His big hand squeezed each cheek of her buttocks before continuing its lazy glide down the backs of her leanly muscled hamstrings all the way to her calves.

“Ah. Here’s number two,” he declared triumphantly as he lifted her left foot, running his fingertips along her inner ankle. “And even less idea of what this one means. Are those Chinese characters?”

Lauren didn’t even try to muffle the little groan of pleasure as he began to gently massage her foot. “Mmm, no. They’re ah – wow, that’s good – erm, Japanese. It means – ooh, yeah, go over that spot again just like that – bravery. I got it in honor – oh, honey, you’ve got like magic fingers, you know? – of my first judo teacher – Yamashiro Sensei. He died a year ago, just two months after his eighty-fifth birthday. He – well, that’s another story altogether – but let’s just say he was like a second father to me, except that he had a lot more patience than my own dad. Especially when I was five.”

“I can’t imagine anyone losing their patience with you,” jibed Ben. “I would have just assumed you were a sweet, docile little girl.”

Her snort was loud, derisive, and extremely unladylike. “My father would be rolling around on the floor with hysterical laughter right now to hear you say that.”

“Yeah, well, forgive me if I don’t want to think about your father at this exact moment,” he drawled sardonically. “Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, searching for that elusive third tattoo.”

She gasped as his hand slid up between her thighs, to where she was already wet, a fact he quickly discovered as he slowly pumped two long fingers in and out of her with controlled deliberation.

“Um, I, ah, definitely don’t have a – ah, God – tattoo – um, there,” she panted.

“No?” Ben’s body covered hers now – chest to back – as he used his superior strength to pin her to the mattress. “You sure about that? ‘Cause I’ve heard about guys getting their dicks inked or pierced – two images I’d really rather not visualize.”

“Mmm, well I’ve seen pictures of both at the tattoo parlor I go to. And while some women get their clit hood pierced, I doubt that anyone has ever gotten ink way down there.”

He eased his body from hers, only to flip her over onto her back. His dark blue eyes were filled with what she guessed was very uncharacteristic mischief.

“Well, I still think I should check it out just the same,” he taunted. “After all, tattoo number three must not be very large or I’d have noticed it by now. In fact,” he added, as his mouth trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the side of her neck down to her collarbone, “I’d better check this side of you very, very carefully. I mean, when you consider all of the places that pesky little tattoo could be hiding away.”

Lauren’s breath hissed in sharply as Ben cupped a breast in his big hand, his thumb teasing the nipple as he pretended to inspect the underside carefully.

“Hmm, nothing on this one,” he murmured in a voice that had grown decidedly husky. “Gotta check the other one now.”

She squirmed eagerly beneath him as he plumped the other breast up, and then ran his tongue over the nipple. “Just so you know,” she told him breathlessly, her hips lifting off the bed as he sucked the entire areola between his lips, “my breasts are off limits for any sort of ink. No nipple piercings, either.”

“Good.” Ben squeezed both breasts roughly before kissing a path down her cleavage towards her belly. “Because your tits are works of art, sweetheart, and to deface something so sensational would be the worst sort of crime. Now, where’s number three hiding?”

He continued to kiss and caress his way down her abdomen, parting her legs as he did so to nuzzle her vulva. She clutched his head to her, cursing him silently for not having the sort of long hair that would have allowed her to tug him in even closer.

“Ben.” Her voice was a plaintive wail as his tongue teased the slick folds of her inner labia. “Ah, God.” She grabbed handfuls of the already rumpled sheets as he slid two fingers back inside of her and began to flick his tongue back and forth over her overly sensitized clit. “I’m all – I should really wash and – ohhh!”

He had one hand splayed over her heaving belly, holding her down as her hips thrashed wildly beneath the twin assaults of his mouth and fingers. “You don’t need to wash,” he murmured hoarsely as he lifted his head for a moment. “Just like you didn’t want me to wash earlier when you were giving me head. Especially since you’re the most delicious treat I’ve ever tasted.”

He sucked on her clit then, his fingers pumping frantically in and out of her slick, creamy pussy, and she fell apart – falling and falling until she feared she’d never reach the ground again. Her whole body was quivering in reaction to the stunning orgasm he’d just brought her to, and her arms reached out blindly for him, craving his embrace.

But Ben ignored her outstretched arms as he resumed his quest to find the elusive third tattoo. “Ah. Found it at last. And this one at least I recognize. But tell me – why a seahorse?” he inquired, examining the tiny but perfectly detailed image that graced the instep of her right foot.

She was still struggling to breathe, her head still spinning from the really fabulous demonstration of oral sex he’d just given her. “I, uh, need a minute here, okay?” she wheezed. “Just regaining consciousness.”

He chuckled as he released her ankle and took her into his arms instead, cradling her against him. “Is that a good thing? Passing out after an orgasm, that is.”

“It’s way, way better than good, Blue Eyes,” she whispered, caressing his heavily stubbled jaw. “It’s out of this world, fucking amazing. You’ve, ah, got a gift. Or maybe just a whole lot more experience than my previous partners.”

Ben grimaced. “I doubt that. Don’t forget I went to college, too, and almost every roommate I had was a big manwhore. So I’ve got a feeling the guys you’ve been with more than likely have way more notches on their belts than I do.”

“Okay. Maybe experience isn’t the correct word,” she agreed. “Let’s search our vocabulary and see if we can come up with the right one. How about expertise? Finesse? Or what about instinct or mastery or maybe - ”

He laid two fingers over her lips. “How about,” he suggested in a low, sexy voice, “it’s just a matter of having met the right woman to uncover my previously undetected skills?”

Lauren grinned up at him even as he nudged her thighs apart and began to slowly feed his fully engorged cock back inside of her an inch at a time. “I’d say that makes you something of a bullshitter.” She gasped loudly as he gave a sudden, hard thrust, burying his penis fully inside of her. “But that, ah – oh, God, sooo good – if you keep making me – oooh – feel this amazing you can tell me whatever BS you dream up.”

Ben’s mouth captured hers in another blistering kiss as he continued to ram his cock inside of her pliant body with hard, deep thrusts. “It’s not bullshit,” he whispered raggedly in between kisses. “I’ll never feed you BS, Lauren, or lie to you. But nothing would please me more than to make sure you keep feeling this way. And, like you reminded me earlier, I’ve got a whole year to make up for, don’t I?”

For once she didn’t have a witty comeback, but it didn’t matter because what she was feeling quickly became way too intense for mere words to express.

Chapter Three

Ben took a sip of the mellow cabernet sauvignon, leaning over the deck railing as he observed that the view of the night sky was every bit as stunning as those of the sunrise, high noon, or sunset. It was nearing the end of his fourth day here in Big Sur, and still his breath caught in his throat every single time he saw this view – no matter what time of day, or whether it was sunny, foggy, or pitch black outside.