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“Oh god! Please!” She didn’t even know what she was begging for. Release—or for him to stop.
Digging her fingernails into his shoulders, she clung to him. The waves of pleasure hit like a sharp ocean swell, sweeping over her, leaving her light headed, gasping and trembling. She put her palm on his face to still him. He lifted up and trailed kisses to her hip and then to her mouth—he tasted like salt and like her.
She trailed one finger just under the rim of his shorts. “Turnabout’s fair play.” She grinned at him. Pushing on his chest, she rolled him onto his back and pressed her palm on the length of his erection. He arched and moaned deeply. She got his shorts open and slipped his cock out into the air. Her turn to gasp now. He was bigger than any of her other boyfriends had been—thick and long. She licked her lips and then kissed the head of his cock.
His hips jerked and he moaned again, but he kept his hands flat on the towel and his eyes closed. She took him into her mouth as far as she could and sucked hard. She could barely fit him, so she gripped his cock with her hand and started to rub. His hips jerked again and his cock hit the back of her throat. He moaned deeply.
She put her hand on his belly and wiggled into a better position. She pressed the heel of her palm into his balls. He gave another moan. She pushed harder. She could feel he was close—his balls pulled up tight and he began to leak. With a last hard suck, she lifting up and pressed his cock between her breasts. With a shudder and a moan, he spurted out hot and salty onto her and onto his stomach, and then went slack on the sand.
“In a word—wow,” he muttered. He held out his arms. “Come here, will you?”
“Cuddling? Seriously? How about we wash up in the surf and head back.”
“Two seconds for recovery, okay?”
She gave a chuckle and lay down next to him, propping herself up on one elbow. With her foot she traced what looked like a network of spider webs on his knee. “Just how many surgeries did you have on that?”
“Not something I want to talk about.” He cracked open one eye. “You’re… different.”
She smiled and toyed with one dark curl that kept falling down into his eyes. “Why? Because I’m ready to go back in the water? Just what kind of girls do you date in New York?”
He pulled a face. “Not your kind, obviously. They’re more the ‘oh, I broke a nail it’s a national emergency’ types.”
“Why would you date them?”
Lifting a hand, he let it fall again. “They generally come without strings attached. I’m not the settling down type.”
“And I am?” She frowned and slapped his chest. “Come on, handyman. Time to wash up and get back.” She pushed up and brushed the sand from her hands. Heading into the water, she dove in, came up sputtering and dove down again. Satisfied she’d washed his smell off her, she came back to find Mike still sitting on the towels. She grabbed one out from under him, wrapped it around her and started hunting for her bikini.
When she found both parts, she straightened. And found Mike staring at her. “What?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
“I think that’s supposed to be my line.” He stood up and straightened out his shorts. “I don’t usually…”
“Have sex on a first not-a-date? Look, I like my island, I like my own company. And I’m not saying this has to mean anything other than we both needed some stress relief. And we got it.”
Hands on his hips, he stared at her. She’d never known anyone who could stand that still or seem that focused. “Really? That’s it for you?”
She shrugged, grabbed the other towel, shook it out and held it out to him. “Why would it be more? We’re grown adults—at least I am. It was good. And I don’t need a repeat or anything more.” Turning, she headed up the trail and back to the hotel.
Chapter Eight
Her casualness was pissing him off.
Glaring at her backside, or what he could see of it swaying under the towel, he muttered, “Fine. If that’s what you want, that’s okay with me.”
Throwing his towel over his shoulder, he followed her back to the hotel’s main building and headed back to his tiny room. He slammed the door behind him and began to peel off his shorts—now stiff with sand and salt water. He wanted a shower, but he wasn’t about to ask Miss I’m-Fine for one.
And he didn’t know why he was so upset.
He should be happy she didn’t want anything else from him. This was the perfect kind of sex—a good time and over with.
So why did he feel like a piece of used meat. Is that what the women in his past had felt like? No, he been nicer to them. Much nicer. There’d been dinners and plays and breakfast the day after—and sometimes a second or third date. And romance—there had been plenty of romance.
There should have been some tonight—hell, this was a Pacific island paradise, complete with fragrant trade winds, magical moonlight, and a balmy night that should have them strolling back hand-in-hand.
But Karen….all she seemed to care about was this damn hotel. He d
idn’t understand that. He ran a hand through his hair and flopped down on his bed. Okay, maybe he did get part of it. This hotel gave her a connection to her folks—he’d have given anything at one point in his life to have had that. But he’d gotten past that. He and Zach had built a business—but now with Zach married, it was time for some fresh direction. Zach had started it by setting up the Collins Institute for the preservation of farm land and open space. Mike wanted to take that up a level—it was time to get into eco-tourism and making that open space really attractive by tying it to luxury resorts that offered first class get-aways.
