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CHAPTER 13
Cupping one perfect breast, Oliver sucked her engorged nipple into his mouth. With a soft moan of pleasure, she arched into his touch as his other hand explored lower, across the curve of her belly, the soft damp curls of her mound, marvelling at the glorious burnished red against her white skin, and revelling in her little gasps of pleasure as he parted her folds and circled her clit with his fingers. Everything was dark and hot and wet, their bodies in synchronised rhythm. He almost cried out as her hand curled around his cock, shafting it with deft, swift strokes. The sound of their mingled groans and sighs urged him on. Christ almighty, he had to be more turned on than he’d ever been in his life! He stroked her faster, the scent of their shared arousal tantalising his nostrils. Her thighs trembled, her head kicked back as she drew close to her release and an answering fireball of pleasure surged up his cock.
Oliver groaned. Opened his eyes and stared in a haze of lustful confusion at a broken fan on a yellowed ceiling and sure, therewasa hand on his cock moving up and down, but it was…fuck, it washishand.
He stilled, spine pinned to the mattress as the throb in his cock subsided, the only mercy being that embarrassment was the fastest remedy known to man for a hard-on. The only other blessing—his lower body was encased in the sleeping bag he’d had the good sense to sleep in.
Holding his breath, he dared to move his eyes around the room. The curtains were still closed, but daylight filtered round the edges. Head motionless, he moved his gaze sharp left until it felt like the muscles that tethered his eyeballs to their sockets might snap.
In his peripheral vision he could tell that Felicity was not in the bed. Then his ears pricked to the sound of running water. She was in the shower. Please god, let his dream-induced attempt to jerk off have begunaftershe’d left the room.
Horny yak syndrome was back.
With a fucking vengeance.
And right now, Oliver wanted to curl up and die.
On the vacated side of the bed he noticed her pink nightdress, neatly folded. Was this some kind of joke? Payback, maybe, after their conversation about packing last night?
Desperate to be get something on his nether regions before Felicity emerged, sleeping bag around his waist, Oliver shuffled to the side of the bed and stared at his bag, just out of reach, on a chair.
If anyone had suggested a week ago that he’d find himself in such a humiliating situation, he’d have laughed in their face.
Grinding his teeth together, he hopped like he was in the league egg-and-spoon race and grabbed at the handle of his bag, which obligingly upturned onto the floor with a smug little thump, spilling the contents onto the linoleum.
And of course, as would happen at this exact moment, out walked Felicity, with something wrapped around her that could only be described as a large hand towel.
“Is everything okay there?” she asked, sweet as… sweet asblueberry buttermilk pancakes, damn the woman.
He smiled through taut lips, bunching the sleeping bag around his abs with a fist. “Absolutely, never better. Did you, er—have you been gone long?”
“A while. It took me ages to get the water to heat up. I crept out very quietly though.”
“Well, thanks for not waking me. Hope I wasn’t snoring, or dribbling or…”Shut the fuck up, man.
She beamed. “You were… very asleep. And really, you don’t need to stay wrapped in your sleeping bag. Naked bodies don’t faze me,” she said as she flicked out her hair. At the same time her other arm sandwiched the towel around her, bunching it so that her cleavage taunted him over the top. “But if you’re embarrassed about being starkers, I promise I won’t look.”
She made her way to the other side of the bed while he grabbed hold of the clothes on the floor and started to stuff—yes, fuckingstuff—them back in the bag.
“Oh dear, will you look at that.” Her tone was all exaggerated innocence. “Do you need help to put them all back?”
Oliver straightened with as much dignity as he could manage, considering his state. “Your stuffing method, you mean? No thank you, I’ll fold them properly when I’m dressed.”
“Please yourself, Mr Grump.”
“I am not grumpy, I’m—”Horny.“Off to have a shower, get dressed and see if Len’s in the workshop,” he muttered as he bunny-hopped into the bathroom, peals of Felicity’s laughter chasing after him.
* * *
In the servoeatery a while later, engine drained, and Len now fixing the air-con too, Oliver sat with a rather ghastly instant black coffee in front of him and watched Felicity happily munch her way through a bowl of cocoa pops.
“How good are these?” she said, diving in with glee. “I love how you can take as many as you want from the container. Not like those mean little cardboard boxes.” She frowned mid-chew. “They taste a bit stale, but if you put on a lot of milk they’re okay.” She held out the spoon. “Want some? You really should eat breakfast, it’s the most important meal of the day.”
“Firstly, you are sounding like Andrea, and secondly, if the order of the day is a bowl of cocoa pops, I beg to disagree.”
“I don’t eat them every day. At home, we have cocoa pops once a week, on a Saturday. We decided that since we all loved them from… when we first met, it’s kind of a little ritual we’ve kept up.”
“How did you actually meet?”
Felicity shifted in her seat and munched before answering. “We all went through rehab together.”
No wonder she mentioned them often, there must be a special bond between the three of them. “Are Evie and Felix cancer survivors?” he asked.
“Survivors definitely. But not of cancer.” She glanced over her spoon as if contemplating telling him more, and then resumed her assault on the cocoa pops. Not the right moment, perhaps, so he simply nodded, even though his curiosity was piqued, and swigged down the dregs of his coffee. A glance at his watch told him it was nearly 10 am. If they wanted to get down to the spectacular beaches of Cape Le Grand before sundown, he guessed they’d better get going.
It was only when Felicity said, fifteen minutes later as she clicked on her seatbelt, “Day 2, here we come!” that it occurred to him that for the first time in months, he’d not woken up and thought about Leonie.
He guessed if there was a silver lining to the horny yak problem, that had to be it.
