Page 33 of Hula Girl

I turn to face him. “I, uh, normally wouldn’t pay for a place like this,” I say. “I—”

“I’m not judging you, Hula Girl,” he says with a crooked smile.

“It’s just, I didn’t grow up with this kind of … luxury.”

He leans in and kisses me. “A self-made woman,” he says in between more kisses. “I’m impressed.”

My discomfort at appearing like a wealthy tourist taking advantage of a local fades away when he holds my face in his hands. He kisses away any other thoughts. We fall naturally into a rhythm, our tongues doing a synchronized dance.

Earlier, he had promised to fuck me hard, but that doesn’t seem to be his plan now. Not with the way he’s taking his time in kissing me.

Justkissing me.

Kissing me until I’ve completely surrendered to every little nuance of the way his lips and tongue command my own. I’ve had glimpses of this kind of sensuality from him before, but this is the first time it’s been sustained. This doesn’t have the same raw intensity as our first time at his place or even earlier in his truck. Those times had been all about need. We’d aggressively taken from each other in the heat of the moment.

It’s different now. Purposeful, as if he wants to enjoy and prolong every second.

There’s something that both thrills and terrifies me about that.

I pull away from him, trying to get a handle on what I’m feeling.

As if he can see my struggle, he uses fingers under my chin to lift my eyes to meet his. “Don’t get lost in that head of yours, honey,” he says.

I attempt a playful arch of an eyebrow. “No?”

“No. Because I want every bit of you right now.”

He emphasizes this by grabbing my ass in a firm squeeze. This gets us back to the surface-level sexual gratification I’m more comfortable with. But when he twists me around quickly and pulls my hair away from my neck, planting slow kisses on the sensitive skin there, we’re back into slow sensual mode.

I soon find, however, that this is the kind of speed I can get lost in. He’s taking his time, yes, but he’s doing it in such a way that he’s building layer upon layer of arousal in me. Trailing his mouth over the back and side of my neck, his lips and tongue graze against me gently at first. But then he kisses become hungrier, more possessive. He uses his teeth with each kiss as if wanting to consume me. He slips the straps of my dress and bra off one shoulder, and I try to turn to him, anxious for the heat of his mouth on mine but he’s not done devouring me yet. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he pulls my head back with enough force for me to let out a gasp as he winds his greedy kisses over my shoulder, neck, and ear, sucking and biting my skin along the way. In a tease, he uses his other hand to briefly squeeze my breasts at the same time that he quickly brushes his lips against mine. He’s got all the control and I’m completely in his thrall, melting into him as he shows me just how well he can make me his.

And then he pulls away, leaving me panting and desperate for his touch once more.

“Bedroom?” he says.

I’m ridiculously eager to lead him to the other room.

The bedroom has the same hardwood floors and stunning views of the ocean. There’s a king-size bed with sumptuous white bedding and forest-green accent pillows, a fine chest of drawers, and a settee. The lamps on either side of the bed provide soft lighting.

He sits on the side of the bed and gives me a crooked grin. “Nice view.”

I’m standing in front of him with the windows behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see that the whitewash of waves is just visible under the waning full moon.

“Not that,” he says.

I turn back and see that he’s leaning on his hands, watching me appreciatively.

“Oh,” I say softly.

I realize this is my cue to undress for him. Though my dress could fit in at a club, it’s actually made of soft jersey cotton and is easy to pull off over my head. I hadn’t brought sexy matching panties and bra sets on this trip, but at least what I’m wearing is decent enough. The black cotton thong and black satin demi-bra on my otherwise naked body seems to please him, though, because he sits up.

“Yes, Ireallylike the view,” he says.

“This?” I ask with mock innocence as I turn a slow circle for him.

“Hell, yeah,” he says in a moan and pulls me to him so I’m standing in between his legs.

Using the back of his hand, he strokes the swell of my breasts and I shiver. His touch is gentle and slow, as if reveling in the smoothness of my skin. He uses his other hand to pull, first one strap and then the other off my shoulder. Leaning forward, he presses his mouth to the spot between my breasts at the same time that he reaches around and unclasps my bra. I let him pull it away from me completely and hear it drop to the floor.

---