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She tastes like the beach and sunshine. She rubs her pebbled nipples against my chest and wriggles her hips searching for friction. I draw back and take one step so that Cora’s back is on the tiled wall. I place a firm grip on her hips and pull my cock back.
When I’m almost out, I slam back in, and her cries fill the bathroom. “More,” she says.
I slam into her over and over again. Her fingers rake the skin on my shoulders, but I don’t feel any pain. Even if I did, I wouldn’t care. The pleasure I’m feeling is worth it.
Cora’s climax is building up. I can tell from the cries coming from her mouth and the lost expression in her eyes. Then her body clenches, and juices flood her pussy, and slurping sounds fill the air as I pump through her orgasm.
“Fuck yeah,” Cora cries as the orgasm rocks her.
Seeing her like that with her eyes rolled back, reveling in the pleasure we’ve created, brings me to my climax. She’s still trembling from her orgasm when I finally rupture and release spurts of my come into her.
***
“It must have been lonely watching all these couples walking on the beach holding hands and you’re all alone. Poor you,” Cora says playfully.
I adopt a similarly casual tone. “It was torture.” I mean every word of it. Even though the conference was a professional event, I’d noticed that most attendants had brought their partners or spouses with them. Yeah, calling it torture is not an exaggeration.
This is perfect and new to me. I’ve never walked on the beach with a woman. The warm sand tickling our bare feet, the water lapping the shore, and the salt-tinged breeze keeping the air cool are all intensified.
I could stay here for days. Weeks even. I glance at Cora strolling beside me. She looks so beautiful and chill with her silky red mane blowing wildly behind her. She senses my stare, turns and smiles, and then takes my hand.
She looks so different from the Cora who walked into my room hours earlier, anger literally spewing out of her. After our shared shower, I managed to convince her to stay with me until Sunday. The conference is over, and the only thing lined up for the weekend is just relaxing. We found everything Cora needs in the gift store, and now I feel as if I’ve just received an unexpected gift.
“You doctors have the cushiest lives,” Cora says.
“Why is that?” I ask her, amused by her turn of phrase.
“Look at all this.” She uses her free hand to gesture at our surroundings. “Have you ever heard of a conference for gym owners held at a beach resort? No! Not fair.”
I laugh at the indignation in her voice. “There have to be some perks to listening to people’s problems all day.”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Cora grudgingly agrees. “Seriously, I couldn’t do what you, Martin, Fran, and my brother-in-law do. What drew you to wanting to become an obstetrician-gynecologist?”
No one had ever asked me that question before. It was so long ago that I have to take a moment to remember. “It’s not something I’d wanted when I went to med school. Initially, I wanted to go into cosmetic surgery, then after rotation, I fell in love with the myriad of aspects of women’s health. So, I changed directions, and I never once regretted it.”
“It must be awesome to be so sure of what you want and to have your family’s support,” Cora says, her voice carrying a tinge of sadness.
“Doesn’t your family support your choice to be an entrepreneur?” I ask her.
“If you hadn’t noticed, my family is full of what is thought of as traditional occupations. I remember how horrified everyone was when I announced that I wanted to study sports science in college.”
“That’s crazy. It’s so admirable to watch someone start their own business and make a success of it. Some of us can only dream of it.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to do your own thing.” There’s surprise in her voice.
I also surprise myself when I tell her my dreams. She listens without interrupting, and when I finish, she’s very encouraging, and I actually start to get excited about it.
“So will you do it?” Cora asks.
I shrug noncommittally. “It’s just something on my mind, that’s all.”
“What’s your favorite place to vacation?” Cora asks me after a beat.
I wrack my brain and come up with nothing. “The last time I went on vacation, it was with my family, and I was sixteen years old.”
Cora grinds to a stop. “You’ve never been on vacation as an adult?”
“No.”
“That’s a sin,” she exclaims. “Why?”
I shrug. “I guess I’ve always been too busy with stuff. College, then work, then …” my voice trails off.
I was about to say then Tess passed on. We’d had plans to go on our very first vacation as a couple.
