Tumbleweed by Julia Bramer
Two men were infinitely better than one, an intoxicating combination if I could find it, and my greedy self-indulgence was boundless, my sexuality unleashed those many years ago with him. His shadow haunted me and shaped my obsession, the depth of my depravity deep and forged in the cafes and nightclubs and back alleys in a dozen countries with dozens of men. Once I’d started down that road, I couldn’t stop and couldn’t go back, a dark and insatiable impulse propelling me forward and driving me into the arms of strangers like the Mohammeds and into the sweltering barren desert.” 〰 Haley 〰
Unable to cope with the loss of her first love, a charming and seductive Spanish soccer player, beautiful, headstrong Haley Hanson abandons love entirely. She seeks solace in the arms of strangers and fame, a tumbleweed rolling where the gusts of wind carry her, and she lands between a garbage bin of rotting food and a brick wall. Stuck in limbo and near death.
Will love destroy her or conquer all?
We returned to the hotel after midnight and I immediately drew him a hot bath, adding bubbles from the upscale toiletry collection, and he let out a long sigh as he sank slowly into it, gazing at me expectantly as I hovered over him.
“You come, cariño?” he asked, gesturing for me to join him, and my pussy immediately jumped to attention.
I sat on the toilet and hurriedly removed my sandals and ripped off the tank top, my pulse racing as it always did when his luscious eyes turned seductive and mischievous.
“You do naked dance, mi amor?” he asked.
“Striptease,” I corrected, laughing, and he flicked bubbles in my direction, grinning boyishly.
“You do striptease?”
The suggestion made me hotter and I slowed down. I slid the jeans leisurely over my behind, turned away from him and bent over, giving him a good, long look at my ass in the skimpy thong as I wriggled out of the pants.
“Fantástico,” he murmured, and I spun to face him, fluffing my hair so it fell wildly around my face.
Then I slid my index fingers inside the panties, tracing them along my hip and the apex of my sex, and I plunged a hand inside, touching myself and licking my lips, enticing him with my tongue, and his eyes practically bugged out of their sockets.
I smiled to myself. My first striptease and it turned me on as much as it did him, my slit dripping with juices and my clit plumping and pulsing, and if I’d wanted, I could’ve made myself come in an instant.
I moaned softly, deliberately, and moved my hands up to my breasts, skimming the lacy fabric. I unhooked the bra and held it close to my chest, my hips swaying suggestively, and then I flung it at him.
He snatched it out of the air, his coordination soccer perfect, as was he. Delicious, tantalizingly hot, the bubbles swirling around his ribcage as he smiled his uniquely crooked smile and gazed lovingly at me with his soft chocolate eyes.
He was enjoying himself and so was I, and it was impossible not to love him.
I shimmied my tits in his face, making a show of it, and his hands reached for them, but I backed away.
“Mi amor, come with me,” he appealed.
And I did, quickly peeling off the thong and sliding into the tub. I straddled him and he grasped the nape of my neck, gently drawing me in for a kiss, his tongue passionate, loving and intense, a slow sultry dance. I drowned in that kiss, swept under by a–
The lock clicked. Baba was back. I silently cursed him, wanting to remain in the past, wanting to stay with Mikel. I remained immobile and kept my eyes closed, and I felt him looming over me, sensed the stark light streaming from the ceiling and smelled cigarette smoke.
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