Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“Are you up for a short walk?” he asks when we reach the sand.
“Sure. I haven’t been to this particular beach before. It looks like a nice location.”
“It’s great for watching the sunset,” he says, “and I know a secluded spot down the way.”
A little shiver passes through me at the mention of seclusion.
Living on Four Points for most of my adult life, you’d think I’d have had the opportunity to experience sex on the beach, especially during my younger days with Nick, but he was never up for it. I brought it up once and he immediately had reasons why it would be too uncomfortable and too complicated — sand in the shorts, and all of that.
“Do you come to the beach a lot?” Troy asks.
“Not as much as I’d like, and I’m not sure why.”
“It’s easy to get busy with other things,” he says.
“Very true.” The beach isn’t crowded at all, and some of the people we pass are packing up to go home for dinner.
“Not too much further,” he says after we’ve walked only a couple of minutes.
After we pass a rocky outcropping, Troy slows to a stop. “This looks like a good spot,” he says, depositing the bags on the sand. “Would you like to swim before we eat?”
I wore my suit under my clothes, but I didn’t know if we’d go in the water. “Do you think it’ll be cold this late in the day?” I ask.
“I can keep you warm,” he says, and another wave of shyness hits me as I pull off my shirt and step out of my shorts. “Want me to put sunscreen on you?” Troy asks, holding a bottle from his own bag.
The sun is past its fullest intensity and I could probably get away without sunscreen, but it provides a good excuse to feel his hands on my body, so I tell him yes.
He sets the bottle down and removes his shirt first, and my body heats at the sight of his bare chest. He’s lean, but beautifully toned and obviously very strong. After warming the lotion in his hands, he stands behind me and begins to rub it onto my back, starting at the top and smoothing it downward.
I’m wearing a black bikini, and my nipples tighten as his big hands navigate around and under the strings at the back to apply the sunscreen. When he reaches the curve of my hips and massages me there, sensation flutters downward from my belly.
The typical thing would be for me to apply the lotion myself to all of the parts of my body that I can reach, but I stay still as Troy squirts more from the bottle and moves on to my arms. “Is it okay?” he asks, eyeing my chest, where the tops of my breasts swell above the bikini top.
When I nod, his warm hands glide over my collarbone, out to my shoulders, and then dip down, slipping just under the edge of the fabric of my top. Even though my suit is dark, there’s no hiding the fact that my nipples are hard as rocks, and they only get harder when his hands slide just below my top, crossing my midsection, edging down toward my bikini bottoms.
How is this man turning me on so completely with just a few swipes of his hands on my body?
17
Troy
Lorraine. She’s dominated my thoughts for days, and her name has become like music to my ears.
Now that I’m touching her body, it’s going to be even harder to get her out of my mind.
How did some fool divorce this woman? Her body is incredible, strong and firm, yet soft in all the right places. Her beautiful green eyes are so trusting, and the way she’s responding to my touch has my cock stirring in my shorts.
The need to kiss her is nearly overwhelming, but the timing isn’t right.
“Want me to do you?” she asks, reaching for the bottle of sunscreen when I stand after coating her legs.
“Thanks.” I grin at her and am rewarded with a smile in return.
Facing me, she starts at my chest, rubbing the lotion in broad strokes with hands that look small against my body.
“I bet the women who go to Club Red would pay money for this privilege,” she says, as she covers my abs.
I laugh when her hands glide over a ticklish spot on my side. “I don’t know about that,” I say.
“It’d be money well spent,” she says, looking up at me, her smile having turned into a look of focused concentration.
Her nipples are still hard even though the breeze is warm, and I want so badly to graze my teeth over one of them to see how she’d respond, but I need to wait. Luckily, waiting has its own pleasures. Anticipation can be very sweet.