Tomasso’s leg was between both of hers, his upper thigh pressing firmly against her core, and Abigail twisted her head and moaned as he began to knead and squeeze her breasts while his mouth drifted from one to the other. Just when she didn’t think she could stand it another moment, he abandoned her breasts and returned his mouth to hers, covering and devouring it in another passionate kiss that had her clinging to him with desperate need.
Shifting her hips to ride his leg, Abigail broke their kiss and turned her head to the side to gasp, “Please, Tomasso.”
“Sì, bella,” he muttered, kissing his way to her throat as his hands left her breasts to slide down across her stomach. She felt her jeans suddenly loosen, and then felt them being pushed down over her hips to just below her bottom, but that was as far as they went before his hand replaced them, dipping between her legs to explore what he’d revealed.
“Oh God!” Abigail cried, thrusting into his caress. She felt something sharp scrape her throat, and then Tomasso’s weight was gone.
Blinking her eyes open with confusion, she saw that he’d shifted up to kneel over her. His hand was still between her legs though, still dancing over her damp skin, but now he was watching her through hooded eyes, his mouth tight as he pleasured her.
“Tomasso?” she gasped uncertainly, her hips still dancing to the tune he was strumming.
“Enjoy it, bella. You are so beautiful. I want to watch you find your pleasure.”
They were pretty words, but Abigail was suddenly terribly aware that she was lying there with her tank top under her neck, her breasts poking out of the top of her bra and her pants around her ass. She was almost completely on display, every love handle, any cellulite, even her muffin top, which could better be described as a cake top. He could see all of it.
No, no, no, no! Her mind screamed and Abigail’s hips immediately stopped moving, her hands started dancing around trying to hide everything he was looking at. She just didn’t have enough hands for that task, or big enough ones, or—
“Abigail, stop. You are beautiful,” Tomasso growled, and caught one of her hands with his free one. Dragging it down her body, he placed it around his erection under his leafy loincloth. “Feel how beautiful I find you.”
Eyes wide, Abigail stared up at him as she felt just how beautiful he found her. Damn, if one was to judge by how hard and large he’d grown, she was Aphrodite in his eyes. The man must be blind, she decided and–grateful for that blindness—she tightened her hold on him and let her hand slide his length.
Tomasso cried out, his hips bucking under the caress, but strangely enough, so did Abigail as a new shaft of pleasure shot through her as well. Eyes wide, she tried the action again and got the same result. A sharp, keen shaft of pleasure pulsed through her as if he had caressed her, yet his hand had suddenly gone still.
“No. Dio. Smettila, mi stai uccidendo,” he growled, catching her hand and trying to stop her.
Abigail had no idea what he’d just said, but had no intention of stopping now. Instead, she clasped him more firmly and began to move her hand in a continuous pumping action. Within seconds she was squirming in the sand under the assault of wave after building wave of excitement and pleasure.
God, this was—Her thoughts died on a startled cry and she arched so hard Abigail was surprised she didn’t break her back as Tomasso didn’t just begin to caress her again, but slid one finger inside of her, hard, filling the aching emptiness. Stars burst behind her closed eyes and her cry became a long drawn-out scream as pleasure exploded over her. Her voice only died when unconsciousness crept in to claim her.
Six
Abigail was the first to wake up. Hot morning sunlight was beating down on her face and blinding her when she first opened her eyes. She threw her arm sleepily over her eyes to protect them, and then just lay still for a minute as she became aware of the sensations she was experiencing.
Warm water was lapping at her right arm and hip. The sand under her was hard and cool, something prickly was tickling the skin of her upper leg, and something heavy was lying on her lower stomach and legs keeping her warm. Abigail was also thirsty as all get-out. Crazy thirsty. She had some serious cottonmouth and could have used a toothbrush followed by a large glass of water right then. She’d follow that up with a buttermilk biscuit, sweet cream waffles, and a side of applewood-smoked bacon, Abigail thought, her mouth watering at the imagined meal. But then memory returned and she knew she’d be making do with coconuts and coconut water. It wasn’t like there was a handy restaurant anywhere nearby.
Dragging the arm from her eyes, Abigail opened them cautiously and looked up at the sky. The sun was high overhead. So much for their hour break. By her guess they’d slept more than eight hours. It looked like it was close to noon. Recalling her watch, she lifted her arm again and surveyed the time. Yep. Eleven thirty a.m. Not only had they slept through the rest of the night, they’d slept away the morning as well. She was a pathetic excuse for a friend. The only bright spot was that Tomasso apparently was too, she thought, and lifted her head to peer down her body at him.
The view afforded to her from this angle was not a pretty one. It wasn’t Tomasso. He was always gorgeous, and even from this angle the top of his head and his wide shoulders looked sexy as hell to her. It was herself that was less than inspiring. She was as pale as the belly of a dead fish, and all of her lumps and bumps were depressing. Even her breasts, which she normally thought were okay, just did not win any prizes squeezed out of the top of her bra as they were. They looked like popping eyeballs in a cartoon.
Grimacing, Abigail quickly pushed her boobs back into the bra and straightened it the best she could. She then tugged her tank top down to just above Tomasso’s head. There was nothing she could do about her jeans being around her ass, though, at least not as long as Tomasso was lying on her. The problem was, if she woke him up, he’d sit up and see her lying there with her va-jay-jay on display. Can we say awkward?
Really? some corner of Abigail’s mind asked with derision. Playing the modesty card now? After what had gone down last night?
Deciding that corner of her mind was a bitch, Abigail considered her situation and how to get out of it. Maybe she could just slide out from under him. If she did it slowly, he might not wake up. Right?
Grimacing now, Abigail braced her hands in the sand on either side of her, one resting on wet sand, one sinking into dry, and then tried to worm herself to the side. All she did was kind of roll her hips a bit, and Tomasso immediately murmured sleepily, smacked his lips as if he was dreaming of pancakes, and then turned and lowered his head so that his mouth was practically kissing her between the legs. The only good thing was she now knew what had been so prickly against her upper leg, Tomasso’s now ten-o’clock shadow. It was now prickly against her inner thigh.
Oh, yeah. This wasn’t going to be awkward at all, Abigail thought sarcastically and wondered what the deal was with this passing out after sex business? Not that they’d actually had sex, she reminded herself. They’d mostly just fooled around a bit.
Abigail smiled wryly at the term. It didn’t seem to cover the earth-shattering experience she’d had. Neither did groping, touching, fondling, or stroking. That may have been what went on, but . . . wow! A little fondling from Tomasso was like a full-on orgy with anyone else. Gawd! She was still wet this morning. Although, to be fair, she was lying half in the surf which might be part of it, Abigail thought. Certainly her jeans were soaking wet from absorbing the water.
But last night, when Abigail’s orgasm had crashed over her, fireworks had exploded behind her eyes. The man had some powerful mojo, and if that’s what some heavy petting with him was like, she couldn’t wait to experience the full meal deal with him.
Just not right now, Abigail thought with a frown. Right now she was becoming aware of a rather urgent need to relieve herself, which meant she had to get out from under Tomasso, get up, and find a private spot to tend to the matter.
Her gaze slid with longing to the jungle at the top of the beach, and then back to the top of Tomasso’s head. Her last move had made him shift his head off of her stomach and between her legs. That was something anyway, Abigail thought and sat up slowly. Once upright, she let out a little huff of relief. She hadn’t disturbed him. Yet.