Exotic Nights

He groaned as he pressed close. ‘Condoms?’

She shook her head.

‘You don’t have any?’ He paused and she shook her head again. Then he grinned. ‘I do.’

Of course he did. She lay still beneath him as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, pulled a small square from inside that and then put it beside her.

‘Quite the Boy Scout.’

He met her snark with an unapologetic look. ‘Accidents are best avoided, don’t you think?’

She nodded. She knew he was right to be prepared—to protect both of them. And then, as he kissed her, she decided his experience was something to celebrate—because nobody had kissed her like this before. No one had known how to turn her on like this. She’d never known such raw lust, or had such an ache for physical fulfilment.

He worked his way down her body, peeling her panties from her, stoking the fire within with caresses and whispers and kisses. Her hands grappled with the fastening of his jeans—she could wait no longer. But he took over, rolling to his back, tearing the denim from his body and quickly sorting the condom. Then he was back, settling over her, and the level of her anticipation almost had her hyperventilating.

He held back for a second, humour twinkling in the dark desire. ‘Happy birthday, Bella.’

She closed her eyes. The first person to actually say it today. And now he was—oh! She gasped. Opened her eyes again—wide.

‘Birthday girls deserve big presents.’ He was watching her closely. ‘That OK?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She squealed as he moved closer and a smile stretched his mouth. Air rushed out from her lungs in jagged segments as her body adjusted to his—to the glorious delight of it.

And then, when she was able to revel in the feel of him, he moved, rolling her over, lifting her so she was sitting astride him while at the same time arching up into her so the connection wasn’t lost.

‘Let me see how beautiful you are, Bella.’

She looked down at him, marvelling that she was astride such magnificence. His chest tabled out before her and she spread her hands over it, leaning forward so she could slide up his length—and back down. Her eyes closed as she slowly hit his hilt again. And then again and again.

Shuddering, she opened her eyes to see him watching, with his head on the big pillows, appreciation apparent as he roved over her body, taking in her reaction. His hands spread wide, sliding up her thighs, lifting to cup her breasts and then take them in a ripe handful.

‘Beautiful Bella,’ he muttered, thumbs stroking. His heat fired her to go faster. And then he moved to match her.

‘Oh, God,’ she gasped. ‘You really are a tiger.’

He growled in response.

Her giggle was lost in another gasp as he moved more, encouraging her to take more. And the sensations grew—overwhelming everything. Until there was nothing left in her mind—no thought, no humour, recognition of nothing but this wild passion that was all-consuming. Tension seared through her, until it could tighten no more, making her body rigid as she was thrust to the brink of madness.

His arms encircled her as he surged up with more force and depth than ever, and his hands clenched, supporting her as her orgasm tore through her, taking her strength with it. But he held her hard, making her face the intensity of it, squeezing every last sensation from her until she screamed with the exquisite pleasure of it.

She collapsed forward onto him, his shout still reverberating in her ears. Every muscle quivered—hot and bubbling, seeming to sing and so sensitive she could hardly believe it. She’d never felt anything like it.

‘In about half an hour or so,’ he murmured as her lids lowered, ‘we’re going to do that again.’

‘And more,’ she mumbled. She had plans for him, oh, yes, she had plans … in about half an hour …

There was a strange buzzing sound. As if an oversized bumblebee had made its way in and was trapped inside. Her warm pillow jerked up. Startled, she rolled away, and he quickly slid from the bed. Blinking rapidly so her eyes adjusted, feeling cold, she watched as he found his jeans. He swore crudely as he struggled to find the right pocket in the dark. The screen cast a cold blue glow on his face. He studied it for a moment, then his fingers pressed buttons, fast, frantic.

He glanced up, distance reflected in his eyes. ‘What a nightmare.’

She wasn’t sure what he was referring to—the message, or the situation. After another minute or so the phone buzzed again. He read the message.

‘I have to go,’ he said, pushing more buttons.

It wasn’t light yet. Not even close. And this was summer in New Zealand when it got light near five a.m. Hell, he was running out in the middle of the night.

‘It’s so early.’