Cara Mia

He'd watched her change from a gawky tomboy into a gorgeous young woman. And when he found her alone in a skimpy bikini, eagerly reading a trashy romance novel, Marcus simply couldn't resist anymore! Mariah was every inch a sexy, seductive temptress...and he burned to be her first lover!
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He knew how to glide through the trees without making a sound. And so he caught sight of her petite bikini-clad body long before she even knew he was there. Air clogged in his lungs as he hesitated by a shaggy cypress tree and stared in longing appreciation. Mariah’s burnished chestnut hair gleamed in the filtered sunlight, and her lithe body glowed like sinuous gold dust. The paper-thin ivory bikini barely covered enough skin to matter.

She was reading one of her books, a thick risque novel with entwined medieval lovers on the cover. And she must have gotten to one of the many ‘good’ parts, because her attention was raptly focused on the pages, and her small tongue was caught between her teeth.

Marcus felt his blood pressure rise in painful anticipation. More than anything, he longed to toss the book away, and become her lover himself.

He must have made some soft sound, or perhaps on some intimate level she was as keenly aware of him. But suddenly Mariah’s head snapped around, and she gaped at him in embarrassed dismay. The book quickly vanished beneath her tumbled little pile of clothes.

Her heart soared with delight. She’d had a tremendous crush on Marcus ever since the first time he’d visited her family’s Inn. Normally she was the one who sought him out, and tagged after him like a devoted little puppy. Hadn’t she just been dreaming about him, and wishing that she was the heroine in her racy story, and that he was the virile handsome lover?

And now he was here, just as if she’d summoned him with the power of her mind!

Marcus was a lot older than her. Maybe that’s what made him seem so incredibly sexy. All the boys her own age were so silly in comparison. Marcus’s shoulders were broad and muscular, and his narrow hips were lean. There wasn’t a spare ounce of flab on him; she knew that, because she’d seen him so often in a swimsuit.

And once, when her parents had thought her safely asleep in the lodge, she’d snuck over to his cottage and peered through his window at dawn, when he’d just been waking up. True, she hadn’t exactly understood what she’d seen. But she’d just been a kid then, barely fourteen. Now, thanks to her intriguing novels, she knew exactly what ‘it’ was for, and why it had been standing straight up when he’d brushed aside his single sheet, and curled his long fingers around it.

Every time she closed her eyes at night, she remembered watching what he’d done, and how his face had changed into something beautiful when he’d suddenly stiffened, and lots of milky stuff had spurted from the tip. And she imagined that he was lying beside her on her own bed, and doing it and doing it, until the same thing happened again, and he moaned loudly with delight.

Sometimes, when she was really feeling daring, she pretended that she was touching ‘it’ herself. And she wondered what it really would feel like if he pushed it inside her, where she was always soft and wet.

He was wearing one of his tight swimsuits now, and she stole a quick, shy glance at him as he settled onto the thick blanket beside her. There was always a big bulge in the front of his swimsuit. She wondered whether it really was as big as it looked! Maybe it just looked that way because it was crammed inside his tight briefs. And she wanted to see for herself, she really did...but oh, she’d just die if he ever pulled it out!