Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 5: A New Adult Romantic Comedy

by Adele Huxley

  The moment our bodies touched, the heat between us rapidly grew. Not that I had any doubt in my mind what skinny dipping would lead to…

  I wrapped my legs around his waist as he picked me up. His mouth traveled across my skin as he slowly carried me to the edge of the pool. With my back pressed against the smooth lining, Oliver explored my body with his fingers. Expert fingertips teased and pinched, kneaded and massaged.

  Fooling around in water is so deliciously freeing and sensual. The sensation of silky skin slipping and sliding. Plus, buoyant bodies can shift into some pretty insane positions you’d never be able to accomplish on dry land. But if you’ve ever tried to do more than play around, you’ll know it’s not exactly the most… lubricated of environments.

  I’m thinking Oliver didn’t know that about pool sex. I had to breathlessly stop him as he nudged my thighs open, his hardness already pressed between my legs.

  “We should go upstairs,” I whispered.

  “No one can see us.”

  “I know, but…” I pulled my head back and met his eyes. “I’ll be a lot more comfortable up there.”

  He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, teeth slow to release it. “You got it. Is there a backdoor to your room?”

  I smirked as I slid away from his grip. “You aren’t going anywhere near my back door, mister.”

  We gathered our clothes, snatched two discarded towels and scurried upstairs to the guest room.

  I stifled a little giggle as I followed behind Oliver, he tugging me along by the hand. The mix of emotions was practically hyper-color; the sexual excitement, the feeling of knowing I was about to do something I’d never really done before, and the holy-shit-what-is-my-life realization of who I was about to do it with.

  I watched the muscles in his back flex and shift under his still damp skin. His body was amazing. And the thought that his body was about to be in my body had me freaking out.

  I actually slapped a hand over my mouth this time, in hopes of physically preventing myself from doing something stupid like telling him how gorgeous he was. As we reached my door, Oliver turned and noticed me, mouth covered, and frowned.

  “Now why would you do that?” he asked, pushing the door open and pulling me inside. “I can’t kiss what I can’t see.” He drew me into his arms, slid his fingers into my hair, and slowly lowered his mouth to mine.

  If one could orgasm from just a kiss, this would have been the perfect one for it. He licked the partly opened seam of my lips, then gently nipped my bottom lip. It didn’t hurt, but it surprised me. I opened my mouth in response, which was exactly what he’d anticipated as he slipped his tongue all the way inside.

  His lips and tongue gently caressing my mouth, his hands pulling my hair, not enough to hurt but firm enough to demonstrate his control over me, over this kiss. All of it in concert was almost enough for me to just melt into a pool of Talia on the floor. I pushed back from him a bit, needing to free myself from the kiss. The heat of it had sucked the air from my body.

  He looked at me with concern. “You okay?” he asked. His left hand switched from the light tug in my hair to his fingers rhythmically massaging my scalp. If he kept that up, I would just orgasm on the spot. From a pool of Talia to a straight up waterfall.

  “I’m good,” I murmured as my eyes rolled back in my head. He laughed a little as he kissed my cheek, then the side of my neck, trailing down to my shoulder. All the while he was walking me slowly to the bed, although I only realized it when the back of my knees brushed the comforter.

  “Lay back for me,” he said softly, and as I did, he slid his strong hands up my thighs, slipping them under the wrapped towel. Feeling a bit bold, probably from the temporary insanity of the brain cells he most assuredly burned away with the hotness of his kiss, I shifted on the bed and slid my legs open, allowing him a perfect view as the towel fell to the side.

  The look he gave me ratcheted the sexual heat up even higher. “Talia…” Oliver pushed forward on the bed, shifting to position himself between my thighs. He kissed and licked at my right thigh. Then I heard him mumble something I couldn’t quite understand. I let it go, thinking my sex hormone-soaked brain just wasn’t connecting the dots until he said it again.

  I raised my head as he licked the seam where my thigh met the edge of my sex. I had never been so happy I’d remembered to shave, believe me. He continued to lick, this time skirting the lower edge of my labia, as he muttered against my skin. I shuddered a little, his tongue felt so amazing, but then he spoke again.

  “Did you say something?” I asked. I wasn’t so far lost into the sensation that I’d lost control over my speech and hearing. Not yet...

  “Voy a fundir su helado con mi sartén de amor,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue before his tongue rolled around on me. I felt like I was gonna die the most amazing death. I recognized it as Spanish but beyond that, was clueless.

  “That sounds so sexy. What does that mean?” I breathed. The things he was doing with his mouth were making me lose my mind.

  “I’ll tell you later…” he said, as he slipped his fingers inside me, then sucked hard and firm on my clit. It didn’t take long before I was holding onto the back of his head and coming so hard I saw stars.

  He continued to suckle my clit as his finger massaged me inside. I was so wet, my thighs were slick. I let out a little squeak of disappointment as he slipped his fingers out, until I watched him stand to remove the towel wrapped from his waist. My eyes went straight to the absolutely delicious looking erection he’d kept hidden until now.

  “Well hello. Is it my birthday?” I said, blatantly staring at it. He wasn’t shy at all, as he grinned and flexed his thighs, making it bounce.

  “If it is, I’ve got the perfect present for you,” he said, as he reached forward and tugged at my towel. I raised up a bit and watched him pull the terrycloth, whipping it away and onto the floor.

  “I like presents. Is it something I can play with or something I can eat?” I was feeling bold as hell and I loved it.

  Oliver’s grin grew impossibly wide, as he straddled me on the bed. He moved forward and positioned his gorgeous cock right in my face. And then, he did something I wasn’t at all prepared for. He shifted around, placing his left thigh along my left side, then bent down, effectively putting us in the 69 position.

  “I don’t know about you but I always play with my food,” he tossed the words over his shoulder. And then he grabbed my hips with both hands and dived right back in.

  The position hasn’t always been my favorite, but I’d never tried it with someone so sexually free. It was distracting in all the right ways. While I concentrated on stroking and sucking his hardness, I would find myself pulled to the brink of another orgasm almost without realizing.

  Oliver shifted to his side and slid my knee up higher to gain better access. He took a moment to breathe and watched as I swallowed his cock to the hilt.

  “Sus hijos son bien educado y olor limpio,” he murmured. Speaking in Spanish made his voice deeper, throatier… fucking sexy as hell. I could feel the vibrations against my sensitive skin and released a moan of my own.

  He rolled away and stood up, cock bouncing proudly. “Come ‘ere, you,” he said with a bright white smile. With a firm grip on my ankles, he pulled me to the edge of the bed.

  “I like it when you man-handle me,” I squeaked.

  “And I like when you handle my man… when you… shit,” he laughed. “That didn’t work the way I thought it would.”

  “Good try, though,” I giggled.

  My laughter faded as he gathered both my feet in one broad, strong hand. With a single finger, he traced a line down my calf, my knee, and my thigh until he slipped back inside my wet entrance.

  The height of the bed didn’t quite match his hips, so he physically held me up with one arm as he guided himself inside. It was a tight but slippery fit with my thighs squeezed together, but the position hit all the right spots.

  O
liver threw my feet over one shoulder and held my knees in place against his abs. His long hair swung with every thrust. The light that filtered in through the windows cast him in soft profile and I swear, it was like having sex with a Greek god. I wasn’t in pursuit of an orgasm, but enjoyed every thrust, lick, and touch with as much pleasure.

  The whole night was an amazing mixture of laughter and lust, fun and fucking. I couldn’t have written a better evening if I had a magic pen to bring it to life. I even lost count of how many times I came! During one of our recovery periods, with my head resting on his chest, I asked him what he’d been saying in Spanish.

  His low rumbling laugh echoed in my ear. “Nonsense, really. Things like, ‘this chicken is too spicy’ and ‘my heart beats only on Saturdays.’”

  I sat up on my elbows. “Are you serious?” I laughed incredulously.

  “It seemed to work.”

  I settled back against his hard body and giggled. I finger walked along his abs and dug deep into the part of my brain that still contained fragments of high school German.

  “Ich mag Kartoffelsalat zu werfen.”

  “And that means…”

  “I like to throw potato salad,” I snickered.

  Oliver smoothed my hair and chuckled. “Of course you do.”

  We fell asleep, a tumble of satisfied bodies, only a few hours before the sun came up.

  I woke up without moving or opening my eyes. I stayed perfectly still and somehow knew the moment I moved, I was in for a world of hurt. In that quiet place, with Oliver’s breath on my back, I zipped through my memories of the night. From the fun of playing beer pong to dancing in the club, skinny dipping in the pool, and my first one-night-stand under the stars… it was definitely a memory I’d have for a long time. Judging by the low light in the room, I figured it was too early to get up. With Oliver’s arm draped over my hip, I dozed off and on until he finally stirred beside me.

  I pretended to be asleep when he rolled over with a little groan. I was curious how he would handle the morning after and since this was my first one-night-stand, I took his lead. After a few moments, he slipped quietly from the bed. His soft footfalls traveled across the room. The jingle of a belt buckle and then the faint click of the door as he left.

  A dull ache spread in my gut as I realized he’d just crept out without saying goodbye. I rolled over, my head throbbing and swimming, and tried not to cry. I don’t know why I felt so empty. It’s not like I’d expected anything from him other than a fun night, but to leave without even a goodbye. As I grappled with the beginnings of my hangover, I realized I’d have to harden my heart. You’re too soft for all this, I thought sadly.

  Just as I was about to sit up, get dressed, and take my mini-walk of shame downstairs, the door clicked open. I blinked into the shadows and realized Oliver was attempting to creep back in with two big glasses of orange juice, moving as quietly as he could.

  “Hey,” I said, my voice raspy and low.

  He looked up and immediately smiled, his long hair falling over his shoulder. “Hey yourself. I thought you were still asleep.”

  “Must’ve heard you leave,” I smiled weakly. “Is one of those for me?”

  He shut the door with his foot and looked comically at each glass. “These?” he asked before taking a big sip from each one.

  I laughed and immediately winced when the vibration caused a zip of pain in my head. “I haven’t had a hangover in so long,” I complained.

  “This’ll help. Lots of sugar and vitamins,” he said as he came around to my side of the crumpled bed and handed me the juice.

  I couldn’t help but study him over the lip of the glass. In the light of day without any alcohol in my system, he was still drop dead gorgeous. It was effortless for him. Hungover, tired, and half naked and he still looked like he’d dropped from the cover of a magazine. I delayed the inevitable awkward conversation by drinking slowly, but as it turns out, I didn’t have to.

  “That’s part one of my foolproof hangover cure.”

  “Oh yeah?” I coughed as I finished the juice. “What’s part two?”

  “Showering with a beautiful woman,” he added with a smirk.

  And as terrible as I was feeling in that moment, the ache between my legs seemed to speak for me. “I like the sound of that.”

  A strange thing happens to your modesty once you’ve slept with a stranger. As I followed him to the bathroom and waited for the shower to warm up, I didn’t feel an ounce of self-consciousness. We’d spent hours exploring each other’s bodies, why should I feel shy standing in front of him? Bathing with a relative stranger was oddly empowering.

  He held the glass door open and gestured for me to enter first, which turned out to be a way for him to slap my ass on the way in. I let out a squeak and cupped my hands under the water, turning and throwing it in his face when he came in behind me.

  “Fair enough,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes.

  The shower was as incredible as the rest of the house. A long bar stretched across the tiled space, the water tumbling as if from the lip of a waterfall. The tiled space could’ve easily held ten people, but Oliver and I stood close. I closed my eyes and let the water massage my shoulders.

  I’d expected the shower together to be the start of round two, but it turned into so much more. It was more sensual than sexual, playfully washing each other with soapy hands. Sure, fingers lingered here and there, but it was a surprisingly loving moment that didn’t lead to anything more. Just before we switched off the water, he held my face with both his hands and gave me the deepest kiss. I’m not even sure I can put into words how that kindness and caring healed any vulnerability I felt.

  By the time we were dressed and walking downstairs, I felt a twinge of pride. That went better than I could’ve ever hoped.

  We found Lourdes hiding behind a pair of sunglasses out on the sun-soaked patio. The rest of the house seemed empty, though there was evidence the party had definitely carried on after Oliver and I had broken away.

  “Morning,” I called out from the door.

  Lourdes wiggled her fingers in greeting and held up her coffee cup. “The pot is warming in the kitchen. I’ll give you anything if you bring it to me.”

  Oliver moved faster than me, touching my arm as he drifted toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab it. Go lay down.”

  “Thanks,” I grinned. I’m pretty sure I could fall in love with that guy, my stupid brain thought before I shut her up.

  Lourdes looked at me over the top of her sunglasses and gave me a little smirk. “Have a good night?”

  “A girl doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  “Sweetie, you literally have a website dedicated to just that,” she snorted.

  “Oh yeah,” I laughed, settling into a chair beside her.

  Oliver appeared with one mug and the pot of coffee. “You’re not having any?” I asked as he poured me a cup and topped up Lourdes’.

  “No, I’ve gotta get to the gym.”

  I groaned at the thought of doing anything but blobbing out in the sun. “Are you serious?”

  “I was planning on taking Talia to Francesca’s for brunch if you wanna come along,” Lourdes said.

  “Aw, thanks, but I’ve got kind of a stupid busy day today. The one in Venice? You better leave now if you’re gonna grab a table there.”

  Lourdes shrugged and sipped her coffee. “There’s The Sunflower and Doright Market close by.”

  “True but…”

  I zoned out a bit, watching the light sparkle across the water of the pool. A day in L.A. and I’d already learned it was practically a pastime for people to discuss traffic routes and the latest restaurants. My mind drifted back to the night before, to the things we’d done in the very water we were now standing around.

  “Good point. Okay, I’ll give you a call later if we’re up to anything,” Lourdes said, pulling my attention away.

  I shielded my eyes from the sun to look at him.. “You’re heading off?”
>
  “Yeah, sorry. I gotta.” He tilted his head back to the house, gesturing for me to follow. Once we were alone inside, he interlaced his fingers with mine. “I had a really great time last night.”

  I laughed nervously and almost stupidly asked which part was his favorite. Why the hell would you ask that? I mentally chastised myself. “Me too.” At least I was learning to control my mouth.

  As we stood facing each other in the hall, he reached into his pocket for his phone. “What’s your number?” I quickly rattled it off, my nerves still getting the better of me. “Wicked. You’ve got mine now, so if you’re ever back in town…” he trailed off, a smile spreading across his face and touching his eyes as he looked up.

  “Definitely,” I breathed.

  His hair swung over his shoulder as he dipped his head to kiss me. It tasted of memories and well-intentioned promises we both knew we’d never keep. And when I shut the door behind him and heard the car crunch down the gravel drive, I didn’t feel empty or used or any of those things. I’d connected with and enjoyed another person without any strings attached. What could be so bad about that?

  I was about to wax philosophical about it as I rejoined Lourdes outside, but she held up her hand. “Please. Save it for brunch. My head hurts way too much right now.”

  “Wait, we’re really going out?”

  “If I have any hope of being human today, yes.”

  I’m not sure exactly why my brain decided to screw me over that very moment, but a horrible thought floated up front and center. Kevin.

  “What if I run into…”

  Lourdes peered up at me, shielding her eyes from the sun. “You didn’t care about seeing him last night.”

  “‘Cause I looked freakin’ amazing last night. I can’t run into Kevin unless I’m looking better than I ever have before.”

  A slight curl touched her mouth. “If it makes you feel any better, I do believe a certain model has given you a nice glow. Whatta think Kevin would think of that?” she snickered.

  I joined her in a laugh but inside I continued to freak out. What would I even say if I ran into him? How could that possibly work out well for me?