Chapter 7 Dolly
DOLLY
I’ve died and gone to heaven.
This isn’t my first time to feel a man’s erection, but the amount of sexual experience I have is pathetically minimal, considering my traumatic past and the overprotective brothers who have effectively intimidated the entire male population into leaving me alone.
I wiggle my butt against Sam again, and he sucks in a breath.
“I mean it. Stop it now, Dolly.”
The desperate edge in his tone sends a thrill through me. He never says my real name. He has a handful of nicknames that he typically uses when he actually addresses me. Now I’m giving him an erection. I know he’s drunk, and I’m wearing my tiniest bikini, but still.
Sam is getting turned on by me.
I can feel the hard outline of his dick, the edge of it pressed up against me in almost the exact spot I need it.
I’m very familiar with my body and self-pleasure.
I read a lot of romance books, and I have an array of toys in my bedside table.
But this … this is unlike any physical sensation I’ve ever felt.
I just know if it were half an inch closer to the right spot, I’d really be in heaven.
If I can scoot back just a little …
Every bump from the waves sends a little scratch of sensual pleasure through me.
Why is he hard? Is this just a natural male reaction? Does Sam Seymour want me?
When he pulled me onto his lap, I was startled. I didn’t want to sit on Ben’s lap, but it seemed like the only option.
I see another wave ahead. It’s windy today, making the water choppy and rough. Sam’s fingers dig into my hip again, attempting to hold me steady. He’s so big, over a foot taller than me. His masculine scent is in my nostrils, and his tense muscles are caging me in.
I don’t dare look at him again. He’ll see the lust and desire so clearly on my face; I’ll never be able to deny it. Duke might see it, too, and then we’d both be screwed.
The wave is upon us. When it hits the boat, I grip the seat and use the bump to shift my weight back another sliver.
When I come back down, the side shaft of his rock-hard dick slams right into the perfect spot.
I gasp, pure delight bursting through me, the sensation strong enough that I almost come right then.
He groans beneath me, his fingers digging into my hip so hard that I’m sure he’s leaving bruises. I don’t care. All I need is one more sliver of friction, and I’m done for. He’ll be the first man to make me orgasm. Just the thought is nearly enough to send me over into pure bliss.
I want to cry from the torturous edging. My nipples are puckered up and hard. The gentle rubbing of my swimsuit and his grip on my hip are working together with the side of his dick now pressed up against the bottom of my pussy, putting just enough pressure on my clit to drag me closer and closer.
Another boat is coming from the other direction.
I can already see the wake it’s creating, knowing that it’s going to rock ours and send another graze of his dick over my pussy lips.
I clench my thighs together, half wishing it weren’t going to happen and half unable to make myself move over so that the contact between us wasn’t so erotic.
Sam is tense beneath me. His fingers still have a death grip on my hip. He downs his margarita before placing the cup in the cupholder by the steering wheel. He uses his free hand to grip the other side of my hip. The other boat passes, sending its wake right toward us.
His lips graze against my sensitive ear. “Hold on, Dollface,” he whispers.
The boat rocks again, forcing my ass to grind up against him.
The grazing of his dick across my pussy brings an orgasm rushing over me.
I can’t stop it, can’t escape it. I cry out, half gasping, half moaning.
My legs start to quiver, shaking from the pleasure coursing through every fiber of my being.
I barely manage to stifle a moan that wants to coast over my lips.
Sam holds me steady, his hands bracing my hips against him tightly, my back pressed to his muscular chest. The unavoidable feelings of gratification and weakness in my limbs make me relax back against him.
His body is flush with mine, dick still hard and poking me.
His lips are crushed to my ear, his warm breath coating my skin.
I’m gasping for oxygen. My weak little heart is pitter-pattering with uneven beats from all the excitement and endorphins.
I try to rise, but I can’t focus on anything besides breathing.
“Are you okay, Dolls?” Duke asks from behind us.
Sam is still holding me, but now he’s supporting my entire weight as I try to regain control of myself.
I just orgasmed in front of ten people. On Sam Seymour’s lap.
Mortification floods over me. My entire body feels flushed, exposed, and overly sensitive.
“She’s fine. She spilled her drink on herself,” Sam responds, his tone casual.
He has to know. Oh God, he has to know.
I’ve never wanted to escape a situation so badly in my life.
I have nowhere to go. The embarrassment is more than I can take.
I’ve had a crush on Sam since I was old enough to have crushes.
And I just came on his lap, on his boat, with an audience.
He’s going to laugh at me. He’s going to know I’m obsessed with him.
This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I’d rather walk into traffic than have to live through this situation and ever look him in the eye again.
Now my swimsuit bottoms are sticking to my skin. The wetness has seeped all the way through, and it’s probably coating the front of his shorts. My stomach is rolling over with nausea. I might get sick on him now, which would only make the situation ten times worse than it already is.
He’s warm and strong under me, waiting for me to finally use my own strength to sit up. He’s still semi-hard, making me feel even more embarrassed by the fact that I finished on him.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
Mercifully, we pull up to the cliffs a minute later.
Everyone starts to jump into the water and move around the boat once Grady cuts the engine.
I hear Duke talking to someone before diving into the water, and I immediately jump up from Sam’s lap and dive into the lake in an attempt to wash away the evidence of my mortification.
The rest of the day, Sam avoids me like the plague.
I shrink back against the sofa later that night, my insides mush from the constant sting of embarrassment.
Ben is beside me. He’s been so attentive and sweet.
I feel guilty for what happened on the boat, but mostly, I’m just so mortified by it that I can’t even look at Sam without my skin turning the shade of a strawberry.
Thank heavens Duke has been distracted by the girl he’s apparently crushing on.
The group decided to watch a scary movie. I typically prefer films that are happy and lighthearted. I don’t see the point of intentionally scaring myself. Ben chose this one. He grew up watching horror movies.
I turn to face him after the third character on-screen gets beheaded. “Ben, I’m really starting to question your morals and upbringing. How old were you when you first watched this?”
He smiles. The way his mouth quirks up reminds me of someone, but I can’t place who.
“I was six when I saw my first horror movie. My foster mom didn’t know I’d snuck in to watch it from behind the couch.”
I shake my head. “That is shocking. Were you raised in foster care your whole childhood?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how isolating that felt.” I keep my eyes on him, only because I do not want to look at the screen. He’s cute, but not overwhelmingly attractive to me.
He leans toward me, reaching for my hand. “I have trouble connecting with people sometimes, but I’m so thankful to have met you this weekend. When Grady invited me to come along, I had no idea someone as gorgeous and sweet as you would be here.”
I stiffen, but force a smile onto my lips.
He seems to really like me, even though he’s moving kinda fast with the advances.
He’s been glued to my side, continuing to rub his hand over my lower back and compliment me.
He hasn’t tried anything sexual, which I’m thankful for.
Duke also hasn’t given him any protective-older-brother speeches, which is a relief.
Sam, on the other hand, has completely ignored me since the boat ride and spent all his spare time glaring at Ben. Even now, I can see his outline on the outdoor deck, head turned to watch Ben’s every move.
At least Ben knows what he wants and is willing to go after it. That alone is a relief. Sam’s hot-and-cold act is like a game I’m being forced to participate in that I don’t know the rules to.
“I’ve enjoyed getting to know you too. It’s so rare that I meet new young people in town. I’ve known everyone since I was born.”
He interlaces his fingers with mine. My hand feels clammy, but I try to ignore it.
I hear a squeal from behind me, and when I turn to see who’s there, my heart drops into my stomach.
Keely has entered the house, a pink duffel bag hooked over her arm.
She drops it and runs toward the back door that leads out to the deck.
She practically launches herself at Sam, wrapping her arms around his neck, and she pulls him down to her lips for a kiss.
My whole world seems to shift on its axis.
I can hear Ben talking, but I can’t focus on his words.
My heart thumps in my chest weakly, threatening to miss a beat and cause me to go into cardiac arrest.
Are they back together? Am I a home-wrecker?
Everything feels blurry and hot.
“… visit La Pradera, maybe to take a pretty lady from there out on a real date.”
I finally turn to face Ben. He grins, eyes trailing down to my lips.
The roaring in my ears is still making it hard for me to focus, but I feel myself nodding, resisting the urge to turn and see if Sam is still watching us or if he’s too wrapped up in Keely.
“I think I’d like that,” I hear myself say.
I would like that. I would like to feel like a desirable woman who gets taken out on nice dates. I’d like to be taken out on the town and have a guy look at me like he knows what he wants, which is exactly how Ben is looking at me now.
I’m done waiting on you, Sam Seymour.