Laura's Solo Honeymoon - The Ice Cream Shop Boy #1 (Erotic Romance) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Mimi Strong
He stepped in, leaned down, and kissed me. Right there on the sidewalk, for anyone in town to see.
Shyly, I pulled away from him and looked around, worried about crazy Sharise coming after me with a tire iron.
He said, “The bars won't be interesting for another hour, so do you want to … go to the beach and watch the sun set?”
“Okay,” I said, and I grabbed onto his hand—comfortably, as though we'd held hands a million times.
Down on the beach, we found a secluded log to watch the sunset. Finding privacy wasn't difficult, as the beach was rather secluded. As I looked out over the sparkling ocean, I realized that the people who lived in this town saw this view every day, any time they wanted, and they'd come to take it for granted.
I rested my head on Shawn's shoulder and tried not to think about the six-and-a-half-year age gap between us. It hardly mattered, anyway, since my home was three states away, in a noisy city, so far away from this beauty.
We'd been quiet for a while, and I thought of a question to ask, but then we both spoke at the exact same time, cutting each other off. After a shared laugh, I said, “What were you going to ask?”
He said, “Something dumb, just to get you to turn and look at me.”
I turned and stared into his eyes. They were brown, and the setting sun lit them up gold, captivating me, rendering me speechless.
He leaned in to kiss me.
This time, we were not interrupted by someone banging on the door.
He kissed me, timidly at first, but then his passion grew. I felt the heat rising in my loins, and the sensation of my private areas, inside my panties, becoming swollen and slippery.
His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I hungrily devoured it, surprising myself at my passion. My ex-fiance, Lars, had once called me frigid during an argument, and I'd actually believed him. I thought perhaps I wasn't a very sexual person, but my feelings with Shawn surprised me in their ferocity. I could see myself ripping his clothes off, devouring him.
He pulled back and looked at my arm, which was dotted in goosebumps.
“You're cold,” he said.
But I wasn't. I was just excited.
“Sit on my lap,” he said, grinning. “I'll keep you warm.”
The sun was sinking into the sea, a hot, orange half-circle, plunging out of sight.
“Sure,” I said, and I slid over and then up onto his lap, with my back to him.
“Not like that,” he said. “I can't kiss you like that.”
“You can kiss my neck.”
“Ah,” he said, and then he did, biting, tonguing and nibbling up and down the nape of my neck, holding up my hair with one hand to get at more of me. His touch was exquisite, so sensual, like he was paying full attention to what he was doing.
My breasts got a feeling in them, like I wanted him to touch them. As I was thinking this, he reached his hands around and cupped them, gently squeezing my nipples.
His voice all deep and raw, he said, “Turn around. Let me kiss you.”
I stood, faced him, then lowered myself onto his lap. I lifted my feet over the log, one at a time, and wrapped my legs around him.
My green, frilly dress rode up, and the sensation of the hard bulge in his pants felt so good, so desirable, against my panties and the soft inner sides of my thighs. I ground myself into him, feeling the hardness within his jeans shift so that his penis could fully engorge and stand straight up.
I kissed him again, grabbing at him with my hands—grabbing his hair, his face, his neck, shoulders, and back. He had some powerful muscles underneath his T-shirt, more than one would get from simply scooping ice cream.
His hands were all over me as well, and as he was stroking my buttocks, I reached down and pulled open the front of his pants, releasing him. I slid my hand down and grabbed his manhood in my hand, enjoying the feel of it, squeezing it for myself and my own interest more than for him. Oh, he was a big boy.
Huskily, he said in my ear, “Oh, Laura. Wait 'til the sun's
Shyly, I pulled away from him and looked around, worried about crazy Sharise coming after me with a tire iron.
He said, “The bars won't be interesting for another hour, so do you want to … go to the beach and watch the sun set?”
“Okay,” I said, and I grabbed onto his hand—comfortably, as though we'd held hands a million times.
Down on the beach, we found a secluded log to watch the sunset. Finding privacy wasn't difficult, as the beach was rather secluded. As I looked out over the sparkling ocean, I realized that the people who lived in this town saw this view every day, any time they wanted, and they'd come to take it for granted.
I rested my head on Shawn's shoulder and tried not to think about the six-and-a-half-year age gap between us. It hardly mattered, anyway, since my home was three states away, in a noisy city, so far away from this beauty.
We'd been quiet for a while, and I thought of a question to ask, but then we both spoke at the exact same time, cutting each other off. After a shared laugh, I said, “What were you going to ask?”
He said, “Something dumb, just to get you to turn and look at me.”
I turned and stared into his eyes. They were brown, and the setting sun lit them up gold, captivating me, rendering me speechless.
He leaned in to kiss me.
This time, we were not interrupted by someone banging on the door.
He kissed me, timidly at first, but then his passion grew. I felt the heat rising in my loins, and the sensation of my private areas, inside my panties, becoming swollen and slippery.
His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I hungrily devoured it, surprising myself at my passion. My ex-fiance, Lars, had once called me frigid during an argument, and I'd actually believed him. I thought perhaps I wasn't a very sexual person, but my feelings with Shawn surprised me in their ferocity. I could see myself ripping his clothes off, devouring him.
He pulled back and looked at my arm, which was dotted in goosebumps.
“You're cold,” he said.
But I wasn't. I was just excited.
“Sit on my lap,” he said, grinning. “I'll keep you warm.”
The sun was sinking into the sea, a hot, orange half-circle, plunging out of sight.
“Sure,” I said, and I slid over and then up onto his lap, with my back to him.
“Not like that,” he said. “I can't kiss you like that.”
“You can kiss my neck.”
“Ah,” he said, and then he did, biting, tonguing and nibbling up and down the nape of my neck, holding up my hair with one hand to get at more of me. His touch was exquisite, so sensual, like he was paying full attention to what he was doing.
My breasts got a feeling in them, like I wanted him to touch them. As I was thinking this, he reached his hands around and cupped them, gently squeezing my nipples.
His voice all deep and raw, he said, “Turn around. Let me kiss you.”
I stood, faced him, then lowered myself onto his lap. I lifted my feet over the log, one at a time, and wrapped my legs around him.
My green, frilly dress rode up, and the sensation of the hard bulge in his pants felt so good, so desirable, against my panties and the soft inner sides of my thighs. I ground myself into him, feeling the hardness within his jeans shift so that his penis could fully engorge and stand straight up.
I kissed him again, grabbing at him with my hands—grabbing his hair, his face, his neck, shoulders, and back. He had some powerful muscles underneath his T-shirt, more than one would get from simply scooping ice cream.
His hands were all over me as well, and as he was stroking my buttocks, I reached down and pulled open the front of his pants, releasing him. I slid my hand down and grabbed his manhood in my hand, enjoying the feel of it, squeezing it for myself and my own interest more than for him. Oh, he was a big boy.
Huskily, he said in my ear, “Oh, Laura. Wait 'til the sun's
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