Her Island Fantasy, an erotic novella (Bridesmaids in Paradise) (7 page)

Her panties were soaked, her nipples aching. “Ian.”

“What do you want, Bailey?”

“Make it true. Make it real.” She barely recognized her own voice, so much did it vibrate with need.

He rolled to his knees, and just when she thought he would sit behind her and do as she asked, he rose and held his hand to her. Her gaze was drawn to the very prominent tenting of his slacks.

“You cannot go walking around like that.”

“I have a plan.”

She took his hand and he pulled her against him, then turned her around so her ass snugged against his hips, hiding his arousal. She twisted to look at him. “You really think we can walk like this?”

He buried his face in her throat for a moment, then urged her forward. They stumbled a bit at first, laughing, but found a stride and headed back to the hotel. He released her as they walked through the lobby doors and she couldn’t help but sneak a glance. Definitely not as obvious, but she hoped they’d have the elevator to themselves.

Of course they didn’t, and she stood slightly in front of him to shield him from the family of four who shared the elevator with them. She quivered with longing as his hand rested lightly on her hip, and the elevator couldn’t move fast enough. When the doors slid open, she practically bolted out. He took her hand and guided her down the hall to his room.

He didn’t stop when he got through the door, instead pushed her toward the bed, tossing the remaining dessert on the dresser, then stopping at the foot of the bed and bending her over, stepping between her legs and pressing his erection against her ass. With a gasp, she looked over her shoulder at him.

“I’ve never—” Surely he didn’t want—

“On your knees, that’s all I want,” he said, reaching around to unbutton her shorts, tugging them down her legs. “Will you let me?”

Right now she would let him do anything he wanted, as long as he was inside her. She braced her hands on the mattress. “What do you want me to do?”

“Take off your shirt and get on the bed on your hands and knees.”

Shaking, she stripped her top off and let it fall to the floor and climbed onto the duvet, feeling very vulnerable with him behind her, looking at her ass, never her best feature. She heard him shuck his slacks, heard the rustle of his shirt as he discarded it. Then the bed dipped behind her and the heat of his cock rode against the curve of her ass. He stroked his fingers lightly down her back, making her skin twitch, then he closed a hand around her breast, weighing it before pinching lightly and dropping back to her hip. Another rustle and he was poised at her entrance, dipping in slightly before withdrawing, making her moan. He repeated the shallow thrust a couple of times before pressing fully into her, stretching her, God, filling her, the angle exquisite. She pressed back against him, savoring the depth. This time he moaned and met her strokes, circling his hips against her ass.

“Wait. Forgot. Jesus.” He pulled out.

She twisted around to look at him, panic squeezing her stomach. “Forgot what?”

“Your present. Close your eyes.”

“What is it?”

“A surprise. Close your eyes.”

She did as he asked, turning her head around. He slid into her again and then she heard a buzzing. She tried to turn again but he gave her a light smack on the ass before reaching around, and holy shit. His finger was vibrating, and when he tapped her clit…

“Oh! Oh!” She thrust back against him so he was flush against her as waves of pleasure crashed through her, her body gripping him, drawing him deeper. Her arms trembled beneath her, she couldn’t catch her breath. “What was that?”

“Vibrator.” He tossed it on the mattress beside her and thrust deep into her slick body. “Like it?”

“Mmm.” She had one, of course, but had never used it with a man, as part of sex, had never thought of it. That Ian had excited the hell out of her.

Already desire was building again as he stroked inside her, seeming to swell. His breath grew shaky and he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside her as he came.

He dropped over her, his hands on either side of her, his cheek against her back as he caught his breath, then he pulled out. He discarded the condom and dropped to the bed beside her. She stretched out on her side and picked up the fingertip vibrator to inspect it.

“Where did you get this?”

“I told you, in the gift shop next to the condoms. Did you like it?”

She grinned. “Oh, yeah. I might not even need you anymore.”

“Not so fast,” he said, hooking his arm around her waist and drawing her against his chest. “I have more to offer. That,” he nodded to the toy, “won’t bring you chocolate. Won’t take you for walks on the beach, won’t dance with you.”

“You don’t dance with me.”

“I will, at the wedding.”

“Oh, well. You have to, then. I’m maid of honor and you’re best man. Are you a good dancer, at least?”

“I’m a very good dancer.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t you.” He rolled off the bed and pulled her to her feet so her body was flush with his.

“Naked dancing?” she asked with a laugh.

“Haven would probably appreciate if we got some practice in.”

“Without music?”

Without releasing her, he leaned over the clock radio, tuned until he found a station, then straightened and wrapped both arms around her.

“I doubt Haven will appreciate us dancing this close.”

“We’ll have at least two layers of clothes between us.” He lifted his hand to rub his fingertips over the top of her breast. “Your dress is strapless, right?”

She was surprised he paid that much attention. “Right.”

“I love strapless dresses.” He cupped her breast and lowered his mouth to hers, growing harder already. “Get on the bed, Bailey. This time I’m going to take it slow.”

She wanted to protest that she wasn’t ready, that she was still a little tender from last time, but the look in his eyes sent a ripple of lust through her, and she lowered herself to the bed. He crossed to the dresser, picked up the white container and brought the dessert to the bed, where he stretched out beside her. She thought he was going to feed her, but instead he dipped his finger into the creamy concoction and smeared it on her lips. He lowered his mouth to hers and dragged his tongue slowly over her bottom lip, then sucked the chocolate off her top lip, the suction as delicious as the scent of chocolate.

Another dip of his finger and he stroked a dab of chocolate onto one nipple, then the other. Her legs fell apart of their own volition, and her pussy pulsed with need. She arched her back, silently urging him to suck off this chocolate, too, Instead, he scooped up another bite and held it in front of her mouth. She understood she was to eat it, so she raised her head to draw his finger into her mouth, sucking on his finger, sliding her tongue up and down as seductively as she knew how. Apparently that worked because his nostrils flared and that damned smug smirk disappeared. He withdrew his finger and continued painting her body with chocolate—her stomach, the curve of her hip, the inside of her thighs. She was shaking all over with the promise of what was to come when he closed the container and set it on the bedside table.

He started at her knee and licked the chocolate from one thigh in short strokes, advancing closer to her pussy which wept with need. All he had to do was touch her. Or better yet, put his mouth on her. Instead, he turned his head to her other leg. This time he licked up the chocolate in one stroke, ending inches away from her throbbing clit.

“Please. Oh, please,” she sobbed.

He ignored her and lapped up the chocolate along her hip, up her belly before finally, finally taking her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the pebbled tip, drawing it deeply into his mouth. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her, bucking against him, so desperate she thought about sliding her own hand between her legs to ease the ache. But no, when he made her come, it would be worth it.

He released her breast and shifted, his cock hot and hard against the inside of her leg and she moved against it, wanting him in her, now. Instead he blew a breath over her chocolate coated nipple, then traced the tip of his tongue along the underside of her breast before nipping lightly with his teeth.

“Guh!” She couldn’t help the expulsion of breath as wetness slickened her channel, dampened her thighs. “Ian!”

He sheathed himself, then rose over her, parting her thighs with his knees, his attention still on her breast. God, she was so close, she would come the minute he entered her. She glided her hands down his back to his ass and tried to tug him toward her. He chuckled, rubbed the head of his cock high against her thigh, and lowered her head to her breast.

The orgasm took them both by surprise, deep, rhythmic waves of pleasure rolling through her as his cock hovered near her channel. She dug her fingers in his ass and this time, he slid home, stroking against her rippling walls, prolonging the pleasure, until she was as melted as the chocolate he’d licked from her skin.

“Like that?” he asked, his thrusts slow and steady as he grinned down at her.

She opened her mouth to speak but her muscles didn’t work, or her brain or something, so she just nodded and let him carry her to another crest, unable to believe she could come again after that, again without him touching her. This time they crashed to the shore together and fell asleep in a tangle of limbs.

***

Bailey was with Ian—she didn’t see the appeal of going to see Pearl Harbor two days before one’s wedding. She didn’t want to see it as much as she felt like, as a teacher, she
should
see it. Besides, Max hadn’t scheduled any paying tours today so he could drive them in his van, and he’d promised them a good lunch, and he brought malasadas, the Hawaiian doughnuts, for them to eat on the way. They had to get to the memorial early, though, because it got crowded.

Bailey found it interesting that Ian didn’t care that everyone knew they were seeing each other. No, sleeping together. Whatever. He rested his hand casually on her waist as they waited to board Max’s van, and sat with his arm across the back of her seat as they rode. She let herself lean into him and doze in the early morning. The chatter of the others washed over her, Andrew’s excitement, Ian’s dad recounting the story he’d heard about December 7, 1941.

“My father had just left Hawaii after getting out of the service. He was thirty-five and had had enough of Army life. He was on a ship to Los Angeles that day, and was going to work his way home to Texas. While on the ship, they heard about the bombing and he got this awful feeling. See, his younger brother James was in the Navy, stationed at Pearl Harbor, on the Arizona.”

“Man,” Max said, shaking his head.

“My father wanted to get back to Hawaii right away but of course had to wait for the ship to reach land. He got on the next ship to Hawaii, and once he was there, he re-upped with the Army, though he was pretty old by their standards. By that point, they were eager for anyone they could get.”

“So you never knew your uncle?” Haven asked.

“Actually, James was one of the survivors, but no. He died later in the war in Okinawa.”

“And your dad? Where did he fight?” Andrew asked, a soldier himself, just home from his last tour.

“All over the South Pacific. Never did meet up with his brother after that first day, though.”

The men shared more stories of what they knew about Pearl Harbor and World War II. Bailey’s grandfather had been in Europe, she knew, but he’d never shared those stories with her. He’d never talked about the war. She envied these men who knew their family history better.

***

They arrived at Pearl Harbor just around seven and the line was already long. Max and Elizabeth volunteered to stand in line so the rest of them could walk around the Bowfin Submarine Park. The day was beautiful, the sky an impossible blue, a breeze blowing the palm trees overhead as they wandered, looking at the gunnery exhibits. Bailey was drawn to the water, lapping against the hull of the submarine. She was sure Mr. Viera would want to tour it, but she didn’t think she could deal with the close confines.

“Bored already?” Ian asked, joining her and hooking his fingers through her belt loops to draw her back against him.

“Sleepy. For some reason I’m not getting a lot of rest on this vacation.”

He chuckled softly, the vibrations warming her back. “You should see what I have planned for tonight.”

She angled her head to look up at him. “Actually I was thinking about giving the handcuffs another go.”

“Really? Did you like that?”

“I was thinking more of using them on you.”

His breath caught and his fingers tightened on her waist.

“Have you ever been handcuffed? Like that? Wait, on second thought, don’t tell me. Just tell me if it’s something you’d like to try with me.”

“Definitely something I’d like to try with you,” he said against her neck.