Player Loves Curves Box Set #1-3 by Hope Ford
Jackie
I haveto admit that I like how he treats me. I expected him to take me back to his house after our dinner last night, but after a few kisses in the parking lot, he helped me to my car and watched as I pulled away.
He is something else. My lips are still tingling from the kisses he gave me last night. He texted me this morning and told me to wear my bathing suit under my clothes for tonight’s date. I’ve been a nervous wreck all day and sort of freaking out about the fact that I’m wearing a bathing suit and not sure exactly what we’re doing. I had convinced myself that a safe one piece was the way to go, until about ten minutes ago. I finally said to hell with it and put on my high waisted bikini bottoms with the matching black halter bikini top. I figure there’s no sense hiding who I am; he’s going to figure it out before long.
When he picks me up, the same throbbing in my lower body is back again. Just being near him does it to me. I smile shyly at him. “So, where are we going and before we go, I just thought I should tell you, I’m not that comfortable in a bathing suit.”
I decided before he picked me up that I would just be honest with him. Maybe that will change his plans for the night. But he surprises me. He holds on to my hand, pulling it up between us. He traces his finger across my palm and my whole body tingles from the simple touch. “If you really don’t want to, we don’t have to. But I think it will be fun. I’d like to do this with you, but if you’re uncomfortable we’ll do something else.”
Tilting my head to the side, I look at him. Seeing the excitement on his face, I know I’m not going to ruin the night for him. “Okay, so where we going? The lake? A waterpark?”
He just shakes his head. “Nope. Somewhere more private.”
He drives us to a brick building downtown. I look up and down the street. “Uh, there’s no pool here. At least not that I know of.”
He laughs as he takes my hand in his and leads me to a blacked-out door. Before he opens it, he asks, “Do you trust me?”
What a loaded question. I mean I just met him, but my gut is telling me I can trust him. I shrug my shoulders. “Yes, you haven’t given me a reason not to.”
He kisses my cheek and opens the door, ushering me in.
It has to be the most colorful room I’ve ever seen. There is paint everywhere. We stand in line and all the people are laughing and having a good time around us, and my belly is filled with nerves. When we get to the front of the line, Reagan tells the woman behind the counter, “I reserved a private painting room under Reagan Kline.”
“Oh, Mr. Kline, we are thrilled to have you, and uh, your friend here,” she gushes at him before looking at me. I try not to fidget under her scrutiny. I know she’s wondering what he’s doing with me, heck, I’m sort of wondering the same thing, but I don’t let it show. I smirk at the woman and wrap my arms around Reagan’s waist and smile at her. She stutters, “Please, follow me, and I’ll take you right back.”
I follow behind them and as soon as we’re in, the woman puts her hand on Reagan. “If you need anything, please let me know.”
He gently pulls away from her. “We’ll be fine. Thank you.”
I watch as she walks out and then I look at the room. There’s paper covering the walls, a big drop cloth in the center and a table set up with paints. “What is this place?”
“We’re going to body paint.” He walks to the edge of the room and starts taking off his shoes. Then his socks, then his shirt. Somewhere in there, I forget that I’m supposed to be breathing. When it hits me, I take a deep breath and drag oxygen into my lungs.
“Body paint? Like paint our bodies?” In fact, I can’t take my eyes off his. I know I should be looking at his eyes, but I can’t look away from his hard, muscled body. I’ve never seen perfection like this.
He stalks over to me, taking the bag that’s holding my sunscreen and towel off my shoulder. When he sets it aside, his hands come back and caress my shoulders. “I’m going to paint your body and you’re going to paint mine,” he tells me, his eyes taking me in.
I gasp at his words. “Uh, you’re going to paint me?”
He laughs and his deep voice echoes off the walls of the room. “Yes. This is supposed to be freeing, let us get to know each other and be more comfortable with each other. Are you okay with this?”
His worried expression snaps me out of it. All the men I’ve dated before had me planning the night out. And now I have Reagan who made all these plans for something new and exciting and I refuse to be a stick in the mud. “Sounds fun. But I’m a little shy about uh, my body.”
He just shakes his head. “You won’t be for long. Can I paint you first?”
I barely nod my head and he’s got his hands on my shirt helping me out of my clothes. When I’m standing in front of him, he lets out a low whistle and my face turns red. “I had no idea.” He grunts the words at me before turning away toward the paints.
I stand in the middle of the drop cloth and he comes at me with paint brushes and a tray of paints. He starts at my arm, painting a smiley face. Then he moves to my shoulders and my collarbone. When he drops to his knees, I can feel his breath run over my stomach as he paints swirls, hearts, and flowers on my exposed stomach, hips and thighs. My knees go weak as though I might melt onto the floor at any moment.
* * *
Reagan
It’s so temptingto dip my face and nuzzle her pussy through the bottoms she’s wearing. I can smell her arousal through the thin material and it’s driving me crazy. I’m learning every curve of her body and I wish I was using my tongue, or fuck, even my hand instead of a paintbrush. When I paint her thighs, she moans, spreading her legs apart. It would take hardly any effort on my part to slide her bottoms to the side and take just one taste of her. But I don’t.
When I paint behind her knee, she starts to giggle and jerk, laughing like I’m tickling her. “Reagan. No, I’m ticklish there.”
I grab on to her thighs, pulling her toward me again. “Good to know,” I tell her huskily.
She’s staring down at me and I’m looking up at her. I know she’s turned on, because I’m sure the same look I see in her eyes can be found in mine. She takes the paintbrush from my hand. “My turn.”
I stand on the same drop cloth in only my swimming trunks as she starts to swipe the brush across my body. Her full breasts brush up against my chest and biceps as she moves around to paint tribal symbols on me. I’m hard as a rock at first contact. She takes her time, painting my pecs and abs with admiration shining in her eyes.
When she licks her lips and bends forward to paint my lower abdomen I think I’m going to lose it right then. The image of those perfect bowed lips wrapped around my cock fills my head and I can’t shake the image no matter how hard I try. I try to hide my erection, but I’m pretty sure she’s aware of my physical response to her.
I almost reach out for her to pull her in closer when she looks up at me with a trusting smile that reminds me she deserves better.
I shake myself out of the trance and berate myself. Stupid fucking standards, just as a knock sounds on the door and the woman’s voice rings through the door. “Time’s up.”
