Getting Lei'd Part 11

He slowly slides in and out of me a few times. It feels glorious. Something with our movement sets off the sensor and warm water begins raining down on us. We laugh in surprise, then Kai shocks me by pulling out of me.

At my questioning look, he says, "We can't stay at any of the stations very long or we'll never make it around the circle tonight."

Understanding dawns on me. I'm dying to see what thrills the other stations hold, so I hop up and follow him to the next one.

The rock at this shower shows one figure sitting while the other kneels in front. "We can skip this one, if you want," Kai offers.

Is he actually blus.h.i.+ng? For an answer, I gently shove him down to a seated position on the gel-covered rock slab before kneeling down on the gel pad at the ground in front of him. I kiss and lick my way along his chest and down the side of his firm abs. The water spray at this pleasure station starts, and I am tickled with a fine mist along my backside.

He tips his head back and moans in ecstasy when I take him inside my mouth. In an extreme and impressive show of willpower, he says, "We better move to the next shower right now, or I won't make it any farther this round."

I like the sound of "this round." The thought of perfecting our lovemaking technique at this circle of pleasure sends a thrill through my already excited body.

When we look at the next suggestive etching, it is my turn to blush. "We don't have to do this one, if you don't want to," I offer.

"Are you kidding me? It's payback time," he teases me. "I want to bring you so much pleasure that you can't think of anything but me for days," he growls near my ear. I'm quite sure that is already the case, but I don't tell him that.

After he eases me down into a sitting position on the mat, I reach a hand out to wrap my fingers around him. He inhales sharply before telling me to lie back and relax. I grab a fistful of his hair as he suckles each breast before making his way down my belly. When he nibbles on the inside of each of my thighs before gently placing my leg over his shoulder, I let out a little whimper of antic.i.p.ation and delight.

He hesitates, and I wonder if I'm not what he expected. I am splayed before him, completely open and vulnerable.

My insecurities melt away when he looks up at me. His melted chocolate eyes are filled with a look of utter adoration. "You are so beautiful," he murmurs before lowering his mouth to me.

As if it somehow knows the perfect time, the water starts streaming down, pelting in glorious jets against my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I cry out in pure bliss as he wors.h.i.+ps me with his magical lips and tongue.

The tremors of pleasure are still jolting through me when we make eye contact again. "I want you inside me NOW," I tell him.

We don't bother to move to the next shower as we sit up and scramble to meld out bodies together. I mount him and we both groan when I lower myself onto him, taking him all the way in. Riding him slowly, I enjoy the full feeling of having him deep inside me.

As I start to feel the pressure building again, I pick up the pace of my hip thrusts. "Let go with me," I order him.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds, likely relieved that I don't expect him to make it all the way around the circle on our initial spin.

The smell of fragrant flowers engulfs us as warm jets of water pelt down with delightful precision on all the right spots of our joined bodies. I pump harder over him. When he cries out in release, I again spiral into the vortex of pulsing ecstasy.

We are both breathing hard, spent. I rest my head against his broad shoulder. The night is warm and clear. It seems like a bazillion stars are twinkling at us from above, and I have just had the most mind-blowing s.e.x of my life.

"Wow." It's a simple statement, but it says so much.

"Wow." I agree and kiss his neck. The water has stopped; so when I s.h.i.+ver, he asks if I am cold. "No," I shake my head. "Just ridiculously happy."

After a while, he says, "I'm sorry I couldn't last for a full revolution around the circle."

I smile at him, wondering what other sensuous delights the circle has in store for us. "We can spend the rest of our lives practicing," I rea.s.sure him, grinning.

Judging by his reaction to my offer, I think he agrees wholeheartedly.

Nana Lana's Coconut Oil Beauty Tips.

If you haven't yet discovered the luxurious, super-moisturizing benefits of coconut oil, Nana Lana suggests running (not walking) to get some right now-unless you have a coconut allergy. For skin and hair application, be sure to use unrefined, extra virgin coconut oil. Below are just a few uses for this magical hydrator.

Slather it on as an extreme skin softener. Coconut oil is solid below 76 degrees, so either rub between your palms to warm it before applying or heat it in a wax warmer for a few minutes until it becomes liquid. (Don't forget to test the temperature to make sure it isn't too hot.) Putting it on immediately following a shower or right before bed will work wonders on parched skin. Be sure to put on old clothes or a robe for a few minutes after applying-until the oil has a chance to be absorbed-or stay naked!

Apply with a cotton ball to use as a gentle makeup remover.

Tap it gently around eyes (not too close), on the backs of hands, or on the neck to utilize it as an antiwrinkle cream.

Tame frizzy hair with a tiny dab. Bonus: it also adds s.h.i.+ne. Be careful not to use too much on hair-less is definitely more on your locks.

Alleviate allergy symptoms by applying inside nostrils.

Increase sun tolerance-equivalent to SPF 4.

Shave with it for an ultra-moisturizing shaving cream.

Rub into cuticles to use as a cuticle softener.

Swirl a dab in your palm along with your favorite face cream. The added moisture will give your skin a velvety texture without the greasy feeling of undiluted oil.

Ma.s.sage it into wet hair for a super-hydrating leave-in hair conditioner.

Steam up your romantic time by using it as an all-natural personal lubricant. It works better than most of the store-bought versions, without the harsh chemicals.

Add salt or sugar to make a softening body scrub. Experiment by mixing in your favorite essential oil or pure vanilla extract.

The list of coconut oil's potential uses and benefits goes on and on. Best of all-the light, coconut odor leaves you smelling like a relaxing Pina Colada on the beach!

Take a peek at The Keys to My Diary.

Get ready to be enchanted by the personal diary of Fern Burns. (Yes, she knows her name is ridiculous. If you met her flighty mother, you would understand.) Fern is forty-two years old, lives in the beautiful, tropical Florida Keys, and is not your typical contemporary romance heroine.

In this journal, Fern shares the wacky, entertaining stories of her life for the year. From the love-hate relations.h.i.+p she develops with the book The Secret, to having to deal with cursing parrots and a road filled with skittering crabs, her summations of her offbeat daily life make for a delightfully fun read.

Fern treats her diary like her best friend as she openly writes about her hopes and dreams, her thoughts and fears, and her triumphs and embarra.s.sments. This is a particularly exciting year because she finally meets the man of her dreams. Or is he?

This fast-paced story is an intimate look inside Fern's life as she hands over the keys to her diary. Go ahead . . . take a PEEK!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KUX0NAE.

Do you like it steamy?.

Spice-o-meter Rating: This fun, steamy romance is a solid 7.5, maybe an 8, on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being Mild (Grandma's diary-let's hope!) and 10 being Ooh La La, I'm blus.h.i.+ng, but I can't seem to stop turning the pages (The Fifty Shades of Grey Red Room of Pain).

If YOU love reading about naughty, complicated love triangles or if you enjoy fun, contemporary romance novels with surprising twists along the way, get ready to spend the day reading Chances and Choices.

In Taking Chances (the first half of this fast-paced, exciting story), we meet Abigail Brown, a twenty-eight-year-old divorcee who, much to her chagrin, has never had an o.r.g.a.s.m. Despite being self-conscious about what she considers to be her body's "failings," she has built a terrific life for herself in the quaint, lakeside town of Harbor Sh.o.r.es, Michigan. Abby thinks that she has discovered her "happily ever after" ending when she stumbles upon the perfect man. Just when you think you have this book all figured out, some unexpected surprises come along and completely shake up Abby's world.

Abby needs to make some difficult decisions in the second half of her story, Making Choices. Who will she choose? Who should she choose? She has made a mess of her life. Will she be able to fix it or is it too late?

With Chances and Choices, you get both novels combined into one terrific book, for one low price. Get your copy NOW, because it's a great day to relax and enjoy reading a new book that you won't want to put down!

Book 1: Taking Chances.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FCNI42G.

Book 2: Making Choices.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HE5NBP0.

Books 1 and 2: Chances and Choices http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00I1S6H1Y.

**BONUS EXCERPT**

The Keys to My Diary.

Tuesday, March 17.

It's my birthday! Okay, that isn't nearly as thrilling as it was twenty-five years ago, but it's still somewhat exciting. At least I no longer get pinched if I'm not wearing an abundance of kelly green. A St. Patty's Day birthday kind of limits your special-day outfit choices in your youth. I remember one year in particular when Grandma gave me a beautiful, pink, frilly dress to wear to my birthday party. Mean Jimmy (as I used to call him) pinched me hard on the arm, and that started a barrage of pinching from my so-called friends. I ended up hiding in the bathroom for a good portion of my party. I must have forgiven Mean Jimmy because less than ten years later, I started calling him James, and I let him slide into third base with me in the back of his souped-up, cherry red Mustang. How's that for not holding a grudge?

What am I thinking? That's no way to start this year's diary. I haven't even introduced myself. What if some handsome stranger finds this book several years from now and wants to track me down? I'm sure I'd be happy to meet you, Big Fella. Wink, Wink.

My name is Fern Burns. Yes, I am well aware that it's a ridiculous name. Anyone who has met my scatter-brained, flighty mother gets it. Mean Jimmy had his fair share of fun chanting my silly, rhyming name, as well. "Fern Burns never learns" or 'Fern Burns makes my stomach churn." Thinking back on it now, I'm amazed that I was able to forgive him so quickly. That must be part of the magic of youth. Now, I would probably hold a grudge and plot diabolical revenge against him.

Since my middle name is Mable, it's not really much help in cutting the unusual factor down in my name. Sometimes I throw the M in when I state my name aloud, hoping that I'll be taken more seriously. I don't think it helps very much.

I have kept journals of my day-to-day life since I was twelve years old. Gosh, I guess it's officially been thirty years today. How is that possible? On my twelfth birthday, my grandma gave me a beautiful, sequined diary that locked. In one of my mother's few serious moments, she told me that I shouldn't write anything down that I didn't want the whole world to see. Being a rebellious preteen, I started writing everything down in my new journal, mostly because my mom thought it was a bad idea.

I've started a new diary on my birthday every year since then. The quant.i.ty of past diaries is becoming embarra.s.singly large. I keep them in my squatty fireproof safe because my memories are pretty much all that I have of value, except for some savings bonds that I received for my high school graduation, which are tucked away in the safe as well.

Occasionally, I like to read back through my past journals. It's amazing how much has slipped my mind. Without my written record to remind me, so much would be completely forgotten. It's not just the actual events, but also how I felt about them-my ideas, dreams, and fears at various stages of my life. Besides, when I become famous, these works will be worth big bucks. LOL.

Anyway, writing in journals has become an ingrained habit for me. Sometimes things don't seem real until I've written them down. It's like talking to my very best friend. So, I'll detail a year of my life in here. Most likely no one else will ever read it; but if you do, I hope it brings you joy, or at least minor amus.e.m.e.nt. My life is a bit of a train wreck right now; so if nothing else, it will likely make you feel better about your own life.

Let's see, I'll start with the good. I live in beautiful Key Largo in the Florida Keys. It is sunny and gorgeous here the vast majority of the time. Our little island is surrounded by some of the most crystal-clear, turquoise blue water I've ever seen. Scuba divers come from all over the world to check out the coral reefs just off the coast that are teeming with marine life. Since I don't work for the Florida Keys Tourism Board, I'll also mention that the humidity sometimes feels like being wrapped in a warm, wet blanket, and we have mosquitos that are the size of small birds. For the most part, though, the good outweighs the bad, and I like the idea of living here.

Another positive aspect of my life is that I scored a job at the Keys Yacht Club (known by members and locals as TKYC). You've probably never heard of it, and that is the way the ber-rich people that belong to the club want it. Most of the jobs in Key Largo are at scuba diving shops or restaurants; so getting a full-time job with real benefits, like health insurance and a 401(k), is a real privilege in this area.

On the not-so-great side, is my actual position at TKYC. My official t.i.tle is Outdoor Recreation Specialist. It sounds fancy, but I'm basically a glorified cabana girl. I work at the club's pool and lagoon area. The lagoon is my favorite because they truck in tons of pristine, white sand. I'm not sure where they "borrow" that from, but it's one of the only sandy beach areas in Key Largo. I know that is surprising, since it's an island, but this island has a mostly rocky or mangrove-covered sh.o.r.eline. As I'm circling the lagoon, picking up trash, beaching water toys, and repeatedly straightening the same lounge chairs, I tell myself that all of this sand walking is going to make me have killer calves. I try to look on the bright side of things.

Working the pool areas is significantly less fun. There's the members-only pool, where I'm constantly stopped during my rounds to take a snack or drink order, even though my blue polo s.h.i.+rt indicates I'm with the Recreation Department. The members know that the Food and Beverage Department workers wear red polo s.h.i.+rts, but they think that the staff is completely interchangeable. To some degree, I guess they are right, because I always manage to get them what they want. It's my job to keep the members happy.

On my pool coverage days, I usually volunteer to cover the guest pool, where any riffraff (as the members call them) who are lucky enough to score an invitation from a member are permitted. The other staffers don't like it because the guests don't tip as well, but I enjoy it because they at least seem grateful to be here. Many of the members are jaded by constantly being catered to and given whatever they want. The guests are in awe of the natural beauty that surrounds them here and seem, in general, more appreciative of my service. At least they look me in the eye.

The worst part of my job is working the stand. The stand is a small booth where we sell a few beach basics like sunscreen, tanning lotion, bottled water, and sungla.s.ses. We also hand out clean, bleached-white beach towels and put any soiled towels into a large rolling bin. Frequently, when I'm working the stand, someone will refer to me as the "towel girl." A father will turn to his young child and say, 'Give your wet towels to the towel girl.' I feel like screaming, "Look at me! I am a grown woman! I have real dreams and unique thoughts and ideas! I'm not just a towel girl!" Instead, I smile, say thank you, and silently fume. It's probably not great for me to keep all that annoyance cooped up inside, but at least I get to write about my frustrations. Besides, everyone hates their job, don't they? It could certainly be a lot worse. I could be cleaning up elephant p.o.o.p for a living. Elephants are beautiful, but I bet they have really big, stinky p.o.o.p.

Back to the plus side of my life, I have a wonderful best friend. Her name is Marina West. It's a unique, but cute name for a one-of-a-kind, adorable person. She took me under her wing right after I moved to the Keys (about three years ago), and I've never been so grateful for anyone in my life. Marina is gorgeous, s.p.u.n.ky, funny and loyal, and I love her to pieces. Her piece-of-s.h.i.+t husband, Frank, is another story. He is a player and will sleep with anything in a skirt. Marina knows about his indiscretions and chooses to turn a blind eye. I just don't get it, but who am I to judge? It's not like my love life is anything to brag about.

I guess we are flipping back to the negative if I'm going to describe my nonexistent love life. In high school, I did the typical, starry-eyed relations.h.i.+p with one of our cla.s.s jocks. (This was after my quick, almost tryst in the backseat of Mean Jimmy a/k/a James's muscle car). Ryan was tall, lean, and handsome. We fumbled through taking each other's virginity in my bedroom while "Love Bites" by Def Leppard played on my boom box. It didn't last the entire song, but we spent the next couple of years exploring our bodies and improving our technique. We started growing apart as two years turned into three. When it came time to either get married or break up, we mutually decided that we would prefer to break up. It was all very civil. My relations.h.i.+p with Ryan had been a glorious, happy time, and I remember him fondly. We are Facebook friends, so I check out his profile periodically. He's married with two kids and a dog. His hairline is seriously receding, and he has a significant belly pooch; but he still has kind eyes, and I wish him well.

Fast forward to my next relations.h.i.+p, which started right after I quit college. Yes, I quit college without finis.h.i.+ng. Sometimes when I'm dragging a lounge chair back up to its aligned spot in the sand, I wonder if that might have been a mistake; but that's neither here nor there. I was waiting tables at a diner when I met David. He was a dark, brooding artist, and I found him to be completely irresistible. I always had the feeling that I was more into him than he was into me, but I tried to ignore it. Turns out, I was right. The last time I heard from David and his husband, Erik, it sounded like they were doing great. To be fair, I don't think David even knew he was gay when we were together. Or maybe he knew but wasn't ready to admit it to himself. Whatever the case, it took me a long time to get over him. In fact, I still wish that things could have turned out different, but I'm glad he found happiness.

Sadly, that's pretty much it for my love life. There has been a smattering of random dates here and there, but nothing that went anywhere serious. Maybe this will be my year to find someone.

That's it for today. It's time to go out into the world and enjoy my birthday!.

About the Author Ann Omasta:.

These bios are generally rather dry, so I thought I'd shake up the format a little bit. Here are ten not-so-interesting tidbits about me: 1. I despise whipped cream. There, I admitted it in writing. Let the ridiculing begin.

2. Even though I have lived as far south as Key Largo, Florida, and as far north as Maine, I landed in the middle.

3. If I don't make a conscious effort not to, I will drink nothing but tea morning, noon, and night. Hot tea, sweet tea, green tea-I love it all.

4. There doesn't seem to be much in life that is better than coming home to a big dog who is overjoyed to see me. My other family members usually show significantly less enthusiasm about my return.

5. Singing in my bestest, loudest voice does not make my family put on their happy faces. This includes the big, loving dog referenced above.

6. Yes, I am aware that bestest is not a word.

7. Dorothy was right: there's no place like home.

8. All of the numerous bottles in my shower must be lined up with their labels facing out. It makes me feel a little like Julia Roberts's mean husband from the movie Sleeping with the Enemy, but I can't seem to control this particular quirk.

9. I love, love, love finding a great bargain.