said, careful not to face him.
“If this makes you blush,” he said, ignoring her denial. “You’re going to be permanently red in the South of France.”
It took her a second to figure out what he meant. “Oh . . . because they sunbathe topless there?”
“Don’t worry, Emma,” he said. She heard the smile in his voice and realized he’d probably heard the thread of her anxiety. “It’s not like it’s a law or something. You’ll do whatever you’re comfortable doing. Come here,” he said quietly, his hands just above her waist. He hauled her into his lap. She squeaked in surprise, not only because she hadn’t expected it, but also because he was wet and she wasn’t.
As she settled, however, she realized he was warm beneath the cool moisture, and hard and . . . very nice.
“It’s easier to get at all of you this way,” he said, and she heard the sound of the bottle squeezing. She started to luxuriate at the sensation of sitting in his lap beneath a hot summer sun. She straightened in surprise, however, when instead of rubbing lotion onto her back, like she expected, he reached under her arms and cupped her breasts.
“Relax,” he urged from behind her. It was a little hard to do, though, because his cock had twitched under her ass at the moment he touched her breasts. Plus, it felt decadent, having her breasts massaged by Vanni’s lubricated, warm hands. He rubbed his whiskers gently against the back of her shoulder and she moaned. The slight abrasion in contrast with his squeezing, sliding hands sent a jolt of excitement through her. “You don’t think I’d let these beauties burn, do you?” he asked next to her shoulder, his deep, rough voice a rich seduction. “They’re even paler than the rest of you.”
Emma swallowed thickly. The dancing blue water sparkled in her eyes, entrancing her. She couldn’t think of what to say. She couldn’t think of anything.
“Emma?” he said, and his sharp voice cut through her dazed arousal.
“Yes?”
“You’re holding yourself off me. Stop it.”
She blinked, coming to herself at his hard tone. She realized she’d placed her hands on the outside of his thighs and that her arms were tense.
“Oh,” she said. It wasn’t as if she’d literally been suspended over him, but she had been resisting giving him all her weight. She relaxed her arms, letting herself sink fully against his hard thighs and cock.
“That’s better,” he said, his hands still massaging her breasts. “Why do you always act like my cock is going to burn you or something?”
She heard the focused puzzlement in his tone. It both amazed and aroused her, the way he always spoke of sexual things without a trace of self-consciousness.
“I guess because it does,” she admitted honestly. His massaging hands slowed. She felt him swell beneath her ass. “Not literally, obviously.” She rolled her eyes in frustration at her lame explanation. “I just mean you overwhelm me,” she said, closing her eyes, glad he couldn’t see her scrunched-up face.
“And that’s a bad or good thing?” he asked warily.
Her eyelids sprung open. Had he actually sounded worried? Vanni Montand?
“It’s a very, very good thing,” she assured. “I’m just not used to so much . . . potency.”
He resumed massaging her breasts. She could almost hear him thinking behind her. He rubbed her nipples with his thumb and forefinger, the sensation delicious with the lubrication. She flexed her hips into his cock and whimpered.
The moment felt very ripe with sensuality—the hot sun beating down on them, his cock growing erect beneath her ass, his big, warm hands massaging her bare breasts; but there was a tenderness to the unfolding seconds as well, a breathless fragility. She’d sensed a crack in his golden, rigid armor and realized that despite all his effortless confidence, he wasn’t all that different from her.
“Vanni?” she asked quietly, not looking around, but hyperaware
“If this makes you blush,” he said, ignoring her denial. “You’re going to be permanently red in the South of France.”
It took her a second to figure out what he meant. “Oh . . . because they sunbathe topless there?”
“Don’t worry, Emma,” he said. She heard the smile in his voice and realized he’d probably heard the thread of her anxiety. “It’s not like it’s a law or something. You’ll do whatever you’re comfortable doing. Come here,” he said quietly, his hands just above her waist. He hauled her into his lap. She squeaked in surprise, not only because she hadn’t expected it, but also because he was wet and she wasn’t.
As she settled, however, she realized he was warm beneath the cool moisture, and hard and . . . very nice.
“It’s easier to get at all of you this way,” he said, and she heard the sound of the bottle squeezing. She started to luxuriate at the sensation of sitting in his lap beneath a hot summer sun. She straightened in surprise, however, when instead of rubbing lotion onto her back, like she expected, he reached under her arms and cupped her breasts.
“Relax,” he urged from behind her. It was a little hard to do, though, because his cock had twitched under her ass at the moment he touched her breasts. Plus, it felt decadent, having her breasts massaged by Vanni’s lubricated, warm hands. He rubbed his whiskers gently against the back of her shoulder and she moaned. The slight abrasion in contrast with his squeezing, sliding hands sent a jolt of excitement through her. “You don’t think I’d let these beauties burn, do you?” he asked next to her shoulder, his deep, rough voice a rich seduction. “They’re even paler than the rest of you.”
Emma swallowed thickly. The dancing blue water sparkled in her eyes, entrancing her. She couldn’t think of what to say. She couldn’t think of anything.
“Emma?” he said, and his sharp voice cut through her dazed arousal.
“Yes?”
“You’re holding yourself off me. Stop it.”
She blinked, coming to herself at his hard tone. She realized she’d placed her hands on the outside of his thighs and that her arms were tense.
“Oh,” she said. It wasn’t as if she’d literally been suspended over him, but she had been resisting giving him all her weight. She relaxed her arms, letting herself sink fully against his hard thighs and cock.
“That’s better,” he said, his hands still massaging her breasts. “Why do you always act like my cock is going to burn you or something?”
She heard the focused puzzlement in his tone. It both amazed and aroused her, the way he always spoke of sexual things without a trace of self-consciousness.
“I guess because it does,” she admitted honestly. His massaging hands slowed. She felt him swell beneath her ass. “Not literally, obviously.” She rolled her eyes in frustration at her lame explanation. “I just mean you overwhelm me,” she said, closing her eyes, glad he couldn’t see her scrunched-up face.
“And that’s a bad or good thing?” he asked warily.
Her eyelids sprung open. Had he actually sounded worried? Vanni Montand?
“It’s a very, very good thing,” she assured. “I’m just not used to so much . . . potency.”
He resumed massaging her breasts. She could almost hear him thinking behind her. He rubbed her nipples with his thumb and forefinger, the sensation delicious with the lubrication. She flexed her hips into his cock and whimpered.
The moment felt very ripe with sensuality—the hot sun beating down on them, his cock growing erect beneath her ass, his big, warm hands massaging her bare breasts; but there was a tenderness to the unfolding seconds as well, a breathless fragility. She’d sensed a crack in his golden, rigid armor and realized that despite all his effortless confidence, he wasn’t all that different from her.
“Vanni?” she asked quietly, not looking around, but hyperaware
Similar Books
