Dancing Backward 2: Final Descent Into Male Submission by Thomas Lavalle

Author:Thomas Lavalle [Lavalle, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01N4B3QQZ
Publisher: Juno Unlimited
Published: 2016-12-05T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN ~ SELECTING A BULL, PART 1

Kelly swiveled her leather recliner to face the window wall of her high-rise corner office. She’d just spent an exasperating hour on the phone with her company’s newly acquired resort property in Bermuda, unsnarling an inexplicable series of botched convention reservations for one of her major clients. Now, for respite and reward, she decided to treat herself to a ten-minute online shopping spree.

She touched up the browser on her personal iPhone and brought up a favorite designer boutique. But, instead of focusing on the five-inch screen, she found her attention drawn to the windowed panorama beside her desk.

Down below in the adjoining marina, a two-masted sailboat was motoring out toward the main channel, catching the afternoon sun in its sails. Always a lovely sight. But something about it had snagged her attention.

Of course! From the position of the smaller mast—forward of the helm—it was a ketch, the same basic rig as Henry Malcolm’s boat. The one he kept in the Mediterranean and had been texting her enticing photos of. Henry the Incorrigible. The roguishly handsome, fifty-something South African was still stalking her from halfway around the world—in between running his various companies and playing with millionaire toys.

“You know, Kelly Ann,” ran his most recent, oh-so tempting text message, “nobody has to know about us. What if, next time you fly over to check out your Monte Carlo operation, I dock the Astarte across the Italian border in San Remo & sneak you aboard for a little cruise along the Ligurian coast? No crew, no itinerary, no ports of call, no bathing suits. Just a jug of wine, a baguette & me & thee, skinny-dipping in paradise!”

Squinting down through the afternoon dazzle, Kelly saw a blonde in a thong sunbathing on the sailboat’s foredeck.

Okay, that could be her in a few weeks, if she merely juggled some items in her travel schedule. With Henry at the wheel. And the Italian coast sliding scenically alongside. And a teak-paneled stateroom waiting for them below.

She could see it all. Well, except the thong part. Tying a string bikini around her superabundance would be beyond absurd. Like pasting a decal on a 747. Anyway, according to Henry, except for a spray coat of sunblock, they’d both be stark naked.

Was Henry Malcolm man enough to carry that off? Most definitely, she thought, slipping her fingers under the waistbands of her skirt and silken panties. What would that whipcorded, sun-baked body of his look like stripped to the buff?

Specifically, how well was he hung?

Now she really was wet down there. She really did want to fuck Henry. “God, yes!” had been the full-throated shout in her mind, and almost the whisper on her lips, after their first deep-dive kiss overlooking the golf course in British Columbia—incredibly only nine or ten days ago!

But, before the steamy proceedings had gotten completely out of control, Kelly had called an inexplicable halt. To Henry’s bewilderment—and, frankly, to her own rueful regret ever since. With

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