Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Daphne
" T his is one of mine," I say. "One I didn't tell you." My eyes stay on the people around the pool. A few couples. A pod of single men staring at a topless woman like they can't believe they're seeing breasts. Three European women sunning on lounge chairs without a care in the world.
His eyes stay on me. I don't even have to look at him to tell. I can feel the intensity of his gaze. The heat. The desire he has for me and me alone.
I've never felt like that with someone else, as if I'm the only woman in their universe. No, the only person in their universe.
There are topless women here, but he'd rather look at me.
I swallow hard and continue, "It happens at your house. Your parents' house. I come out in my swimsuit and I strip for you and you take me right there, on one of the lounge chairs. We're alone because everyone else is asleep. I could do that here. Part of it." I can't have my way with him in front of everyone. But I can strip. I can tease him. I can.
"We can do it at my parents' place," he says. "I know their schedules. I know which mornings the house is empty."
No. There's not enough time. I'll be gone by the time we get the house free, but I don't want to say that, so I focus on what I can do. "There's a pool in your backyard. We can do it there."
"Is that what you want?" His eyes meet mine. "To wait. Do this here?"
"No. I want to try what you said. Or will we… will we get in trouble for touching?"
"We'll have to find out." He says it without a hint of concern.
"Wouldn't an arrest for indecent exposure ruin your career?" I ask.
"Probably," he says. "But I have self-control."
"Are you sure?" I ask.
"Is that a dare?" A teasing tone drops into his voice.
I want to answer it. But I want to be smart too. "No. It's practicality."
He slows. Softens. Holds me a little closer. "We're at a hotel. It will take ten minutes to find our way into a room."
"What if that's too long?"
"I'll make it work," he says.
I nod okay . I can do this. I want to do this. I take what I need from the duffel bag and offer it to him.
His fingers brush mine as he grabs the strap. There's an intimacy to that. An intimacy different than the one we're about to pursue. In some ways, it's deeper, scarier.
We move to the dressing room. I slip into the women's section, change out of my clothes, and into the hot pink bikini, and I pull my shorts over the bottom.
When I meet Jackson outside, he's wearing trunks, only trunks. He slips his button-up shirt over my shoulders.
I hold the edges together, covering my body with the linen, and I move to one of the lounge chairs. We're at the edge of the pool, close to security, far from the single guys.
The men notice me anyway. All three of them. They're a little older, in their thirties, but they have a youthful energy. Old college friends trying to reclaim their glory days. The sort of guys who want to go drinking and talk about the topless women they saw. The sort of guys who go to strip clubs and get lap dances together.
Jackson follows my gaze. He leans in close enough to whisper. "Do you like them watching you?"
"I like part of it." I just barely blush. I'm comfortable enough to talk to him. To trust him. But I am still on display at this strange semi-private pool. "Other parts… I don't know what to expect. It makes me nervous."
"Do you trust me?" he asks.
I nod. "You already asked."
"Yes, you trust me with this, and that means a lot."
It does.
He continues, "Do you trust me to handle the situation if it gets complicated. If a guy creeps you out? Or gets too close?"
There's no question in my mind. Of course, I trust him. Of course, he can handle it. "I do."
"Then let me handle it. I'll take care of you. I promise."
Despite the sexual nature of the promise, I feel his concern in my head and my heart too.
I want to be someone who can surrender to love and care, who can let it wash all over her.
I want to let myself love him and let him love me.
But this is as close as I can get, and, well—
This is pretty fucking good.
I whisper back, "Okay. Can we still do the traffic light?"
"Of course." He presses his lips to my neck. "Whatever you need."
Perfect. I soak in the sensation of his lips on my neck for a moment. The soft brush of his flesh. The hint of moisture. The warmth of his breath.
He kisses me a little harder.
A little lower.
I want to close my eyes and surrender to it. But I want to tease him back more. I sit on a green lounge chair. I place his shirt behind me, and I look up at him. "Can you help with sunscreen?"
"Of course." He pulls the lotion from the bag and sets it on the ground next to the chair.
He sits behind me and spreads lotion over my shoulders. He works from the outside to the inside, his finger sliding under the straps of my bikini top.
He moves down my left arm.
Then, down my right.
Then the upper back.
The spot under the bikini strap.
The lower back.
Jackson reaches around my front, undoes the button of my shorts, and rolls them down my hips.
My body hums from the friction. From the tease. From the touch.
My nerves fade into desire.
My breaths run together.
My world because this perfect blend of his touch and my response.
He rubs lotion into the space above my bikini bottoms. Above my ass, then over my hips, then the spot right at my pelvis.
He pulls my body into his, so he's straddling me from behind, so I can feel his hard cock against my flesh, and he keeps those same slow, gentle motions as he works his way up my stomach.
He doesn't say a word. He just holds my body against his, holds my ass against his cock, as if there's really no need to discuss the situation.
As if he can wait there, hard and wanting, forever.
Maybe he can.
His touch stays endlessly patient as he works his way down my font body.
My shoulders.
Neck.
Collarbones.
Cleavage.
Then, when everything that isn't covered by fabric is covered by sunscreen, he squeezes lotion onto his fingers and slips his hand into my bikini top.
Relief floods my body. I need his touch here. I need it everywhere, but I really need it here.
My back arches. My thighs shake. My head falls into the crook of his neck.
I bite my lip so I won't moan. So I won't alert the entire pool to how much I want him.
But it's hard.
I really fucking want him.
He rubs lotion into my breast with those same slow, gentle movements. Then he applies another squirt of lotion, and he does the same with my other breast.
My eyes go to the men in the back. One of them is watching with interest. As if he wants to be the one spreading lotion. As if he wants to join us.
How would it feel to invite someone to watch? To demand someone watch?
There is a thrill to this. My entire body is humming.
I lean back, letting myself into Jackson.
He reclines into the chair.
We're a normal couple, lounging in a normal chair, except for the whole topless pool thing.
I rest my head on his chest.
He presses his lips to my ear and brings his hands to my hips. He keeps them there, on the outside of my shorts.
He traces the waistband with his left hand. Back and forth. Again and again. Down the undone button, to the seam of the shorts, to inches from where I need him.
I want to take him; I really do.
But this isn't the place. This is a tease.
Only a perfect, beautiful, horrible tease.
I let my eyes move around the space. A topless couple flirts. Two topless women kiss all for their own benefit, but the guys in the corner sure enjoy watching.
European tourists roll their eyes. Americans and their silly obsession with nudity .
The kissing women break and dive into the pool and swim around each other.
The same guy looks to me again.
This time, Jackson follows my gaze. He brings his lips to my ear. "Do you want him to see?"
I nod into his chest.
"Then show him." He traces the strap of my bikini top to the knot behind my neck. "Show me."
"Help me." I breathe.
He tugs at the knot just hard enough to undo it.
The fabric falls off my chest.
The guy's eyes go wide. Someone else looks my way. A couple who's enjoying each other. Another topless woman.
I shift enough to undo the other tie, and I drop the bikini top on the floor.
It's not a big deal. I'm topless at a topless pool. It's all legal and appropriate and totally inappropriate and hot as fuck.
No. It is a big deal. I'm following an illicit desire. I'm sharing it with Jackson. I'm letting him help me.
This isn't what I meant by let's practice this whole marriage thing , but it's an exercise in trust and vulnerability all the same.
Fuck. Listen to me. An exercise in trust and vulnerability . My friend Beth was right when she said I can't study sex this way. Have you listened to researchers and therapists? They can take the hottest thing in the world and make it sound clinical.
I'm not here as a researcher.
I'm not experimenting for the sake of science.
Only to feed my own curiosity. Only to stoke the flames of my desire.
I close my eyes and let my body sink into Jackson's. He pulls me a little closer.
My back melts into his chest. All my bare skin against his. Our bodies pressed together for anyone to see. For everyone to see.
My eyes blink open.
My gaze moves around the space. People are looking our way, but they aren't watching the way they would in a sex club, with wide-eyed wonder.
They steal glances the way people do at ordinary pools and beaches. Ones where breast coverings are mandatory.
My gaze settles on the women in the pool. The couple. They surface for air and dive right back into each other, kissing and touching like no one is watching, or maybe like everyone is watching.
Somehow, both things are true. Everyone is stealing glances, and no one is staring.
If they can do it…
I wrap my fingers around Jackson's wrist and bring his hand to my chest.
His lips find my neck. He kisses me softly as he cups my breasts. One hand. Then the other.
He draws a line of kisses down my neck, then he looks around the space, checking for attention.
There's more now. Those guys in the corner are no longer hiding their interest. They're watching with wide eyes and whispers. But the guy checking tickets by the gate doesn't seem to care about our public display.
That's what it is.
A display.
Like I'm his toy. Or maybe like he's mine. I'm not sure anymore. And I don't want to think about it anymore. I want to dive in and enjoy.
I turn my neck enough to kiss him. My lips find his lips. My tongue dances with his. And all the while, he draws perfect circles around my nipples.
He teases me for ages. Forever. Until I'm too tired to kiss anymore, and I collapse in his arms, and he brings his lips to my neck, and he teases me again and again.
By the time I sit up, I'm wound so tight, I'm sure I'm going to burst. To come from the next gust of air. That's all the friction I need.
I want to take him here. And now. Or drag him to a hotel room. But I don't. I practice my patience. I play his game.
I stand up, shoot him a daring smile, and I dive into the pool.
He watches me swim for a minute, then he dives in with me, and we follow the footsteps of the other couple. We swim and kiss and touch until we're too tired to swim anymore. Until my entire body is humming with a horrible, beautiful mix of pleasure and need and anticipation.
I want to feel this forever. And I need to come immediately.
I don't dress fully. I pull on my shorts and slip his shirt over my bare torso and do only one button.
He dons his shorts.
We walk through the hotel to the car. And then I get inside, and I undo the button, and I'm on display for him again.
It's too hot to have sex here. But still, when he turns on the car, I undo the button of my shorts, and I do away with my swim bottoms.
He looks over with an approving smile. "Put your shirt over your lap."
I place my tank top over my pelvis. It's small, but it covers the necessary areas.
"And fuck yourself."
"While we drive?"
He nods yes .
I think I must be going out of my mind. Because I do. I close my eyes, I slip my hand between my legs, and I stroke myself to orgasm.
It only takes a few flicks of my fingers, and I'm there, pulsing against my hand, groaning his name, desperate to unleash hours of anticipation.
It feels good, but it's not enough. I need more. I need him.
I reach for him reflexively. My hand on his thigh. Then higher. Right over the bulge in his shorts.
He shakes his head. "I want to wait."
"You want to wait?" My eyes stay on his cock. Sure, the fabric is in the way, but I can see the outline. I can feel him. "With this situation?"
He nods yes .
"I can't wait until tonight."
"I don't remember suggesting that." He shoots me a wicked smile. "Let's go back to the hotel room."
Perfect. I nod and slip into my clothes awkwardly. The drive passes in a blink. The parking, the walk through the hotel, the elevators.
But we're not about to sail into a sea of marital bliss.
Because our families are, in fact, waiting outside our door, ready for our wedding party.