Passions Prologue
By Dana Keylits
Chapter Eleven: Seduction
She'd rolled onto her tummy and untied her bikini top, and that was my undoing.
We'd long ago put away the umbrella and our books, opting for the sun's warming rays and an afternoon nap instead. After lathering more sunscreen on each other (with deviously wandering hands), I'd reclined on my back, she on her stomach.
But, now, she was topless. I mean, she was lying on top of her bikini, but it wasn't attached to her anymore.
And, it was driving me crazy.
My belly contracted as my thoughts turned to the forbidden things that I wanted to do to her, where I wanted to touch her, how I wanted to kiss her, and lick her, and suck her, and bite her. And, I had to close my eyes because the images racing on an infernal loop in my head were so overwhelming that it was necessary to block out the incongruous sights around me.
Until, I opened one eye and peeked at her again, that is.
Her head was turned away from me, her wavy black hair swept up in a messy bun, her arms resting above her in an interrupted circle. Her fingers were gently tapping against the blanket, evidently in time to some silent score that only she could hear. My eyes, of their own disobedient accord, traveled to the smooth, perfect curve of her breast and I wanted to reach out and touch it, slide my finger beneath her body, wishing that I could lean in and take the delicious chocolate drop nipple that I knew was smashed against the blanket, into my mouth, roll it around my tongue, nibble at it with my teeth, and then suck.
Hard.
Instead, I stared at her mutely, my fingers wandering to the wanting place between my legs, shielded from public view by my bent knees and the towel that I had had the good sense to drape across my pelvis.
I needed to relieve the ache, if only for just for a second.
I closed my eyes, imagining it was her graceful hand gliding over my bathing suit, pressing against my soft mound, tempering the throbbing and pulsing need that was growing exponentially by the second. I imagined her finger slipping beneath the wet fabric, finding my hardened bundle of nerves, sliding lower, entering me with the hushed cunning of a thief at midnight.
When I opened my eyes to look at her again, I was startled to find her staring at me, a wicked smile on her face.
She'd seen me. She knew exactly what I was doing.
And, surely, she knew why.
She opened her mouth, her smile growing wider, revealing a flawless row of brilliantly white teeth. "Kate," she whispered.
A shard of pleasure so random, so sharp, it almost hurt, exploded through my belly and all I could do was exhale.
Slowly.
I blinked. And, then I watched her, my lips parted, my breath panting, as she took the pillow and held it in front of her. With a quirk of her eyebrow she slowly raised herself onto her elbows, her breasts coming off the blanket, exposed to me, her nipples soft and flaccid, just waiting for my tongue, my fingers, to coax them to life.
I couldn't breathe, or think, or speak. I just stared at her beauty, her swollen perfect breasts, her rounded mouth, her mocha skin. I might even have been whimpering, I'm not entirely certain because all I could hear in that space and time were the red and white cells in my blood rushing past my ears as they coursed through my veins on their way to, or from, my pounding heart.
Perhaps they were whimpering too.
I watched as thousands of goose-bumps rippled on her flesh like acres of growing wheat waving against an autumn breeze, and her nipples started to pucker and stiffen. My gaze rose to hers, looking at her from behind the fan of lashes that framed my hazel eyes, and I could see that she was moved by my temporary paralysis.
"Kate," she whispered again, her eyes glancing at my hand. The one between my legs. The one that was now circling my clit from over the polyester of my suit, which I could feel, even from behind the barrier of fabric, was hard, ready, aroused.
"I-, ah," was all I could offer. She looked around, the beach was still populated, but no one seemed to be looking in our direction, and the group of Frisbee yielding boys who had catcalled at us earlier were gone. She inched closer to me and then snaked her hand past my bare belly, covering my hand, pressing against it beneath the safety of the towel that was preventing us from performing an adult oriented show right there on the beach. I could feel her bare breast as it pushed against my shoulder, and a violent shudder rippled through me.
She put her lips to my ear. "Let me," she instructed, her breath warm and seductive. I pulled my hand away.
She dove beneath my bathing suit, her fingers spreading my outer lips and expertly sliding flat against my wet, pulsing clit, circling quickly. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I was afraid I might scream, so unexpected, so sharp, was the sensation of her fingertips against me.
It took only fifty-three seconds.
Fifty-three seconds and I was riding the wave, crashing against her hand, my hips circling, her name an unspoken whisper stuck in my throat. She kept her hand there, patiently riding out the aftershocks of my sudden orgasm, her breaths quick and short against my ear, her nipple hard on my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to gaze at her, my pupils dilated, my vision hazy. I didn't need to say or do anything, she knew my body now, knew what she had to do, knew how to bring me down, gently, calmly, with care and attention. And, as she pulled her hand away, her fingers gently tripping along my infused flesh, I straightened my legs in front of me and stretched, mewling like a newborn kitten.
But, I wasn't satiated. Not in the least, and she could see it in my eyes, the hunger, the want, and it made her blush. I dropped my gaze to her teardrop breast, the dark berry of her nipple, and my lips parted involuntarily, whispering, "I want."
She raised an eyebrow, smiling at me with a bewitching ascent of her lips. "What, Kate?" She purred. "What do you want?"