Her Island Fantasy, an erotic novella (Bridesmaids in Paradise) (4 page)

"Straddle me, Bailey."

She hesitated, having very little experience in seducing a man, but her body ached and demanded release, so she did, her thighs bracketing his, her sex resting over his cock. She didn't know if he wanted her to rub against it, so she just absorbed, feeling rapid pulses and not knowing if they were coming from his body or hers. He leaned forward and sucked her nipple into his mouth, not bothering to pull the lace aside, and the contrast of his tongue and the lace had her moaning and shifting her hips. He closed his hands on her ass and brought her firmly against his cock, maneuvering her so she circled again, like a hula lap dance. She caught on quickly and repeated the sensuous motion, feeling him grow harder beneath her, so hard she felt like he could enter her without removing her pants. His mouth pulled at her nipple, hard suction, teeth, flicking tongue, combining with the pressure between her legs, and she was so close, so close...

He pushed her back suddenly, his own breathing as hard as hers. She stared at him through desire-hazed eyes. Had he changed his mind? Was he going to send her off with this ache?

"Get naked," he said. "Jesus, Bailey, I almost came in my pants. I need to be inside you."

Yes, yes, thank God. She stood on shaking legs and unfastened her pants and let them fall, revealing lace panties to match her bra. God, she'd been so happy the day she'd gone to the lingerie store and bought matching bras and panties, something she hadn't done since college. The look on Ian's face told her he appreciated it, too. He leaned forward, hooked his fingers in the elastic on the sides, and slid them down her legs. He pressed his lips to the slight swell of her belly above her mound, and he took a deep breath. He was breathing her scent. The knowledge sent another flood of wetness between her legs.

"Spread your legs for me, Bailey," he said when she'd stepped out of the panties.

Shaking, she did, and he dragged his finger over her swollen labia.

"Christ, you're wet," he said before parting her and stroking her from her entrance to her clit, which seemed to bounce with every beat of her heart. "If I wasn't so fucking close..."

But she never knew what he was going to say, because he shifted to his knees and pressed his mouth to her clit, his arm wrapping around her ass to hold her still, better than any fantasy. She rolled her hips forward, stroked her own nipple through the lace, and before she could come, he pulled back again.

She wanted to scream.

"Get on the bed. Spread your legs for me, sweetheart. I want to look at you."

He wanted to look at her. Her head swam as she laid back on the bed, knees spread, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had in her life. He stood at the edge of the bed, stripped off his pants, his gaze intent on her pussy. He reached for the drawer, opened it and she heard a condom wrapper. She tried to shift to see his cock, something else she'd fantasized about, but then he was on the bed between her thighs, guiding himself to her, parting her in that sweet pain before burying himself to the hilt. God, he was big, thick and long, filling her like no man had ever done.

He stilled over her, shuddering, and she brought her hips up. He grunted and she stopped.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “You feel incredible, Bailey. I may not last very long.”

She stroked her hand through his hair. “Then we can do it again, right?

“Fuck,” he said reverently, and started to drive into her, long deep strokes that verged on pain.

She lifted her hips, struggling to match his rhythm, not sure she was helping. His jaw tightened as he plunged into her, every muscle in his body tense.

“Tell me what you need,” he said. “Bailey. What do you need?”

Her face heated, realizing he wanted to know how to make her come. She didn’t know why she was embarrassed—he was buried deep in her body. And to be honest, she was kind of hoping he’d take initiative, but if he wanted her to come with him, if he couldn’t wait any more…

“Touch me,” she said. “I need you to touch me.”

He shifted his weight onto his elbow and slid his hand down her belly, his thumb stroking over the curls on her mound before dipping deeper. He didn’t caress her, just let his touch ride her clit as he thrust into her, again and again. Everything in her wound tight with each stroke, her pussy grew wetter, making his strokes slicker, faster, his hips pressing his thumb against her clit, and then with one stroke…

She locked her legs about his hips and strained into him, holding him deep as she came, hard, a cry tearing from her throat as the best orgasm of her life rippled through her body. Only after she melted into the bedspread did she realize he wanted to move, and she loosened her legs. He pumped into her a few more times, then groaned with his own release. He pushed himself off her, his erection dragging against her sensitive flesh as he left her, and he dropped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

After a moment, he turned his head to look at her. “I’m usually much better than that. You just felt…amazing.”

“Could be the hula dancing,” she teased, and he grinned, then sat up.

“Going to get some water. Want some water?” Without waiting for an answer, he rose from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. A matter of minutes later, he returned with two little bottles of water.

She sat up, pulling the blanket from the edge of the bed over her, and took the bottle, which she nearly emptied in one gulp. Panting a guy’s name could really dry out your mouth.

“Want me to go?” she asked, unsure of the etiquette here. The only guys she’d ever slept with, she’d been in a relationship with.

“Change your mind about going again?” he asked, stretching out beside her on his side, resting on his elbow.

“No, but I…”

He tugged the corner of the blanket and pulled it away from her, letting his gaze drag down her body. “Take off your bra.”

Feeling her body heat at his perusal, she reached behind her and unhooked the bra, letting it fall down her arms. She tossed it onto the chair with her top and his shirt, and when she turned back, Ian’s cock was growing hard again. The idea that he wanted her again so soon was heady, and made her bold. She lay beside him and trailed her fingers through his chest hair, feeling the damp warmth of his skin beneath. He seemed to hold his breath as she circled his nipple with her nail, and continued her trek down his flat stomach. The hair there was softer and she lingered, working up her courage before she continued to his cock, keeping her touch just as light. He grunted, whether in protest or approval, she didn’t know, and grew harder beneath her touch.

“Bailey,” he said, and she closed her hand around him, sliding her fingers up and down, savoring the heat, the texture.

A bead of moisture appeared on the tip, and every instinct told her to taste it. She bent to lap it with her tongue, taking it a step further to swirl her tongue around the head, then lower, where the head met the shaft.

He rolled onto his back with a groan, lifting his hips and tangling his fingers in her hair.

She lifted her head to look at him. “Something you’d like me to do?”

His eyes were dark and a little wild. “Only if you want to,” he said in a strangled voice.

She looked back at his cock, pretty intimidating, actually. Her hair trailed over his thigh, tangling with the dark hair there, and for some reason the sight gave her courage to try. She opened her mouth wide, and took him as deep as she could, stroking her tongue along the underside, flicking it right beneath the head.

“Fuck, yeah,” he breathed, hips arching.

Her lips stretched over him as he pumped gently, clearly wanting to go deeper, but not sure she could. He took her hand and guided it to the base of his shaft, moving it up and down in the rhythm he liked. She remembered something she'd read in a woman's magazine and licked her palm before wrapping it around him again, matching the movement of her mouth to the movement of her hand. He groaned and let his head fall back against the pillows. As she sucked, she teased the curve of his ass with her fingertips and felt him swell in her mouth. She could get used to being the seductress.

Suddenly, he pushed her away, breathing heavily.

"I want you to ride me, hula girl."

Okay, maybe she wasn't
quite ready to be the seductress. "I don't know," she hedged as he shoved a condom into her palm.

"I want to watch you. God, please, Bailey."

With shaking fingers, she ripped open the packet and rolled it on him, then rose over him. With one hand on her hip and the other guiding his cock, he helped her into position, and she sank onto him, bringing him deeper than before.

"Did that turn you on, sucking me?" he asked as she adjusted to the depth of him.

Her nipples hardened at the words. "I liked giving you pleasure."

"You almost made me come," he said.

"That wouldn't have been bad."

"But then I might not have been able to do this." He thrust up into her.

She pushed back, her pussy hungry, eager to be filled. The hunger fed her confidence and she placed her palms on his chest as she pistoned her hips over him, each stroke stoking her desire, her clit rubbing against the hair of his groin, her inner muscles squeezing the length of him. He moved his hand from her thigh to her breast, pinching her nipple lightly. She wanted his mouth on her breast, ached to feel it, but didn't know how to ask.

Her thighs burned with her effort and she didn't know how long she could keep this up. He trailed his fingers down her belly to her mound, slid between them to toy with her clit, swollen and hot, taking her from eager to desperate in zero-point-two seconds.

"Ian, God. Please."

"Do you want to come?"

"Yes. Please." She slammed her hips against his, no finesse, only need driving her.

He squeezed and flicked, and she came, rolling her hips against him, against his finger, against his cock. Even when the orgasm eased, he didn't stop touching her, didn't stop stroking her, driving her up again.

"Fuck me," he whispered. "Fuck me, Bailey."

And she did, a wild woman, pounding her hips against his, taking him deep, and deeper, seeking a new orgasm.

But before she reached it, he stilled beneath her and she felt him come. She kept moving, wanting to draw out his pleasure as he'd drawn out hers, and then he pulled out of her. She struggled to hide her disappointment, her body still throbbing with the need for her climax. As if he knew, he gripped her hips and held her steady while he slid down between her legs and covered her pussy with his mouth.

The unexpectedness of his tongue stroking over her clit sent her rocketing over the edge with a cry, and she grasped the headboard to keep from falling over. When she opened her eyes, he was grinning up at her.

"Good?" he asked.

Bailey tiptoed down the hall to her room after sunrise. The "Do Not Disturb" sign was gone. Feeling anxious about facing Haven after being out all night, Bailey slipped her key card into the door and slipped inside.

Eric may have been in here, but Bailey sure couldn't tell. The bed she'd just crawled out of had been a tangle of sheets, pillows tossed every which way, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Haven's bed barely looked slept in, and Haven herself was singing in the shower. Great, that was where Bailey wanted to be.

Her gut tightened when the water shut off. She considered lying about her whereabouts last night, but this was her best friend. She couldn't lie, even if she knew how disapproving Haven would be. God, she hadn't had to explain her whereabouts to anyone since college, and hadn't had anything to explain then. So this was all new.

Haven took forever in the bathroom, something Bailey had known was her habit, but it only wound her tighter, waiting. Finally, finally, Haven opened the bathroom door, her hair wrapped in a towel, another wrapped around her slender body.

"Hey. I was worried about you," Haven said.

"No reason," Bailey barely choked out.

"No, we should have gone to Eric's room, but he's right next to his parents, and we didn't intend for him to stay long. In fact, he didn't. He was gone by midnight. Where did you end up?"

"Sleeping on a couch in the lobby," Bailey said lightly, just to see Haven's eyes widen. "No, I met Ian down at the bar and he offered to let me spend the night."

Haven's eyes widened further. "You didn't." She looked closer at her friend and her lips pursed. "You did! Oh, God, Bailey, bad idea. Bad, bad idea."

Bailey's cheeks heated but she smiled. "No, it was a good, good idea."

Haven shook her head and the towel came loose. She grabbed it and tossed it aside, not deterred. ”He's not over Mallory yet. He's going to hurt you."

"Not if I don't let myself be hurt. It was just sex. Really really good sex."

Haven dragged her fingers through her wet hair and tugged lightly at a tangle “Yeah, well, that's what I told myself when I met Eric. It's impossible to keep emotion out of it, especially for you."

"Why especially for me?" Bailey asked, drawing back in surprise.

Haven spread her arms, then had to grab the towel wrapped around her before it fell off. She folded her arms in front of her to secure it. “Because you feel extra. I mean, you feel a lot. Sex is not an activity to you." Haven dropped to the edge of her bed and looked up at her friend. "When's the last time you had sex without being in a relationship?"