Private Party (18 page)

Julie practically shook the bed, she was laughing so hard.

“Jesus, for a little girl you have a very loud belly,” Chris said as he rolled off her.

“You should talk! You sound like the lion pit at feeding time.” They both dissolved into fits of laughter, tears streaming down their faces. Even as another wave of laughter hit him, Chris acknowledged that it wasn’t even that funny. But he felt so damn good, what else could he do but laugh?

Apparently she felt the same way. His amusement faded as he noticed how her sweet little tits jiggled while she laughed. With a mock growl, he pulled her back down to the bed, enveloping her breasts in his hands while he snarled and bit at her neck.

“No,” she gasped, trying her best to squirm away, pausing when she felt him pressing hard and hot against her ass. For a moment she leaned back into him. “No,” she repeated. “I’m starving. We have to eat.” She pulled on his wrists and he reluctantly released her breasts.

“I suppose we need to keep our strength up,” Chris said, watching regretfully as Julie slipped on her robe.

PrivateParty

Julie stood up and walked to the bathroom, and Chris heard her turn on the shower.

“Do you just want to go down to the beach bar?” Julie called over the sound of the spray.

Chris thought about it for a moment. He’d never been much for long, romantic candlelit dinners. Truth be told, after a couple of hours alone with a woman, he usually found himself bored, craving additional company to liven things up.

Plus, he knew he should be out and about, mingling with the other guests. But strangely—frighteningly, if he was honest—the idea of sharing Julie with anyone tonight was completely unappealing. He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone else. He just wanted her all to himself.

A notion that would have scared the crap out of him if he’d taken any time to think about it.

So he didn’t.

Instead, he walked to the shower, stepped in, and took the bar of soap from Julie’s unresisting hand. “I have a better idea,” he said, gently massaging her with the coconut-scented lather. “Why don’t we order room service and have a picnic on the beach so I can have you all to myself?” Julie pulled his mouth down to hers and hooked a leg around his waist. He took that as a yes.

By the time dinner arrived, they were so ravenous they fell on the food like a couple of hyenas. Needless to say, they didn’t make it out to the beach, but barked at the waiter to leave the tray on the coffee table.

After inhaling half of her burger in about two point five seconds, Julie leaned back with a groan. “Oh, I need to slow down or I’ll make myself sick.”

She covered her mouth, and Chris couldn’t believe what he heard next, delicate and soft though it was.

“Was that a burp?” Surprised laughter exploded from his chest.

“Shut up!” Julie threw her napkin at him, the gesture followed by another louder belch. “It’s not that big of a deal,” she yelled, turning red to the roots of her hair. “I’m human and I ate too fast, so I burped.

Like you don’t do it all the time.”

Chris wiped another tear from the corner of his eye. “I know, I know, it’s just”—he started laughing again—“it’s just that you’re—”

“I know,” Julie said, rolling her eyes, “I’m perfect. I never burp, never fart, never smell, never say the wrong thing, never do anything wrong, and I’m sick of it.” She sat back against the back of the couch, arms folded belligerently across her chest. “I’m sick of trying to be perfect all the time.” PrivateParty

Chris realized he had struck a nerve. “Hey,” he said, wiping his mouth and leaning back next to her, his arm around her shoulders. He tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “I know you’re not perfect.” Her dark golden brows slanted and she looked away. He cupped her cheek, bringing her face back to his. “But I don’t care. In fact, I like you better this way. You forget, I knew you when you were a dorky teenager, before you got all perfect and polished. It’s the real Julie I want to be with. The one who occasionally burps.”

She gave a watery giggle.

He kissed her forehead. “The one who sometimes says the wrong thing.” He kissed her cheek. “And I really like the girl who hangs out with inappropriate men.” He ran his tongue along the slick surface of her teeth. “But I draw the line at farting in bed.”

She let out a shriek and clobbered him with a pillow. The resulting wrestling match ended up with them both half naked, panting on the floor and completely turned on again.

She bit her lip coyly and ground herself against his burgeoning erection. “Mmm, looks like you’ve got your strength back.”

Chris slid his hand inside the lapel of her robe and rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He bent down and trailed his tongue down the velvety side of her neck. “Just about. But first I need dessert.” He levered himself off of her and picked up the basket that he’d stashed next to the sitting room sofa.

“What’s that?” Julie asked. But he could tell from the eager glint in her eyes that she already knew what it was. When he’d ordered dinner, he’d slipped in a request for one of Holley Cay’s special “couples” baskets. From the look on her face, Julie was eager to give the goodies a try.

“Let’s see what we have here,” he said, motioning for her to join him on the couch. He pulled out the items one at a time. “Cinnamon massage oil.” He grinned approvingly as Julie snatched it up and rubbed some on her hands, sniffing appreciatively at the spicy scent. “Hmm, won’t be needing this.” He threw a tube of lubricant over his shoulder. “But these—”

Julie grabbed the faux fur-lined wrist restraints, a flush staining her cheeks. “You want to tie me up?”

“That was the idea,” he grinned.

“I’ve got a better one,” she said. She led him to the bedroom and gently pushed on his chest until he fell back across the bed. Slowly, deliberately, so he had no doubt as to her intentions, she wrapped one of the cuffs around his wrist. Chris felt a little faint as all of the blood in his body suddenly rushed to his cock.

He’d engaged in light bondage before, but never in the subservient role. The idea of Julie on top of him, PrivateParty

licking him, stroking him, fucking him, as he lay helpless to stop her, was, no doubt about it, the most erotic thing he could imagine.

Chris lay passively, allowing her to secure his other wrist. “Have your way with me, baby. I’m ready.” Julie bit her lip and smiled a sensual smile that made his toes curl. “I can see that,” she said, eyeing his erection, which strained against the front of his boxer briefs. She stripped off her robe and, naked, knelt on the bed beside him.

The ripping sound of the Velcro as she adjusted the fit sent heat sizzling across every nerve, making him shift restlessly against the sheets.

“Hold still,” she commanded as she looped the tether around the bars and fastened the clips on each end to the hoops on the wrist cuffs.

Her authoritative tone aroused him even more. “Bossy. I like that,” he murmured. He tugged experimentally at the restraints. “I’m at your mercy. Now what are you gonna do?” Julie ran her hand lightly across his chest, loving the way his muscles rippled and jumped at her touch.

“I’m not quite sure.”

When she’d seen the cuffs, it had seemed the perfect opportunity to administer a little payback for Chris’s dominance the night before. Now she wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed. She took a moment to look at him and to drink him in. He was all lean muscle and burnished skin. And she could do whatever she wanted with him. A burst of wetness shot between her thighs.

She moved to straddle him, rubbing her slick mound against his straining cock. It seemed to be a step in the right direction, as Chris groaned and lifted his hips, grinding himself more fully against her. She leaned down as though to kiss him, but stopped just short of his lips. His moist breath mingled with hers as he strained towards her in an attempt to capture her mouth.

“Not yet,” she whispered, bending her head to run her tongue between his firm pecs. His biceps bulged as he clenched and unclenched his hands, unconsciously pulling against the restraints.

Julie savored the heady sense of power at his impatience. She could really torture him if she wanted. The question was, how long could he hold out?

She scooted down until she knelt across his shins and hooked her fingers in the waistband of his boxers.

His erection sprang free as though grateful to escape from the confines of his underwear. His cock lay PrivateParty

against his belly, thick and long, the engorged tip reaching up to brush his navel.

Julie uncapped the bottle of massage oil and poured a generous amount in her hands. Starting at his feet, she kneaded his muscles with firm, smooth strokes, working her way up his calves and thighs. A light sheen of perspiration glowed on his skin, and the sharp, musky smell mingled with the hot scent of the cinnamon.

“How does this feel?” she asked. His toes curled and his thigh muscles rippled as her hands slicked against his skin.

“It feels great,” Chris groaned, “but maybe you could rub up a little higher.”

“Like this?” Julie slid up his body so her legs straddled his waist, and drizzled oil onto his chest. He let out a half laugh, half groan, as she lowered her torso so she could rub her breasts against him.

“Ooh, the cinnamon makes me hot,” she said as the oil made her skin flush and tingle.

“You’re already hot,” he murmured. His hips moved under her, and she could feel him, hard and thick, rubbing against her inner thigh.

Julie pushed herself onto her knees, leaning over him so that her breasts dangled enticingly above his lips. “How do I taste?” she taunted, lowering so that he could just barely touch her nipple with his tongue. “Do I taste good?” She leaned down farther, and he obligingly sucked her nipple into his mouth with a pressure that elicited another burst of heat in her core.

“You taste sweet and spicy,” he whispered between hungry suckles, “and hot. Unbelievably hot.” She pushed herself back to straddle his waist. He was like an erotic feast, and she couldn’t decide what to savor first. He was straining against her thigh, growing harder by the second as he watched, anticipating her next move.

She picked up the massage oil and poured more into her hand, feeling a deep, languid sense of satisfaction as it trickled through her fingers and onto his skin. She rubbed her hands together, then brought them up to her breasts. She felt his hot blue gaze like a caress as it followed every movement of her fingers and palms as she cupped herself, rubbing the oil over her breasts and nipples.

Chris was afraid he was going to come right then, watching her. Her hands moved over her breasts, and he couldn’t stifle a groan as she lightly pinched her nipples between her thumb and forefinger. His mouth watered for a taste of her hard, pink nipples. His fingers itched to feel the slick, muscular grip of her pussy closing around him. He shifted under her, rubbing his aching cock against the softness of her PrivateParty

inner thigh.

“Jules, if you don’t move this along, pretty soon you won’t have much to work with.” Slowly she smoothed her hands down her with mock sternness. “I think my prisoner has forgotten who is in charge,” she said, sliding herself down until she straddled his thighs. One small hand reached out to wrap around his erection. A thick bead of pre come appeared at the tip, and Chris groaned as she used her thumb to spread it around in a caress that made his balls tighten and his teeth clench.

“Please, Julie, I’m not kidding,” he moaned.

“Neither am I,” she said as she bent over him. He held his breath, every muscle taut as he anticipated the moment when her lips and tongue would close over him. It never came. Instead he felt the soft slide of smooth skin, the tingling heat of the cinnamon oil, as she rubbed her breasts against his cock. The sight of his thick shaft against her breasts nearly undid him. Several more pearly drops squeezed out to mix with the oil on her creamy skin.

He nearly burst out of his skin as she pressed her tits together, surrounding his cock with oil and come-slicked skin. His balls tightened, warning of his impending orgasm. “Stop, please,” he pleaded breathlessly, then regretted it as she abruptly got up and walked away. “Where are you going?” he said, unable to keep the frantic note from his voice.

She disappeared into the bathroom. Chris shifted restlessly as he heard her rustle around, then sighed in relief when she reappeared seconds later.

She held up a foil packet.

“Thank God,” he croaked.

But to his immense frustration, she merely placed the condom on the bedside table, making no move to sheath him. Instead she stretched out on top of him chest to chest, and let her thighs fall open around his hips.

“You’re very impatient,” she whispered before leaning down to kiss him. Chris sucked greedily at her lips and tongue, absorbing the taste of Julie tinged with cinnamon. Even though she maintained a façade of control, he could feel the faint tremor in her hands, feel how wet she was as she rubbed herself against his cock. He was certain that she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer either.

Julie hissed and sighed as she slid her open, wet, wet pussy against him, teasing him with her slickly aroused flesh. She pushed herself up and reached for the condom.

Chris grunted impatiently as she slowly unwrapped and slid the condom over him. “Jesus, are you trying PrivateParty

to kill me?”

She shushed him and gave his cock a warning squeeze. “I’ve never put a condom on, and I want to make sure I do it right.” He held back a curse, just as she unrolled the final inch onto his throbbing shaft.

“Ahh, that’s better,” she said. “All wrapped up like a present just for me.” She held him in one hand and positioned his head against her core. She cried out, bracing herself against his chest as he thrust upward, entering her in one firm stroke.

Julie began to move, spreading her knees so she could rub her clitoris against him with every stroke. She pushed herself up and leaned back so she could look at Chris, moving like an untamed animal beneath her. Sweat beaded off his oil-slicked skin. His chest heaved as he struggled for control. His biceps rippled as he strained against the ties, his hands curling around the bars of the headboard. And he was hers. All hers.