by Sahara Kelly
If he turned out to be a serial killer…well, she'd die happy.
Within an instant that absurd thought vanished. He'd found her happy place and was firmly abrading it, making her groan and pant and thrust her girl bits at him in silent entreaty.
Apparently he was good at pussy sign language. She gasped and moaned as one strong finger slid into her body, followed by another. Her hips lifted, her legs spread and she welcomed him, grasping the table either side of her lest she should reach for him and take both of them places she wasn't sure she was ready to go.
She wanted him, wanted more. Wanted his cock stretching her, and his body hammering against hers. But what she had were his hands and his fingers and with those she would make do.
He worked her, skillfully and thoroughly, his thumb on her clit, his fingers inside. With unerring accuracy he sought the places and the moves that gave her the most pleasure, bringing her near and nearer, yet seeming to sense that she had more to give.
He lifted her higher, then paused-and she muted a choked cry as his mouth seized her breast and sucked the sensitive nipple firmly. It was an almost-pain that shot lightning bolts down to her groin.
"Jesus." The exclamation tore from her throat.
He licked and sucked again, making her breast wet and so sensitive to the slightest touch of air. When he blew on it, her neck arched backward with shock and delight. "Just a little higher, querida. You can go a little higher."
Her inner muscles were beginning to clench, her thighs felt rock solid and her entire being was poised on the edge of what felt like eternity.
And yet he didn't stop. With frustrating, screamingly accurate touches he pushed her higher, refusing to let her go over the edge.
She was soaked, sweating, arched in a rictus of need beneath the attentions of a man she'd known less than a day.
And ohmigod. It was the most magnificent moment she could ever remember.
"Now, cariña. Now you must let everything go." He moved his fingers inside her and pressed upward just beneath her clit.
She would have screamed but her voice died in her throat. The sharp tingles began to spread, a groundswell of sensation that exploded into savagely fierce contractions wrenching through her, gripping Cris's fingers in a primeval spasm of sheer ecstasy.
It blinded her, shaking her to her core. She'd had plenty of orgasms. Good ones, great ones and a few quickies that caught her unawares. She considered herself pretty much average on the O-scale of things.
This one? Well the data would have to be thrown out and the charts started over. Get a new spreadsheet, Jen. You just blew past any statistic you ever knew.
Finally her breath returned and she sucked in air like a drowning man hitting the surface.
He was there, gentling her, stroking her, touching her softly as she fell back to earth. It was so quiet she could hear her heart thumping and slowing, hear his clothing move and his hands graze her body.
He dragged the sheet up over her. "Rest a while. Nobody will bother you. Just relax and let your mind clear itself."
She closed her eyes, too weak to question or argue. Soft lyrical music began from somewhere, followed by the hushed click of the door closer. Jen sensed the room was now empty, but far from feeling lonely, she felt…what?
Limp. Sated. Extremely relaxed.
And amazingly content.
On that surprising thought, she surrendered to the overwhelming urge to close her eyes.
And sleep.
Chapter 7
Two seconds into his shower and Cris was riding out his own release. Touching Jennifer, sharing that intimacy with her-it had pushed him as well, sending him to the small employee facility with a prayer of thanks it was so close.
Even the gentle friction of his underwear might have popped the cork if he'd had to walk through the hotel to his apartment.
He always kept a spare set of clothes handy after that incident with a puppy in the pool, and now he blessed his foresight. Or he intended to bless his foresight right after he'd finished coming like a randy teenage boy.
She had done it to him, he acknowledged ruefully. Something about her laugh, her eyes, the challenging mix of sophistication and innocence. Her ability to project calm professionalism while smiling like a siren luring men to their doom-whatever it was, she had it in spades. Her face in the shadows of the room as she came…
Those spades had just smacked him upside the head and driven him into a sexual frenzy. The resulting hard-on had finally finished exploding and emptying his painful balls into the shower.
He gazed sadly at the water circling the drain and disappearing. "Bye, lads." He bid a forlorn farewell to the current crop of his DNA as it washed into nothingness. Then he rolled his eyes at himself and finished cleaning up.
As he dressed and contemplated the rest of his day, he allowed work duties to occupy the forefront of his brain. There was a meeting with his housekeeping manager about renewing contracts with various supply companies. Then a check on bar stock, a quick trip through the kitchens to see if they had all they needed and from there back to his office and the pile of emails that would inevitably be waiting.
All routine stuff, especially at this time of year that was, by virtue of the searing, soaking Florida summer humidity, slow.
Slow, at this point, was actually good. Since it gave the other part of Cris's mind the opportunity to dwell on something else.
The "something else" who presently napped in the spa.
He strode through the burning sunshine to the main lobby with his mind in two places at once.
The air conditioning was working overtime and the elegant reception area cooled his thoughts and helped him focus.
What was he going to do about Jennifer Hodges? More to the point, what was he going to do with her? And how? And when?
"Excuse me, Cris?"
A voice intruded on what was potentially an X-rated movie about to debut in the theater of his brain. He reluctantly put down his mental popcorn and sighed.
"Yeah, Sue. Whazzup?"
Hotel business asserted its hold on him and for the next several hours he let Jen lurk in the recesses of his consciousness. There would be time for her later. He hoped.
*~*~*~*
The woman herself stretched and yawned, then blinked, disoriented for a few moments at finding herself naked beneath a soft sheet in a dim room where someone was playing a harp.
Shit. I'm dead.
No, wait…
The memories flooded back and her skin flushed as the suddenly-remembered sensation of strong hands manipulating a variety of private places heated her once more.
"Jesus H." She grabbed the sheet and sat up, wrapping it firmly around her. "You are a loose woman of the first order, Jennifer."
Admonishing herself, she found her spa slippers and waddled in her soft cotton cocoon to the changing room and beyond, where there was a charmingly tropical style shower awaiting the newly-relaxed clients.
She looked at it for a moment, wondering if it was safe. She was so damn relaxed right now, she might well drown, like one of those geese she'd read about. The ones that would stare up at rain and open their mouths until they died from water in their lungs. Probably apocryphal, but she was in that frame of mind. The one where random thoughts seem to flitter like fragile dancers across her mental stage.
Bamboo panels surrounded her, wildly brilliant flowers nodded outside the high windows, and the breeze made their shadows tango over the soft green fixtures.
Oh hell, sure. Why not? How could she pass up the chance to shower in a tiny tropical paradise that would probably appear in some issue of Perfect South Pacific Bathrooms magazine, if it hadn't already?
The shampoo was richly scented with jasmine or gardenia or pick your own exotic fragrance. Ylang ylang maybe. Whatever that was. Or however you pronounced it.
There went those thoughts again, flying nowhere in particular, darting from odd fancy to idle notion like a bee hopping from a pink hib
iscus to a white rose.
God. Wake up, woman.
The water helped. Warm, steady…it was a rain of common sense drenching Jen, surrounding her in a light steam of humidity. As if she needed any more. But it restored some of what she regarded as sanity, and she was able to go through a shower routine without actually running the risk of drowning. Her hair, of course, would frizz. But with luck it would be soft frizz. She entertained the notion of sticking a flower in it and trying to carry off the "I mean to look just like this. Isn't the natural look just too trendy?" attitude.
What the hell. She didn't know anyone.
Except Cris.
Yeah, well I shouldn't be thinking along those lines anyway, loose slut that I am.
The inner dialogue began again, an accompaniment to the fragrance released by the lather-rinse-repeat cycle and the exotic floral bouquet of the shampoo.
You want him.
What's not to want? He's gorgeous, knows his way around women…
And you're just one of the women he knows his way around.
She paused and let the water clear the last of the foam from her hair. Somehow she felt that Cris wasn't the type to grope all his women guests. Perhaps she was reading way too much into it all. Perhaps she was just one of many, an attractive woman alone, who was obviously working through some issues.
But no. She just couldn't get a read on him as a playboy lover. He was too… smart for that. His position certainly gave him license and freedom to play. But that very position would be threatened by the least hint of impropriety. No, he was much too smart to go that route.
Her gut told her she was right. And she trusted her gut.
Then you might turn out to be the world's greatest idiot.
Yes, I might. But I'd have a whole mess of regrets if I didn't at least explore the possibilities. Consider the potential. Weigh the pros and cons.
Get your pussy waxed.
No. Can't do that. No sex for at least twenty-four hours.
Crap.
I'm thinking of having sex, aren't I?
Duh.
I shouldn't be.
Why not?
I'm in a committed relationship.
You're dead?
I'm scared. David should be enough.
He should be. He's not, right now. He's not here. You are. It's just sex.
None of those are good reasons for cheating on a man I'm supposed to be devoted to.
You are human. You deserve the freedom to seek happiness wherever you find it.
And if it hurts someone?
The only person it will hurt is you. You're not about to rush out and tweet about the sex you have on a private vacation. You're not about to call David and tell him you cheated.
True.
You have the chance to take a very short little time from your life on this earth and enjoy a tiny adventure. Just for you. Nobody else. To remind yourself that you're a woman, a desirable woman. That sex can be exciting.
And I'm not even sure I'm going to end up with David. Anything could happen.
Can you handle it?
I can certainly handle thinking about it.
You have to go beyond that. Look ahead. Can you handle it?
Jen toweled herself dry and slipped back into her bathing suit, casually blotting her hair and letting the blonde strands curl as they wanted. She considered the question she'd just asked herself.
If she did this, pursued the obvious course with Cris, what would she take away from it? In years to come would she be racked with guilt, crushed by the burden of her fall from grace?
She snorted. Like hell.
She'd have memories. Good ones, she hoped. Private memories that would enrich her femininity, bolster her self-esteem when she needed it, and always remind her that at one time in her life she'd been a desirable, sensual woman capable of attracting a drop-dead gorgeous sex-god.
She was mature enough to know that life wasn't all sunshine and ice-cream. That every person's world contained joys and sorrows, triumphs and tragedies. That some were blessed with more than their fair share of those joys and others faced often unspeakable tragedies. No one knew what their life was going to hold.
All anyone could do was cross their fingers and hope for the best.
Jen also believed that she was a woman who relied on her own inner strengths rather than other people's. She had seldom gone to David for comfort when she needed it, but then again, she'd not faced anything devastating in her life thus far.
She was a bit of a loner, wasn't afraid of solitude-in fact she sought it now and again. To be alone was to have time with her thoughts. And her memories. Vivid and fun, she would open her mental photo album and smile at the remembered warmth of summers at the beach with her friends. At the tingle of her first kiss and the delight of her first real love.
And there was the agony of that first break up.
If she took advantage of this vacation to explore her sexuality with Cris, it would be another memory to add to the book in her mind. She might even give it a page of its own.
Above all, one thought kept hammering at her.
It would be mine. Mine alone. A private and perfect memory to take out and look at in decades to come. To sustain me over whatever bad times await. To tuck away, unneeded, when things are going well.
It was a complex and confusing discussion. She grinned. It probably needed wine, or at least something cool to drink. Her stomach rumbled in agreement and she realized she was hungry.
One glance in the mirror as she gathered her things…and she gasped out a sound that was, without doubt, an eeeek. The blonde cloud of frizz would need a whole greenhouse of flowers to urge it into anything resembling hair, trendy or otherwise.
If Cris saw her like this, he'd run all the way to the Keys and her previous mental discussion with herself would turn out to be moot.
Slowly and cautiously, she sneaked from the spa and crept to the elevators, praying she wouldn't see anyone along the way. The sanctuary of her now-tidy room was a relief and she almost cried at the sight of her flat iron, tucked into her cosmetic case.
"God, I love technology." She plugged it in and grabbed her styling mist. Some things were an absolute necessity. Thoughts about hot sex with handsome concierges could wait until after the beast had been tamed.
Which took more time than she'd expected, but it was Florida, it was summer and it redefined humidity, so all things considered-it wasn't surprising. The worst of the day's heat was waning when she was finally done, since she'd added a brief nap to her afternoon's non-schedule.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten much, and slipping into a comfortable sundress, she decided it was time to brave the outside world.
She hadn't been hiding in her room, of course, because that would have been the action of a cowardly woman who might, possibly, have been rather sinful. And that wasn't her.
Nope. Wasn't her at all. Just like she wasn't the woman who was rather hoping to be even more sinful.
Maybe.
God, she was so frickin' confused. She needed a drink, several of them perhaps, and then some food. Followed by a period of intense analysis and more drinks.
And Cris.
The heavy door to her room clanged shut behind her as she realized the only thing she really wanted was to see him again. To look at him and perhaps understand what was happening to her. To them. If there was a "them".
The flowers were as vibrant as ever as Jen walked through the foyer to the sound of music and laughter in the cocktail lounge. As the sun set, the large doors had been slid to the side, opening the room to the pool area beyond and the rising sound of night as it fell over the Sunshine State.
Tiny lights came on, fairy twinkles hinting at the flowers beneath which they were wired. Gentle blues rippled beneath the surface of the pool and an iridescent glow highlighted the water tumbling from the top of the man-made falls. Air masses changed with frequency at this time of year it seemed, so she wasn't s
urprised to find warm scented air replacing the shiver of air conditioning.
It was no longer a wet slap against hot flesh but a delicate caress.
It was exactly as it should be, thought Jen as she admired it. Hollywood meets the tropics, courtesy of Thomas Edison.
A louder burst of laughter drew her attention back to the bar and she moved toward it, noting a group of older visitors enjoying what must have been one hell of a joke.
"Here's a beauty, George." One senior gentleman with a shock of white hair waggled his eyebrows and stood at Jen's approach. "Might I ask you to join us my dear? It would be my pleasure to provide you with many drinks. I'm told my attraction multiplies by a factor of the number of empty glasses in front of a lovely woman."
Jen chuckled. "You're very kind. And given that statement, I'll take advantage of your offer for a drink. But just one. I doubt there are many women who could possibly withstand your charm after more than that."
He laughed appreciatively and held out his hand. "Palmer Miles, Daytona. It's a great pleasure."
Jen put her hand in his, pleasantly surprised when he raised it to his lips and elegantly placed a tiny kiss on her knuckles. "Jennifer Hodges, Boston. And I love gin and tonics."
"Then you shall have one." Palmer raised his hand theatrically. "A gin and tonic for this delightful vision, my good man."
Jen bit back a giggle. "On vacation, Palmer?" The drink appeared and she took a grateful sip, managing not to choke as she realized my good man had an extremely generous hand with the alcohol.
"I wish I was, but not this time." He leaned against the bar and looked around. "I'm lecturing."
"Really? In the bar?"
He grinned. "Har har. No, after dinner, I'll be talking to this lot about life, love and how they can sustain our…" he made appropriate gestures with his fingers…"golden years."
She tilted her head to one side and sipped again, enjoying the tart and fragrant bite of the liquor. "Can they?"
"Can they what?" He glanced at the dozen or so people enjoying cocktails. "Can they survive those fruity concoctions?"
Jen snorted. "No. I meant can life and love sustain us?"
"Of course. Along with a seriously fine single malt scotch and a good steak now and again." He smiled paternally. "I have no clue, my lovely. I hope so because I've lived and loved and intend to do a lot more of both until it's time to cock up my toes and move on to the next great adventure."
