“I think you’re leading me somewhere, Nicolas.”
“Are you accusing me of having ulterior motives?”
Dahlia swam closer. The tips of her breasts swayed enticingly. She looked like an exotic water nymph to him, a siren calling continually. Nicolas loved to answer the call. She was calling to him now, with every movement of her body. Dahlia wasn’t shy, and she wasn’t in the least inhibited about lovemaking. She enjoyed his body every bit as much as he enjoyed hers and she let him know.
He set the glass on the edge of the pool, just out of her reach. She took the bait, holding out a hand to him so he could pull her out of the water. It poured off her body, leaving behind little beads. She lay on her stomach on the thick mat he always left out for her to sun on, reaching for her drink. The action stretched her body, gave him a pleasant view of the round side of her breast and a perfect view of the inviting curve of her bottom. He leaned down lazily and lapped at the water pooling in the small of her back. His hand wandered over the feminine slope of her bottom.
Dahlia smiled. “I love this lemonade.” She shivered under his touch. His tongue dipped into the dimples on her back, his mouth wandered lower. “Hey!” It was a halfhearted protest as his teeth nipped, but she lay still, absorbing the feel of his mouth and hands as he leisurely explored her body, his teeth giving little love bites and his tongue licking along her skin. She closed her eyes and laid her head on her arm, fingers curled around the glass of lemonade.
Nicolas massaged her legs, his fingers kneading her muscles. The sun beat down on her body and the wind touched her gently, adding to the bliss of the moment.
“Turn over, kiciciyapi mitawa.” Nicolas’s voice had the husky note in it, the one she was so familiar with when he called her his heart. That single note could turn her entire body to instant liquid heat.
She kept her eyes closed. “If I turn over, you’re going to have your wicked way with me. I rather like lying here, knowing how much you want me.”
He leaned over her, kissed the nape of her neck, blazed a trail of kisses along her spine. “I’m going to have my wicked way with you no matter what.”
“Are you now?” She shifted, a slow, lazy roll over with his body over hers so that her skin rubbed against his skin. The ache in her breasts grew. The throbbing between her legs became more insistent. His shoulders were wide, blocking out the sun, his eyes black with hunger. She traced his strong jaw with loving fingers. “I have no say in this at all?”
“None,” he declared. “This is all mine.” His face was close to hers, his warm breath teasing her skin. He kissed her, a long, hard kiss that told her his slow, leisurely manner was a facade. He was boiling inside, a volcanic eruption imminent. Deliberately, Dahlia trailed her fingertips over his belly. She smiled as she felt the reaction, his muscles tightening, the long thick length of him hardening even more against her thigh.
He pushed her hands away from him, took her glass of lemonade from her, tilting the glass so that the ice-cold contents splashed on her stomach and raced to her belly button. Immediately he followed the path of the liquid, his tongue swirling over her bare skin, lapping at the underside of her breast, along her ribs, teasing her stomach and navel until her hips writhed beneath him.
His arm clamped over her thighs. “Don’t move. I just want to indulge myself.”
Dahlia lay back, her arms stretched over her head, her body open to his exploration. She loved him in this mood. “Go ahead, who am I to stop your fun.”
He pulled her thighs apart and pushed his hand into her heat. He was a little rough, his hands hard as they massaged her thighs and his fingers pushed through her wet folds, but her body and her heart always wanted more.