Sun-Kissed

by Sierra Dafoe

  Oh, now that sounds appealing. The voice whispering in her ear was thick with disdain. Turn over, Julia. The coaxing murmur was accompanied by a long, slow stroke down the sensitive length of her side. Her face flushing with mingled embarrassment and arousal, Julia complied.

  Yes. The voice trailed across her senses as approvingly as the soft line of warmth tracing her spine. Oh yes.

  She could feel the sun’s heat moving over the swell of her buttocks, caressing them, cupping them, savoring them slowly. Her clit throbbed, and the scratchy plastic of the chaise scraped her nipples, making them tighten further.

  For a long moment, she lay there, trapped beneath the sun’s slow exploration, trying not to squirm as its velvet touch trailed lingeringly over her full, soft cheeks, circling them slowly, tracing the edge of her bikini bottom with a light, tickling touch.

  Every so often it slid down to the backs of her thighs, stroking them, caressing them, only to return, again and again, to her lush ass. That slow, delicate, tormenting touch traced lines and loops and swirls of fire over and over her sensitive skin until she was quivering beneath it, biting her lip to keep from moaning in need.

  Gently, almost tenderly, the warmth slid downward and pressed between her closed thighs, stroking the soft skin there, urging them open. Blushing, she spread them slightly, and felt the heat caressing her pause in its explorations. A tremor ran through it, vibrating against her skin, and she swore—would have sworn on a whole stack of Bibles—that she heard a harsh, thrilling groan.

  Oh, Julia. If you only knew how much temptation you are.

  That one hoarse whisper sent a delicious excitement trembling through her, shivering along her nerves and pooling deep in her belly. Like a match to a fuse, it found every lingering tendril of embarrassment twining through her psyche and ignited them—and they blazed into a sense of power she’d never even so much as imagined she could feel. It was heady, intoxicating.

  God, how he wanted her. He wanted her so bad it hurt.

  And she liked making him want her. Liked it? She loved it. The very idea made her pulse throb with excitement. Spreading her thighs wider, she tilted her hips, pushing her ass upward, and smiled as she heard another deep, hungry groan. Rocking back slightly, she raised her hips off the chaise—and his heat closed around her, impatient and possessive. It kneaded her ass, squeezing and caressing it as hungrily as it had her breasts; stroked roughly over her spread thighs; dipped down between them to cup her sex through her bikini bottom, rubbing and fondling her swollen lips through the cloth. She rocked back harder, and it slid upward again, spreading her upthrust cheeks, and pressed firmly between them.

  Sensations shocked through her, intense and unfamiliar, and she gripped the edge of the chaise, quivering with arousal.

  You like that.

  She nodded, her face flaming, grateful her expression was hidden by the tangled mass of her hair.

  Give me more, then. Let me touch all of you.

  The sensation withdrew, and she wriggled, yanking off her bikini bottom with wanton haste. She could sense amusement and froze, her belly flat against the chaise’s scratchy plastic weave, incipient humiliation heating her face. She was being ridiculous, she knew it. She was making a total fool of herself. How could anyone actually be entranced by her oversized, thirty-one-year-old ass?

  You are being ridiculous. His tone was impatient, rough with desire. Can’t you feel what you do to me?

  She could. Oh Christ, she could. She could feel his intent gaze raking over her naked flesh, drinking in the sight of her like a starving man staring at a five-star buffet.

  Show me, he whispered, and Julia reveled in that low, intent growl. Slowly, still hesitant, she pulled her knees under her, raising her ass to his hungry view. The very air seemed to pant around her, taut with desire.

  Yes. Oh yes.

  Searing heat stroked unexpectedly across her, making her cry out sharply. It squeezed her cheeks tightly, forcing them together. Then it spread them, and a jolt of heat pressed against her, briefly, teasingly, and then disappeared. She writhed beneath the stimulation, wanting to push her hips back against it. Instead she locked her jaw and held herself still.

  Oh, Julia. That voice, so rich with barely controlled need, seemed to vibrate straight through her. Fire trailed delicately over her most sensitive places, nudging her clit, searing her nipples, delving between her upturned cheeks to press firmly against the one spot on her body no man had ever touched. Longing unfolded deep inside her, making her feel empty, needy, starving for something she’d never had. She whimpered as that firm pressure withdrew, then gasped as it was replaced by a slow, sensuous lick.

  Her heart kicked, and wetness soaked her inner lips, slicking them as the lick was repeated, harder this time. Moaning, she pushed her ass up higher, pressing her chest down onto the chaise until her breasts were mashed against it, her fingers spasmodically clutching the metal frame.

  That’s right. Give me all of it. Now, Julia.

  With a cry, she spread her thighs wide, wider, arching her back like a cat’s. Warm air tugged at her tangled curls, stroking her swollen clit as heat flared between her exposed buttocks. It rasped delectably across her most private opening, then prodded deeper, pushing into her with intoxicating single-mindedness. Firm yet velvety, it gently forced her open, delving deeper until it nudged against the tight ring of inner muscle and Julia felt the vibration of a hungry, barely voiced groan.

  She quivered, panting, stretched and pinioned and aching, blazing with need as his heat pushed even deeper, spearing her as she shook and moaned and shuddered, unfamiliar muscles stretching around that delicious, slightly painful invasion.

  A firm, commanding touch slid across her clit, circling it lightly, then harder. Harder. Rubbing her in a way that sent sensation rippling through her, heat building deep in the center of her groin. The unfamiliar pressure between her ass cheeks prodded deeper, sending electric shudders searing through her until she was groaning, her head tossing blindly, everything inside her throbbing in time with the insistent nudge of his heat, pushing deeper, deeper, making her buck and quiver as stars exploded behind her eyes, galaxies, whole universes trembling and tumbling and bursting into flame.

  She cried out, her body spasming and trembling as sensation poured through her, searing through her again and again. Finally, she slumped, shivering with reaction, so drained she felt as limp as a jellyfish—even as her nerves still quivered with fire.

  Slowly, slowly, the sensations withdrew. Something—a whispered thought, a puff of breeze—urged her to roll over, and she did, heavily, her limbs so relaxed she was barely able to move. A gentle breeze played between her lolling thighs, tickled its way up her body to smooth her hair tenderly back from her face. Something as warm and soft as a sunbeam pressed briefly against her forehead.

  She should get up, Julia thought muzzily. She should get up and put on suntan lotion before she fried like a drumstick.

  Sleep, Julia. The words were softer than silk against skin. Just sleep now. I would never burn you.

  Smiling, Julia curled herself into the sun’s caress and slept.

  Chapter Two

  A cool breath of wind danced along her side. A seagull cried somewhere out over the ocean. Satiated and sleepy, Julia stretched slowly, a languorous sense of well-being spreading down along her spine—and then jerked up in sudden horror at the wash of sunset in the sky.

  “Oh, shit. Shit oh shit!” How could she have been so stupid? What sort of idiot slept a whole day in the sun? She leaped to her feet before remembering her unclothed state, then crouched down awkwardly and scuttled off the balcony into her room. Dashing for the bathroom, she reached for the aloe as she flicked on the light, bracing herself for the angry red glare of sunburn.

  It wasn’t there.

  Julia stared, the bottle of lotion forgotten in her hands. Wonderingly, she turn
ed slowly, studying her reflection.

  Her skin was a warm, rich, tawny nut-brown, the kind of tan you always dreamed about but never actually got. It smoothed out her cellulite and hid the first tiny wrinkles around her eyes. Her shoulders were burnished, her ash-brown hair streaked with soft golden highlights, her skin as velvety and flawless as a supermodel’s.

  Hell, she didn’t even have tan lines.

  This was impossible. She should have burned to a crisp. Instead, she looked like she’d spent a lifetime frolicking naked in the tropics.

  Rotating in front of the mirror, she drank in her reflection as if it belonged to a stranger. The tan continued everywhere, smooth and unbroken. Her belly was as brown and sun-kissed as her shoulders. Even the color of her nipples had deepened to a rich, dusky rose.

  Hot damn. She looked good enough to eat.

  The thought provoked memories; jumbled, confused recollections of heat and sensation tumbled through her, and she froze. What the hell?

  Warmth pressing against her, teasing her most intimate places…

  What the hell was going on here?

  Flicking a glance through the hotel room, she saw her bikini top discarded on the chaise outside the window, the blue floral bottoms in a puddle on the balcony floor. A furious blush rose beneath the tan on her cheeks, and she ducked back into the bathroom, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

  Dear God, had she actually done that? Was she really so sex deprived that she’d conjured up an entire fantasy right there on her balcony? In broad daylight? What if somebody had heard her, for God’s sake?

  She must have fallen asleep, she told herself frantically. Fallen asleep in the sun and dreamed the whole thing—the heat had probably dehydrated her to the point of delirium. Hell, guys had wet dreams, right? So why shouldn’t she?

  Man, if that was a wet dream, I’m putting myself in a coma.

  Her lips quirked at the flippant thought, and her eyes danced with an unexpected merriment. Fantasy or wet dream, that was the best sex she’d had in…well, ever. She grinned, remembering the hungry craving in that disembodied voice—Oh, Julia. If you only knew how much temptation you are.

  Okay, so maybe imaginary voices weren’t all bad. After all, how angry could she get at a fantasy who said such nice things to her?

  Hell, she hadn’t felt this good in—shit, she couldn’t remember. And if anyone had heard her, well, she was going to be gone tomorrow, wasn’t she? Nobody knew her here. So what was there to be embarrassed about?

  She would be embarrassed, she knew, if she thought about it much longer, and damn it, she didn’t feel like beating herself up tonight. No, she was just going to accept it and enjoy it and…and take a bath.

  Smiling, she started the tub and cracked open the seal on a bottle of ridiculously expensive bubble bath she’d bought herself once—one of her many attempts at retail therapy during those first few months after Kyle had dumped her.

  Kyle? Kyle who?

  She laughed giddily, pouring a generous dollop into the rushing water. The delicate scent of vanilla filled the air, and she glanced back at the mirror and winked as if sharing a secret with a friend.

  It was really quite amazing the way the tan brought out her eyes. She’d never been overly entranced with them—they were a muddy grayish-blue, not, to her mind, a particularly attractive color. Now, though, they looked almost luminous against her tanned skin. Leaning closer to the mirror as the tub filled behind her, she studied them carefully—and noticed for the first time a tiny band of yellow that surrounded her pupils.

  Wow. Was that always there?

  She had the sneaking suspicion it had been. It was staggering to think she was thirty-one and had never noticed it before. How many other things hadn’t she noticed? And how well, she thought with a dawning wonder, could she claim to know herself if she didn’t even know something as simple as the color of her eyes?

  The idea sent a giddy, wholly unexpected rush of excitement tumbling through her. Maybe she didn’t know herself as well as she thought she did. Hell, maybe she didn’t know herself at all.

  It was with a sense of profound curiosity that she turned off the water and climbed into the steaming bathwater, hearing the tiny crackle of popping bubbles. The soft scent of vanilla surrounded her, enticing and seductive. She felt alive in a way she hadn’t in years, tingling from head to toe with unexplored possibility.

  Slowly, she soaped and scrubbed and shaved her body, stopping often to savor the sight of her tanned, gleaming skin against the milky-white bubbles. As she did, she kept noticing other details about her body, things she’d probably always known about but never really seen. Like the way her thighs flowed from hip to knee in one smooth, undulating wave. Or the soft roundness of the balls of her feet, complementing the cute stubbiness of her toes. Or the silken texture of her areolas, which crinkled beneath her touch into velvety furrows. Each new discovery heightened the excitement inside her, the sense of proud possession the sight of her own body gave her. She felt like a kid who’d just received a new toy.

  How long had it been since she’d felt this way? How many years since she’d even bothered to notice her own heartbeat? She could feel it now, beating steadily inside her, sending blood surging through her arteries to her fingers, her scalp, her toes…

  Damn, but it was good to be alive.

  Entranced with the sensation, she lingered in the tub until something—a cool breath of ocean breeze from the open balcony door, a nudge of impatience inside her own mind—brought her back to the present. Getting out, she pulled the plug and toweled off quickly.

  Even so, she took the time to slather every inch of her skin with moisturizer—also vanilla-scented, complementing the bubble bath. She took her time with her makeup too, wanting, for some reason she didn’t bother exploring, to get it exactly right.

  The hint of impatience increased as she opened her dresser drawer, pawing through her plain old everyday panties in search of something a little more…a little more…

  Yes. She pulled out the silky black lace thong Selena had given her for her thirty-first birthday, her best friend’s not-so-subtle hint that maybe it was about time to stop wallowing and get back up on that horse. And maybe it had been, but she hadn’t been ready.

  Tonight, she was. She was ready for anything. And somehow it struck her as just absolutely right that tonight would be the first time she’d ever worn it.

  Plus, she discovered as she drew it on, it fit like a glove.

  “Probably the wrong term to use to describe something that looks like lace-edged dental floss, Jules,” she murmured as she headed back to the bathroom for a quick peek in the mirror. “Oh, wow.”

  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the wrong term. Julia turned slowly, reveling in the way the skimpy fabric hugged her curves, accentuating the full curves of her butt and cupping the soft swell of her belly as if it had been tailor-made for her.

  Sure, she wasn’t fashion-model thin—hell, she wasn’t even anywhere within shouting distance—but, Julia realized, she just plain didn’t care. She liked the way she looked, damn it. She looked lush. Womanly. Sexy.

  Sexy enough that she almost hated to put anything on over it.

  But she did, selecting a matching low-cut push-up bra and a sleek, wine-red dress that plunged almost as far as the bra did. Her legs were so smooth and tan, she decided, that she’d be damned if she was going to bother wearing pantyhose.

  Stepping into a pair of three-inch-heeled sandals, she paused to admire her reflection again. The sense of impatience increased, pressing more insistently against her mind. “All right, all right already,” she muttered. “Hold your horses.”

  Without pausing to ask herself who, precisely, she was talking to, she quickly brushed her hair back, grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

  The night air was warm, eddying gently around her as she saunte
red down the street. Her heels clicked smartly on the pavement, and the sound they made pleased her. It was a cheerful, optimistic sound, a sound that said she was going places.

  So did the tingling expectancy in her gut.

  Although, in truth, she had no particular destination in mind. She wasn’t about to waste another night bar-hopping, trolling for company that most likely wasn’t even worth keeping. Far better simply to walk and enjoy the evening—her last in Myrtle Beach, she realized suddenly.

  The thought made her oddly wistful, which didn’t make a lot of sense. Sure, the beach had been nice, but she hadn’t exactly had the time of her life over the past six days. Well, except for today, she amended, smiling to herself, letting the fantasy or hallucination or whatever-it-had-been play back through her mind.

  That had been, she admitted, seriously hot. The way he had touched her, both gentle and domineering… Damn, just the memory of it sent heat rushing through her, making her skin tingle.

  Which in turn made her doubly aware of the warm, pleasant fullness of her breasts, the swing of her hips, the silky fabric of her dress sliding against her nearly-naked butt—which was an upside to thong underwear she’d never before considered.

  Another unexpected source of enjoyment was the looks she was getting. She wasn’t stopping traffic in the streets or anything, but she’d definitely been on the receiving end of more admiring glances in the past six blocks than she’d gotten in…God, she couldn’t even remember how long.

  An old man had smiled at her, the deep wrinkles around his eyes crinkling appreciatively as he’d tipped her a wink and grinned. Half a block later, a man opening a car door for his wife had simply stopped, the door hanging open under his hand as he’d watched her saunter by—at least until a sharp word from his wife had recalled his attention. Even a few college boys had ogled her, their heads swiveling back over their shoulders as they passed her, their arms looped loosely around the taut, skinny waists of the girls they were with.