass?” I ask, nodding to the wine.
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving me. “No,” he says softly. “Come here.”
I set my glass down and take a step toward him. He strides over to me, closing the gap between us and taking me into his arms. He runs his fingertips along the lace covering my back.
He closes his eyes and lets out a soft sigh of satisfaction. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind all day and then I come over to this?”
I giggle. “Is that a good thing?”
“Oh, it’s a good thing. I’m pr
etty sure I won’t be able to stop thinking about you tomorrow, either, except now I’ll have the mental picture of you wearing this.” He backs up a step, leaving me cold in his absence, but he appreciates me with his eyes, warming me and branding me as he memorizes my body in this sexy apparel.
“Think of me during a big meeting tomorrow,” I say softly.
“I will.” He says the words like a vow then steps toward me.
“Think of me when you’re in the middle of an important phone call.”
“I will.”
I want to tell him to think of me when he’s around his secretary, but I don’t. Jealousy has never looked good on me, and I don’t want him thinking about her when he’s about to have sex with me, anyway.
“I’ll think of you wearing this sexy outfit, and I’ll think of you out of it, too.”
His arms loop around me again, and he backs me up until I bump into the island. His hands come under my ass and he lifts me up onto the counter then settles himself between my legs. The counter is a little high for sex, but he can certainly do other things to me. He presses a kiss to my lips, and I slide my arms under his suit jacket and link them around his back. His lips trail down to my neck, and then he murmurs in my ear, “Remember when I fingered you in public?”
I moan, because it’s the only response I can muster. Yes, I remember, and I remember coming all over his fingers with barely a touch from him. I remember how much I wanted him then, but that was nothing compared to how much I want him now. My entire day, it seems, has been dedicated to getting ready for this moment, and now it’s here and all I want to do is allow him unfettered access to my body.
He reaches down into the cups of my corset and pulls each of my breasts out so they’re resting over the top. They’re pushed up even higher, and he leans forward to nuzzle his face in between them. “Perfection,” he says, and then he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. I brace myself by flattening my palms against the countertop, which pushes my breasts closer to his face. He luxuriates in them for a bit, giving both sides attention. When he uses a pinch of teeth, a dart of desire pressures between my legs, dampening my panties even more. He unclips the garters with strong, sure fingers, and then they trail toward the pressure and the ache. He unlatches from my breast and tugs at my panties, lifting them over my ass and pulling them down my legs and over my heels before tossing them on the floor. And then he steps back and spreads my legs wide open, giving himself a full view.
