Vivian's List (Vol. 1)

by Lovell, Haleigh

  “Got it, coach!” He gave me a silent salute. Then he started swimming toward me.

  “Liam.” I could barely contain my laughter as he reached the shallow end. “Taking fewer strokes is not just a matter of subtracting strokes. To create propulsion, you need to be thrusting your body through the water. It helps your body travel further every time you take a stroke and—”

  I stopped when I saw the way his eyes darkened with intent. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  Laughing again, I splashed him playfully. “I wasn’t talking dirty.”

  With his gaze still fixed on me, he backed me to the edge of the pool, the water coming to just under my bikini top.

  Right away, I knew why he had backed me into this exact corner. I felt the water jets pulsing at the apex of my thighs. “Thrusting,” he said in a thick voice. “Propulsion.” He stood close. Indecently close, his arms braced on either side of me.

  Because he seemed to expect it, I spread my legs and he positioned himself between my thighs.

  As he kissed the chlorine from my lips, he reached around my neck and his fingers found the halter straps of my bikini top. He gently tugged, and the straps came undone.

  I watched as my bikini top floated away from us.

  He pulled back slightly, skimming his hands up my torso and over the buoyant swells of my breasts as they bobbed on the surface. “I’ve been dreaming about these double lattes all day.”

  “Double lattes?” My eyes gleamed with amusement. “Or Double Whoppers?”

  “See.” The corners of his mouth lifted into a half smile. “You do like to talk dirty.”

  Hungrily, he lifted, caressed and sucked the chlorine from my tits as the water jets pounded the sensitive nub between my thighs, the pressure vibrating against my soft, inner folds.

  A quivering sigh slipped free as I let the sensations consume me.

  Then I felt his hands on my hips, his warm fingers tugging the strings on both sides of my bikini bottom.

  My quivering sighs melted into breathless moans as the warm jets now pounded against my bared sex.

  “Liam,” I breathed, wrapping my legs around his waist.

  His hands slid down to cup my ass, crushing me against his swelling erection.

  Unable to restrain myself, I began rubbing my breasts against his chest, hoping to ease the sweet ache in my nipples.

  Obligingly, he dipped his head and circled my nipple with his tongue, drawing the throbbing bud into his mouth.

  “Liam,” I choked on a sob as he suckled, released and then lapped up the droplets from my water-slicked breasts.

  “I know,” he grunted, his voice growing hoarse. “I’ll go.”

  “No,” I protested. “I’ll go.” Without another word, I unlocked my legs, slid off his slippery body, and departed on my errand … condoms.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Liam

  Water cascaded down her naked body as she pulled herself out of the pool. I watched her perfect ass jiggle as she sauntered away from me, shaking the water from her hair.

  Once she had disappeared into the house, I swam to the side, got out and walked to the lounge chair where I had set my towel and suntan oil.

  Just as I was toweling myself dry, Vivian strode out of the house, her beautiful breasts bouncing with each quick step.

  She hadn’t bothered to towel herself dry and water droplets gathered in the sweet underside of her breasts.

  Entranced, I watched as tiny beads of water slid over her flat torso, trickling down to her smooth pussy.

  As she approached, I felt the throb of my cock as hunger rose within me for her.

  “Here,” she said, handing me a glass of ice water. “I thought you could use something to cool you down.”

  I did. It was so hot that the blistering heat emanating from the concrete slabs was burning the soles of my feet. Grateful for the drink, I accepted it and took a deep gulp.

  “I brought a condom.” Her eyes were lit with curiosity. “But why aren’t you in the pool?”

  “Yeah, about that …” I set the glass of ice water next to the lounge chair. “I know sex in the pool is on your list but I’m sorry, Viv. Water and condoms don’t really mix.”

  “I see,” she said, keeping those lovely blue eyes fixed on me.

  “The chemicals in the water,” I explained. “The chlorine affects the condom’s durability so you can’t really count on the protection. Not to mention, the condom could slip off in the pool.”

  She went quiet for a moment and her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “I’ve actually always been on the pill, but I feel more comfortable using dual contraception.”

  “Don’t worry. I understand,” I said, stroking a hand along her cheekbone. “That’s why we aren’t going to have sex in the pool.”

  “So we’re not gonna have sex at all?”

  “Oh, trust me. We are. But first, let me rub some suntan oil on you.” I motioned for her to lie down on lounge chair. “Get comfy and I’ll start with your back.”

  As she stretched out on the lounge chair, I positioned myself between her legs. Using my knees, I gently eased her thighs apart. Then I picked up the bottle of suntan oil, squirted out a glob, and slathered it all over her honey-soft skin.

  With both hands, I massaged the oil into her neck, her shoulders, and down her back, my fingertips just barely grazing the undersides of her breasts.

  She moaned in response and I began working my way down her spine until I reached her beautiful, pert ass.

  I squirted out more suntan oil and palmed the rounded cheeks of her backside, molding them, cupping them, running my palms over her soft, creamy skin in circular motions.

  Then, with both palms, I pried her plump cheeks apart.

  From my vantage point, her pussy lips were moist and they shimmered in the bright afternoon sun.

  Blood rushed to my groin. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I skimmed my hands downward, my fingertips dipping in and out to stroke her inner thighs, my touch just barely grazing her dampened heat.

  Vivian moaned deeply and flipped herself over so she was facing me.

  She arched her back, jutting out her breasts, and spread her thighs wider to accommodate me.

  Unable to resist, I bent down and suckled on each plump nipple.

  As my eyes slid upward, I held her gaze with a nipple in my mouth, drawing on the tightly beaded tip with deep suction until it popped free.

  Then I reached for the bottle and squirted suntan oil on each of her rose-tipped breasts. Greedily, I cupped her lush breasts, reveling in their softness, their fullness, rubbing the oil deep into her creamy flesh.

  Vivian writhed against my oil-slicked hands, her body arcing into my palms as I lifted, squeezed and massaged her beautifully formed breasts.

  God. Her skin, her flesh … it was warm silk in my hands.

  I wanted her to feel her own skin. To touch it. To caress it.

  Capturing both her wrists, I moved her hands up to her breasts.

  Wordlessly, she started massaging them eagerly while I sat back and admired her handiwork.

  The sun was beating down on her oil-slicked tits and perspiration beaded in the valley between her breasts.

  Without a tremor of self-consciousness, she lifted her chin and met my gaze full on as she fondled her glistening breasts.

  She was so poised, so self-assured, so aroused and I was so hard for her.

  The pleasure I took in watching her rub oil into her voluptuous breasts was headier than the strongest bourbon.

  She was every man’s wet dream. And she was my reality.

  My pulse pounded in my throat and I swallowed hard around it.

  Reaching for the glass of water, I took a swig and withdrew an ice cube from the glass.

  With one hand, I held the melting cube over her breasts, slowly moving downward to her cute little navel, and then lower still, directly over her pussy, letting the cool water drip and drip and drip.

  As the fi
rst few drops of icy water drizzled over her pink folds, she let out a sharp gasp.

  Rolling the cube between my fingers, I let the cool water drop and pool between the sweet juncture of her thighs.

  Then I lowered my head and drank from her pussy, sucking in the icy cool water that had pooled there, sweeping my tongue around the edges to catch any running droplets.

  Viv lifted and pushed her breasts together, her breathy moans of appreciation vibrating against my tongue.

  When I had lapped her dry, I reached for the glass again.

  This time I took a sip and swirled an ice cube inside my mouth.

  As soon as the ice had thawed out, I buried my head between her thighs. Sucking the ice cube to the back of my mouth, I ran my cold tongue up her labia, feeling the delicious shivers ripple all the way down to her core, savoring her little mewls of pleasure.

  Encouraged, I held the ice cube between my teeth and trailed it around her clit in slow circles, feeling the burning sensation of her pussy changing to cooling numbness before sucking the ice cube back into my mouth.

  I continued in this vein, teasing her with the ice and my tongue until I felt her dissolving under my mouth. Then, with the tip of my tongue, I pressed the ice cube firmly against her clit.

  Her body’s reaction was immediate. She gave a joyful sob as if caught somewhere between ecstasy and hints of glorious pain.

  Between the scorching heat of the sun and the blazing heat from her pussy, the ice cube was rapidly melting. I pressed it against her clit until it was no longer a cube.

  Until it was nothing more than a tiny sliver of ice.

  Only then did I cleave my tongue, pushing the sliver of ice deep inside her folds, deep into her tender core.

  Her hips jolted and she gave a surprised gasp.

  As the ice melted deep inside her, I slid my tongue in and around her pink folds, all across her labia, sucking the cool trickle of water as it slowly dripped out of her pussy.

  Drip.

  Her body tensed and convulsed.

  Drip.

  Her body convulsed again.

  All the while I took my time sucking the moisture from her sweet nub, running the tip of my tongue lazily across her vulva as water continued to drip and drip and drip out of her sex.

  Gasping with pleasure, she tangled her fingers in my hair and made a fist as if she were unsure if she wanted to pull me away from her or press my face firmly against her sex.

  Finally she made her decision and tugged my head away from her pussy.

  Without looking at me, she leaned over the lounge chair and reached for the condom she had set on the ground.

  In an instant, I divested myself of my swim shorts.

  “Allow me,” Viv whispered, ripping the foil package with her teeth.

  I had to look twice to be certain it was the same Viv.

  Who was this woman? And what had she done with Viv?

  Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking anymore.

  I wasn’t even breathing anymore.

  I swore under my breath as she wrapped her hands around the base of my shaft and used her mouth to push the condom over the head of my cock, and down my throbbing shaft.

  Desire tore through me. I wanted her. Wanted her wet and warm beneath me, and I didn’t think I could wait much longer.

  Breathing heavily, I framed her face in my hands before crushing my ice-cold lips against her parted mouth.

  Oil-slicked skin met sweat-slicked skin as I eased myself down her body and into her dripping wet core.

  Our bodies slid up and down in unison, not fast, not frantic but slow and sensuous, an intimate joining of two people.

  My lips never left hers. I continued kissing her, muffling her soft moans with my mouth as I thrust deeper and deeper, feeling her inner muscles clench and squeeze around my cock.

  I took her deeper still, making her a part of me, wrapping her body around me like a second skin, slowly riding her through climax after climax until I surged one last time, taking us both over the brink.

  Afterward I slumped forward, making a pillow of her breasts. “Viv,” I rasped.

  My tongue flicked across her turgid nipple and she released a deep, full-body sigh before answering. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “You can’t cross ‘Sex in the Swimming Pool’ off your list.”

  “It’s okay,” she said quietly, looking at once sheepish and content. “This was much better.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Liam

  The sun was low and orange, and there was already a small crowd gathered in my grandmother’s backyard. I held Vivian’s hand as I introduced her to my grandmother, my uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces, and nephews.

  Though they could all sense my uneasiness, having Viv by my side helped ease the awkward first moments of the reunion.

  Everyone was immediately taken with Viv, and I could easily see why.

  Her charm and her warmth came so easily and without thought. And she was in her element, brimming with confidence and cheer.

  It had only been days since she’d stopped seeing Brody, but the change in her was astounding.

  She was in deep conversation with my aunts while I stood off to the side, unable to tear my gaze away from her.

  Viv looked so beautiful with such an obvious lack of effort.

  When she caught me staring, her smile, meant for me alone, was a slow journey of warmth that lit up her face and lingered in her eyes.

  Eventually I led her away from the chattering women, and we were immediately ambushed by Mia, my five-year-old niece.

  “Is Vivian your girlfriend?” Mia dragged out the word girlfriend so that it sounded more like gurrrrl-frieeend.

  “Am I?” Viv asked, closing her soft fingers over mine.

  I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Only if you’d like to be.”

  “So is she?” my little niece persisted.

  I shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Vivian.”

  Mia peered up at Viv through her long lashes. “So are you Liam’s boo bear?”

  Vivian gave a lilting laugh and the sound only sweetened the air.

  “My darling boo bear,” I whispered in her ear, just so I could hear her lilting laugh again. “Let’s go get some food before Mia begins the real interrogation.”

  We helped ourselves to some grilled chicken, barbecued ribs, charred hot dogs, potato salad, and marshmallow salad.

  I found it mildly amusing when Vivian steered clear of the marshmallow salad.

  “C’mon,” I teased. “You’ve gotta try Uncle Chuck’s marshmallow salad.”

  “Why?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

  I treated her to a wry smile. “If marshmallow salad were a house guest, she’d be the overdressed hooker with a heart of gold who my Uncle Chuck brings to every single family barbecue.”

  “In that case …” Vivian bravely held out her plate. “I’ll try some.”

  We sat around the fire pit, talking, eating, and swapping stories as the wisps of smoke wafted over the excitable sounds of my nephews and nieces jumping on the trampoline.

  I resigned myself to the inevitable questions about the war, and I played the part I was supposed to play—the dutiful grandson, the easygoing nephew, pretending that nothing at all affected me, even when it did.

  None of them knew how my mom was doing.

  They didn’t ask and I didn’t offer.

  When the sun was angled low in the sky and the fire was burning low, my grandmother took hold of my arm, and led me out onto the front porch where she motioned for me to sit on a wicker chair that had likely seen better days.

  As I lowered myself onto the wicker chair, a polite smile hovered on her lips, and I noticed that the weathered lines in her cheeks seemed less apparent.

  “I’m proud of you, Liam,” she said, reaching out to clasp my hand. “Of what you’re doing in Iraq. And so is your dad.”

  At the word ‘dad�
� a muscle worked in my jaw and she studied me with a trace of apprehension. “Your dad is a lot like Gramps, you know.” She paused. “And I stayed with him for sixty-five years.”

  “And you’re proud of that?” I said in a hollow voice, not bothering to hide my disdain.

  Her answer was slow in coming. “Yes,” she said at last, squeezing my hand. “I stayed in the marriage because I had six kids, and I didn’t want them to come from a broken family.”

  I withdrew my hand from hers, feeling a rising sense of frustration. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Grams, but they were from a broken family.”

  She was quiet for a long moment. “I accepted as normal behavior …” she spoke into the silence. “His hot temper, the hostility, his jealousy, his possessiveness, the angry outbursts, the disparaging comments, but—”

  “He believed in a dictatorship,” I cut in. “You believed in a partnership.”

  “But Liam,” she implored, “back then, the womanly thing to do was to stand by your husband. So I stood by him. He was a good provider.” She pressed her lips firmly together and her face grew somber. “As was your father. Will you at least give him a chance? Talk to him? Please?”

  “No.” A surge of anger rose up inside me, but I forced it back down.

  “Listen.” She waited until I met her eyes. “I know you don’t want to see your dad, but I had to invite him. I had to. He really wants to see you.”

  At an impasse, we stared at each other. Then, as if on cue, the front door creaked open and the stranger I called Dad stepped out onto the porch.

  Resentment coursed through my veins. At once, I stood and started to leave.

  “Stay.” His tone was harsh, an order rather than a request. Which came as no surprise.

  My shoulders tensed. Even so, I paused at the steps leading down to the front yard.

  “Talk to me,” he said, softening his tone a fraction. Then he attempted a smile.

  I didn’t return the gesture. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  The silence was deafening, but I just let it sit there.