His lips were gentle and warm, brushing oh-so-slowly over mine, every movement unhurried and sweet; not at all what I'd expected. But eventually, it sank into my addled mind he was biding his time, waiting for me to make the next move. Waiting for me to trust him, to accept that although he was kissing me, I was the one in charge of how far this went.
I began to kiss him back, the roar of the sea seeming to fade as I explored those soft, slightly salty lips, longing to taste him fully, to deepen the kiss. But it wasn't until I tentatively touched the tip of my tongue to his top lip that he welcomed me in. And then he groaned, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, his hands sliding into my hair as he took control...
Oh God... He could kiss, he could
really
kiss, I thought, a split second before I lost all ability to think and just surrendered to the pleasure. And even though this was probably the most awkward position in which I'd ever been kissed, the granite shelf hard beneath my left buttock, my upper body twisted round to face him, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered...
"
Well
," he murmured at last, drawing back to smile at me. "That was rather nice."
"Rath-rather nice?" I echoed, only to find my voice wasn't working at all, the words coming out as a whisper.
His smile widened. "Okay, much better than nice." He hesitated, his gaze still holding mine. "More?"
When I gave a dazed nod, he grinned then, to my astonishment, began lifting and turning me, handling me as though I weighed no more than a small child until finally I was straddled across his lap, my legs around his hips. "That's better," he said solemnly, raising my injured arm and positioning it safely out of the way across his shoulder. "Now I can kiss you properly."
Kiss me
properly
?
But the moment his lips reclaimed mine, I realised he'd been holding back... Ooh, this was good...
Much
too good... I'd heard of being ruined for all other men but I'd never realised it could apply to kissing. I never wanted it to end...
I'd thought Daniel was a great kisser--no, to be fair, he really
had
been a great kisser--but with him it was all part of a carefully co-ordinated performance, a big show to demonstrate his talent. He'd known he was great, and woe betide me if I didn't tell him so on a regular basis.
But Luke... This wasn't a show. This was barely-controlled passion, pure and simple. And if the growing bulge pressing against my inner thigh was anything to go by, the kiss was having just as big an effect on him as it was on me...
"Nah," I gulped when he eventually let me up for air, dropping my forehead against his shoulder. "That first time was just a fluke. You're crap at kissing."
His deep chuckle told me he knew I was lying. "Sorry, out of practice," he said, smoothing back my hair then brushing his mouth against my temple. "I enjoyed it anyway."
"So I see." Still breathless, I pulled back just enough to make it obvious I'd spotted what was going on between his legs then lifted my mischievous gaze to his. "So tell me, Foster. When
did
you last have a shag?"
He gave a snort of laughter, recognising the question Tim had asked when they'd been playing football on the beach. "Actually, it's been quite a while," he admitted, no hint of embarrassment in those amazing blue eyes. Then he grinned. "Why? Are you offering to end my dry spell?"
I stared back, suddenly speechless. Because although I'd been about to laugh it off, tease him a little--no, tease him a lot--then beg him to kiss me some more, now I wanted much more than another kiss. And as I turned to look at the box of condoms still perched on the ledge beside us, I saw his face break into an incredulous smile.
"Babe, you can't be serious.
Here
?"
"Why not?" I gazed at him, the idea taking root, raw desire spreading through my body like forest fire. "I'm young, free and single again, right? I could really use some meaningless sex. You need to get laid--"
"Excuse me?"
"--we've got time to kill. And God, I want you!"
"Now?" He shook his head, looking startled. "No--absolutely not!"
"But we've got protection--"
"You've got an arm injury that's going to need at least ten stitches--"
"Which stops hurting when you kiss me!"
"We're on a small rocky ledge with the sea all around us--"
"You don't want me?" I wailed, growing increasingly desperate.
"Oh, hell..." His deep groan became a laugh. "Of course I want you!" It was his turn to glance down at his groin. "Isn't it obvious? But this is neither the time nor the place. Kissing's one thing--whoa, God!" he added on a yell as I slid my left hand down between us and stroked the bulge in his shorts. "Hey! You're not playing fair!"
"Neither are you," I retorted, taken aback to hear the bold words coming out of my mouth. I hadn't been this assertive in years, I realised, reaching for his waistband. But I was right-handed and trying to prise him free by wriggling the fingers of my left hand beneath the elastic proved to be rather more difficult than I'd imagined...
"Okay, okay--you're killing me, woman!" he gasped at last, and suddenly, his fingers were there too, helping me push away the fabric until his cock sprang into my hand, firm and thick. "Fuck, I can't believe I'm helping you do this."
"Oh boy." I stared down at his cock, rather thrown by its size. It seemed Mother Nature had more than adequately compensated Luke for his lack of height. "Something tells me kissing isn't the only thing you're good at."
He hissed through his teeth as I wrapped my fingers around him, slowly stroking his full length. "I thought you said I was crap at kissing."
"I lied." I watched in fascination as his cock swelled even more beneath my touch, managing to maintain firm pressure as I continued to work up and down but finding it awkward--I'd never before realised how much I relied on my right hand for this. But judging by the noises he was making, his face contorting with pleasure, he wasn't at all disappointed by my clumsy technique.