San Amaro Singles: Slammed Part 9

She turned to face him, some of that confidence dissolving.

"You are beautiful," he said, as if sensing that. "Look at you. You have the prettiest b.r.e.a.s.t.s."

She blinked. "They're not perfect."

"Yeah. They are. They're the perfect size, perfect shape...just the way I like, round and firm. I like how they fill my hand. Your nipples are pretty. I like how they get dark and hard...makes me want to suck them. And I like how they taste. Sweet."

Her legs wobbled as her knees turned to sand, and she reached a hand behind her to the table to steady herself. G.o.d. The man was s.e.x and charm on a stick.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Should I talk about your perfect a.s.s now?" he asked, lips quirking.

She shook her head. "Let's talk about your perfect a.s.s."

He laughed. "Still want to bite it?"

"Oh yeah."

They stood across the room from each other, naked, looking at each other with hot, hungry eyes, neither making a move. It was the s.e.xiest thing she'd ever experienced. Maybe. Last night with Dylan had been pretty hot too.

She drew in a long slow breath. "Lay down on the bed," she directed him. "Face down."

He didn't move, lips still curved into that half-smile, and then he inclined his head and turned back to the bed. Once again she watched the play of muscle under smooth bronzed skin as he knelt on the bed, then stretched out long and lean. Her breath caught on another inhale.

She moved toward him, her legs trembling a little, and climbed onto the unmade bed as well. She pushed the covers aside to make room and then, biting her bottom lip, she laid her palms on his b.u.t.t.

She could understand what he meant when he said he loved how her b.r.e.a.s.t.s filled his hands, because she loved how his a.s.s filled her hands, firm and resilient, the skin smooth, the muscles beneath taut and compact. She gave a gentle squeeze and he flexed, and the muscles beneath her palms turned to rock. She sighed. He huffed out a laugh, his arms folded beneath his head.

He relaxed and she stroked and petted and caressed, up his back, down over the cheeks, brus.h.i.+ng over the backs of his thighs, which made him twitch.

"Amazing," she murmured. "It's because you're a surfer, isn't it?"

"Surfing requires good gluts," he mumbled.

She sensed the tension in his body increasing, a faint vibration. He liked this. She dragged her tongue over her bottom lip, contemplating the crease between his cheeks, then boldly drew her fingers up through that tight channel. He made a noise in his throat, those impressive muscles flexing again. But his thighs moved just slightly apart.

That was all the encouragement she needed to keep going. She played more, dipping lower between his thighs, deeper between his cheeks, then teasing by drifting her hands over his back and lower spine, sliding her palms down the sides of his hips.

"I wish I had some ma.s.sage oil," she murmured.

"I have some."

"Of course you do." She smiled. "Where is it?"

He directed her to his bag and she found the small bottle and returned to the bed. She squeezed a trail of thick liquid down the center of his back, right to his b.u.t.t cheeks, then tossed the bottle aside and set her hands back on his body.

He let out a long groan.

She studied him as her hands moved over him, now sliding easily in the oil, absorbing both the sight of him and the feel of him with carnal pleasure. Slowly, she eased his thighs farther apart and slipped her fingers down to brush against his b.a.l.l.s.

He lifted his hips and reached beneath to adjust himself, and when he rested back on the bed she could see his c.o.c.k now, between his thighs, stiff and flushed. Also so beautiful. Feasting her eyes on his well-formed shape, she again daringly dipped her fingers lower, cupping his b.a.l.l.s, brus.h.i.+ng the head of his c.o.c.k.

And then, her mouth literally watering, she bent forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss at the base of his spine. She drew the kiss out, long and slow, brus.h.i.+ng her tongue over his flesh. Licking him.

She savored the salty male taste of him mingled with the oil, breathed in the scent of his skin. She kissed and licked her way lower, over the swell of his b.u.t.tock, down to the crease where it met his thigh and drew her tongue over the soft skin there. His body trembled. She laid another trail of soft, pursed-lip kisses back up, and then right at the fles.h.i.+est part of him, she opened her mouth and sank her teeth into him, so gently.

"Christ!"

His m.u.f.fled curse made her smile against his skin, and she did it again on the other side then licked over the spot. She nuzzled his flesh, nudged his thighs farther apart so she could touch her tongue to his b.a.l.l.s. The skin there was so soft, his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es drawn up tight against his body. He quivered.

"f.u.c.k," he muttered, face buried in his arms. "I can't stand this much longer. You're making me insane."

"Should I stop?" She gave another nip with her teeth.

He groaned.

"I'll take that as a no. G.o.d, Dylan." Once more she drew back for the view, smoothing her palms over him. "You're so beautiful."

"n.o.body's ever done this," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

"Really? I can't believe that. I could wors.h.i.+p your fine a.s.s for hours."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen. Because my fine d.i.c.k is about to explode."

She gave a soft laugh and he rolled over. She was torturing herself as much as him, her insides all warm and achy. He reached for her and pulled her down on top of him, and they fit themselves together.

"Oh babe," he groaned, palming the back of her head to bring her down for a kiss. "You make me so f.u.c.king hot."

Their mouths met in a long, clinging bond. Their tongues slid against each other's in an erotic caress.

"Can't wait," he gasped a moment later. "You ready?"

"Oh yeah. I am so ready."

He rolled her to her back and now moved over her, kneeing her thighs apart. He reached for a condom from the bedside table and quickly sheathed his enormous c.o.c.k, the veins so distended she bit her lip. Then before he did anything else, he slipped his hand between them, into her folds, gently exploring. "Ah," he said on a long exhalation. "So wet, baby. So good."

She gazed up at him, her heart warmed by his consideration, by how he'd made sure she was ready before he pushed inside her. She lifted her thighs wider and reached for him as he entered her, stretching her with a burning pressure. A small wail escaped her lips and he paused. "Okay?" His eyes met hers. His jaw was tight, his mouth firm, but his eyes held a warm question.

She nodded. "Just a little sore..."

"I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be sorry." Her fingers gripped his shoulders, pulling him to her. "Do it. I want you. G.o.d, I want you."

"f.u.c.k, me too." He eased into her, inch by inch, filling her with a delicious pressure and her eyes drifted closed, her head falling to one side. "All day, Brooke. I want to do this all day. You and me in this bed."

"Works...for...me." She wrapped her legs around him as he moved inside her, now fully seated, their bodies pressed as close as they could be. "Got nothing...else...to...do."

He gave another huff of laughter, falling down over her to kiss her as he rocked his pelvis against her, his body bearing her down into the mattress, pressing on her c.l.i.t, giving her the most exquisite abrasion that started tingles low down inside her. The tingles spread and intensified and swirled into an ever-bigger spiral of delight, rus.h.i.+ng through her body, and she lifted into him, seeking more, more of that heaven until it became almost unbearable.

Their bodies both damp and slick, she dug her heels into that incredible a.s.s and cried out as she came, tightening around him, her body contracting in hard pulses. And when he pressed his face into the side of her neck with low, feral growls of pleasure, she held on tight to his big body as he found his release too.

Chapter Eight.

Two days later, the winds died down to gusty breezes, patches of blue appeared in the overcast sky, and Brooke and Dylan finally made it out of bed.

Okay they hadn't spent every minute of those two days in bed. But almost.

They explored the area, checking out what damage the storm had caused. The locals took it all cheerfully in stride, getting to work to clear downed trees and repair power lines. As the day went on, the sky cleared more and more and the sun evaporated all the rain that had fallen and turned it into sticky humidity.

Although the weather improved, the airport remained closed and there was no telephone or Internet access. Many places were still without power, although their hotel had luckily been spared and continued to operate semi-normally. The winds continued to whip the ocean into ma.s.sive waves that Dylan eyed longingly. She shouldn't have cared, but the idea of him heading out into an ocean still so stormy and rough scared her. Thankfully he didn't seem inclined to actually try it.

They were finally able to leave Tahiti Faa'a Airport the next night. She tried to hide her nervousness from Dylan, but as the wheels of the plane left the ground, he unwrapped her fingers from around the armrest and held her hand between both of his.

"You okay?" he asked, bending to speak in her ear. She gave a tight nod and flashed what she hoped was a casual smile.

"Don't like flying?"

She tried to breathe, her heart thumping in her chest. He was going to feel how sweaty her palms were. "Not really," she said in an amazing understatement.

"It'll be fine," he said, rubbing her hand. "Want me to distract you?" He nuzzled her ear and she s.h.i.+vered.

She turned her head and their mouths met and clung in a long, warm kiss. Heat slid through her and she curled her fingers around his hand. Mmm. Yeah. That was probably the only thing that could distract her. She drew back and gave him another smile, this one more relaxed.

Once they were in the air and she'd begun to breathe normally again, when the lights had been turned off to allow people to sleep and they were pa.s.sing high above the Pacific Ocean, a strange feeling of sadness fell over Brooke. After spending the last few days with Dylan, and that meant every minute of the last few days since he'd stayed with her, now that they were finally on their way back to San Amaro she found herself reluctant to leave. Tahiti was beautiful even though she hadn't had the best experience there, but it wasn't just that. Somehow she and Dylan had fallen into something, some kind of unspoken relations.h.i.+p where they'd become friends and lovers, and yet they both knew it was only a temporary thing.

Sleeping with him had been incredible, and even though she wondered how this was going to impact their working relations.h.i.+p once back in California, she'd done it anyway because...because...well she couldn't exactly explain it, other thanhe was there. They were there, together, forced into close proximity by the storm and kept there by some kind of powerful physical attraction.

"Here," Dylan said, shaking out a small airline blanket. He covered her with it and tucked it around her. He lifted the armrest between them and she slid toward him. Somehow they managed to snuggle together like they had the last three nights in her hotel room bed, even there in the airplane seats. She rested her head against his shoulder, his arms around her, and tried not to let that sadness take over. She needed to be thinking about work and what needed to be done as soon as she was home.

She'd fretted about her inability to contact the office or her family, to let them know she was all right. They'd probably seen coverage of the storm on the news and she worried they'd be freaking out especially since she couldn't reach them. Finally she'd managed a couple of brief emails to the office, astonished that the reaction from Barrett was, "What the h.e.l.l is taking you so long? Get Dylan Sch.e.l.l back here RFN." She'd also managed a short phone call home to tell her parents she was fine. At least they'd been concerned about her. It sounded like her mother was almost ready to get on the next plane to come find her.

Dylan's breathing slowed as he fell asleep, and she tried to match her own breath to his to try to make herself fall asleep too. But it was hard not to think about him and the time they'd just spent together. It was hard not to get all warm and squirmy thinking about the things they'd done, in bed, even on the beach the last night in the shadows of the palm trees. She pressed her thighs together against the ache there. Giving up all that hot s.e.x wasn't going to be easy.

She would be going to her apartment. She'd thought Dylan might stay with his friend Matt, since he said he'd stayed there with him last year, but he'd shaken his head at that and said he'd stay at a hotel. In fact he already had a room booked at the San Amaro Hilton but not until later in the month, so in one of her emails she'd asked Tim to change his reservation for him, and also to book a rental car for him at the airport. Once they landed in San Diego, they'd be going their separate ways.

Which made her heart contract and her throat tighten.

But it wasn't as if she wasn't going to see him again. They had work to do. It would just be...different. Back to reality.

She finally drifted into sleep too, a light sleep, still aware of the noise of the plane, the footsteps of the flight attendants moving up and down the aisle, still aware of Dylan's strong body against hers, his arms around her, that fresh air and water scent of his skin filling her head. She wanted to breathe that in and hold it inside her.

Hours later they both woke up, stretched, used the bathrooms and ate the breakfast the cheery flight attendants served them. Dylan read more of the materials she'd gathered about the charitable organizations and, surprisingly to her, used his laptop do some thingslooked like he was reading some news stories, checking emails and responding to them. She'd forgotten that this was a business to him too. Or rather, no, she hadn't forgotten. Dylan liked to give the impression he didn't treat it like a business, but she was getting glimpses of a different side of him.

They claimed their luggage, including a special trip to the oversized baggage area for Dylan's carefully packed boards, then paused before she headed to the lot where she'd left her car and Dylan got on a shuttle bus to the rental car office. People pa.s.sing by glanced at Dylan then took another look. He was surrounded by a magnetic field of coolness that people seemed to recognize, whether or not they knew who he was, with his athletic grace, tanned skin and s.h.a.ggy hair, wearing sungla.s.ses and a loose s.h.i.+rt over shorts.

They looked at each other and more emotion swelled inside her. Oh G.o.d, this should not be happening. It felt like she was saying goodbye to him forever, and the wrench of loss she felt inside at that was all kinds of wrong. He smiled at her. "Okay, babe," he said. "Here you go. You got what you came for. I'm back on U.S. soil. I guess I'll see you at your office Monday morning."

It was a little past noon on Friday. "Wait," she said, frowning. "What will you do all weekend?"

He shrugged. "Not sure yet. Why?"

She struggled for words, for what to say. "You need to stay out of trouble. And out of the media."

A shadow darkened his silvery eyes, but he grinned and gave her a look. "Oh yeah. Right. I'll see if I can manage to behave myself for the next few days."

"It's not just the next few days." She had to get back into business mode here and quick. "It's for good, Dylan. This isn't just a temporary stunt to make you look good. You seriously need to clean up your image if you want long-term sponsors.h.i.+p."

"Right." His mouth firmed and his eyes narrowed fractionally. "What do you do? Do you put your money where your mouth is and do some kind of charity work?"

She lifted an eyebrow. "Yes. I do."

"Oh."

"I'm a Big Sister," she told him. "I have a Little Sister, she's twelve. She has no mom so I spend time with her doing girl stuff."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Good for you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes. It is good for me, actually. I get as much out of it as she does."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Brooke."

She hesitated. "Okay. My mom will be freaking out about where I was. I'm going over to their place for dinner tomorrow night. Come with me."

"To your parents'?" He lifted an eyebrow.

"Sure. Why not? We have a big family, they don't mind another person. My mom's a good cook. You can have a home cooked meal and it will be nice and safe."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Whatever. Fine."

"I gave you my cell phone number," she said. "Call me if you need anything."

"I don't need a babysitter," he muttered.

"Fine." Back to cool and businesslike, she added, "Prove it by staying out of trouble all weekend. Want me to pick you up tomorrow night?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Drive carefully back to San Amaro."

She blinked. "I will. You too."

She watched him turn and push the cart loaded down with his gear out the door of the terminal. And swallowed hard through her suddenly tight, dry throat.