Su-Lin shook her head to clear it, realized when he frowned what she’d done and smiled. “You move so fast you make me dizzy.”
He shifted and dropped a kiss on her forehead and tightened the arm wrapped around her waist.
Resting her cheek on his chest, she traced the pattern of the gold medal he always wore. As the engraving came into focus, she lifted her head.
“Is this real?” She fingered the pendant.
“Hmm.”
“You competed in the Olympics? And won gold?”
His sensuous mouth pursed, but he didn’t open his eyes.
“Terrence,” she coaxed, tapping a finger on his breastbone. “Tell me. I can live the experience through you. What was it like? How did you deal with the pressure? I have a million questions.”
Lips curling at the corners, he said, in a perfect imitation of Harry’s sexy drawl, “Sugar, that’ll cost you a bunch of sweet kisses.”
She giggled and peppered light pecks and soft, openmouthed kisses all over his rib cage. His skin held the tang of sweet navel oranges, and she surrendered to temptation and licked him.
“You taste of oranges and smoke, and…” she said, sniffed, then continued, “cinnamon?”
“As Harry would say, bull’s-eye, darlin’, you should be in the perfume industry. How’d you get the cinnamon bit?”
“I can smell it. Is it some oil?”
“A family in the village where I grew up makes this special orange-cinnamon soap. I’ve always used it.”
The down comforter he’d wrapped both of them in slipped off one shoulder, and he tucked it into place.
“I’ve never been on the sea before this trip, and I never, ever imagined I’d be here on this luxurious yacht with a naked Norseman.”
“Norseman?” He chucked her chin, and one corner of his mouth lifted.
“That’s what I thought when I first saw you, that you were a Norse god and I’d dreamed you up.”
“I am a fricking genius, darlin’.”
“You are. Only a genius could design such a perfect balcony. No one can see us, but we have this magnificent view of the endless, eternal Mediterranean. We can feel the cool dawn breeze on our faces and smell the mysteries the sea holds -- fish, salt, the tackiness. You are a genius.” Su-Lin admired the deft movements of Terry’s long fingers as he twisted the wire holding the champagne’s cork free.
“No, little aphrodisiac, I’m a genius because I drank a fifth of scotch, we’re about to drink Tattinger’s finest champagne, and I may just be able to resist pounding into that sweet glove of yours.”
“Is it going to feel as good as when you licked me? As when I did you there?”
“You mean my wondrous weapon?” He chuckled and rested the pad of his thumb on the pulse at her neck, which thumped faster. “Where on God’s green isle did you hear such a phrase?”
A white seagull waltzed around a smoky pelican flapping to the sea’s surface, and their squawks and calls drew attention to their elegant dance. As they watched, the sun’s rays captured the seagull’s pristine feathers, and with his outstretched wings and bent head, the bird morphed into a miniature angel radiating a supernatural light.
“Dad’s collection of books included an illustration of the sexual arts. When I came across it, I was teaching myself Mandarin, so I translated every word. The man’s penis was called a wondrous weapon.”
“Mmm, you speak Mandarin?” he asked and separated the comforter to expose her breasts. “I’ve dreamed about these nipples since that morning in the steam room.”
He used both hands, fingers circling the firm undersides of her breasts, and she melted and arched her neck when teeth grazed the curve of her shoulder. Lips and tongue trailed hot and moist up to her clavicle, scalding flesh and sending sparks to her curling toes.
Restless, energized, she rubbed her bottom against his arousal. How it excited her to see him hard and pulsing. Su-Lin opened her eyes, and there his cock stood, erect, ruby red, and proud, poking
He shifted and dropped a kiss on her forehead and tightened the arm wrapped around her waist.
Resting her cheek on his chest, she traced the pattern of the gold medal he always wore. As the engraving came into focus, she lifted her head.
“Is this real?” She fingered the pendant.
“Hmm.”
“You competed in the Olympics? And won gold?”
His sensuous mouth pursed, but he didn’t open his eyes.
“Terrence,” she coaxed, tapping a finger on his breastbone. “Tell me. I can live the experience through you. What was it like? How did you deal with the pressure? I have a million questions.”
Lips curling at the corners, he said, in a perfect imitation of Harry’s sexy drawl, “Sugar, that’ll cost you a bunch of sweet kisses.”
She giggled and peppered light pecks and soft, openmouthed kisses all over his rib cage. His skin held the tang of sweet navel oranges, and she surrendered to temptation and licked him.
“You taste of oranges and smoke, and…” she said, sniffed, then continued, “cinnamon?”
“As Harry would say, bull’s-eye, darlin’, you should be in the perfume industry. How’d you get the cinnamon bit?”
“I can smell it. Is it some oil?”
“A family in the village where I grew up makes this special orange-cinnamon soap. I’ve always used it.”
The down comforter he’d wrapped both of them in slipped off one shoulder, and he tucked it into place.
“I’ve never been on the sea before this trip, and I never, ever imagined I’d be here on this luxurious yacht with a naked Norseman.”
“Norseman?” He chucked her chin, and one corner of his mouth lifted.
“That’s what I thought when I first saw you, that you were a Norse god and I’d dreamed you up.”
“I am a fricking genius, darlin’.”
“You are. Only a genius could design such a perfect balcony. No one can see us, but we have this magnificent view of the endless, eternal Mediterranean. We can feel the cool dawn breeze on our faces and smell the mysteries the sea holds -- fish, salt, the tackiness. You are a genius.” Su-Lin admired the deft movements of Terry’s long fingers as he twisted the wire holding the champagne’s cork free.
“No, little aphrodisiac, I’m a genius because I drank a fifth of scotch, we’re about to drink Tattinger’s finest champagne, and I may just be able to resist pounding into that sweet glove of yours.”
“Is it going to feel as good as when you licked me? As when I did you there?”
“You mean my wondrous weapon?” He chuckled and rested the pad of his thumb on the pulse at her neck, which thumped faster. “Where on God’s green isle did you hear such a phrase?”
A white seagull waltzed around a smoky pelican flapping to the sea’s surface, and their squawks and calls drew attention to their elegant dance. As they watched, the sun’s rays captured the seagull’s pristine feathers, and with his outstretched wings and bent head, the bird morphed into a miniature angel radiating a supernatural light.
“Dad’s collection of books included an illustration of the sexual arts. When I came across it, I was teaching myself Mandarin, so I translated every word. The man’s penis was called a wondrous weapon.”
“Mmm, you speak Mandarin?” he asked and separated the comforter to expose her breasts. “I’ve dreamed about these nipples since that morning in the steam room.”
He used both hands, fingers circling the firm undersides of her breasts, and she melted and arched her neck when teeth grazed the curve of her shoulder. Lips and tongue trailed hot and moist up to her clavicle, scalding flesh and sending sparks to her curling toes.
Restless, energized, she rubbed her bottom against his arousal. How it excited her to see him hard and pulsing. Su-Lin opened her eyes, and there his cock stood, erect, ruby red, and proud, poking
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