He nods.
Starting from the very tips of his fingers on his right hand, I delicately drag my nails down his fingers, over his calluses to his palm, where I make little swirling motions.
“Yes. That feels...sensitive,” he says.
I do the same to his left hand but before I do my little swirl, he yanks his hand away. His eyes are wide. “That one is more sensitive.”
“You see?”
“Yes. I see.”
“Wait here.” I crawl off the bed in search of lotion. When I return, I take hold of his uninjured hand and squeeze a bit of lotion onto his palm. I rub in the lotion, working each finger up and down and then massaging his palm. “The degree of pressure is important too. Do you see how different this feels?”
“Yes.” He shifts and closes his eyes. I grin because his posture tells me he’s starting to relax and get into it.
“It’s always better to start off softly, to awaken the nerve endings. Then, as you progress, you increase the pressure because the nerve endings are starting to shut down. This is how you build arousal.” I start on his other hand, rubbing the pad of each of his fingers before carefully kneading the palm and the fleshy bit between his thumb and index finger.
“Mmm,” he says. “That feels good.”
“Good.” I pat his hand and put it back in his lap. “Knowing what feels good to you is the first step in figuring out what feels good to someone else. But, it’s not always the same. Some people love having their feet touched. Others can’t stand it. Some get turned on when you touch their stomach, others find it too ticklish.”
As I talk, I squeeze more lotion into my own hand and place it face up in his lap. “Massage my hand, like I did to you. But I want you to watch me closely. Try and gauge what I like and don’t like by my body’s response and by my expression.”
Considering how strong he is, he starts off too softly, uncertainly smoothing lotion around on my hand. Though his touch is not in the least bit stimulating, the slippery lotion is all I need for my mind to turn to sex.
“Harder,” I whisper.
He increases the pressure and I sigh as his strong fingers work the muscles of my hands. At one point he squeezes too hard between my thumb and index finger and my reflexes kick in as I jerk my hand toward me.
“Sorry.”
Ahh, good. He’s watching. The man is an attentive student. He may not be giving the best hand massage I’ve ever had, but he’s listening to what I’m saying and he’s paying attention. I’m not surprised he’s a quick study. I let him continue for a few minutes before I notice his touch has lost some of its pressure as he focuses on my palm, smoothing his thumb over it and tracing the deep lines that crisscross it.
“What are you doing?”
“Grandmother used to do palm readings. I picked up a few things from watching.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He traces one line in particular. “You have a long life line.”
“Oh?”
“Much...travel.”
“Surprise, surprise.” I shift to make myself more comfortable.
“This is interesting.”
“What?” I look down at my hand.
“It’s your heart line.” He gently bends my hand back, exposing the lines on my palm to get a better look. “It’s broken right here. Early in life. Then, there’s all these chains. So many. But, in the end, it’s strong again. Solid.”
I pull my hand away and rub my palms against one another. Looking at my watch, I say, “I was hoping to do a little sightseeing today. Would you be interested in accompanying me?”
“As you know, you are my only guest. I would be honored to show you around.”
I stand. “Perfect.”
“So,” he hesitates. “Our first lesson...it is finished?”
“No,” I reach up and cup his cheek. He still flinches but he doesn’t move away. “It’s only just begun.”
Chapter Six
The entire day is an exercise in torture. Not for Nicolai, oh no, for me. I’m so turned on, it’s killing me, and it’s only day one. God help me!
Of course, that’s me, the consummate horn dog. But this time, it’s not my fault. You’d be aroused too if you were stuck on the back of a motorcycle with Nicolai all day. The man doesn’t drive some gutless moped, he drives a sleek Yamaha FZ1—fast on the blacktop with good traction for off-roading on the sandy trails that crisscross the landscape. He’s probably been driving motorcycles all his life and sitting astride the powerful bike with the vibrations between my legs, my chest pressed up against his muscular back, feeling each movement he makes? Well, it’s enough to drive me to crazy-town and back.
The man might not know how to handle a woman—yet—but he sure as hell knows how to handle a big, powerful motorbike which is a fact that bodes well...for both of us.
The first stop is the Petrified Forest near Sigri. It’s even larger than the petrified forest in Arizona and Nicolai gives me a lesson in archaeology, explaining how the petrified wood is the result of a volcanic eruption twenty million years ago.
A large group of female tourists walk past and I notice more than one couple is holding hands. Nicolai indicates the group with a nod of his head. “Festival goers.” He looks at them and then back at me. I have no idea what he’s trying to convey with that expression. Does he want to hold my hand or is it something else?
We watch which path they take and then I lead Nicolai down another, quieter path. I’ve been struck with sudden inspiration and am intent on continuing the lesson on touch. We stand at the base of a petrified stump and Nicolai is showing me how the rings of the tree are still visible. I touch his hand and he stills.
“You see how you are following these lines with your fingers?”
“Yes,”
“That’s exactly how you want to touch a woman. Just like this.” I let my hand wander up his strong forearm. So lovely. And then back down to touch the veins on the back of his hand.
“Girls practice sensual touching from a very young age, playing touch games, drawing on each other’s back, doing each other’s hair, all kinds of things. In the meantime, boys are learning to roughhouse.” I lean in closer. His skin smells sun-kissed and warm and I fight an overwhelming urge to taste him. “The truth is, you’re not that far behind many of your male counterparts.”
Looking down at me with heavy lidded eyes he says, “You don’t need to lie to make me feel better.”
“It’s not a lie, it’s the truth. Men, in general, have a lot to learn from women in the art of touch.” I slide my hand around his waist, briefly down his ass then let my hand drop.
“You keep talking about the art of this, do you really think lovemaking is an art?”
“Oh absolutely.” I walk to a nearby bench and sit down. “You need to think of what we’re doing in those terms if you really want to get the most out of this. Lovemaking is like painting or music...first you have to learn the basic principles of the craft. Color wheels, scales, all of it. You learn the skills and techniques in order to become proficient. Take music, for example. Everyone enjoys listening to it, but not everyone can make it and do it well. Not only that, not everyone enjoys the same kind of music. What you like might be something I can’t stand.”
“Nice analogy,” he mutters and I’m pretty sure he’s thinking about last night.
I slide over so our thighs are in contact. “Incidental touch is critical in seduction.”
“Incidental?” He tilts his head in question. Sometimes I forget that English isn’t Nicolai’s first language, he’s so fluent.
“Accidental...” I brush his thigh with the back of my hand as I reach for a pamphlet in a stand beside the bench. “Casual...” I wriggle on the bench, creating subtle friction between our legs. “Innocent,” I gently lay my hand on his arm and lean toward him as if I’m going to ask him a question.
He nods. “I see. But it’s not really accidental or innocent, is it?”
“No. It�
��s meant to awaken the senses, to build awareness.” I slide my hand to his knee. “So, today I’m going to be touching you a lot. Incidental, casual, accidental...whatever you want to call it. Okay?”
He clears his throat, his gaze on the spot where my hand rests.
“I want you to reciprocate. Do you think you can handle that?”
“I can handle it.”
“Good.” The intensity in his gaze sends a jolt straight to my frustrated girlie parts and makes me wonder whether I’m worried about the wrong person here. Maybe I should be worried about whether I can handle it.
***
We spend the afternoon driving from quaint village to quaint village, stopping at ruins, at artists’ studios and shops or wherever there’s something of interest. Of course, on an island like Lesvos that’s been inhabited since the Bronze Age, there’s something of interest pretty much every few miles. Nicolai is the perfect tour guide. Having grown up on the island, he knows all the interesting stories about the history of the place that you won’t find in the guide books and while he tells me details about Lesvos, I take every opportunity to touch him; brushing the back of the hand, resting my hand on his waist, an innocent palm pressed to the front of his chest...
As the day progresses, I notice that he flinches less and less and his own touch becomes less hesitant.
We have lunch in Petra at a pretty beachside restaurant. After we order, I catch Nicolai observing a table not far from where we’re sitting.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I’m wondering what she sees in him.”
I glance over at the table where a couple is finishing lunch; a young dark-haired beauty with an older, heavy-set, balding man. “What do you think?”
“He’s rich.”
I laugh because that’s what I was thinking too. But I continue to observe the couple and I start to doubt our assessment. “Or,” I say slowly, “it could be that he’s figured out the secret to women.”
“The secret to women,” Nicolai says, leaning forward. “This I must hear.”
“It’s quite simple. What do you think it is that women want above all else?”
With a half-shrug he says, “Security. Family. Love...money.”
I laugh off his answers. “Yes, yes. But I’m talking about the thing that is at every woman’s core. The essence of what a woman wants. Do you know what it is?”
He blinks and shakes his head.
“Women want—no—need to be desired.”
“Desired?”
“Desired.” I give a slight nod toward the couple in question. The man is speaking softly to the woman and she’s blushing while trying to hide her smile. Even from the distance I can see her eyes are sparkling. “He’s making her feel desirable,” I whisper. “Look at his foot.”
Beneath the table, his foot is rubbing the side of her shin...higher and higher.
“Do you know what I think he’s saying?”
Nicolai slowly shakes his head.
I lean across the table and whisper, “He’s telling her what he’s going to do to her when they get back to the villa. I bet he’s telling her he’s going to pleasure her with his mouth and he’s not going to let her loose until he makes her come at least three times.”
Nicolai shuts his eyes and I wonder if he’s imagining that same scenario, except with us. I know I am.
When he finally opens his eyes, I’ve resumed eating, pretending that I wasn’t just talking about the personal sex life of the people at the other table. A few minutes later, however, the man at the other table snaps his fingers and Nicolai and I both turn to watch as he motions with authority to the server to bring their bill. He leaves cash on the table and then helps his companion out of her chair.
Once they’ve passed our table, I say, “Did you see how he had his hand on the small of her back? Directing her?”
Nicolai nods.
“That’s the second half of the equation. Women want to be desired by someone who knows what the hell they’re doing. There’s nothing quite as attractive as a confident man. Particularly in the bedroom.”
“Do you find that man attractive?” Nicolai asks quietly.
Kicking off my sandal, I use the back of my foot to caress his lower leg. “No. He’s not my type.”
Nicolai is holding onto the edges of the table, his breathing deepens as he regards me through lowered lashes. “So, what is your type?”
I move my foot to the inside of his leg, sliding it up a bit higher to just below his knees. He inhales sharply.
“I prefer my men a little bit...younger.”
He groans.
I move my foot a little higher.
“Do you like your men...dominant?” he whispers.
“Sometimes. And sometimes I like to call the shots.”
“Really?”
My foot inches higher. “Yes.”
Suddenly, he grabs my wandering foot and holds it. I jerk in surprise.
“I like to call the shots too.”
“Then, this must be difficult for you.”
He shrugs. “I’m managing.”
“Yes you are.”
He lowers my foot and we finish eating in silence.
After paying our bill, we climb the one hundred and fourteen steps to the top of a volcanic rock where the Church of Our Lady of the Sweet Kiss is perched. By the time I reach the top, I’m breathing hard from more than just physical exertion. I’ve had my eyes glued to Nicolai’s butt the whole way up and it’s been excruciating.
Now he stands at an open window, hardly even breathing heavily, overlooking the harbor and I go to stand beside him, making sure my hip nudges his leg and my elbow presses into his side.
The contact does not go unnoticed as he looks down at me, one brow arched. “Ms. Savage,” he whispers. “This is a house of God.”
“I’m sorry. Am I being inappropriate?”
He presses his lips together.
“It is called Our Lady of the Sweet Kiss.” I lick my lips suggestively.
“Excuse me while I go pray for your soul.”
“Good luck with that.”
He laughs, such a wonderful sound. Already he is so much more relaxed than he was this morning. I indicate the steps to go back down with a jerk of my head. As we make our way down, his fingers brush mine. At first I think it’s truly accidental but when I glance over at him, I see his lips twitching. We go down about ten more steps and his hand brushes my ass. These two points of contact are the first time he’s initiated anything and I’m very pleased...not to mention hot and horny.
I grin up at him. “Very good.”
He smiles back. “I have a good teacher.”
When we get down to the street level I say, “I don’t know if you realize you’re doing it, but something that is nearly as important as incidental touch in the first stages of seduction is verbal flirtation.”
“Yes,” he says as we walk along the cobblestones. “Innuendo. I’ve noticed you use it often.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. That and...what’s that French expression? Double...”
“Double entendre?”
“Yes.”
I’ve got a wicked grin on my face as I go to cross the street. I’m so caught up in our discussion and trying to come up with a double entendre at this precise moment, that I don’t look both ways. Nicolai catches my hand and yanks me back into him just as a large truck comes barreling along the road. Nicolai shouts and shakes his fist after it and the driver responds with a couple of honks of his horn.
He looks down at me. “Are you okay?”
I nod in time to my racing heart. “Yes. Thank you.”
He leans down and whispers, “It’s the least I can do.”
The urge to kiss him is overwhelming. He just saved me from getting mowed down in the street. Now, he’s standing so close and his lips are so full and expressive. God. He smells so good and I swear he’s emitting a record number of pheromones. But, for the umpte
enth time, I control my natural urges. “So,” I say. “Where next?”
Chapter Seven
When we get back to the guesthouse, Nicolai goes up to his rooms and I return to mine to shower and change. As I stand under the spray, I close my eyes and let the water glide over my hot skin while I picture Nicolai here, naked, about to touch me. It’s all so clear. So vivid.
It starts off with him watching me from outside the shower. All I can make out is a vague outline of his body through the misty shower door but I know it’s him from the massive size of the form.
“May I join you?” he asks, his voice rumbling and accented.
I open the door and he’s standing there, gloriously naked. It’s the first time I’ve seen him, all of him, and my fingers itch to touch.
He doesn’t wait for my response, he simply steps into the steamy spray, making what felt like a large shower a moment ago feel suddenly small.
“You’re so big,” I whisper, looking not at his face but focusing instead on his superb erection.
“You’re so beautiful.” He tilts my face up and caresses my wet cheek. “I want you, Tessa. I want you right now.”
I shut my eyes and lean into him. “What about the lessons?”
“Do you think I give a fuck about the lessons?” He leans down and nibbles the top of my shoulder. His hand drops from my face to my arm, to my breast. I fit perfectly in his palm and he cups me from beneath, squeezing and fondling, driving me mad, before sliding his lips from my shoulder to my nipple.
“If you don’t care about the lessons, what do you care about?” I ask, panting.
He flicks his tongue across one nipple and moves to the other before answering. “All I care about is you,” he murmurs. “Kissing you...” He sucks my nipple into his mouth. “Spreading you...” He nudges my thighs apart with his leg. “Sliding my cock inside of you...”
I’m facing the wall of the shower, leaning against it pretending it’s Nicolai. I’ve got three fingers sliding in and out of my drenched pussy, while I pinch and stroke my breasts with my other hand.
I’m so close, but I need more than my hands and my imagination. What I need is Nicolai. However, though the man in my imagination is ready, he’s only a fantasy.
Seduction in the Sun: Adult Romance Box Set (9 Sizzling Tales with BBW, Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males) Page 43