CHAPTER 83: The Virgin’s Summer, Part 23
Under the shade of a palm tree, hot sun, scalding the sky to a white shimmer, sends reflections blindingly across the pool. Michael, suckling at my nipple, cupping the breast in one hand, is playing havoc with my clit with the fingers of the other.
Lying on a couple of beach towels, with just enough breeze to make the hot air bearable, I came out to lie in the shade. My Golden Lover arrived minutes later with a bottle of oil in his hand and the devil in his eyes.
“You’ll burn if you lay out like that, skin like yours. Let me oil you over.”
“I’m in the shade.”
He sucks his lips. “Let me put it another way. I would like to oil you over...” His grin is wicked. I can’t miss his meaning.
“Don’t think we need this, do we?” he says, reaching around me to unfasten my bikini top.
Lying back, I stretch like a cat, arms over my head, displaying myself for him. Sunlight gilding his blond hair, bleached now almost to white against his deep summer tan, he grins, teeth very white against his skin. “That’s my girl.”
He stoops, taking a nipple between his teeth, nibbling gently and sending little jolts of electricity skittering down through me. My breath catching and my hips juddering, he sweeps a hand over my stomach to slide under my bikini bottom.
“I’m not convinced we need these either,” he says, fingers tugging at the garment. Laughing, I slide them down, kicking them away.
“That’s more like it. Unrestricted access. Just what I was looking for.” He spots my cold drink, sitting in a frosty glass next to me.
Scooping out an ice cube, holding it between fingers, he delicately traces the outline of the nipple he was holding. I judder and gasp as the nipple crinkles tight, rosy and hard against my Celtic ivory skin.
Retrieving the nipple with his teeth, playing the hard bud with his tongue, he works the other nipple with the ice, chuckling to himself, as I quiver and whimper under his touch.
Then, slowly... slowly... he traces a glacial line with the cube over my sun-heated skin, down through the valley of my breasts, over my navel and stomach, through my fiery red curls, down and in.
I yelp and wriggle, but he pins me. Michael is a strong man, broad-shouldered and fit, and I am no match for him when he exerts his strength, unable to move except to writhe and quiver in his grip. He circles my clit with the ice cube, frigid water dribbling between my folds, meeting with hot juices as my core convulses, gushing.
Moaning loudly now, I shake, my hips bucking, as he slips the ice ever further inwards. My pussy clenches as he winds it around, inside my entrance.
“Ready to play?” he whispers, his erection pressing hard against my thigh.
“Oh God, yes. Get inside me.”
“Patience, Charlotte. All good things come to she who waits…”
He moves, to kneel between my legs, parting my thighs. Casting around for a moment, he picks up a towel, folds it up small and pushes it under my hips, raising me, arching my spine.
For a minute, he looks down at me, hand flat over the vee of my legs, gauging my reaction as he thumbs my clit. His smile fades, his expression becoming intense. “I don’t think you know how beautiful you look like that,” he says. “I know that all you want, right now, is for me to fuck you.”
I don’t reply. It doesn’t seem necessary. Instead, I arch further, parting my thighs as widely as I can. Staring up into his deeply blue eyes, I whisper, “Please.”
His smile returns, and he dips his head between my thighs, opening his mouth over my wet and swollen sex. My head flings back and, breath broken as I moan, I stroke his hair while his tongue sweeps spirals through my entrance, plunging deep inside me.
A shadow falls across me, blocking the sun: my Master.
Michael looks up briefly. “Didn’t hear you come back.” Then, he returns his attention to my melting pussy.
“You were occupied... Don’t stop for me.” says my Master. “I’m happy to watch the show.” There is the clink of ice, and the glug of a drink being poured.
Michael raises his head again. “Why don’t you use some of that ice at the top end. I’m busy down here.”
“Now there’s an idea.” My Master, elegant, still wearing his business suit, sits alongside me on my beach towel. Dipping his fingers in the iced water, he holds them there for a few seconds, then coming close to me, holding my eyes, outlines my parted lips with chilled fingertips. He doesn’t smile, but he has that smile behind his eyes, where I can’t see it; but I know it’s there. His eyes, dark and intense, follow the line of his fingers as he trails a chilled line down my chin, my neck, to the hollow of my throat, and down to my heaving chest.
Panting violently now, my control is slipping. My Master dips his fingers into the ice again, then starts rolling a nipple between them. “Tell me,” he murmurs to me, “would you prefer to cum by Michael licking you out, or by fucking you with his cock?”
My hips buck, my pussy clenches, and climax takes me.
Michael makes a grab for my hips, anchoring himself to me as he plunges his tongue inside me. Wailing, I thrash out, instinctively trying to hold on to something, which turns out to be my Master’s jacket.
He tightens his grip on my nipple, pinching and nipping it, sending jolts of pain-pleasure skipping down to my already pulsating cunt.
He chuckles as I jerk and quiver, trying to snatch breath from the air, as my body vibrates in orgasm.
As my climax abates, Michael sits up, wiping his mouth. “Before you do that on another occasion,” he says, dryly, to my Master, “give a man some warning, eh?”
My Master sits back, enjoying his joke, sipping his drink. “Well, as the bearer of good news, I thought that you might both enjoy a small celebration.”
Recovering my voice as my breathing slows to normality, “What news is that, Master?”
“You have an interview,” he says, “with Richard Haswell.”
I sit bolt upright.
“With Richard Haswell? I’d assumed it would be with someone in the personnel department?”
“Normally yes, but you have an interview with the man himself. If you impress him, you’ll have the very best of training for whatever you decide to do, and the academic side of things will be completely funded.”
My Master tosses me some brochures. “This is what the company is putting out by way of publicity right now. You might want to familiarise yourself with it. You’re seeing him two pm tomorrow. Anyway, I’ve got you the interview. The rest is up to you.”
I read the brochures, cover to cover, and then again. I’m excited. Very excited. At last, a chance to do what I want to do without having to raise money by...
Without having to.