White-Hot Christmas (14 page)

She started to laugh. “I’m sure I will…”

“Come on, tiger, make my day. If you don’t, you’ll always wonder what it would have been like…with me, at any rate.”

He’d implied a man in the future might offer it to her, she realised. She remembered her promise to herself that if she didn’t find anyone as nice as Neon, she would remain single. She might never get this offered to her again.

That thought was enough to make her scramble to her knees.

“Okay, you talked me into it.”

Grinning, he lay back, getting comfortable, then beckoned her forward. “You might need to hang on to the headboard.”

She blushed but moved up to his head and straddled him, feeling him run his hands up her thighs to guide her down. Leaning on the headboard, she closed her eyes.

Chapter Eleven

When his tongue first touched her, she gasped. It was warm and soft, and he stroked gently through the soft folds of her skin, bringing his hand around so he could part her lips with his fingers, accessing the hot core of her.

She leaned her head on her arms as he continued pleasuring her with his mouth, her head spinning, unable to believe what he had offered to do for her. She gave herself over to the sensations as he licked and sucked, his tongue and fingers gentle but firm. She sighed, caught her breath, then sighed again as he experimented with different strokes and pressures, finding out what she liked. Dear God, this should be one of the ten wonders of the world. How had she got to twenty-five without experiencing this?

She knew she wasn’t going to last long. The sensations he was causing were too intense for her to bear. His hands slid up her body to cup her breasts, and as he began to roll her nipples gently between his fingers, the pressure began in her stomach, her breathing coming in short gasps.

At that moment, however, he dropped his hands and his mouth lifted from her. The sensations petered out into small ripples, making her sigh with disappointment. Why had he stopped? Did he not want her to come?

After a few seconds, however, his warm tongue brushed her again, and she gasped. He licked and sucked her until once again she felt the wave begin to build.

For the second time he lifted his mouth from her, and she realised he was teasing her, bringing her to the edge and leaving her to teeter there, the orgasm she desperately wanted out of reach.

When he did it a third time, she nearly burst into tears. “Neon, please…” she begged, resting her forehead on her arms.

His hand stroked her thigh warmly as if to say sorry, then his strong arm came up to rest on the tops of her thighs while his other hand stroked her, his fingers sliding into her as he brushed her with his tongue once again. She came almost immediately, and this time he didn’t stop.

As her climax swept over her like a tidal wave, she instinctively tried to rise, but he’d clamped his arm across her like an iron bar, holding her tight to him, and she cried out as her muscles pulsed strongly, his fingers deep within her, his mouth hot, sucking her to ecstasy. It was like no other orgasm she’d ever had, so intense, so breathtaking that for a minute she forgot to breathe out, inhaling until she thought her lungs would pop.

When he finally released her, she lifted herself off him and lay back on the bed, covering her eyes with her arms as her breathing gradually returned to normal. “Oh my God,” she whispered, unable to formulate any other thought in her brain.

He shifted on the bed and leaned over her, laughing as she refused to look up at him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Was it not nice?” His voice was teasing, and he pulled her arm away, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were very warm and surprisingly tender.

“Thank you.” She blushed.

“You are very, very welcome.” He kissed her, and she could smell her arousal on him, taste it on his lips. “But I haven’t finished with you yet.”

He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, making her squeal, and she pushed herself up, sitting astride him. “I want to be inside you,” he said huskily. “You’re so wet and swollen—it’s going to be heaven.”

She pushed her hips back, feeling him pressing against the now very sensitive part of her.

“Merle, wait.”

Oops.
She’d forgotten about the condom. She hesitated. “I’m on the Pill, if you want to leave it. I have been since I was eighteen because I used to have heavy periods. But I’ve never had sex without a condom before so I’m, you know, clean.”

“Neither have I.”

“It’s up to you.” She desperately wanted him inside her, but she waited, leaning over him, knowing he had to agree.

She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His brown eyes looked very light, like polished pine. Was he worried she was trying to trick him into getting pregnant? There were women who would do that, she knew. She didn’t want him to think that of her. “It’s okay.” She smiled. “I’ve got one in my bag, hold on.”

Neon’s heart raced. Merle went to move off him, but he caught her arm. “No, leave it.”

She met his gaze, her eyes like a warm summer sky. Something passed between them—an understanding, a connection. She waited for a moment, as if making sure he didn’t want to change his mind. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. As she did so, she pushed her hips so he slid into her warm, velvety softness. She was so wet, so swollen, and he was so sensitive without a condom, he gave a long, drawn-out sigh.

Smiling like a satisfied cat, pushing herself upright, she spread her thighs and arched her spine, dropping her head back so her long hair brushed his legs. He sank so deep into her, and she was so gorgeous, so hot, he nearly came then and there. At that moment, looking at her beautiful pale body, something blossomed inside him, born from a seed planted when he’d told her in the pool she was the first woman he’d invited back to the house. Or had it begun earlier than that, at his aunt’s house, when they’d had sex for the second time and suddenly it hadn’t been a one-night stand? Or perhaps it had begun on the beach when he’d first seen her standing there, dress blowing in the breeze, completely see-through, causing him to fall off the surfboard?

Whatever the reason, as she lifted her head, her eyes glazed with passion, he knew he was in trouble.

But he wouldn’t think about that now. He caught her hand, sliding it down her body and between her legs. “Make yourself come for me.”

She stared at him, and his heart sped up. He loved shocking her like this. It was becoming very clear to him that although she wasn’t a virgin, she clearly hadn’t had any sexual experience worth speaking of, and there was something delicious about suggesting things to her. And the most wonderful thing was that she seemed to be loving every minute of it, as if she had only known there was vanilla ice cream, which was okay, but then he’d taken her into a shop full of shelves of flavours and there were a hundred different varieties open to her, and he was slowly letting her taste them, one at a time.

Except, of course, he only had time for the one shelf. He wouldn’t be the one to introduce her to half the things he wanted to show her. He realised he could spend a lifetime making love to her and never do everything he wanted, with her and to her.

Merle studied him, realisation settling behind her eyes like silt in a river. She was coming to terms with the fact that her arousal turned him on, that if she was having a good time, he was almost certainly going to follow. Jeez, what sort of idiots had she been dating? What guy
didn’t
want to go down on his girlfriend, for crying out loud?

Her eyes meeting his, a small smile appeared on her lips. Her fingers started to move, dipping to where he slid in and out of her, to collect some of the wetness, then coming back up to start arousing herself. He put his hands behind his head, smiling, enjoying the view, and she closed her eyes, tipping her head back again, giving herself over to the sensation of her fingers. As he watched, she raised her left hand to her breast, starting to stroke her nipple, and he looked up at the ceiling for a moment, struggling to keep calm, his self-control straining like a wild horse against a rope. He wasn’t going to last long at this rate, the sensation of being inside her without any barriers driving him right to the edge.

Luckily, she was already so aroused it only took minutes for her orgasm to build. Her breathing grew more ragged, and her fingers increased their pace as she moved up and down on him, sliding effortlessly, she was so wet.

She opened her eyes. They were half-lidded with desire. “You want me to come for you, baby?”

“Yes,” he said huskily, his hands dropping to her hips.

“You want to watch me?”

“Oh yes…”

She widened her thighs again, taking him deep inside her, and then all her muscles tightened around him as she cried out, tipping back her head, arching her back.

He couldn’t hold back any longer and erupted into her, volcano-like, hot and wet, his fingers digging into her hips, his body pulsing until eventually he was spent. He could only lie there, breathing heavily, his energy finally exhausted. She lifted herself off him and came to kiss him, laughing when he couldn’t do anything but sigh.

After a while they managed to rouse themselves enough to go and get a couple of tubs of ice cream from the freezer, and they came back to bed and watched
The Empire Strikes Back
, feeding each other macadamia nut and strawberry cheesecake flavours as they quoted the film almost word for word.

Then she made him go and get his guitar and play for her, and he ran through his repertoire of Beatles songs, which she sang to. Afterward, he played a few lazy blues tunes until her eyes started to close. It had grown dark outside, and the kiwis were calling in the bush, the cicadas beginning to play their summer song.

He turned off the bedside light and she curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder. He lay looking at the painting on the opposite wall as she dozed off, his eyes growing heavy with sleep. His body was finally tired, but he wanted to hold on to the moment, thinking how the swirls in the painting were a bit like him and Merle, caught up in one another, entangled until he wasn’t sure which legs under the bedclothes were his and which were hers, like ribbons wrapped around a maypole. And not just their legs. Their emotions were entangling too, their feelings entwining, knitting together. It wasn’t going to be easy to unravel them when it was time for her to go.

It had been an incredible day. But he shouldn’t have suggested she come back to the house with him. How empty was it going to feel when she finally had to go home?

In the morning, Merle was awoken by somebody pressing small, soft kisses across her mouth and cheeks, and she opened her eyes sleepily, smiling as she saw Neon awake, lying beside her, head propped on a hand.

“Hi.” She stretched lazily.

“
Morena
. That’s
Māori for good morning.” He kissed her again. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.” She had stirred several times in the night, hot and sticky under the covers, smiling to see him sprawled on his back across the bed, completely free of the duvet, sound asleep. Each time she’d curled up next to him, not touching him, content to watch him breathe until she dozed off again. There was something special about watching a person sleep. Sleeping left you vulnerable, defenceless—you had to trust someone completely to fall asleep with them. The thought warmed her. He had felt comfortable enough to do that with her. He wanted her by his side.

Now she smiled as he caught her hand in his and linked their fingers, then bent his head to kiss her again, languid and leisurely, his tongue brushing hers softly.

“What time is it?” she said when he finally lifted his head.

“Seven o’clock.” He traced his tongue across her lips, making her shiver. “No need to get up yet.” He placed more kisses along her cheek and toward her ear. “You look lovely like this, all sleepy and blurred.”

“I’m not going to be sleepy for very long if you carry on like that.” Her heart started to speed up as he traced a hand across her skin, down her belly.

He pulled back and studied her, sweeping light fingers up her arm, across her breastbone, between her breasts. “You can doze off if you want. I won’t bother you.”

“You call that not bothering me?”

“Hey, I’m just lying here.”

She started to laugh as his fingers brushed the flat of her stomach, making it quiver. “That tickles!”

He did it again, grinning, then started to follow his fingers with kisses, ducking under the covers, pulling them over his head. Merle sighed blissfully, giving herself over to the sensations he was producing, closing her eyes as the bright December sunlight filled the room, and outside the tuis called, welcoming in the new day.

Later, she cooked breakfast for him, amazed at how many eggs and slices of bacon he could tuck away, and then he announced he was taking her to Waitangi.

“It’s where New Zealand was born,” he told her as they drove along State Highway Ten toward Paihia. “Where the Treaty was signed. I’m guessing you know all about the Treaty.”

“Some. I know it forms the backbone of your constitution here.”

He nodded and told h
er about William Hobson and James Busby and the missionary Henry Williams, who’d lived at Paihia. He explained the problems with the translation of the Treaty from English to Māori, and how that still affected New Zealanders today. Merle listened, nodding.
His passion for his country made her smile but also made her sad.

That morning, while he’d kissed her, she’d entertained a fantasy where he’d told her he would go with her to England, but as he spoke now, she realised even if he wasn’t commitment-phobic, which she knew he was, there was no way he’d ever want to leave New Zealand. His whole life was here—the country was ingrained in him as clearly as his tattoo. England was breathtakingly beautiful in places, and had a history that far outshone the youthful “Godzone”. But she knew it would never fulfil his love of the sun and wide, open landscapes in the same way.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind for the rest of the morning, as they spent a pleasant couple of hours in the Treaty Grounds. He took her around the displays, explaining the history of the Treaty, then to the
marae
, or meeting house. She had to take her shoes off and leave them outside as she went in to admire the wooden carvings inlaid with paua shell while he explained some o
f the Māori beliefs.