Emotion washed over her at his generosity, and his face creased with sympathy as he obviously saw it gleam in her eyes.
“Aw,” he said. “Come on. Make my day.” He ran his hand up her thigh again. “I’m desperate to taste you, to bury my mouth in you. Please.”
Her resistance melted at his gentle persuasion, and she gave in. “Okay.”
He smiled and helped her position herself over him. “Lean on the chair,” he said. “Get comfortable.”
She did so, resting her arms on the seat as she straddled him, unable to believe she was really doing this.
And then he stroked his tongue through her. Coco nearly shot through the ceiling. The sensation of his warm, soft tongue buried in the heart of her was like nothing she’d ever experienced. The one time Michael had ventured down there he’d given her a cursory lick before heading back up to climb on top of her, and she’d had to fantasise about what it would feel like to have a guy do what Felix was doing to her now.
But the fantasy didn’t come anywhere near the reality. He brushed his tongue through her folds and slid it inside her, then proceeded to try various pressures and strokes before settling on low, slow licks and teasing nibbles that soon had her gasping with pleasure. And as if that wasn’t enough, he raised his hands to stroke her breasts for a while before moving one hand beneath her to join with his tongue in exploring her.
Coco began to spiral out of control. He was just too good at this. He slowed his strokes, and she got the feeling he knew perfectly well how aroused she was and could control that arousal, drawing it out for her until she ached and begged him for release. And then he slid two fingers deep inside while he fastened his hot mouth on her, and everything tightened around him, her muscles pulsing around his fingers as she came in a glorious burst of ecstatic delight.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Felix watched Coco lift herself off him and collapse back onto the sand. She looked exhausted and sated, and he rolled onto his side to study her, smiling at her obvious bewilderment.
“Nice?” he asked.
She turned her wide, green eyes on him. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“And enjoyed it.”
“Really?”
“Really. You smell and taste divine.” He licked his fingers as proof as if he’d eaten Kentucky Fried Chicken.
She swatted his arm. “Stop it—that’s gross.”
“It’s not gross, it’s perfectly normal, and you really need to widen your understanding of what’s acceptable in bed. Or on the beach.”
She shook her head, her expression showing a kind of puzzled wonderment. “I just can’t believe it. You’re so…” Her voice trailed off as she met his eyes.
He smiled. “So…what?”
She shook her head again, suddenly bashful.
He laughed and rolled back onto his back. “And now phase two. You’re incredibly wet and swollen and if I’m not inside you in five seconds I’m going to explode.” He pushed his swim shorts off and bunched up the duvet beneath his head to make himself comfortable. “Come here.”
He’d forgotten she hadn’t seen him naked before. She looked shocked at the ease with which he’d stripped off and now stared at him with mouth open.
“What?” he said. “Did I forget to tell you this was a nudist beach?”
“Oh. My. God.” Her lips curved. “Felix Wilkinson, you are such a sight for sore eyes.”
He lifted his head and glanced at himself, then shrugged. “I guess if you haven’t had any for a while it’s not bad.”
“Not bad? Are you kidding me? Felix, you’re huge!”
He started laughing. “Thank you, but I’m really not—your ex must have been a pretty small guy, that’s all I can say. Now will you come here?” He patted his hip.
Her eyes widened even more, if that was possible. “On top?”
“On top. Come and ride me, cowgirl, hard as you like.” He knew he should probably be a little less outspoken with his demands, but he’d had a few too many cocktails to control his mouth. Plus she was such fun to tease. She looked shocked at almost everything said, and he was really enjoying her little gasps at his risqué comments.
She chewed her lip and for a moment he thought she was going to refuse, but then she said, “Haven’t you forgotten something?”
“Fuck. Condom.” He reached for his jeans and fumbled in the pocket. “Sorry—I’m usually very responsible.” He found it, dropped it, tried to tear off the top and dropped it again.
She giggled and picked it up. “I think you’re drunk.”
“How much whisky did you put in that last glass?”
“I finished off the bottle,” she said, tearing off the top of the packet.
“Fucking hell.”
“I know. I’ve decided I like whisky.” She removed the condom and held it out to him.
He put his hands behind his head. “Perhaps you’d be kind enough to do the honours as I appear to be inebriated.” Actually he wasn’t that drunk, but it was fun to pretend.
Again, he waited for her to refuse, but her lips curved and she shuffled forward and straddled his legs. His heart rate increased. She was growing bolder, finding courage as time went by and he tried to prove to her that there was nothing to be ashamed of, and he truly was enjoying playing with her.
She rolled the condom on him slowly, and he closed his eyes and blew out a long breath, swelling beneath her firm touch.
Without another word she moved up to sit astride his hips, shifting so the tip of his erection sank a little into her softness.
He opened his eyes and admired her. She was slender without being skinny, her breasts high and full, her swollen nipples a pinky-brown colour. Her skin gleamed in the dull light from the heat of the room. Lindsey had had a great body, but she’d been fairly short at five four, and he had to admit he liked Coco being tall. He didn’t get neck ache when he kissed her, and he liked to slide his hands up from her knees to her hips, admiring her long slim thighs.
Thinking of Lindsey brought a brief flicker of guilt deep inside him. Would that ever go away, or would he always feel as if he was cheating on her?
Coco leaned over him, looking down at him. “Want me to stop?” she whispered.
She must have seen something cross his face. He met her gaze. Her green eyes were wide, clear and gentle. Did she understand that somehow pleasuring another woman didn’t feel as unfaithful as being pleasured himself?
Oddly, she was the first girlfriend he’d ever discussed Lindsey with. Some of the others had known he’d been engaged and that his fiancée had died, but they’d seemed to assume that he wouldn’t want to talk about her, and he hadn’t really. So Lindsey had stayed hovering in the background, ever present, and he’d always been conscious of her there. It hadn’t stopped him having sex—he was only human after all. But always at the back of his mind was that worry that she was watching him, and in his mind he heard the words, How could you?
His family had said, “She wouldn’t have wanted you to stay single,” but how could they be sure of that? Yes, he knew she would have laughed at the thought of it, but if it were the other way around, for purely selfish reasons he wouldn’t have wanted her to fall in love again. He would have wanted himself to be her first love and her last. If she’d gone into a nunnery, that would have been cool too.
But as much as he’d loved her, he didn’t want to think of Lindsey now. The beautiful woman on top of him deserved all his attention.
And suddenly he realised maybe that was why he was feeling guilty. Because for the first time he was comparing Lindsey to someone else and finding her wanting. He hadn’t thought that would ever happen, but perhaps enough time had finally passed for him to admit she wasn’t perfect.
Or perhaps Coco really was that gorgeous.
She was still perched just above his hips, and as he moved, the tip of his erection pushed further into her moist warmth. He caught his breath. “No,” he murmured. “Don’t stop.”
Coco brought her hand up to his face and caressed his cheek. Then she lowered her head and kissed him.
He let her move her lips across his and welcomed her tongue as she brushed it into his mouth. He ran his hands from her hips up the smooth sides of her body, cupped her breasts and stroked his thumbs across her nipples. The soft skin puckered tightly, and she gave a low murmur of approval.
Then he dropped his hands back to her hips, held her and pushed up.
She was still swollen and wet from her orgasm, and although she was tight, he slid into her easily. They both exclaimed, and she sat upright, widening her thighs. Bit by bit, she let him sink even deeper inside.
Felix’s hands clenched into fists as he fought with himself not to move until she was ready, but it was so difficult when he was encased in such moist warmth. His hips gave an involuntary thrust and she sighed, arched her spine and dropped her head back.
Speechless with admiration, passion and desire, he watched as she began to move on top of him. She rocked her hips, causing him to slide in and out of her, and although he would have liked to go harder and faster, he let her drive the pace, content to lie there and enjoy the view while she explored the sensation of having him inside her.
He played with her breasts, skated his fingers over her body, brushed her sexy piercing, then dropped his thumb between her legs and stroked her as she moved. She gasped and bit her lip, and he smiled, thoroughly enjoying himself, stretching out beneath her and continuing to circle his thumb through her warm, wet skin.
“Nice?” he asked, watching her eyelids flutter shut and then open again, her expression reflecting her growing arousal.
“It feels…wonderful.” She stopped moving for a moment and experimentally tightened her internal muscles, making him groan. “I can feel you all the way up, Felix. Right to the top. It’s an amazing feeling.”
“I know,” he agreed, struggling to keep control as she moved again, her slick walls sliding along his length. Heat built inside him, but he held on, wanting her to come first, sensing her climax wasn’t far away when her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed and she swelled beneath the regular rhythm of his thumb. He stroked her firmly, his fingers gliding over her swollen skin, running his other hand up to cup her breast and squeeze the tight nipple. And as she came, he thought there was possibly nothing more beautiful in the world than the sight of a woman in the midst of a climax, and at that moment he was pretty sure there was no woman more beautiful than Coco, with her silky blonde hair and her pale, curvy body, and her soft cries that proved the final straw in his efforts to hang on to his self-control.
The heat rushed up from his balls into her, and his hips jerked as his muscles pulsed exquisitely. “Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes closed, unable to think about anything but the feel of her clamped around him, milking every last drop of fluid out of him for what felt like forever until he finally relaxed back into the softness of the sand, limp and exhausted.
He opened his eyes, and she was watching him, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Nice?” she said.
His lips twisted as he recognised his own words to her earlier. “Very nice, thank you.”
“Oh God, thank you, Felix.” She spoke vehemently, and leaned forward over him, looking intently into his eyes. “That was…well. I’m lost for words.”
He stroked his hands up her sides, brought them forward to touch her breasts. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“I never realised it could be like that.” Her green eyes considered him curiously. “No wonder everyone goes on about it so much. I never understood what the fuss was about before.” She leaned forward and touched her lips to his. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to be with someone and have sex like that whenever you want. I’d never be out of bed!”
He chuckled. “What a nice thought.”
“How on earth are you single when you make love like a god? Are you in the Guinness Book of Records?”
He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “It’s not always like that, honey.”
“Really?”
He closed his eyes, not knowing what to say, and enjoyed the feel of her in his arms, the sensation of her close around him, warm and tight.
His thoughts and emotions spiralled, intermingling, entwining. Part of it was the alcohol, but part of it was the feelings she’d aroused in him. She’d started off shy and nervous but had blossomed under his touch, and her sheer joy in finding out that he actually enjoyed sex—that he didn’t see anything wrong in that enjoyment, and that he was prepared to share his enthusiasm with her—had been refreshing and…well, rather a turn-on. He’d enjoyed himself more than he had in a long, long time.
She lifted herself off him and he disposed of the condom, and then she curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. They lay there and listened to the waves, warm and slick in the heat of the room, and Felix let his mind wander and dream about what it would be like to love another woman, and lie with her like this for the rest of his life.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Coco lay on the swing seat in her back garden and closed her eyes against the bright morning sunshine. The sun warmed her skin, and she couldn’t help but smile as she thought of the previous night and the way Felix had turned up the heating in the bedroom to make it so sultry.
It had been a beautiful evening. Even now, her body tingled at the memory of the way his hands had stroked her skin, and how he’d so skilfully aroused her toward an orgasm that had blown her mind.
Obviously the guy wasn’t a virgin, and she’d known by his sexy, self-confident manner that he would be good in bed, but somehow she hadn’t expected him to be quite so good. Maybe because it was so far out of her frame of reference. She’d had orgasms before—mostly self-induced—and she’d had sex, but the stilted, awkward, slightly flat couplings she’d had with Michael weren’t in the same league as the passionate, enthusiastic, fun lovemaking she’d had with Felix.
And yet he’d said it’s not always like that. She’d pressed him for an explanation but he hadn’t elaborated and had grown quiet after that. Had he been thinking about Lindsey? She knew his ex had crossed his mind more than once that evening, but it hadn’t bothered her. Michael had crossed her mind too, although she assumed it was in a slightly more detrimental way than how Felix had thought about his dead fiancée.
She’d wondered if she’d feel jealous at the thought of him missing Lindsey, but to her surprise she didn’t—she just felt sad. It was no age to lose the one you love, and it had obviously taken him several years to get over her—if in fact he was over her. She suspected he wasn’t. It would be natural for him to compare every woman he met to the woman he’d loved, and to find them lacking.
How did she compare to Lindsey? Coco had virtually no experience in bed worth shouting about, no real idea how to pleasure a man. No tricks of the trade or aces up her sleeve. And yet he’d seemed to have a good time. She’d got the impression he found her enthusiasm and enjoyment a turn-on, and that at least was something she’d been able to offer.
She sighed and opened her eyes to watch the clouds scudding across the azure sky. Summer was on its way, a time she usually loved. Christmas was looming, and she and Eleanor always made a big thing about the celebration, treating each other to goodies they found on the internet, buying nice food, Eleanor making colourful decorations that Coco would then hang around the room.
For the first time, however, she felt no enthusiasm about the coming festivities. Yes, she’d had a fantastic time the night before, but unfortunately what it had done was highlight her bleak future and show her what she was missing.
She’d curled up next to Felix for half an hour after they’d made love, comfortable in the circle of his arms, but it wasn’t long before she thought of Frances trying to stay awake as she waited for her to return, and guilt made her don her clothes and say she had to go. She’d offered to help him clean up but he’d refused wit
h a smile, the perfect gentleman, stroking her face before kissing her tenderly goodnight. They’d not mentioned work or seeing each other again, and she’d left feeling like Cinderella leaving the ball, certain she was returning to a life of drudgery and servitude.
That made her feel guilty, though. She didn’t look after her mother out of duty—she did it because she wanted to, because she wanted to make sure Eleanor was loved and cared for. It wasn’t a chore at all, and she hated herself for thinking like that, however briefly.
She’d known seeing Felix was a one-off, a brief adventure. What was the saying? Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? Would she rather not have had the night before? Not have known his touch, or how it felt to be with a man who made her feel like a princess, as if she was the most precious thing in the world?
A tear rolled down her face and she bit her lip and closed her eyes again. Enough of that. She was not going to cry over Mr. Fancy Pants.
A bell sounded in the distance, and she sighed and pushed herself up and off the swing seat. Entering the house, she went along to the bathroom and knocked on the door. “Ready, Mum?”
“Yes thanks, love.”
She opened the door and went in. Eleanor sat on the shower seat. She’d washed and dried and wrapped herself in a white towelling bathrobe, but the effort had clearly worn her out, and she looked pale and tired.
“I wish you’d let me do more for you,” Coco scolded. Eleanor leaned on the railing they had installed and Coco supported her as she moved into her wheelchair.
“This is bad enough,” Eleanor said, tight lipped. She sank into the seat with a groan.
“Are you in pain, Mum? Want me to get your meds?”
“I’ll manage. If you could just take me to my room.”
Coco pushed the chair silently through to the bedroom. At the back of the house, it looked onto the garden she’d made an effort to turn into a pleasant sitting area, with lots of flower borders, arching palms and even a working fountain. Fantails fluttered on the bird table, pecking up seed, and sunlight slanted in through the open curtains across the bed, but Eleanor seemed oblivious to the beauty of the morning, too worn out from the exertion of showering.
Five Exotic Fantasies: Love in Reverse, Book 3 Page 14