by Peyton Banks
8
Rick was on fire.
Well, maybe not on fire, so much as feverish. Yep, he had a fever for Keisha, his companion of the past several days. And it wasn't hard to see why.
This evening, said companion, one Keisha Williams, wore a white sundress with a high neckline, and a pale pink buttoned sweater draped over one arm, in case it got cold during the evening's festivities.
She'd gotten plenty of sun in the four days they'd been in South Padre, and her smooth brown skin, which even on a bad day looked like God had dipped her in a vat of melted milk chocolate, glowed like she had swallowed a bit of the sun. It was all he could do not to touch her constantly, run his hands over her dark skin and pull her into his arms and kiss her all over.
Over the past few days, he had marveled at how simply looking at her produced a rush of heat all over his body. Right now, only the stiffness of the overpriced denim kept him from tenting the front of his jeans. And she was wearing a demure, virginal, white dress that a character like Gidget would wear. Keisha had her hair pulled up in a perky waterfall of a ponytail, which kissed her bare shoulders when she moved her head. If only it were his lips kissing those melted chocolate shoulders.
She was walking a few paces ahead of him now, virtually skipping down the stairs that fanned out and up the grassy hill of the amphitheater. She turned to look at him, checking to see whether he could keep up, no doubt, and the ponytail swung and brushed her shoulder. Then she stopped walking and smiled up at him.
Her teeth were so pearly white that they gleamed against the darkness of her skin. He, too, stopped and offered a wan smile, as if the bottom hadn't just fallen to his feet and his heart wasn't thumping against his rib cage. Also, the body parts below his belt felt a sudden rush of blood, turning the flesh there turgid to an almost painful degree.
In short, Rick was on fire for Keisha Williams. The interesting paradox was she was both the cause of, and solution to, the fever of lust that coursed through his veins.
"Am I going too fast for you?" she asked him.
You're not going fast enough… he thought to himself.
"Not at all," he said, because he was purposely following her at a distance so he could take in her assets at a glance.
He caught up to her and slid a hand around her waist. Then he kissed her on the neck. He had told her there were no strings attached during the time they spent together on South Padre. He'd wanted to pay her back for talking him down while he waited for rescue.
But after that first impulsive kiss in front of her building, he'd wanted more from her. So much more. He'd told her she wasn't under any obligation to have sex with him. That didn't mean he wouldn't pounce on her the moment she gave him any play.
When he pulled back to look at her, she was smiling again. He loved her smile. Not only were her teeth straight and white, her smiles always touched her eyes, bringing out two tiny dimples at the side of her mouth and the apples of her cheeks. She was a beautiful woman, prettier than he remembered her being the night of his accident. She was also sweet and fun-loving, taking to every activity he'd suggested since they had arrived.
That particular day they'd spent at the USS Lexington, a decommissioned aircraft carrier. They'd had a private tour, taken silly photos together in the photo booth, and laid on the bunks and marveled at how short the sailors must have been back then.
For the evening, he'd rented out the amphitheater, and they were going to watch Alfred Hitchcock films. Keisha had once mentioned how much she enjoyed mysteries and thrillers. Many of the master of suspense's films had been remastered to take advantage of the immersive, 3D entertainment environment that was so popular these days.
At the base of the theater, a papasan, along with a picnic of snacks, had been placed in the orchestra pit. The two of them snuggled in to enjoy the films.
They watched a double feature of Rear Window and The Birds. He was happy to be her stress toy, on hand to grab and hold for the scary scenes.
She fell asleep about halfway through The Birds, and he let her sleep. As the credits ran, he roused her gently with pressure from his fingertips at her waist. She had settled on his lap, and his erection poked her as she slept, making him feel like a pervert. His hips rolled a couple of times without his permission as she snoozed on his lap, and he groaned inwardly. He didn't want to wake her. Yet, having her on his lap made him dizzy with desire. Every time she shifted her weight in her sleep, he had to restrain himself from dry humping her.
He had all his attention focused on the beautiful woman in his arms, while simultaneous reciting the periodic table of the elements, trying to remember the order, abbreviation, and atomic weight of each element. Despite the fact that he did not work a paying job, he'd always been interested in the sciences, and especially the chemistry of his family's composite products. There were more than a hundred elements, and he knew them all like the back of his hand.
He knew them so well that reciting them in his head no longer provided a distraction. And he knew next to nothing about baseball, so reciting ball stats would be of no help. So, he switched to reciting every single Brantley Composites licensee location around the world. First, he did it alphabetically by country, then by city, while shifting ever-so-slightly underneath Keisha's soft round butt. Heat rolled off her body in waves, making him want to cuddle her even closer. Whenever he moved to make himself more comfortable, she would also adjust herself to be more comfortable. In her sleep, so she wasn't at all careful about how she did so.
It felt like she was grinding against him on purpose, but she was asleep, so surely, she wasn't doing it deliberately… was she?
The ending credits rolled on, and Rick nudged Keisha again to wake her.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," he whispered against the shell of her ear. The woman even had cute ears. He wouldn't mind licking them. And chewing on them.
"Mmmmph..." she mumbled. She stretched like a sleepy kitten; her forearms propped on his shoulders as she did. Her back bowed, her breasts brushing against his chest. She smiled a dreamy smile.
"Do you always wake up smiling?" he asked. Because he sure did want to know.
"That's what they tell me," she said lightly, lips still twisted in an amused expression.
Who was "they?" he wondered. Her mother? Her cousin Tandy? A former lover?
He blinked his eyes against the impulse to blurt out the question. It wasn't any of his business, and he had promised not to put any pressure on her to take their relationship beyond the steamy kisses they shared every night.
"Sorry I missed the end of the movie," she said, rolling her neck. She frowned. "How did I wind up on your lap?" She looked away pensively, trying to remember the events of the evening that had led to her sitting on his lap.
"You were nodding off," he said. "I couldn't resist holding you. You look super sweet when you're asleep."
She shifted again, apparently without giving it much thought, and he stiffened below the belt again. He froze with the reaction, hoping she wouldn't feel his… excitement.
She went to roll offf him and get on her feet, but she, too, froze. Her hazel green eyes peered at him with a knowing look. She stood up stiffly, as if trying not to make his condition any worse, for which he was grateful. She adjusted her dress, which was now a bit rumpled, and held out her hand for him. She made unflinching eye contact with him, a sexy little smile playing at her lips. His gaze met hers, and he had a little smile of his own. He expected her to turn away to let him follow her, as was her custom. Instead, she just stood there.
She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and made a "come hither" gesture with her fingers. He hesitated; no longer certain his jeans were heavy enough to disguise his turgid condition.
"Ah..." he said, wondering how, exactly, he should handle this. She kept right on looking him in the eyes, an eyebrow cocked in challenge.
She's teasing me, he thought. No, actually, she's torturing me.
"Aren't you ready to go?" she asked him, st
ill teasing. She let her eyes drop from his eyes. Then her eyes dropped down even more… lower… then lower…
He got to his feet with a start, the post-movie relaxed state dissipating to be replaced by a bubbling sexual awareness that getting to know each other on a personal level was about to be kicked up a notch.
She moved up the stairs, the white fabric of her dress sliding over her swaying hips, brushing against her toned legs.
He ran to catch up to her. He ignored his uncomfortably stiff erection and took the stairs two at a time. She was almost halfway up the half-circle of stairs when he caught up to her. He grabbed her wrist, and she turned around to look at him.
"Mr. Brantley..."
"Ms. Williams, I need a word with you." He joined her on her step. Her pupils were blown, her full pink lips pouty. Inviting.
He could stand it no longer. He palmed the back of her head, pulled her face to his, and invaded her mouth with his tongue. She tasted sweet and salty from the candy and popcorn they'd had during the movie. The texture of her tongue, her lips, was the perfect complement to the way she tasted.
"You taste like buttered popcorn," he whispered against her lips. "But you feel like sin."
And oh Lord, she did. This sweet, sweet woman whose steady, professional demeanor had gotten him through one of the worst nights of his life now made him think of nothing but the filthy things he could do with her. To her.
And it wasn't because he'd been close to her for the past few days. It was like he was a notch that fit her groove. A cup for his saucer. He wanted to tell her every desire he had, every fantasy, every nasty dream he'd had about her.
He was pretty sure he was falling for her.
Rick really didn't do long-term relationships, so he set aside the alarming thought aside. He was getting all the right signals from her, and he needed to stay focused on her.
She offered him her neck, tilting her head to one side in the universal gesture of submission. She said nothing, but he understood exactly what she wanted. He attacked her neck, nibbling, kissing, licking, then blowing on the skin. His heart thrummed in his chest, his breathing became shallow, and he mumbled words of need against her skin.
"I want you so bad I'm in physical pain," he confessed, gesturing at his own groin. He encircled her body in his arms and held her. "I know I said I wouldn't pressure you… but I want you so bad."
His lips to the curve of her neck, he hummed an impatient sound. His body surged toward hers, and a throaty moan was his answer. Her hands went around his waist to his ass. Then his hips rotated, all by themselves, as if his body wanted to go on autopilot with her. He was so tired of holding himself back. He just needed a signal from her, and he prayed this was it.
He was breathing so hard he was afraid of passing out. He pressed his forehead to hers while they both caught their breaths.
"Please don't tell me you want to go back to the yurt to watch a movie," he rasped. His hands on her hips trembled. He was dying to touch her intimately. To taste her intimately.
She let out a chuckle. "Watching a movie? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
He let out his own low chuckle. "Watching a movie… doing the shoeless tango… hitting the kitten… any of those will work."
She gave him a lingering kiss, intertwined her fingers with his, and tugged him up the remaining stairs to the waiting vehicle.
"Shoeless tango, huh?" she said as she crawled into the SUV. He held her hand to help her in, and she didn't let go of his hand. She dragged him inside with her. She looked so beautiful in the night and deep shadows. Her dress stood out against her complexion. The contrast made him want to lick, suck, and bite every inch of her body.
"Yeah, exactly," he said, feeling he must look like a cartoon character that catches a whiff of some intoxicating scent and is compelled to follow it, so much so that the feet are suspended some distance above ground. He’d followed her into the car, then basically collapsed on top of her like a fool.
He found he was okay with acting like an utter fool with this woman. Because lo! she was giggling like a hyena, and she seemed to be enjoying the chaos between them, the tangle of limbs, the giddy fumbling, and the way he basically tripped his way into the car.
William and Geordie peered over the driver and passenger headrests to deliver identical stern expressions at Rick and Keisha.
The two of them faced forward again, and William started the vehicle. Geordie barked, "Buckle up!"
9
Rick and Keisha buckled and settled back on the bench seat. He felt chastened, as if he and Keisha were sitting on a bench outside of the principal's office. They entwined their fingers on the seat between them.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her lips were twisted into a smirk, and she gave him a sidelong glance. Since they were both stealing looks at the same time, it seemed absurd to pretend they were not checking each other out. They burst into laughter at the same time. She held her fingers over her mouth, like she was shy about smiling too broadly, so he leaned in close to kiss her beautiful lips.
She moved forward at the same time, and their lips collided, hard.
"Ow!" she winced, chewing her bottom lip. He ran his thumb over her lip to soothe it.
"That's going to leave a bruise," he said, chagrined.
She shook her head, leaning in again. "Hold still," she said.
She gave him a sweet, lingering kiss.
"Shoeless tango?" she whispered.
"Yeah, that's what the kids are calling it these days," he replied, recalling her previous remark. He gave her his own lingering kiss in return, escalating with tongue action.
"Batter-dipping the corn dog," he murmured, causing her to emit an unladylike snort. But they kept their lips connected.
"Hide the salami," she said.
"Boffing," he said.
"Boning," she said.
"Swapping spit," he said.
"We're already doing that," she pointed out. "Knocking boots."
She had her head thrown back again, and he went after the enticing stretch of melted chocolate skin while she laughed.
"Attacking the pink fortress," he mumbled. She tensed, then relaxed again.
"Hey, you brought up the sausage," he mumbled, not missing a beat. Her skin was slightly salty, like she'd been sweating lightly and it had dried.
"Buttering the biscuit," she mumbled. He nipped lightly at the skin of her neck, and she yelped, then shuddered. He pulled back to look at her, worried he might have been too rough. She looked at him from half-lidded eyes, and her lips were swollen from their kisses.
"Mmmmmm," was her breathy reply. "That was intense. Do it again."
He blinked. His dick got harder, and he closed his mouth, thinking he might actually start to drool. The more he learned about this woman, the more he was convinced she was made for him.
"Makin' bacon, doing the nasty, mattress-dancing," she said in a rush. "Let's do it."
She was watching him closely, her eyes soft.
"I think you're the sexiest woman I've ever known," he told her, sliding a hand under the skirt of her white cotton dress. His fingers crept up her thigh, which was far more toned than he would have guessed of a woman whose job had her sitting eight hours a day. He thought she was the sexiest woman he'd ever known. He was about to say more, to tell her how he was starting to feel about her, because honestly, he wanted to know how she felt about him. But thinking about how they'd gotten off to a rocky start, and the fact she didn't think he was very serious, he decided to hold off on any declarations of love.
And he could feel the SUV slowing, anyway. They must be back at the yurt house.
Geordie opened the door half a second after Rick extracted his hand from under Keisha's dress and smoothed the fabric down, giving her a crooked smile. He got out of the vehicle and held out a hand to her.
Hand-in-hand, they strolled the pink gravel walkway from the curb to the yurt.
They started kissing
again the moment the front door closed. He backed her up to door, grabbed her leg, and hiked it up to his waist.
"Limber, aren't you?" he said, kissing her neck.
Her chuckle turned into a gasp of pleasure when he started nibbling on her neck again. He dragged his tongue along the skin there, then blew on it. When she shivered again, he chuckled.
He ground his crotch into her center, the denim of his jeans rough against the thin, silky fabric of her barely-there thong, and she sucked in a breath at the contact. Then she started grinding back, and the two of them engaged in a sensual dance. She was so soft. So responsive. He loved the way her body arched into his, the breathless little cries of pleasure.
He whispered in her ear, "Baby, I love how you respond to me."
Then he went back to torturing her neck, driving her crazy. It was like her neck was a giant clitoris, and then she keened suddenly and shuddered.
Did she just come?
"Think we should be horizontal before we… tango?" she asked breathlessly.
"Or, we could stay here, and I could fuck you up against the door," he teased her.
"Rick, I'm about to jump out of my skin if you don't make love to me," she whined, her face contorted with frustration. "Please. I need you."
This made him lose his mind a little. He had his jeans unbuttoned and pushed down before he realized what was happening, driven by the primal need to be inside her, almost as if he'd had a mini blackout. In the next moment, he was sliding into her, sliding home, swallowing her cries of ecstasy with a passionate kiss.
Her pussy spasmed around him, warm, wet. His dick responded by going impossibly hard, and he grit his teeth, trying to regain control as suddenly, unexpectedly, he was propelled closer to the edge of the orgasmic cliff.
"Fuuuuck!" he grunted, holding still, hoping by doing so he could stave off the inevitable searing, crashing orgasm. He wanted to make this experience last. Also, he hadn't donned any protection.
"Rick!" she hissed in his ear.