A deep, hungry moan spills from my lips.
Craig urging me to spread my legs. Craig latching on to my clit and suckling it like he'll die without the flavor of me on his tongue.
I rub myself with those two fingers and sag against the wall while the water continues to rain down on me. With one hand, I pinch my nipple. With the other, I rub my clit, heightening my need until I can't hold back anymore. Visions of Craig take over my mind, and I can't think about anything else except hitting that climax. My moans grow louder, echoing off the shower walls, while I begin to gasp and rub myself faster and harder.
The orgasm crashes through me so powerfully that my knees buckle, and I grasp the showerhead to keep from falling down. A strangled cry erupts out of me. Pleasure courses through me, stealing my breath. Even once the orgasm has faded, I still feel hypersensitized and struggle to catch my breath. For a moment, I lean against the wall and just let myself come down from the high. But the DIY kind of pleasure can't match how it had felt when Craig went down on me on the beach and then took my body too.
No, I will not think about that anymore. So what if I got off while picturing him going down on me? It was a fantasy, not reality.
I finish my shower and step out of the stall. But just as I'm reaching for the hair dryer, someone knocks on the door to my suite. I hurry out there to pull the door open, wet hair and all.
Craig eyes me up and down, then smirks. "Good morning, Nessa. You look fresh and wet, just the way I like you best."
"I've asked you more than once to please stop calling me Nessa. We aren't married anymore."
"Nobody knows you better than I do."
"Really." I fold my arms over my chest. "Then why don't you know that I mean it when I say we are never getting back together?"
He sighs, leaning against the jamb. "Come on, chill out. Let's have breakfast outdoors this morning. Like a picnic."
Why does he insist on ignoring everything I say? He told me to "chill out," as if he's a hippie. My ex has never been that sort of man. He's the type who believes in work before play. We never did much playing, actually. We both worked too hard.
"No picnic," I tell him. "We are not dating, Craig. I might have moved out of the house, but you divorced me. End of story."
"Hmm." He gazes directly into my eyes. "Have you heard about the masquerade party? We'll all wear body paint costumes."
"I know. Emilio told me about that."
"Will you be attending the party?" He raises a hand before I can balk. "Not suggesting we should go as a couple. But if you happen to be there, and I happen to be there..."
"You and I might bump into each other. That's all."
"Did you know the body paint will be edible?"
I stare at him. I think my jaw has fallen open too. Edible body paint? That's crazy. Why would anyone want...Oh, fuck. He wants to lick that paint off my body, doesn't he? Ever since I arrived on this island, I've felt like a teenager again, or at least a college girl. The mature science teacher kissed a sinfully young man and let her former husband do wicked things to her on the beach.
What is wrong with me?
"Doesn't matter to me that the paint is edible," I say. "Because I don't plan on eating it. Food is the only thing I'll be eating."
He slants closer. "But I could lick it off your body."
"We won't be doing that either. People our age don't do such things."
"You make it sound like we're ninety and need help to use the restroom." He roves his gaze over me from head to toe. "You are not old. You're as hot as the young women on this island. Hotter, actually. There's nothing sexier than a mature woman who knows what she wants."
"Why don't you go flirt with an obscenely young woman? That's what men your age are supposed to do. Besides, I have plans for the day." No, I don't. But sometimes lying is a necessary evil, especially when my ex wants to talk about edible body paint.
Craig pushes away from the jamb. "Sure, I'll go. We'll see each other at the party tonight, anyway."
"Not sure I'm going."
He smirks again, and winks too. "Afraid you can't resist me, hey?"
"No." I push the door halfway closed. "Goodbye. Have fun with the sex kittens."
I shut the door all the way. Then I turn around and lean against it, blowing out a breath. I hope he couldn't tell I was aroused. Never will he ever find out that I got off in the shower while fantasizing about him.