by S. Ann Cole
Renovations on the B&B are almost finished. I’d decided at the last minute to make some changes to the pool area, which had set us back a month.
More time than I planned on, but in the end it was worth it. Not just because of the output, but because it kept me around longer so my fling would have more time before it’s inevitable end. Trent is fast becoming my most favorite human on the planet.
All that’s left to do now is some final fine-tuning and clean-up, and this place should be good to go.
Today was long, but far less exhausting than the days that preceded it. The new sign, Barefoot Runaway Bed and Breakfast, is finally up and I’m feeling good about it.
After a long bath at the end of a long day I’m craving something sweet. I pad downstairs to the kitchen, still in my purple robe.
Maggie is in the living room crunching on potato chips while watching her favorite garbage reality show where the women do nothing but scream and claw at each other and talk smack behind each other’s backs.
After searching the fridge a few frustrating minutes, I ask aloud, “Maggie, where’s the guava jam Monica sent me?”
“Sorry,” she calls from the couch. “I had the last of it.”
“For shit’s sake, Maggie,” I snap, slamming the fridge door. “I’m tired of you eating all my shit. It’s like you have freaking worms or something. You just eat and eat and eat and I can’t see where it’s all going.”
“I said I’m sorry! It was just so addictive.” She laughs with a mouthful of chips. “There’s some strawberry jelly left, though, isn’t there?”
“That tastes like shit,” I say, peeved. “You bought that so that’s what you should’ve eaten and left my damn jam alone. Frickin’ hell, man. Monica’s aunt in Jamaica makes those specifically for her twice a year and ships them here, that’s why I use what I’m given sparingly, you greedy cow.”
As I put the kettle to boil and some milk to warm on low heat, settling for some hot cocoa instead, a knock comes at the side door.
I turn and scowl over at Maggie. “You’re expecting someone?”
We don’t have visitors here. Once the business of the day is over, we’re generally shut in tight here. Unless it’s the weekend and Trent comes to pick me up.
Maggie shakes her head emphatically. “Not me.”
There’s no peephole on this door, so I call, “Who is it?”
“Open up, Hellcat.”
Trent? I unlock the door and swing it open. Trent stands on the other side with a small duffel bag. He moves in, forcing me backward, and his intoxicating scent wraps around me like silk.
“Uh, hey,” I say, and I’m sure my expression is one of puzzlement.
He drops the bag to the floor, then turns to close the door, flipping the lock.
Our fling is a weekends-only thing, so seeing him here on a boring Wednesday night feels a little out of place.
When he’s facing me again, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
In answer, he takes my face between his palms and kisses me so hard and so deep for so long that my hankering for something sweet evaporates. Now…now I’m craving something else entirely.
His fingers curl in my damp hair as he drives me back against the kitchen counter.
When he finally unseals his mouth from mine, leaving me breathless and panting, he drags his lips to my ear, and, nipping my lobe, he whispers, “Fucking missed you. Couldn’t take it anymore. Had to see you.”
“Oh,” I breathe.
A loud crunch has us both turning our heads in the direction of the living room. Maggie is knelt up on the couch with her bag of chips, watching us with rapt attention. With another crunch, she gets to her feet and mutters, “I’m just gonna, uh…”—She points to the stairs as she beeline toward it— “yeah.”
I press my face to Trent’s chest and giggle.
He takes my chin and tilt my face up until our eyes meet. “You ignored me all day. Answered none of my messages.”
“I didn’t ignore you, I was busy,” I say. “You do remember giving me this monumental task, which includes me dealing with a ton of people all day long, right? I don’t even know where my phone is half the time.”
“Maybe I should take away this ‘monumental task’ then, so you can have time for me. Your man.”
I raise a brow at him. “And will you have time for me then? Mister private—secret, whatever the hell it is that you do.”
He presses up against me, thrusting his hips forward. “This is me making time for you.”
Loving the weight of him against me, I sigh and moan in appreciation. “Also, you’re not my man.”
At this, he cocks a quizzical brow.
“We’re having fun,” I remind him. “That’s all.”
His grunt is dismissive as he gently presses the pad of his thumb to my clavicle, feeling every beat of my lying heart.
The kettle goes off, startling me, and I squeeze from between him and the counter to go shut off the stove. “Would you like some hot cocoa?”
“No.”
I take down a mug and cocoa mix, then grab the rest of the ingredients from the pantry.
When I turn to get a spoon from the utensil drawer, Trent, now divested of his shirt and boots, is in the living room peering out the back window while he unzips his jeans.
“Wha…what are you doing?”
“I see you’ve made a lot of changes to the pool area.” He peels off his jeans and tosses them to the couch. “How long has it been since you had them filled and shocked?”
“Almost two days. I—”
“Let’s go for a swim.”
“What? Now?” I move backward as he takes long strides toward me.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think—” I start to protest, but he’s there, scooping me up and marching out the door with me to the backyard, crossing over to the pool area of the guesthouse.
“You’re a restless soul you know that?” I yell at him, slapping his shoulder.
“Funny, that’s what I used to say about you,” he retorts. “Guess you bring it out in me.”
With that, he jumps into the pool with me in his arms.
Son of a bitch!
I hold my breath as water engulfs us. We separate, and I immediately swim up to the surface.
My robe, drenched with water, feels like a bag of sand on me, so I swim to the deck to climb out, but Trent swims up behind me and locks his hands around my middle, pressing his face in my neck.
“My robe,” I tell him. “It’s weighing me down.”
“So take it off.”
“No, I’m—”
But he’s already peeling the thing off me, leaving me stark naked. He rolls up the wet garb and launches it up to the deck.
“Naked underneath,” I finish.
He swims around me and waggles his brows. “So glad I came over.”
I splash water at him. “You’re such a horndog.”
“Only because you turn me on so much. The sexiest woman on the planet is mine. The sweetest, tightest, juiciest pussy is mine,” he sings. “Can’t get enough. Can’t get enough.”
This man. He’s something else, I swear. “Oh, how you flatter me with your words.”
We swim toward each other and I lock my legs and arms around him. With the tip of my tongue, I lick water droplets from his face. “You’re beautiful wet,” I tell him.
He swims with me locked around him like a koala until my back is against the pool wall. “And when I’m dry?”
“Intimidating, but hot as hell.”
“Hmm,” he hums as he peppers kisses along my neck.
My nipples tighten. “You’re gonna fuck me in this pool, aren’t you?”
Taking my hand, he guides it down between us, to his rock-hard cock. “What does this tell you?”
Yep. He’s definitely going to fuck me in this newly renovated pool. And it’s going to be on the cameras. And Maggie is going to look out the windows and see us. And I want him so
badly right now that I don’t even care.
I sneak my hand down inside the waistband of his boxers and wrap my fingers around his hardness.
He groans deep in his throat.
“I’m so wet for you…” I whisper against his cheek.
He dips his head to suck and lave at my breasts while one hand glides to my center. Shocks of desire ruptures inside me, making me writhe like a demon against his touch, heartbeat thumping with urgency, needing him.
“Here,” he whispers against my skin, working me over with his fingers. “You want me here?”
“Yes…yes.”
“I know,” he mumbles. “Your greedy little pussy won’t let my fingers go.”
“Because it wants you. It wants you. Inside me.” I’m damn near crying at this point. “Come on. Fill me. Fuck me. Please. Now.”
“See how you get?” he breathes out. “Greedy and demanding.” He bites my shoulder. “And then you say it’s all me.”
“Trent!”
“Always so needy.”
“I swear to god…” Feverish and frustrated, I aggressively shove down his boxers.
He lifts me, the water splashing around us, and then he’s inside me.
“Ohmygod—yes,” I gasp out as he fills me.
“She loves my cock so much she thinks I’m god.”
“I—”
He thrusts in deep.
“—hate you so much.”
“You and your pussy need to get on the same page, ‘cause she’s speaking an entirely different language, baby.”
“Asshole.”
He fucks me good and hard against the wall, taunting me with his words. Infuriating me and blowing my mind at the same time. He’s the only man who’s ever filled me up so completely, leaving me longing for nothing, wanting nothing, missing nothing, craving nothing but him.
He’s everything…everything…
I implode with my screams stifled into the curve of his neck, shuddering around him, arms tight around his neck.
It’s never not wildly intense with him. The orgasms I experience with him always ride in on wings of indescribable emotions. So much that I both love and resent having them. They deposit tiny bits of things in me each time. Things that grow, rapidly. Things that make me want to cry when I look at him sometimes. Things that make me miss him even when he’s beside me. Things that make me ache when we have to part. Things that cause thoughts of him to dwell in my head twenty-four-seven, rent-free.
“Lexi…” He whispers my name on a strangled breath as he spills inside me, his body rigid, his groans reverberating.
And I wonder if it’s our bareback romping that’s been making things so emotional for me.
A few weeks ago, after providing me his medical results to assure me he was clean, he’d asked me to get on the pill so we could ditch the condoms. He hadn’t asked for check-up results of my own, I’m guessing because he already has whatever information he needed in a folder somewhere titled ‘Alexa Flores’.
His mouth finds mine, and we kiss until there’s no oxygen left to go on. I whine in protest when he pulls out and lifts me up, putting me to sit on the coping.
“Now I’m gonna have to drain the pool again,” I grumble.
“Haven’t you heard?” He flops back into the water and proceeds to do lazy backward strokes. “My sperm is like holy water.”
I roll my eyes.
“You can baptize people in this pool now, Hellcat. Their lives will be changed forever.”
That makes me giggle. Ridiculous man. “For the worse, you demon.”
He swims around for a bit while I watch, before relaxing in a back float. “Is that the new logo you added to the floor of the pool?”
“Yep. And I had the coping re-tiled as well to fit the new colors,” I say, proud of my work. “A videographer is coming in tomorrow to do some aerial shots. It’s gonna look so good from that angle.”
“Gotta say, you handled this better than I thought you would.”
I paddle my feet in the water. “You were expecting me to muck it up, huh?”
He swims up to me and rest his chin my thigh. “I’m proud of you.”
I want to melt under his praise. “Nothing to be proud of. I either had to get it right or be indebted to you forever. And you know me, I’m terrible at losing.”
The truth is, I’m proud of myself. It was a monumental task, but I did it with minimal screw-ups.
“Everything should be wrapped up by the middle of next week,” I tell him. “Then I want you and True to do a walk-through.”
He hoists himself out of the pool, then picks up my soaked robe and holds it up for me. I climb to my feet and shove my arms into the robe, and he spins me around to tie the strings.
And then I squeal, because once again I’m scooped in his arms without warning.
“Shower time.” He takes long strides back to the house. “Gonna eat you good and proper, Hellcat.”
I press my face to his chest and groan with both excitement and anxiety.
I should’ve known the second he showed up that I’d be in for a long night. Trenton Garza doesn’t do knockouts. He fights with prolonged endurance to the very last round, never tapping out.
And my greedy little vagina loves it.
~
We wasted way too much water in the shower. And I will need to apologize to Maggie tomorrow for all the, um, noise. We tried to be quiet, but there’s no such thing at the height of intense, earth-shattering pleasure.
Once we finally leave the shower, Trent heads downstairs to finish making my hot cocoa. The incorrigible bastard owed me that much.
I’m sitting on the bed-end bench, moisturizing my skin, when my phone chirps from the nightstand with a text notification. I amble over to get it and am surprised to see it’s from Ellie. I haven’t heard from her since I left Vegas.
Ellie: Hey, girl! How ya doing?
Me: I’m fine. How have you been? And Slim?
Ellie: Better! Slim’s the same. He’s taking 80% now, but at least I’m making money again.
Me: That’s good, hun. Take care of yourself.
Ellie: I saw you on Maggie’s IG. You two linked up again?
Me: Yeah, we’re working on a project together.
Ellie: For your friend that helped us?
I’m typing out a reply to her when my phone starts to vibrate with an incoming video. The only people I take video calls from are Mama and my sister whenever she remembers I exist.
The number on the screen is unknown so I assume it’s either the latter, seeing as she moves around often, or Ellie. But when I swipe to accept the call, a face I don’t expect fills my screen.
A face I could have gone the rest of my life never seeing again.
I’m instantaneously pissed.
“Lexi.”
“How in the hell did you get my number?” Then I laugh without humor and add, “Right. Silly question.”
“Lexi—”
“So, yeah, you can flex your investigative muscles all you want and dig up my info, invading my private life, but I get to decide if I want to give you the time of day or not. And I don’t. So please do not dial my number ever again, okay? Buh-bye.”
Without giving him a chance to get a word in, I end the call and toss my phone on the bed. The nerve of that dirtbag. Calling me. What did he think I was going to do, smile and ask how he’s doing?
Sure, it’s been years since our breakup, but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s hold a grudge. And he knows that.
Trent strides into the room right then, carrying a tray with a mug of hot cocoa and slices of banana bread.
I frown as he sets the tray down on the bed-end bench. “Where did you find banana bread?”
“I brought it.” He straightens and looks me over. “What’s wrong? Who were you talking to just now?”
With an irritated wave of my hand, I pad to the bench and pick up a slice of banana bread, taking a big bite. “Your cheating scumbag brot
her.”
“Tor?”
“Yep,” I answer with a full mouth.
“I see.” The sudden iciness in his tone prompts me to glance up just in time to catch his jaw pop, then tighten. Oh, for shits sake. “What did he want?”
“Who knows? I didn’t give him a chance to tell me.” I lower to the bench and pick up the hot cocoa. “I told him to never call me again and hung up.”
Trent grunts and disappears into the bathroom. He’s upset, and I feel the urge to go and hug him and assure him that there’s nothing there for his brother anymore, but if I do that, then it’ll make this ‘thing’ we have going seem more serious than it is.
It’s the job of a girlfriend to give him assurance, and that is not what I am to him. Though a large part of me has been trying really hard to convince me that is what I want—him, to be his, exclusive, more than what we are now. I’ve resisted from entertaining such thoughts, so far.
I’m too much of a directionless mess right now. I’ve got a lot to figure out and a serious relationship would be nothing but a destructive distraction.
After next week, both this project and our fling will be over. I’ll either ask Mama for some shifts at her restaurant or hop on a plane and go try my luck somewhere else.
Trent comes out of the bathroom and lays across the bed, throwing his arm across his eyes.
As I sip hot cocoa and eat his banana bread, I feast on him as well. So artfully built. Chiseled thighs, deeply defined abs, bulging biceps. Masculinity defined and every sculpted line under taut brown skin. Slow and appreciatively, I drag my gaze over him as if I’m seeing him for the first time.
Having had enough hot cocoa and needing some more of him, I set the mug down and crawl onto the bed and on top of him.
He lifts his arm from his eyes. The sexy playfulness from earlier is gone from them, but he’s still here.
“Hi.” I lick his lips. “I ate all your banana bread. Sorry.”
“It was yours. Brought it for you.”
“Well, thanks. It was delicious.”
“You’re delicious.”
I giggle and press my face to his neck, then confess, “I’m glad you came tonight.”
“You missed me?”
