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“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Cass”
Yes, that was it. Cass was the name he always used when he was playing the role of the adult. That was what he needed now, to be an adult, to set boundaries. To get the hell out of here and back to his office before he did something really stupid.
However Cassandra glimpsed his other head twitching against its prison.
“Aww, how come?” she cooed, all innocence and sweetness, scooping up and offering him her bottle of factor 40, silently praying her nerve held. “Please, Mr Street. You don’t want me to get burned now, do you?”
David stared at the bottle like it was a coiled viper, poised to strike. This was his last chance. He needed to go. Just get up and go back inside, he could do it. Just get up and go. He had to, before...
Taking it from her, he rose up and walked around her lounger to stand over her before popping the cap. “Roll over.”
The command was clipped and said with such primal authority, it sent a fresh shiver of excitement tingling through Cassandra. She obeyed immediately. Rolling onto her front, she pulled the wash of her raven hair aside before starting on the fastenings of her top.
“I think that’s going too far.”
“But I’ll have tan lines Mr Street,” she implored, barely able to keep still for the thought of his hands on her bare skin. Just managing to finger the knot loose despite the knots in her tummy, she added sweetly, “I know you’ll be a gentleman and not look.”
“Of course not,” he bit out, squeezing a generous amount of the sunscreen onto his palm before smearing a long line across her shoulder blades. It wasn’t cold. Not after a morning sitting out under the Mediterranean sun, but she shivered and squirmed all the same as his hand circled around and around, teasing down her long neck and across her shoulders, massaging it in.
He worked until it had all been applied, and then kept going. Her skin was just so warm, so butter soft. He couldn’t get enough.
And nor could Cassandra.
“Mmm... that feels so nice Mr Street... mmm... lower,” she panted, burying her face in the lounger to keep him from spying the blush heating her face. God, what was she doing? This was Mr Street, her best friend’s dad.
This was insane, but she didn’t care.
She’d been dreaming of this moment. This intimacy with him.
Cassandra had craved the feeling of his hands sliding over her skin, the sensations those big, powerful hands would send sizzling straight down to her throbbing centre.
If this was her one moment with him, then she intended to make it count and enjoy every second of it.
David was happy to indulge her and applied a fresh squeeze of lotion.
Guided by her soft, kittenish moans, he worked his way down the delicate curve of her back, his thumb playing along her spine like the strings of a violin while his fingers danced along her ribs. Accidentally, one finger brushed along the side of her milky white breast and she sucked in a breath that made his cock tighten and twitch.
Fuck this was bad. He needed to get out of here, away, back to the safety of his office. A place he could look but not touch. Never touch! This was Cassandra for Christ’s sake. His daughter’s best friend. Her fucking flatmate!
Needing to put some much-needed distance between them, he manoeuvred to the base of the lounger, dragging his hands around the contours of her upturned derriere and down her gloriously long legs. He tried to focus, to clear his thoughts, but the distance only made it easier for him to devour the vision of her stretched out before him. His eyes immediately locked onto the small triangle of white material between her legs. Still slightly damp from her earlier swim, her folds were clearly visible against the fabric, the nub of her clit swollen and pleading for attention, betraying her arousal.
This was affecting her just as much as it was him.
And that revelation made it impossible for him to pull away.
He worked his way back up from her ankle and along her calf. Stroking and brushing, his touch as light and teasing as a feather, the premise of applying the lotion forgotten, making her writhe and moan. Then as his fingers brushed over her inner thighs, she raised her hips and subtly parted her legs just that bit wider, opening herself to him.
It was all the permission he needed.
Cassandra couldn’t stand it. His hands were working her into a frenzy, making her skin tingle wherever he touched. She had to grab the edges of the lounger to battle against the urge to slip a hand beneath her suit and sooth the fire throbbing between her legs.
Was this really happening?
Was she really letting him do this?
Him! Mr Street, her best friend’s daddy, was touching her! No, not just touching her, massaging her, seducing her with his every touch. How long had she dreamed of this moment, of his hands on her skin, sliding up her legs, finger tips pressing higher and higher and-
She bit down on a surprised squeak as something brushed across her folds.
