Just This One Summer

This erotic story excerpt by Clare Connelly from Just This One Summer was originally self-published and the podcast script is a finalist in the Good Sex Awards Best Sexy Talk Category. Show it some love and vote for this story in the Readers' Choice awards by 20 June.

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Read the good sex story excerpt below, or listen to the erotic audio version produced for The Good Bits Podcast.

 

Nico: “It’s Nico.”

Maddie: His voice is lightly accented with a hint of the Mediterranean that on a sunny day would be glistening beyond the windows of this cliff-top home. He scans my face, like he’s looking for something, but I’ve no idea what.

“Nico.” I repeat it, filling the silence with another question. “Is it short for anything?”

Nico: “Niccolo.”

Maddie: He poses his features into a mask of strength.

Nico:  (Deeper tone, somewhat majestically) “Conqueror of the people.”

Maddie: (A small laugh) “Perfect.”

Maddie: There is something about him that speaks of victory and conquering, of being conquered.  How I wish I had a tighter grip on my body’s responses! But I don’t. A force is at work that’s so much bigger than me. Desire flares in the pit of my stomach, and even though I can think of a dozen reasons to ignore it, I absolutely don’t want to.

“Yeah.” I angle my body towards his, my pulse racing. Am I really going to do this?

Do what, my brain screams at me.

He might not be interested. It’s very possible, given my lack of experience, that I’m misreading everything. I’m not good at this stuff.

And this guy is really, seriously gorgeous. He could have his pick of anyone. A flash of lightning spears through the sky, just beyond the window and I startle. It’s not much; an involuntary gesture – barely enough to register. But his hand shoots out, as if to steady me, his strong fingers curving around my arm. The lightest touch, so gentle and reassuring, but it shoots little arrows of awareness through my bloodstream and makes my cheeks burn with heat.

Nico: “You’re okay?”

Maddie: Did he move closer? Or have I? We’re standing toe to toe, so I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes now. I can feel his chest moving with every breath he draws.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” I suck in a gulp of air that’s spiced with his intoxicatingly masculine fragrance.

Nico: “You’re jumpy.”

Maddie: My lips twist in a grimace, because he’s right. I am jumpy. “Sometimes.”

Nico: “You don’t need to be.”

Maddie: A divot forms between his brows.

Nico: “You’re safe here.”

Maddie: Had he intentionally chosen the word I let slip earlier? I bite down on my lower lip, chewing it distractedly. “Am I?”

Nico: “Of course.”

Maddie: I lift my hand and press it to his chest, surprising us both. “The thing is, I don’t know if I want to feel safe right now.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, his face unreadable.

Nico: “No?”

Maddie: My blood is rushing so fast I can hear it in my ears. I’m terrified of what I’m doing, of what I’m feeling, but I don’t look away.

“Nope.”

Nico: “Maddie.”

Maddie: My name on his lips is a sensual incantation, yet he stays where he is.

Nico: “I didn’t invite you here for this.”

Maddie: Insecurity reaches inside of me easily. I’m an idiot. He doesn’t want this. I drop my hand and spin away from him. “Oh, God. I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” I shake my head, unable to look at him, staring across the room. “You’ve been really kind and I shouldn’t…”

His fingers curve around my wrist, pulling at me gently.

Nico:“The same thing that came over you has come over me too,”

Maddie: My heart skips a beat.

Nico: “But I invited you to shelter here with no agenda. I need to know you believe that, that you won’t think I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

Maddie: Pleasure floods me but it’s quickly engulfed by bitterness. He seems so perfect, just like Michael seemed perfect, at the start. But Nico isn’t Michael, and I’m definitely not the same woman I was back then. In any event, I’m not looking for a relationship. I’ve learned my lesson there! God knows if I’ll ever feel secure enough to want to pursue anything long term, but in this moment, with this man, my desire is big enough to cloud my doubts and questions. The future feels a long way away, as though tomorrow hovers in an entirely different universe.

Balling my courage, I lift onto the tips of my toes so our lips are just an inch apart. “And if I want to take advantage of the situation?”

Nico: (Groaning)“Dio autami,”

Maddie: “What does that mean?”

Nico:“God help me—” (broken/smothered “me” as Maddie internal monologue continues)

Maddie:  The last words are smothered by his lips as he crushes them to mine. It’s a kiss of complete and total possession. My knees are weak; his arm clamps behind my back as though he knows that without his support, I might slide right to the ground. You’re safe.

Stars explode through my mind, celestial dust blowing through all the dark spaces, filling me with light and heat and warmth and yes, safety. His other hand cradles my head, his fingers pushing through my rain-dampened hair so I moan, opening my mouth wider. Our tongues duel, but it’s not a fight; no. It’s a capitulation in every sense of the word. Only I don’t feel as though I’m surrendering. I feel victorious, like I’m reclaiming an important part of myself. As though this simple act of passion can stitch something of myself back into place, just as I’d been before Michael.

My hands, pressed to his chest, seek his shirt, pushing it so my fingertips can connect with the naked expanse of his muscular abdomen. He’s so warm and that heat spreads through me. He speaks in his native tongue, the foreign words firing inside my body, landing in the pit of my abdomen. Need grows. The storm rages wild outside the window, but neither of us hears it; our own storm is so much more intense, so much more demanding. He lifts me easily, holding my body pressed to his own as he carries me through the house, shouldering a door to a darkened room.

Nico: “Presumptuous?”

Maddie: He flicks a light switch on, a sexy grin accompanying the gesture. I look around for just as long as it takes to ascertain that we’re in a bedroom.

In answer, my hands find his shirt again, pushing it up his body. “Perfect,” I murmur.

Nico: (Teasingly) “The bedroom, or my body?”

Maddie: “Both.” I’m kissing him again, my hands working the button of his pants, unfastening them so I can shove the fabric down his legs without breaking the kiss. He steps out of them with the same degree of urgency and I laugh – for no reason except, in this moment, I’m deliriously, uncontainably happy.

He wears only boxer shorts and the sight of him strikes awareness through me. Uncertainty and doubts are always lurking, and they tap my spine now, reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve done this.

And he’s so different; completely unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

Nico: (mutters darkly and intimately) “You are incredibly beautiful,”

Maddie: The words drag me right back to the present, pulling me into the room, filling me with sensual awareness. There’s no room for doubt. This is right. It’s perfect.

I lift my hands into the air, in a gesture of unspoken invitation. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and then he’s lifting the jumper he’d given me earlier, pulling it softly over my head before letting it drop to the floor.

I’m surprised I don’t feel more self-conscious, but I’m just…not. Even when his eyes drop, so he’s staring at me, taking in every detail, and my nipples pull taut and begin to tingle against the fabric of my bra.

Nico:“So beautiful.”

Maddie: The words are deep, but his smile is sexy and sweet all at once. He shakes his head, almost as though he can’t believe it, and I want to tell him such extravagant praise isn’t necessary. I don’t need it, and I don’t believe it.

“No words.” I lift a finger and press it to his lips. “It’s easier.”

He scrunches his nose.

Nico:“Really?”

Maddie:“Uh huh.”

Nico:“As easy as this?”

Maddie: He grabs me by the hips and lifts me up, dropping me unceremoniously onto the bed so I laugh and scramble onto my elbows.

“As easy as what?”

Nico: “This.”

Maddie: He wraps his mouth around one of my nipples, his tongue circling the sensitive flesh, teasing it, rolling it, pulling it so I whimper and arch my back, desire driving me utterly wild. Heat pools between my legs.

“God,” I cry and he smiles against my breast. His finger and thumb press to my other nipple, clamping down on it with just enough pressure to make stars shoot across my eyelids. “This is…wow.”

Nico: (gently mocking)“I thought we weren’t talking?”

Maddie: He brought the full weight of his body down on me, his arousal between my legs a stark reminder of what was about to happen. A kaleidoscope of butterflies is rampaging inside my belly.

(groaning) “I  meant…compliments.”

He rolls his hips, pressing his arousal to my sex, so despite the barrier of his boxers and the shorts he’d given me earlier, I’m incandescent with pleasure.

Nico:“I can’t tell you that you’re beautiful?’

Maddie:“I don’t need to hear it.” I push at his boxers, needing more, needing to feel him, needing to be possessed by him. (whimpers) “Please…”

He pulls up, shifting his mouth to my other nipple, but this time, instead of closing his mouth over it, he simply flicks it with his tongue. It was already so sensitive from the way his finger and thumb had been toying with it seconds ago, so the sheer hint of contact from his mouth sends my senses into overdrive. His hands roam my body, running down my sides with a lightness of touch that is infuriating because it’s simply not enough. I need everything he can give me, and I need it right this instant.

At my waist, his hands find the elastic of the shorts and lower it, easing them from my body. I lift my bottom to make it easier.

His hands don’t leave my legs long; once he’s discarded the shorts, starting at my ankles, he begins a slow cruise upwards, towards my thighs, where he pushes a little, separating my legs. I groan, writhing on the bed beneath him, impatient, hungry for him.

“Don’t forget a condom.” Honestly, I’m a bit surprised I’ve remembered.

Nico: “I will. When it’s time.”

Maddie: There is promise in that statement. I don’t get a chance to ask what he means. His mouth connects with my sex, his tongue – his clever, clever, tongue – moving slowly at first, and then more intently, buzzing my sensitive cluster of nerves until I’m burning up. It was so intimate, my cheeks explode with warmth; but I don’t think, for even one moment, of asking him to stop. Instead, my hands find his hair, running through it, holding on as pleasure threatens to burst through me, tearing me apart completely.

SFX: Some subtle hard breathing/moaning in the background.

When I’m at the brink of breaking, he moves faster, his tongue tormenting me, lashing me until I’m trembling. I arch my back and push down against him, and then I’m tumbling across the edge of the earth, exploding against his mouth, exploding with his name on my lips, over and over again.

SFX: Orgasm noises growing in torment, then dying down.

It’s unrelenting. Even as I come, he doesn’t stop, so I’m fire and flame, desperate for him even as I’m at the end of my tolerance for pleasure. Somehow, he knows, he understands, and pulls away, moving his mouth to my inner thigh, kissing the flesh there before moving back to my sex, kissing me more gently, allowing me time to breathe, to recover before he begins his next incursion. This time, a finger moves inside me, and I moan, shaking my head, desperate and terrified of the strength of my desperation even as I know I would happily surrender to this anytime, anywhere.

He watches me in a way that makes me feel precious and special, and sexier than sin. He watches me in a way that I love, like he wants to understand everything about me, so he can pleasure me over and over. The promise is delicious, but I push it away. This isn’t about promises. It’s just this: sex.

No, not just sex.

It’s more.

It’s a healing, a balm, an undoing of Michael, overwriting the memories of how he’d treated my body with this: someone who’s worshipping me, existing purely to pleasure me.

It’s a physical act with an emotional resonance that I don’t particularly wish to analyse right now.

And it’s only just beginning…

 

If you loved this story, vote for it in the Readers’ Choice awards by 20 June, listen to the Good Bits Podcast of the excerpt or buy the book.

Clare Connelly is the bestselling author of more than eighty titles. She writes heart-warming love stories for Harlequin Presents and Harlequin Dare, and when she’s not chasing after energetic children, or wiping fingerprints off furniture, she’s writing, thinking about writing, or wishing she were writing.

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