Sex for Beginners Box Set(81)

“I want to ride you,” she said, guiding him down on the orange nylon. He didn’t resist, just pulled her down with him. His breathing was ragged, his hands hurried. He reached for the condom that had been scavenged from his clothes and sheathed his raging erection. Violet straddled him and eased her body down, impaling herself on him like she’d imagined all afternoon. The fullness of him inside her made her cry out.

He closed his hands over her breasts, pulling on her nipples until they were distended and erect. “Easy,” he murmured through gritted teeth.

But she was already too far gone, having been on a slow burn all day. She put her fingers to her protruding clit and, within a few seconds, the repressed orgasm came to the surface like a reawakened volcano. Intense spasms claimed her as she rocked on his body to ride out the pleasure.

* * *

DOMINICK WAS TRYING to name the U.S. presidents in order, count backwards from one hundred by multiples of nine—anything to distract his mind and body long enough to delay the orgasm building in his balls. But when Violet began contracting around him, it was as if she were milking his essence from his body. He exploded so forcefully that he bucked beneath her, which, from the happy little cries coming from her, appeared to prolong her own climax.

When their bodies quieted, she fell forward on his chest. The curtain of her red-gold hair obscured his face, but Dominick didn’t have the strength to push it aside. He simply lay there inhaling her ginger-scented curls, trying to process what had just happened. He didn’t have to look at a watch to know that scarcely a minute had passed since she’d climbed on him as if he were an amusement park ride.

He hadn’t gotten off that quickly since his junior year of high school.

He swallowed against a parched throat, trying to silence the alarms going off in his head. Sure, she had a body that wouldn’t quit, and sure, she was sweet and smart, but it was Violet Summerlin’s curiosity about “exciting” sex that fueled his passion, not the woman herself.

He hoped.

Dominick reached up to uncover his face, but his hand got sidetracked by the silkiness of her luxurious hair, and inexplicably stayed there.





13




Two days until Christmas

VIOLET STARTLED awake to the sound of a buzz saw in her room, then realized it was only Winslow lying next to her, snoring. Hazy sunlight sifted through the filmy sheers on her room window. The clock read six thirty-two. Two hours and twenty-eight minutes until she met Dominick for breakfast.

She sighed and settled back on her pillow, awash with incredulity and anxiety. The sex she’d had with Dominick yesterday in the deserted field had been the most erotic experience of her life. But afterward, she had retreated from him, had bowed out of dinner to tend to Winslow so that Dominick wouldn’t suspect what was happening—that despite the self-lectures, despite knowing better and despite the fact that she was headed for guaranteed heartbreak, she was well on her way to falling hopelessly in love with him.

The fact that she’d been nursing a crush on him for so long didn’t help. Add to that the man was so gorgeous her vision blurred if she looked at him for too long. But what she marveled over was how he was able to pull her from her shell to try new things, how he seemed to know every button to push. It was uncanny….

But then again, Dominick probably made every woman he was with feel that way, as if he knew exactly what turned them on. He hadn’t earned his playboy reputation without good reason. His gift list alone was proof that while the lucky Bethany warranted jewelry—a beautiful watch…she’d peeked before she’d dropped the gifts in the mail to Lillian—he wasn’t in danger of becoming a one-woman man anytime soon. And when he did settle down, it would probably be with a muscle-ripped female athlete who scaled the sides of mountains, not a yogaphile who was scared of heights.

A snort rent the air. Winslow jarred awake and lifted his hairy head, licking his chops as his eyes blinked sleepily.

“Good morning, handsome,” she said, rubbing his ears.

He made happy rumbling noises in his throat.

She wondered what it would be like to wake up lying next to Dominick, if he snored or made noises in his sleep. Derailing that futile line of thought, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood for a tall stretch. Winslow lumbered to his feet then jumped off and came over to lick her feet.

She laughed, wiggling her toes. “I’m glad someone adores me.”

He looked up at her forlornly then glanced around the room, whining.

“Do you miss your mama?” she asked with a sigh. “I wonder if mama misses you.” Some pet owners underestimated how traumatic it could be for animals to have their routines interrupted. Even if Winslow wouldn’t “go” for Patricia Kingsbury, he was accustomed to her voice and her scent and her company.

“Let’s take a walk on the beach,” Violet suggested. “It’ll put us both in a better frame of mind.”

She pulled on a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and the sandals she could slip off in the sand. She swept her hair back into a ponytail, thinking about how Dominick had released it from its clasp both times they’d had sex. And why not? It helped to complete her transformation, because in his arms she felt like a different woman.

I hope you find a way out of yourself.

Violet smiled at the remembered words of the lost letter. Maybe she was starting to do just that. She just hoped she wouldn’t lose her heart in the process.

The letter…Now that she was actually living the fantasies she’d written about, she wished she still had it as a keepsake. It had been, after all, the catalyst for her to accept Dominick’s invitation. She checked the time. Lillian was probably already in the office unless she was running errands. Violet dialed the number and Lillian answered on the second ring.

“Summerlin at Your Service, this is Lillian.”

“Lillian, hi. It’s Violet.”

“Good morning. How’s your trip going?”

Heat suffused her chest. “It’s going…well…I think. I was just checking in to see how things are going there.”

“Everything’s great.”

Violet pursed her mouth. “No problems?”

“No problems whatsoever. How’s Winslow?”

She looked down at the little dog who sat at her feet with his leash in his mouth. “He’s fine. We’re all…fine.”

“Good,” Lillian said cheerfully.

“Lillian, the letter that was…misplaced. It hasn’t turned up by chance, has it?”

“No, I’m sorry, it hasn’t.”

She fought disappointment. “That’s okay, I was just checking. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Violet hung up the phone, bemused by the fact that her business could be operated by someone other than…her. Maybe, when she returned to Atlanta, she could ease up on her hours after all.

Winslow whined, reminding her of her promise to take a walk. She opened her bedroom door as silently as possible to find the living room empty and the door to Dominick’s bedroom closed. He’d stayed out late again, until after three in the morning according to her clock. No doubt he’d found female companionship for the evening. For all she knew, he could have a woman in his bed right now. She quashed a pang of unreasonable jealousy and led Winslow out the door into the hallway. They rode down in the freight elevator and exited the hotel toward the beach.

With a breeze coming off the water, the temperature was much cooler at this early hour, but held the promise of another scorching day. Violet filled her lungs with the salt-scented air and strode onto the beach, coaxing Winslow to walk on the unfamiliar surface. He high-stepped and whined until he realized that the sand wasn’t going to hurt him, then trotted ahead on his leash to explore.

Colorful rentable resort chairs and umbrellas were already being lined up and wiped off in anticipation of a busy beach crowd. It was surprising to her how many people traveled over the holidays, spent Christmas away from their home. Although she supposed everyone had their reasons.

Like her…and Dominick.

She slipped off her sandals and carried them, enjoying the feel of the sugary sand squishing between her bare toes. She moved closer to the water’s edge, laughing at Winslow’s alternating curiosity and terror of the waves and foam rolling in from the sea. She strolled along, dodging beachcombers, clumps of blue-green seaweed and the occasional remains of a beached jellyfish. In the distance, the colorful sails of catamarans and sunfish vessels moved parallel with the horizon.

A lone swimmer was heading in, his powerful arms arcing out, then slicing back into the water with such perfect form that she wondered idly if he was training for something. She was a decent swimmer, but she’d always been fearful of swimming in the ocean.

Although, in light of the physical challenges she’d tackled in the last couple of days, a lap or two in the ocean didn’t seem so intimidating. She made a thoughtful noise and smiled at the revelation.

The swimmer approached the shore, slowing as he reached shallow water. When he stood, her breath caught in her chest—it was Dominick. He’d spotted her and was walking toward her. He shook his head, sending water flying as more water sluiced off him, pulling on his dark swim trunks. The sight of his lean, muscular physique sent her vital signs into overdrive.