The Bikini Diaries (5 page)

The second his tongue pressed at her lips, she parted them and met it with her own. Her

arms circled his neck as his palms curved over her hips, pulling her to him. Oh God, he

was completely erect now, his erection pressing intently at her lit—and she felt it

everywhere,
her whole body tensing with a thrill of hot, rigid pleasure. She kissed him harder, instinctively, and his hands dropped to her ass, molding, squeezing.

And just like back on the dance floor, she waited for something to happen, some odd

feeling of revulsion, or just plain wrongness, because she'd never slept with a stranger before— she'd never even made out with a stranger at a party or anything like that; her

life simply hadn't gone that way. Hell, she'd never
thought
of herself as prim, but maybe her actions didn't always reflect the woman she was inside. Maybe she'd let fear or

propriety or appearances rule her life in some ways up to now.

But tonight, right now, she was completely ready for this, completely ready for
him,
her hot stranger. And she heard herself whispering up into his ear as his kisses spanned her neck, as his cock pressed into the juncture of her thighs. "I'm so glad you like bad girls."

Because that was what she was, at least tonight, for him. She'd never felt hungrier,

nastier, or more ready for down-and-dirty sex.

So it surprised the hell out of her when Brandon pulled back slightly to cast a sexy yet scolding grin. "You're not a bad girl, honey—you're a sweetheart."

Damn it, she was
so
a bad girl. How, after the way she'd flirted and come to the beach with the clear intention of having sex, could he think she was sweet? She drew back a

little more and looked down at herself. "Since when do sweet girls dress like
this?"
The inner slopes of her breasts were displayed and the dress hugged her every curve. "Since when do they meet a guy and leave a bar with him fifteen minutes later?"

But Brandon just chuckled, his hands still resting on her hips. "It's not about what you're wearing. It's in your eyes, your voice, the way you talk." He gave his head a challenging tilt. "If you want to convince me you're a bad girl, you'll have prove it."

Wendy drew in her breath, prepared to do just that. She hadn't come this far, taken this many daring personal risks, to let her dream lover tell her she was sweet. "What if I said,

'Fuck me—now'?" She tried her damnedest to put a bite in the words.

His eyes glazed with lust as he answered, low and deep. "I'd say that your wish is my command—but that even sweet girls like to fuck."

So he was going to be insufferable about the sweet issue. But her pussy was too engorged with lust to keep worrying about that part. So she moved on to what was more important

at the moment and, again, tried to sound as naughty and demanding as possible as she

said, "Then
fuck me. Now."

I didn't know
until that
moment that it was about more than just fucking a hot guy. I

didn't know that there was so much inside me dying to come out. But Brandon was the

perfect guy to
let it
all come out with, because he was everything I'd ever wanted in a

fantasy lover. And I knew that before the night was
through, I
would prove
it. If not to
him, then
at least to myself.

I am a bad girl.

I am a very bad girl

Chapter 3

Brandon led her up through the soft white sand to the beach cabanas directly in front of the building where he occupied the twenty-second-floor penthouse condo. Convenient

because he happened to know these particular cabanas came with large wooden lounge

chairs covered with thick, upholstered mats. He chose the cabana on the end—a half-tent-

like structure with two chairs jutting from inside—because it was the easiest to reach, and with his little sandbar trip, he'd managed to turn himself impatient. He loved this beach like he loved little else, and he simply enjoyed "playing" here, along with the opportunity to share it with someone new, but he'd been a damn fool to waste time in the water—time

he could have spent in
her.

It had hit him when he'd looked up to see those shapely, slender thighs, her sexy dress

flirting with the very tops of her legs. She was beautiful and willing, so what the hell was he waiting for?

Turning to face her, he kissed her again, tasted those sweet, moist lips, let his tongue ease inside. Neither of them wanted to go slow here—he knew that—so he curled his hands

over her sweet round ass and pressed his hard cock directly to her slit. He could feel it, even through her clothes, that slight indentation he knew led to heaven.

When he began to grind against her, she moaned into his mouth and made his chest

contract. Still kissing her, warm, their tongues mating, he let his palms glide up her back, the top bared by her sexy dress—then drew one hand around to her breast. They both

moaned as he molded his hand to the soft, pliable flesh—so big in his hand—and raked

his thumb across the pebble-hard nipple.

Without quite planning it, he found himself pinching it then, just lightly, because he liked how damn hard it felt already and had the urge to make it harder still. She whimpered and sighed against his mouth—until she was leaning her head back, until his kisses drifted

down over her neck, onto the silky skin of her chest. Ah, shit, he loved her cleavage and quickly found himself kissing his way down the inner curve of one soft, ample breast,

listening to her breath grow labored—and wanting more of her.

He could have reached behind her neck and untied the dress to let the top part drop down, but he was suddenly too impatient—so he used his hand to push the fabric aside, baring

one lovely tit in the moonlight. He instantly massaged and caressed, studying the large

pink areola, the beautifully long, turgid nipple at its center. He lasted only a few seconds before taking it in his mouth to suck.

Above him, her whimpery moans increased as he licked and sucked that gorgeous tit. He

ran his tongue around it, simply liking how rigid and pearllike it felt—then he drew it in deep, wanting to make it still longer and harder. Her fingers were in his hair, her breath warmed the back of his neck. He pushed his hand beneath the fabric covering her other

breast and massaged the flesh firmly in rhythm with his suckling.

The truth was—Brandon, like most guys, loved breasts! and he could have stood there

enjoying hers for a long while without complaint. But he sensed that Wendy wanted to go

faster— not only from the 'Fuck me now,' but from the way her body moved, the

desperate little cries coming from her throat—and he wanted to give her what she needed.

Not
too
fast, though. No, a woman this hot was something to savor, something to be enjoyed.

So, with some effort, he released her stiffened nipple from his mouth and forced himself to let go of her body and back away a few feet.

She looked surprised until he said, "Untie it. Let it fall."

Slowly, without ever taking her eyes from him, she reached up beneath her hair and

pulled at the fabric. A second later, the top of the dress dropped to her waist.

The groan he emitted rose from his gut. He had no idea why, given that, at thirty-six, he'd seen plenty of topless women in his life. But something about her... she just looked so

gorgeous, so vulnerable, so sexual, so many things at once. Her tits were not the kind you saw in
Playboy—but
they were real. Round. Big. And beautiful.
She
was beautiful.

"Lie down," he finally said, firmly, pointing to the lounge chair a few feet away.

She didn't hesitate, but padded across the sand to recline on the thick padding. She

propped on her elbows to look at him, fire in her eyes.

"Now pull up your dress. Slowly," he warned, thinking of the view he'd had of her in the ocean when she'd been wading out to meet him.

She obeyed the instruction silently, reaching down to pinch a bit of fabric near the hem and delicately beginning to ease it higher, higher.

"That's right," he said, low, his heart beating so hard that his chest ached. "Keep going."

She did, lifting the orangy fabric higher still—until revealing her panties. A strip of dark lace circled her hips and a tiny swatch of black descended over her pussy. She looked

beautifully erotic wearing only the tiny scrap of underwear, her dress in a heap at her

waist.

"Now spread your legs for me."

Again, she obeyed, spreading wide, planting her feet on either side of the chair. And even in the dark, even through black panties, he thought she looked swollen with excitement.

At the end of the chair, he dropped to his knees in the sand, intent on having more of her.

Wendy tried to control her breathing, but it was hard. She'd never been so aroused in her life. And she'd never been with a man who told her to spread her legs before, either.

Something about the command, and her acquiescence, had her nearly orgasmic already.

Her pussy felt so needy, drenched with want.

She watched as Brandon bent down to kiss her through her thong, and her whole body

shivered at the mouth-to-cunt contact.

Her uncontrolled response made him wild—he opened his mouth and gently bit down on

as much of her as he seemed able to get in his mouth, making her cry out.

His eyes on her shone glassy with lust in the moonlight, and when they drifted to her

breasts, she realized she'd absently started teasing her nipples between her thumbs and

forefingers for added sensation. "That's
so
hot," he growled.

"I
told
you I was a bad girl."

He only grinned, even if a bit wickedly, and when Brandon curled the fingers of both

hands into the lacy strip just above her pussy, her stomach contracted, her whole body

seizing with pleasure. "Lift," he said, somehow making even that one tiny word among the sexiest commands she'd ever heard.

Bringing her feet back up onto the chair, she raised her ass and waited as he gently peeled the tiny panties away. As soon as they were gone, she didn't hesitate to dig her toes back in the sand where they had been, spreading for him again, boldly putting her freshly

shaven cunt on full, open display.

His low moan said he liked the move. And as a salty breeze washed over her most

sensitive flesh, as she watched Brandon lean closer, closer, she knew without doubt that her experiment was
not
a failure, that her experiment had truly turned her into what she'd wanted to be: a very bad girl.

When his tongue raked upward through her slit, she trembled once more, a loud moan

escaping her. And then the breeze was back, wafting across where he'd left her even

wetter than she'd been, to send a delightful, oh-so-sensual chill through her whole body.

His mouth returned then, licking—through her parted pussy lips and up over her

engorged clit, making her sob, again, again. The stubble on his chin moving across the

smooth skin she'd shaved only hours earlier created still more sensation.

"You taste so good, baby," he rasped against her mound. "Such a hot, sweet little pussy."

"I want you in it,"
she said through lightly clenched teeth. Then raised back to her elbows to look at his handsome face. "Do you have... ?"

"Of course."

"Give it to me."

Wendy wasn't usually very aggressive during sex. But she wasn't usually having sex with

a guy as insanely hot as Brandon, either. As he rose to reach into his back pocket, she sat upright on the lounge chair and pressed the flat of her palm to the front of his shorts.

Again, they both moaned. She'd never felt anything so incredibly hard in her life. And he felt
big,
too. She couldn't help starting to work at his zipper, anxious to get to his cock.

Beneath his shorts she found silk boxers and didn't hesitate to reach through the opening in front to extract what waited inside.

Glancing down, she found her hand wrapped around the most magnificent male

appendage she'd ever had the pleasure of beholding. Rock solid and arrow straight, it had to be eight inches long. The width filled her hand so well that she couldn't even come

close to making her fingertips meet her thumb. She gasped with pure awe as she watched

a dot of pre-come gather at the end and her chest seemed to stretch with raw desire.

"Here," he breathed, thrusting a condom into her free hand. She released him, but found herself shaky trying to get it open.

God
—
calm down. Don't freak out and ruin this.

But she was so excited that she could barely stand waiting another second.

Be like White Bikini Babe. Be cool Seductive. Smooth. Be his fantasy lover, too.

Okay, that helped. At least she slowed down and managed to grip the condom between

her fingers without dropping it in the sand. She took a deep breath, positioned it at the tip of his hard-on, and began to roll it tightly down. And in that moment, she discovered that as much as she'd liked feeling his sense of control over her a few minutes ago, now
she
wanted some control, too. And he made her a confident-enough woman to take it.

Now that he was sheathed, she pressed her palms to the shirt covering his chest and

shoved him flat onto his back in the sand. He went down with a small groan, clearly not

expecting the move, but she didn't apologize. Instead, she straddled his hips on the beach and yanked his shirt open hard, actually sending buttons flying. "Shit," he muttered, but in a way that meant he liked it. She liked surprising him.

Without another second's delay, Wendy curled her hand back around his cock and this