She’s smooth from head to toe, freshly shaven legs I can’t keep my hands off. Silky from the fluid water we’re in.
Georgia’s hands roam my broad shoulders, fingernails lightly brushing my skin, thumb playing with the dips in my collarbone as her mouth sucks on my tongue.
Why does she feel so good?
Goddamn this hot tub was a good idea.
Georgia moans in my ear when I move her over my swelling shaft, the thin fabric of my trunks and her suit doing nothing to mask the pleasure.
I kiss the side of her neck, licking her wet skin.
Suck the curve of her shoulder.
Palms spread wide, I trail my hands up her ribcage, thumb brushing the undersides of her breasts. Her side boob.
Down her ribcage.
Up her ribcage.
Down her back.
Up her spine, fingers now dallying with the ties of her swimsuit top.
I pause, debating.
Hesitate so long it causes Georgia to stop kissing me and shift back a bit, to look me in the eyes.
“What if…” she whispers uncertainly. “What if we put the roommate and the friendship stuff aside and have fun this weekend without thinking about it?”
Does that mean she wants me to take her top off?
Still watching her, I let my thumb and forefinger pluck the string of her bikini top loose so that it falls away. Work my way to the tie around her neck and release that, too. They were tied in simple bows and it’s easy.
She’s on my lap naked from the waist up, hands in my hair.
Georgie’s lips part when I slowly drag my hands up her stomach and cup her breasts, softly playing with her nipples. She tips her head to the side, watching me.
Gorgeous.
Inhales a breath when I pull her forward so I can take one in my mouth and suck, the hands in my hair now plowing through the strands, her nails raking into my scalp.
She moves her hips, dry-fucking me and eventually causing the water around us to slosh.
We kiss.
I cup her breasts and tease her nipples.
We kiss.
I run my hands all over her smooth, wet skin.
We kiss until the timer in the hot tub goes off and the water goes dark and only the lights from the city shine onto the balcony.
My dick is solid as a rock, and I can’t say I’ve ever been more excited to be making out but not shagging—I feel like a teenager at a party. I feel like an adult on a holiday with my bird, though she’s not even close to being my girlfriend.
Eventually, Georgie pulls back and climbs off. “I’m getting cold.” Leans in to kiss me once more, this peck more chaste.
She stands in the middle of the hot tub skimming the water for her bikini top, which has sunk to the bottom.
“I’m going to rinse off.” She yawns. “Then you wanna…watch TV in bed?”
The question is asked as she climbs out, arse practically in my face, a little glance over her shoulder as water drips from her body, her index finger hooking her bottoms to pull them out of her crack.
Do I wanna watch TV in bed?
Does a frog bump his arse when he hops?
Georgia disappears through the sliding doors, and soon I hear the water running in the shower.
Everything about this evening so far has been unexpected: the weird mood at the restaurant, the game in the water, the make-out session I never could have predicted.
You could have bet me five million dollars in the casinos downstairs that she would kiss me, and I would have bet against you and lost my arse over and over and over again.
I hoist myself out of the water, shoving my soggy swim trunks down over my hips then hanging them over the hot tub to drip dry. Pad into the room wet since we didn’t think to bring towels outside.
Luckily, the room has a vanity stocked with several fluffy white towels, and I snag one, wrapping it around my waist.
Patiently, I wait for Georgia to finish rinsing so I can take my turn—the last thing I want to do is climb into the bed smelling like chlorine.
Climb into bed and watch telly…
Is that all we’re going to do? My hands were just all over her tits for Christ’s sake, and now we’re going to sit and watch the telly?
I give the bed a cursory glance as Georgia walks back out the bathroom door, a puff of steam after her.
“It’s all yours, sir.”
She’s wrapped in a plush white robe with the hotel logo emblazoned on it, and she’s wearing matching slippers. I can’t help watching her for a few moments before heading into the shower as she goes to her suitcase and peers inside.
Surely she’ll be in her usual t-shirt and shorts when I reemerge. And surely there’ll be a pillow barricade erected on the mattress with all the decorative pillows, too—the fact that we made out and I felt her boobs means nothing when it comes to bedding down, this much I know.