Page 16 of Impossible Bachelor (Bachelor Tower 2)
“Of course, sir,” the man answers. If he so much as smirks he can kiss his huge tip goodbye. Wisely, he doesn’t.
Kylie looks like she’s holding back a laugh. “I can’t imagine what he thinks is going to happen on this table.”
“I can.” I’m grinning at her like the smitten sap I am and I don’t even care. The man returns with another staff member and a large tray of food. They set it up beside our table and retreat as quickly as they arrived. I’ll make sure they’re well compensated. Later. Right now there is nothing more important than the woman who is smiling and shaking her head like she cannot believe this is happening.
“You’re pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
“No reason not to be. I’m fucking amazing.” I would never say that to a woman who took me seriously. I wave my hand at the food. “Come on, admit it.”
She makes a show of looking from the hanging lights to the plates of steaks. “I’ve been on worse dates.”
“Have you?” I pick a roll off the tray and throw it at her. It bounces off her shoulder.
“Yes.” She picks one up and would have hit me with it if I wasn’t expecting it. I laugh when it flies by. My gloat is cut short when the next roll hits me square in the forehead.
We share a laugh.
“But have you been on better?” I challenge.
There it is—that serious look again. “No,” she says so quietly I wouldn’t have heard her if I hadn’t been listening with every fiber of my being.
We could skip eating and head straight back to the cabin. My stomach growls in protest. I switch out the salad for my plate of steak. Or at least cut down on the courses. I slice into the steak.
She digs into her salad, looking grateful I didn’t make a big deal out of her admission. She’s beginning to open up to me and for now that’s enough.
My steak is delicious. I offer her a bite. She opens her mouth, and I slide the piece in. The look of pleasure on her face has my heart pounding like crazy. I need to hold it together.
I pour a second glass of champagne for each of us. “What is your earliest memory?” I ask, both because I’m curious and because it seems like a topic that would put anyone at ease.
Between bites of salad, she says, “I don’t like to look back.”
“That’s not true. Your screen saver is from your childhood. Your password is too.”
“Okay. Then I guess I prefer to remember specific times in my life, but not my childhood in general.”
“Was it that bad?”
She places her fork down and chugs half her glass of champagne. “It wasn’t good or bad—it was what it was.”
“Is that how you’ve labeled that box?”
“What box?”
“The one you stuffed all of your hurt into?”
She finishes her glass. “I thought we were here to have fun, to relax.”
I stand, take her by the hand, and pull her to her feet. “Come on then.”
She looks wide-eyed and cautious until she realizes I’m leading her to a swing. It’s a simple wood plank and two ropes rigged up over a large branch. “Guaranteed fun.”
“I don’t know—”
“When’s the last time you were on a swing?” If I was certain the staff was gone, I’d suggest we get creative on it, but I’m trying to contain myself to simply return a smile to her face for now.
“I have no idea. But I know I wasn’t old enough to drink champagne.”
“Then you should definitely try it. The end of childhood shouldn’t also be the death of all that was fun from it. Who says there has to be a last time for going down a slide? Climbing a tree? We work too hard to not kick up our heels and laugh now and then. Don’t you agree?”
“On a swing?” She gestures at it, and I can see a flicker of interest. She takes another sip of her champagne before I grab it and place it by the tree. “You sure this is safe?”
“I’ll catch you if it’s not.” I pat the wood plank and watch as she slides on, the twinkling lights making her wide eyes sparkle. After a few tentative pumps she gives in to the momentum and nostalgia. Her head is tipped back. Her long hair flowing nearly to the ground as she leans back.
I go behind her and give a push that sends her soaring. She lets out a squeal and I laugh.
“I forgot how much fun this is.”
“How do you get off?”
She continues to pump while tipping her head to one side. “Excuse me?”
I chuckle. “The swing. Are you the type who lets it come to a natural stop, do you drag your feet to slow it down, or do you jump?”
She doesn’t answer, my guess is because she doesn’t like what her response would reveal. I hold out my arms. “Jump, I’ll catch you.”
“You’re crazy.”
I might be, but only for her.
She shakes her head. “Back up, and I’ll try to jump.”
“Which is it: Do you think I won’t catch you or that I can’t?”
Her silence is telling.
I simply stand there, holding out my arms. She frowns then on her next approach launches herself off the swing and at me. I move to catch her. I stumble beneath the impact of her body against mine and land flat on my ass with her straddling me.
“Are you okay?” she asks in a rush and attempts to stand.
I grab her by the hips and hold her to me. “Never been better.” With a roll, I change our positions so I’m above her. Our kiss is explosive. Her mouth opens to mine as her legs do the same. Our tongues dance, and I slide my throbbing cock back and forth against her hot sex. Dry humping in high school never felt this good.
Her hands are everywhere, grasping my back, slipping beneath my jeans and squeezing my ass. I could come from this alone, but there’s no way I’ll allow myself to miss out on how much better this is going to get.
Just down the path I have a cabin set up for our first time. I tell myself to end the kiss now. That doesn’t stop my hands from sliding up the back of her shirt and releasing the clasp of her bra. Her breasts fill my hands as perfectly as I knew they would.
I ease her up enough so I can whip her sweater over her head then toss her bra to the side. She rips my shirt off as well.
I pause long enough to appreciate the view of her puckered nipples begging for my kisses beneath the light of the moon. I roll onto my back, loving how they dance free above me as I do. She bends so one of her tits is just above my mouth, and I pull her the extra inch closer.
Better. Now my hands are free to explore while I tease her with my teeth and tongue. She arches closer and I tug the sides of her jeans down. When she doesn’t move to assist, I playfully slap her ass. She knows what I want.
She shifts to a position that allows me to slide her jeans along with her panties to her knees. She takes it from there, kicking off her shoes as well as the rest of her clothing.
I take advantage of her spread legs and delve my fingers into the folds of her sex. She’s so wet, so ready. I count to fifty and fight for control. Her mouth is raining hot kisses on my neck. I thrust my middle finger into her while settling my thumb over her clit. It’s a move I learned in college that has served me well many times. If done just right I can reach—
She gasps and clenches around my finger.
Found it. The magical spot that drives women wild. I really don’t know why college courses don’t cover this. The world would be a happier place if all sex started with a better understand of anatomy.
She closes her eyes and braces herself by placing her hands on my chest while I pump my finger up and down, deeper and deeper. I play her clit with the skill of a man who has done his homework on this subject as well.
A beautiful red flush spreads up her chest and she calls out, “Oh, God, Ben, don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
I don’t know what kind of douche she’s been with that would make her think she needs to make that demand, but my intention is to make her come before, during, and after I do. I’m a
gentleman, after all.
Her eyes fly open, and she shudders and whimpers while looking directly into my eyes. It’s so hot my cock aches in my jeans.
The next kiss wipes all thought clear out of my head. There’s no longer technique or counting. She undoes the clasp of my jeans. I lift my hips to allow her to slide them down. She tosses them to the side.
