She considered for a moment. “Okay, I’ll try some champagne. But just one glass.” Her eyes shined at me as I poured for us. She took a sip and giggled as the bubbles hit her nose. The sound delighted me. She was such a blend of brash worldliness and surprising innocence. The things I could show this woman.
“How do you like it?” I asked, sipping on my own glass.
“It’s good. Bubbly.” She smiled and took another sip.
“Slow down,” I laughed at her, “I don’t want you champagne tipsy. And you’re a rank amateur when it comes to drinking. Here, let’s get some food in you.”
I lifted the dome to her plate. Nestled on a bed of thinly sliced and dressed scallions were three large prawns, plump and pink, with a drizzle of citrusy dressing and a carefully placed dollop of caviar.
“Oh, I can’t eat that,” Samantha exclaimed.
“Are you allergic? I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask. I can arrange for something else.” I reached over, ready to take the plate.
“No, no,” she laughed and stopped my hand. “It’s just that it’s more like art than food.” She spun the plate around, examining the dish from several angles. “This is definitely the kind of meal you post on Instagram and annoy your friends with.”
Incredible. There she went again, showing that sweet naiveté and unconsciousness of self. “Try it,” I urged her, biting into my own prawn.
She speared the prawn and lifted it to her mouth, biting into the pink flesh. A grin spread slowly across her face as she chewed.
“This is…the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” She took another large bite.
“Try it with a bit of the scallion and caviar,” I urged her.
“Is that what that is?” She pointed with her fork and wrinkled her nose.
“Just give it a try, you can always wash the flavor away with champagne if you don’t like it.”
She tried another, and her face lit up. “All these tastes…it’s like…sweet and orangy and salty, all mixed together…and it should be gross, but it’s so good.” She groaned in pleasure around another forkful.
We moved through dinner and I served every course, a tropical fruit soup, seared scallops with risotto, and little raspberry pistachio mousse cakes. I’d carefully picked every dish myself hoping to treat her to a dinner like she’d never had before.
“Eric, this is incredible,” she said after each dish. Listening to her small moans of pleasure as she savored each bite had me shifting in my chair. I just wanted to sit and watch her eat, watch her sweet lips wrap around her fork, and her eyes slip shut as she let her food linger on her tongue. She’d tilt her head back, baring the elegant length of her neck, making me want to sink my teeth into the tender spot where the neck meets the shoulder.
When we finished eating, and I’d adjusted my trousers for the hundredth time, she reached across the table and grabbed my hand, sliding her fingers through mine. “Thank you, Eric. That was the most amazing meal I’ve ever had.”
I ran my fingers across the tips of hers, stroking her seashell pink nails. “You know, I can give you a lot of amazing meals.”
“I don’t expect you to feed me the entire time I’m here,” she laughed, “besides, I believe meals are included.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” I said drolly.
“Then what…oh.” Her amber eyes opened wide when she caught my meaning. “Eric, I don’t think…I mean, you just got out of an engagement. We’re nothing alike. We don’t have anything in common.”
I tugged at her hand, bringing her around the table towards me. I grasped her waist and pulled her down, settling her onto my lap. Her silky dress slid over her legs, the slit opening and leaving her thighs bare.
“You’re right,” I murmured, “I don’t really know you.” My hand trailed up her knee. “It’s best if we don’t get too serious.” My fingers skimmed up her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps.
“You’re right, we barely know each other.” Her arms shifted and draped around my neck.
I could see her pulse flutter rapidly in her throat, hear the catch in her voice. I nuzzled into her smooth neck. She smelled like honey and sunlight, perfect for someone as golden and sweet as her.
My lips pressed into her skin, and I hear her draw in a breath. I moved my lips up the side of her neck and down her jaw. She’d stopped moving, her fingers laced behind my neck. I pulled her into me, molding her into my body. My hand drifted up and into her caramel-colored hair. I tangled my fingers in and tugged gently. The gold-tinged waves pulled free and tumbled down, spilling small, white flowers around us. I eased her forward, giving her the time to back away if she wanted. Finally, my lips met hers. Waves of her scent washed over me. I moved my mouth softly across hers and eased her lips open. She tasted like raspberries. My tongue slipped in, and I tasted her more fully. She was complex and sweet, and her tongue was raspy velvet against mine.
Without warning, she grasped at my hair, pulling my head back. She wasn’t timid as she pushed her tongue further into my mouth, nipping at my lips and exploring me. It was a battle as we fought to taste each other, our lips warring against each other.
My chair tipped, spilling us onto the ground. I rolled, keeping her above me, her lips still locked with mine. We twisted onto the soft grass, and she lay with her body pressed into every inch of mine. I locked one hand in her hair and slid the other beneath her floaty dress, trailing up her silken thigh and grasping her hip. We rolled, and I trapped her beneath me, her legs drifting open as I settled between them.
My cock was swollen and hot, pressing against the front of my pants. I ground into her and she gasped against my mouth. I pulled my lips from hers and looked down. Samantha’s eyes were dark and full of longing, her skin flushed pink and her lips swollen from my kisses. I pressed a kiss into her shoulder.
“Samantha,” I breathed, “spend the night with me. I want you. Say yes.”
She nodded yes and stretched her arms up, her movements long and luxurious beneath me. I was nipping at the supple skin of her elbow when she stopped moving.
I pulled back and looked at her, “Is something wrong, sweetheart?”
“What…is in…my hair?” she strangled out.
“What?” That was the last thing I had expected to hear her say. I pulled her up and saw her hand clamped over the side of her head. Two tentacles with bulgy little eyes were poking from between her fingers. “Oh, no worries, it’s just a giant land snail. I’ll get the little guy.”
She screamed.
CHAPTER 7
SAMANTHA
A giant land snail! Who even knew there was such a thing! Well, Eric obviously had. He helped me up and, after some tugging, managed to get the gross thing detached from my hair. He chuckled the entire time and held it up for me to see. Ew. It was a snail all right, slimy and gross and easily as big as Eric’s hand with squirmy little tentacle things waving all over the place. I was a city girl; I didn’t want anything to do with the native wildlife.
Eric eased the snail back into the bushes and turned back to me. Grabbing my hand, he tugged me forward again. “Now, I believe we were in the middle of something.”
“Uh uh, no way. That ship has sailed.” I brushed at the grass sticking to my borrowed dress. When I tried to wrangle my hair, my hand found a spot that was cold and clammy.
“Our little buddy put you off?” Eric pouted at me.
I lifted a lock of my hair. “I have snail slime. In. My. HAIR. And on my hand! This is disgusting, I feel disgusting.” I shuddered.
Eric choked back a laugh. “Okay, snailus interruptus. I should catch the little bugger and have him cooked as escargot. Well, the least we can do is get you cleaned up. Would you like to shower in my villa?”
I gave him a level look. “Are you just trying to get me naked in your room, Lord Godfrey?”
“I most certainly am, Miss Tate.” He grinned at me.
He led me down the curving path and in moments, we were on his veranda. I
looked up. “Oh, well, this isn’t shabby.” The two-story house could have easily fit six of my apartment inside. The veranda and balcony above ran the length of the house and both looked out over the ocean. All the windows were lit, soft lights glowing through the gauzy curtains. He opened the veranda doors and led me inside. It was even more beautiful than the outside. I’d never truly known what the term “understated elegance” meant until now. It was this house, all decorated in soft corals and warm sand colors, with plush surfaces and that incredibly fresh smell the entire island seemed to have.
We went up the stairs and turned down a wide hall. The master bedroom was at the end, and it was twice the size of my entire suite. The bed appeared big enough for eight people to sleep in comfortably. “You’re here alone?” I asked.
“Mmhmm, why?” He was rummaging through a drawer.
“This is just…a lot of space for one person.”
He stopped and peered around, a considering look on his face. “I guess you’re right. I never thought about it. We always stayed in a villa when I came with my family and I never really considered…I mean, it’s just habit I think. Anyway, here.” He held out a soft, light blue t-shirt. “You can change into this after you shower.”
I took the shirt and headed for the bathroom. “Whoa.”
Eric stuck his head through the door. “Everything okay?”
I just shook my head. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
The shower was as big as my bedroom back home. It was walk-in and tiled in shiny, sand-colored marble with accents of aquamarine glass. A built-in bench ran the length of one end. There were a total of eight shower heads on the ceiling and walls, each designed to spray and pamper a different part of the body. I stared at the row of knobs.
“Uh, Eric, can I get a little help?”
He was in the room instantly. I gestured at the handles. “I don’t know what controls what.”
He stepped around me and flicked on a few of the knobs. Steam instantly flooded the room, fogging the mirrors and glass. After a few more adjustments he waved me forward. “There you go.” He turned to leave.
“Wait. Stay. Talk to me.” I smiled softly at him.
“Okay,” he said simply.
“You’re staring.”
“Sorry?”
“Turn around.”
“Turn around?” He sounded confused.
“So I can get undressed,” I said.
“So you can…” he bit off the rest of his words and turned.
I slipped out of my designer dress and into the shower. Through the steam and fogged glass, I could just make out Eric’s figure, leaning on the counter near the sink.
I lathered up my hair with shampoo that smelled like freshly squeezed limes. Tilting my head back, I let the stream from one of the showerheads pound over my hair and rinse the snail away. Then I kept my eyes closed and let it ease the tension in my shoulders.
“What are your plans when you leave here?” I called out to him.
I saw him get up and move closer to the shower. “I hadn’t thought about it. What’s Chicago like this time of year?”
“Stop teasing,” I laughed at him.
And then he was in the shower with me, fully dressed, the water soaking his clothes as he pushed me against the wall and slanted his mouth over mine. His tongue pushed into me like he owned me, and my mind reeled with the soft and harsh onslaught of his lips.
He pulled back and looked at me. “I don’t tease.” His mouth crushed mine again.
The wall was slick against my back, and Eric was hard against my front, flattening my breasts against his chest. His hands slid down my water-slicked body and tightened around my hips, pulling me into him so I could feel his cock throbbing against my thigh.
I tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head and dropping it into a sopping heap on the floor. My fingers ran over his chest, exploring the lean muscles of his shoulders.
“Why, Lord Godfrey, is that a tattoo?” There, high on his chest, was a coat of arms in bright colors.
“Yes, it is, Miss Tate.”
“My, aren’t you just full of surprises.”
“You have no idea,” he said in a husky voice.
My fingers traced lightly over the lines before I leaned forward and placed a kiss over the ink. Then, I sank my teeth into the flesh of his chest and was rewarded with a sharp intake of his breath. His hands slid down to the globes of my ass and clutched tightly, fingers biting into the skin as he jerked me forward and ground into me.
I trailed my fingers down his chest, trailing my nails over his stomach. He sucked in his breath and his muscles fluttered when my fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants. I pulled at the button and tugged the zipper, pushing the now soaked pants over his hips and to the floor. He kicked them off.
Then, we were skin to skin, pressed into one another, electricity sparking where our flesh met. I could feel his length, hard and throbbing. He caught my lips in another kiss, and his hands explored me. He tugged at my nipples, pulling them into high, tight peaks as his tongue brushed over my lips. His mouth moved down, tracing fiery trails over my neck and down to my breasts. He palmed each one, weighed them in his hands, flicking his thumbs over my aching nipples before pulling his rasping tongue over first one, then the other. Back and forth he moved, sucking and nipping until my breasts were heavy with desire, a line of fire connecting his tongue, my aching nipples, and my burning core.
He slid down my body, dipping into my navel, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin of my lower belly. I could feel his breath panting against my hip, his hands circling my thighs. He leaned forward and nuzzled his tongue into my slit, parting my slick crevice with his mouth. My head fell back against the marble wall, and a low moan slipped from between my lips.
He worked his tongue, pushing deeper into me until the tip found my throbbing clit. My legs began to tremble and threatened to give way beneath me. Eric caught me up in his arms and walked me the bench at the end, sitting me on the edge and dropping to his knees in front of me.
His gray eyes bored into mine as he pushed my knees apart. He left me open, raw and exposed to his gaze and his searching fingers and his exploring tongue.
“Samantha, you’re incredibly beautiful. I want you to come for me.”
A shiver traveled down my body at his words. I hadn’t been with many men, and it was never anything special. I’d only had a couple of boyfriends over the years; I was too busy trying to survive to worry too much about sex. And none of them had ever made me feel anything like Eric did.
Eric plunged his tongue back into me, making a long, lazy swipe up my slit before sucking at my swollen bud. His tongue and mouth worked over me, turning my center to molten liquid. My hips moved against his mouth, pressing against him as he pulled at me with his lips. He groaned when I rocked into him. I felt his fingers pressing, and a long, mewling moan slipped from my throat as he pushed a finger inside. He moved in and out, adding another finger, licking at my clit. I could tell his hand was slick with my wetness.
The pressure built, low in my stomach. A tightening and tingle spread from my center. Everything went gray at the edges and my eyes lost focus. The pounding sound of the shower receded the steamy air disappeared; there was only Eric, focused on me, his fingers sliding into my body, mouth latched on to my throbbing clit, and eyes locked on my face.
My eyes slipped shut and my body bowed upward. Eric snatched at my hips, holding me to his mouth as I convulsed around his tongue. My legs trembled against his shoulders and my world exploded into silvered pieces around me.
Eric caught me before I slipped off the bench and pressed his mouth against mine. I tasted myself, tart on his tongue. He sat on the bench, his cock stiff, the crown purpled and throbbing between us. I wrapped a hand around his length, testing the weight in my hand. It was heavy and thick, a bead pearled on the tip. He groaned and pulled me back for another lingering kiss.
“I need you, Samantha,” he rasped against m
y mouth, “I need to be inside you.”
I slid my leg over his lap, his eyes burning my flesh as he watched me. I steadied myself over him and moved, grasping the base of his cock, placing the tip against my burning channel. His fingers dug into my hips, holding me.
I eased down, gasping as his thickness pushed me apart. He held still, letting me lower myself. His teeth gritted, and his chest heaved with his panting breaths. I pushed down further, moaning low and long as I sank further and further down his engorged length. He filled me, completely. I felt him in every fiber of my body. My heat wrapped around his cock, my nose full of his smell, my mouth covered in our combined tastes.
He moved then, pushing into me and easing back out, pulling my hips to him, to ride against him. I slid up and down his cock, slick with my juice. He panted, his eyes glazed over and skin goose pimpled. I threw back my head and let myself go, riding him, taking him deep inside me, letting him split me with his cock. I felt the tension building again, the mewling cries crawling up my throat once more.
“Samantha, Samantha,” he panted over and over, like a prayer chant.
And then we came undone, exploding over one another, our bodies one trembling mass of sensation. Sparks ran between us, firing our skin. He jerked into me, spilling himself deep inside, snatching at my head, roughly taking my lips and moaning into my mouth. He made me his.
CHAPTER 8
ERIC
When I rolled over, she was there. Warm and soft against my side, with early morning sunlight picking out the golden glints in her glorious hair. My eyes ran down the curves of her body, the sheet draped over her hips, her long, slim leg tucked between mine. I ran a finger up her arm and over her shoulder, gently, careful not to wake her. I let a lock of her hair curl around my finger.
When my eyes moved back to her face, hers were open, deep, burning amber, lit from within. My God, this woman. My body had never responded to a woman the way it had to her. After the shower last night, we’d stumbled into the bed, wet and slick against one another. I’d plunged into her, over and over, the fire between us only dimming each time but never fully stoked.
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