She kept it up until her cheekbones threatened to collapse, then she gave him the signal, reaching around his buttocks and parting them wide, which had become their code for ‘you can come now’ when her mouth was full.
Immediately he began to buck and jerk with abandon. She loved to feel his gluteal muscles shifting and rippling under her hands while his cock thrust. She gagged a little but she didn’t mind, eagerly focused on what was to come.
Ah, there it was, the pay-off, the reward. The little salty hit on the roof of her mouth, dripping down her throat. His fingers in her hair. Those sweet, pathetic little noises he made.
She swallowed determinedly and released him, after sliding her tongue all the way up his inner shaft on the way out.
“Mmm, good dessert,” she said.
“Get on your back, Robertson.” There might have been a twinkle in Ben’s eye, but she knew better than to defy him.
She lay down, smiling up at him, feeling every inch the seductress. Her turn now.
The bikini bottoms were off in a jiffy and Ben’s face appeared between her thighs, grinning like the Joker until she had to slap the top of his head and urge him to get on with it.
He didn’t need telling twice. He had a long and flexible tongue and he knew how to use it, probing its tip into every fold and crevice before lapping over the swollen pearl of her clit. He scooped up great mouthfuls of her juices, licking his lips, sighing in appreciation.
When she came, he held her bottom cheeks and squeezed them, as if wanting to coax a stronger orgasm from her by any means available.
She wriggled and jammed her pussy right into his face until the tremors wore off and she was left, sweetly exhausted and at peace, her legs lacking the capacity to move. Ben lay beside her, pressed tight into her side to avoid the gap, and kissed her scented dew back into her mouth.
“Good dessert,” he said, nuzzling her with his nose. “Better than that ice cream.”
“I don’t think that was ice cream, Ben.”
“No? What was it then?”
“Crema catalana. But I don’t think it was meant to be like that. I think it was put in the freezer by accident.”
“Oh, I didn’t realise. It tasted nice, though. Not as nice as you but…sweet.”
They lay back and listened to the sounds of the evening on the Majorcan coast. Crashing waves, voices from the beach, distant music from a restaurant a few yards down the lane.
Vanessa had almost drifted to sleep when the loud blare of a television from the room next door jolted her back to full consciousness. The volume was turned down a second later, but she could still hear a stream of rapid Spanish, then the sound of channels being surfed through music, drama and news stations.
Ben groaned through his hand.
“Do you think she’s okay?”
At Vanessa’s serious tone, Ben turned his head towards her.
“Of course she’s okay. She’s on a summer holiday in a gorgeous villa in Majorca with her best friend and her best friend’s sexy motherfucker of a boyfriend.”
“Shut up, you idiot,” said Vanessa with an involuntary giggle. “I mean—is she okay? You know. Really okay? Not just okay for this fortnight.”
“Apart from having a little bit too much male attention, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with our Lydia. At least she’s finally turned things inside out so that they have to please her, instead of the other way around.”
“Do you think she’s been easy prey?”
“Well, it was easy enough for von Ritter to home in on her, wasn’t it? She rebounded an inch and he took a mile.”
“I don’t think he realised how intense the situation with Milan was.”
“Oh, come on. He knows Milan. Any and every situation involving Milan is record-breaking in its intensity level.”
“Yeah.” She chuckled briefly. “You’re not wrong. So, who’s going to win her hand?”
“I don’t think it’s her hand they’re interested in.”