“We have an hour until our massage,” she suggested in his ear, once he had released her lips at last.
The hint was all he needed. They scrambled from the pool, giggling like adolescents, and they barely took the time to towel off before slipping into their sandals and retreating for Tony's cottage.
This time, they managed to get the door closed behind them.
Chapter Eleven
Every time Amber saw Tony naked, it was as if it were for the very first time; his erect member was a gorgeous surprise when he slipped off his wet swim trunks, and she reached out to slip her hand around it in awe. It was so firm and velvety, so impossibly large against her fingers, and touching it made Tony shiver so gratifyingly as he went to work on the ties of her bikini.
Every brush of his fingers against her damp skin was like a jolt of electricity, and he was the most heady combination of strong and gentle that Amber had ever encountered. She could feel his strength, coiled within him, a dangerous inner core that was both exciting and rather terrifying. It left her feeling damp and hot between the legs, and had her heart racing in her chest.
When the bikini top slid off of her breasts with a cool, wet, whisper, she was torn between wanting to cover herself and wanting to display herself. Tony made her feel like she was two parts; the quiet, modest person she'd trained herself to be, and a shameless, sexual, powerful creature of light and pleasure.
She still had one hand on his penis, and put the other at his diaphragm as she scratched, so carefully, along the underside of his cock.
Under her hand, the muscles of his stomach hardened, and he shuddered, holding very still for a long moment.
Then he bent to kiss her, pressing hungry lips to hers.
Any hint of duality was swept away in the perfection of his kiss, the depth of passion that he managed to stir in her. She wasn't two, and they weren't two–they were one together, a perfect match at a level Amber had never even imagined.
He lifted her onto the bed easily, and slipped her bikini bottoms off. Amber suspected they were more damp now than they'd been when they left the pool.
He kissed her again and paused before entering her, tangled his big hands in her hair, and stroked the planes of her face as if he was memorizing the feeling of it.
Amber could feel his manhood, pressed against her, and raised her hips just a little, so that he slipped in between her lips easily.
Still as one, they moved slowly, every motion a burst of pleasure and passion, raising them together up a slope of physical and emotional fulfillment. It was tantalizing, trying to hang at the exact peak, without losing momentum, or finally succumbing to the release. Amber suspected they could have spent hours seeking and enjoying that balance, but Tony finally sped up enough that she couldn't deny her crest of pleasure, crying out helplessly as she clutched at his shoulders.
Her orgasm was still rippling through her when Tony had his own release, and they lay together limply, panting and smiling foolishly at each other until Amber caught a glimpse of the clock by the bed.
“Oh! Our massage is in ten minutes!”
This shower was hasty. They soaped each other swiftly, Amber reaching on tiptoe to get the tops of his shoulders, and Tony bending over to get the small of her back efficiently. He laid a kiss at the top of her shampoo-covered head and then made a show of spitting out the bubbles while Amber laughed.
Amber could not remember the last time she had been so carefree and happy.
Had she ever been?
The masseuses laughed off their tardy appearance with knowing winks. “We are on tropical time here,” said the woman with a thick Spanish accent.
The other masseuse, a lanky blond man with big, strong hands and an Australian accent, led them to a pair of tables on a curtain-shrouded deck overlooking a small, private flower garden.
Amber was amused to notice that they were set up for grooming animals as well as people, with a wide variety of currycombs and brushes hanging along the wall.
She nearly fell asle
ep during her massage, lulled by the conversation that Tony carried on with the two masseuses, all in lilting Spanish that she understood no more than a word or two from.
Afterwards, recovering on the porch in their bathrobes, icy glasses of water at hand, she asked Tony, “You speak Spanish?”
He nodded before she could regret how foolish a question it was.
“I took a little in high school,” she said, feeling shy about it. “And a semester of French. Do you speak any other languages?”
“Russian,” Tony said, and he seemed a little reluctant about admitting it. “Also French, Swedish, and enough Japanese and Mandarin to get by.”
Amber stared, then laughed. “Oh, just enough to get by. In construction management, you know ...”