up, swung her into his arms, and carried her down to the cabin.
He didn’t waste any time, either, Harry thought to herself, as with quick efficiency he stripped her of her clothes, then removed his own, laying her down on one of the two bunks that lined either side of the cabin.
“I don’t think you’re going to fit,” she told him, looking up at where he stood bent over so as to avoid hitting the ceiling. “Look—I fill the whole thing. My head and feet are both touching the walls.”
He snarled something in Greek that she was willing to bet wasn’t at all nice. His gaze darted here and there, his fingers twitching spasmodically until he suddenly snatched the mattress off the other bunk, and threw it onto the floor of the cabin, along with the blankets.
“Up,” he said, gesturing to her.
She got up. He pulled her mattress off, nudged it alongside the first, then flung the blankets over the top of both.
“Down,” he ordered.
She slid him a look, amused by the fact that he had found a solution to the problem. Surely such problem solving deserved reward. She knelt before him, taking his erection in her hands. “Now, I’m not a big expert on doing this, so if I do something that you don’t like, or do it wrong, or even if you have suggestions on how to improve the whole experience, I’m more than willing to hear you out.”
He looked down at her with dawning hope in his eyes. “I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said gratefully. “Most men never talk when it comes to this, you know. They just lie there twitching and moaning, and then they go to sleep. Or at least my boyfriend did, and really, I don’t know how one is supposed to improve when one doesn’t have any feedback. It’s just like writing, if you think about it. My goal with each book is to become a better writer, so since I’m kind of a novice at this, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could provide constructive criticism once we’re done.”
He stared down at her in what appeared to be utter disbelief. “You want me to criticize the manner you use to pleasure me?”
“Well . . . I’ve always been a big believer in critique groups,” she said, taking his testicles in one hand while the other explored the length—and there was certainly a lot of it to be explored—of his penis. “Not that I think group involvement is appropriate here, but let’s think of this as you being my critique partner, OK?”
“Harry,” he said, his voice taking on a gravelly tone.
“Yes?”
“We’re going to be in Turkey if you don’t stop talking and let me make love to you. Or, alternately, you can do what you’re poised to do.”
She rubbed his shaft. “Not unless you promise to tell me what I can do to improve the experience for you.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath. “I promise.”
“Thank you. OK, here we go, then!” He tasted hot; that was her first thought. Hot and slightly salty, and as she found a rhythm that had him clutching the doorframe, his eyes rolled back in his head, his beautiful chest heaving as his hips moved along with her, she figured that perhaps stopping to ask for his opinion wasn’t the best option. Then again, one never knew unless one asked, and she was a big believer in communication.
“So,” she said, with a slight pop as she released the head of his penis. “Thoughts?”
He looked down at her with wild eyes. “‘Thoughts’? Is that what you said? You said ‘thoughts’?”
“Yes. I know it’s probably not the thing to stop in the middle of it, but really, I’d like to take this opportunity as a learning experience, so if you have some feedback to share, I want to hear it.”
“Feedback,” he said, as if he couldn’t understand the word.
“Yes, you know, feedback. Was I too fast? Too slow? Not enough tongue swirls under the very tip? Were you go or no go on the gropage of your balls while I did it?”
He stared down at