Mad Love

by Colet Abedi

  I’d give anything to know what he was thinking right now.

  We both fall quiet as we savor the rest of our breakfast. I’m immersed in memories of my past and I’m certain Clayton’s been thinking about his childhood as well. I stand and begin clearing off the table. This is starting to feel so … comfortable.

  He leans back in his chair, exposing a nice portion of his perfect, washboard abs, and silently watches as I stack the dishes. I try not to be self-conscious. Act cool, Sophie.

  “You’re very poised for someone your age.”

  No sooner does the comment roll off his lips then I drop a fork on the deck, my neck and face flushing red as it clangs and bangs for what seems like an impossible amount of time. We both immediately burst out laughing, the tension of the moment melting away with our giggles. Once I regain my composure, I turn to him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Sinclair,” I say politely, then completely straight-faced, “I take that as a compliment, given your old age and wisdom.”

  “Old age?” he warns as he slowly rises. He removes his sunglasses and pins me with his heated gaze.

  I hold my ground and smile sweetly, then set the dishes on the table.

  “If the shoe—” but before I can get the last word out, he lunges around the table at me.

  I shriek with laughter and a tad bit of fear. I’ve never enjoyed being chased, and I turn to make a mad dash back into the house. I’ve gone about three feet before I’m hauled back into his arms and lifted off the ground. I’m gasping from laughter when his lips capture mine in the most earth-shattering kiss. In an instant, I’m completely lost in my lust. His hands pull my body into his so he can grind against me, and I sigh my pleasure into his mouth.

  My fingers once again become tangled in his thick hair as I pull his face closer to mine, just wanting more of his kiss, his tongue. I can’t get close enough to him. He moves his mouth away from mine and I groan in response. His tongue and lips trace a sweet trail down my neck as his hands squeeze my ass tighter, and instantly I can feel his erection pressing against me. His skillful fingers reach under my dress to untie the strings on my bikini.

  He carries me to a large lounge chair and lowers me gently. In a second he’s removed my dress and bikini top and I’m naked, my breasts pressed tightly against his heaving chest as he lays on top of me. I’m now throbbing with desire.

  His hands move down my stomach and his fingers slip into me.

  “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he whispers against my mouth as I take his fingers deeper inside.

  “I want to fuck you, Sophie.”

  Yes, please, my mind tells him, as I move my hands down his chest and slowly touch his cock. His body goes completely still as I feel him for the first time.

  “Touch me, baby.”

  I want to. I want to please him and drive him as crazy as he drives me. I grab hold of his shaft, feeling him, wrapping my hand around it. I squeeze him tight, knowing that he likes this from his groan of approval. I become bolder and move my hand up and down the length of him. His body trembles in desire, and it turns me on even more to know that he wants my touch.

  “Look at me, Clayton.” I throw his own words back at him and watch as he opens his bright eyes.

  “I want to taste you.”

  I don’t wait for his approval. I push him on his back on the lounge chair and hover above him, shockingly comfortable in my own nakedness. His eyes move over the length of my body.

  “God, you’re so incredible, Sophie.”

  He makes me feel like I am. I’m no longer the shy Sophie I’ve been for twenty-three years, but instead a bold version of myself, intent on driving him mad. I slowly lower my body on top of his, carefully brushing the tips of my breasts against his skin and a sweet surge of ecstasy moves through my body. His hands move up to my hair and hold my head as I slowly kiss and lick my way down the length of his body.

  “Sophie.” He whispers my name in a tortured whisper, his need driving me on.

  I look up at him and my eyes meet his heavy-lidded gaze. I taste the tip of him and watch in satisfaction as he closes his eyes and moves his head up, the veins in his neck pulsing from the way he’s clenching his jaw. I put my mouth over his tip and slowly lower it down, sucking as I do. I feel him grab hold of my hair tighter and I know that I’m doing just the right thing. I take him deeper in my mouth, sucking harder, and move up and down, the same way he moves inside of me.

  “Christ, Sophie!”

  I like the way he tastes and feels, and I especially love the power I have over him. My mouth takes more of him in, all while I suck and lick, giving him a taste of the sweet torture he has bestowed upon me. His hips move up to my mouth, wanting me to take more of him. I oblige, hell-bent on driving him over the edge. I forget time and space, completely turned on by his response and his need for me.

  He grabs hold of my naked waist, and pulls me up on top of him. His mouth finds mine, and I kiss him savagely with my fevered need. He hauls my waist down and quickly plunges deep, deep inside me.

  “Oh, my God,” I say in pleasure as he pushes even further.

  He’s a beast in this moment, lost, completely lost in a vortex of desire. His hand twists around my hair, his tongue moves deep in my throat, and I welcome the sweet assault.

  “You’ve bewitched me,” is his raw answer as he pulls his mouth away from mine and turns me on my back, so he can fuck me harder, deeper than before.

  His hands grab my bottom and lifts me so I can take more of him in. His fiery mouth moves to my ear, licking, teasing, making me wild.

  “Does this feel old, baby?” His voice is wild as he pulls out and thrusts so deep inside again that I think I am going to die from the pleasure of it all. He moves again, harder, faster, and I pull him closer to me, wanting every piece of him around me, in me, devouring me.

  He slows the tempo, teasing me, knowing how close I am to an orgasm, just to prove his point.

  “Clayton, please!” I beg him.

  “Tell me,” he pants to me. “Is it old?”

  My hands move to his ass and I try to pull him in deeper, fully, like he was before. But he won’t budge. His experience gives him diabolical control.

  “No.” I know I sound desperate, but I don’t care. He’s made me into this person, made me want him so badly it hurts and now he has to give me what I need. Now.

  “No? Tell me, baby,” he says again softly, methodically, as he slowly sinks back inside me, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes me.

  “You’re not old,” I tell him as I grab his face. I look up at him, see the desire he has for me, and I lift my hips up, intentionally pulling more of him in. His eyes are glazed with passion, with naked need, and it makes me feel so powerful.

  I pull his mouth down to mine and suck on his lower lip, the way I did his cock, and I feel his body tense with desire and I become braver.

  “You’re so hot,” I whisper to him. “You make me feel alive. But you have to know this. You have to know … ” Before I can finish my rambling, he thrusts so deeply in that we both rock back from the force of it.

  He gives me exactly what I need and I answer by wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer, telling him in this way how much my body needs his. We both find our climax at the same time. I mumble incoherently against his neck and he shouts out my name.

  Our hearts beat so hard against each other that it’s almost like they are one.

  Minutes later, when I can breathe again, I caress his back and hair, completely in awe over my transformation. Instead of feeling guilt or shame, I feel only bliss, and am so completely at peace. Instead of questioning why and how this happened to me of all people, I think that maybe, as Clayton said about my chance meeting of Erik, I was destined to meet him as well.

  He shifts and pulls up away from me so he can look down at what I’m sure is my thoroughly ravished face. He looks content.

  “You’re going to kill me if we keep this up.”


  I roll my eyes. “You started it with your little chase.”

  “You didn’t seem too bothered by it,” he says with a tender smile.

  “Should I be?” I ask, even though I know what the answer is.

  “Never.”

  The word is spoken so solemnly that it takes my breath away. He kisses me softly on the lips and moves away from me. I miss his warm body instantly. He puts his swim trunks on, then gets up and picks up my discarded bikini and dress from around the deck.

  I cover my breasts with my hands when he makes his way back to me.

  “You make me lose all control,” he tells me as he smiles tenderly at me.

  I can’t respond because I’m suddenly a little embarrassed to be lying on the chaise naked while he’s standing above me. I quickly put on my sundress for modesty’s sake, then take the hand he offers to help me stand. He pulls me close to him and smooths out my hair, which I’m sure is completely frizzy by now. Then he holds my face in his palms and pulls it up to his mouth and kisses me hard. I sigh against his lips.

  I love you.

  What? Who said that? You did, you moron. To yourself. No way can I be in love with him, I answer myself as I open my eyes and look up at his handsome face. It’s just a sex thing. He’s made a woman out of me. He’s romanced me, unlike anything I’ve ever dreamed of. He’s shown me what true happiness is. But no, I know where this is going. I am falling in love with him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks as he moves his thumb against my lips. I shake my head at him.

  “Nothing.”

  Clayton looks at me for a long while, then leans down to kiss me again.

  “I have to make a few business calls to Singapore. Is that alright with you?”

  I nod quickly, not mentioning that according to Bikram, it’s supposed to be a no-work zone. “No problem,” I reassure him. “I’ll just clean up then lie in the sun. There are some books in the villa, I’ll grab one of those.”

  And then when you’re inside behind closed doors, I’ll silently obsess about my mental state. Who falls in love with a man on vacation? A man who lives across the world? A man who can have anyone he wants? Who does that?

  Me. Sophie Walker.

  “You sure you’ll be okay?” he asks again. “I won’t be long, I’m just in the middle of a deal and I need to make sure that everything is going as planned. I promised I’d discuss some final points with my attorney,” he explains, hoping that I won’t be upset that he has to leave me alone. I’m touched that he’s so worried about me.

  “Clayton, please. Business is business. Don’t worry. I’m totally fine. I’m a big girl, I’m used to entertaining myself. I’m an only child,” I remind him, hoping that I’ve placated him.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “I got it.” I take his hand and kiss his palm. “And honestly, it doesn’t matter if you are. I want you to take care of your work. It’s important to you.”

  He briefly closes his eyes then stares at me, his gaze as sizzling as the sun.

  “I like you, Sophie. A lot.”

  My heart stops. Waves of emotion rush over me. I try not to get excited by how his words make me feel, or what they mean.

  He doesn’t give me the opportunity to reciprocate the sentiment. “You are one of a kind, Miss Walker. A gem. I’m glad your parents guarded you so preciously for me.”

  My eyes close and I try my hardest not to embarrass myself with tears. Guarded you so preciously for me. I’m too sentimental to let something so profound go without being affected by it. “When I’m done, I’m going to take you deep water snorkeling, and you’re not going to be able to say no.”

  Yeah, right.

  “Thanks, but I’ll just watch you from the beach. I’ll wave, I promise. And I’ll be on the lookout for sharks.”

  His laugh is so sure, so confident. He winks at me and says, “No watching for you anymore, baby. From now on, you’re going to start living life.”

  Then he turns and walks inside the villa. You have no idea how I’ve started living life, Clayton, I think to myself.

  I tie my bikini bottoms back into place and pull my hair up into a tight knot, then make my way to the table and finish clearing it. I busy myself with washing and putting them away inside. Clayton’s husky voice carries into the kitchen, and from the sound of things I don’t think the conversation is going well. I realize how bad I want to know about his business, just his life in general. I wish he would offer information instead of me having to beg for it.

  When his voice raises a notch, I step back outside to give him complete privacy.

  My gaze settles on the ocean. It’s really spectacular, like something out of a dream. It’s so calm. So still. It’s hard to believe that this little piece of paradise out here in the Indian Ocean is even on our planet. It’s not accessible to everyone, but it’s here, ready to welcome whoever comes.

  A sense of euphoria comes over me that I can’t really explain. This is the most beautiful place on earth, the most awe-inspiring country I’ve ever been. I say a silent prayer of gratitude. I know how lucky I am to be here and I thank the universe profusely for working its magic and bringing me here, at this time, with this man.

  Noom’s words come to mind and I wonder if I should give it a go, if I should try to meditate now? It would be good, right? Carpe diem. Seize the day seems to be the theme of my trip. Clayton’s inside on a call that is probably going to take longer than he thought. I could sit out here and read or obsess about my feelings, about the words he used … I like you, Sophie. But that won’t be good for me, I know. Very quickly, I could take those words and picture him proposing, dream up a dress, a venue, even the color of the wedding invites. No, that is definitely not a good idea.

  Even though I’ve never been able to do it—maybe because I was emotionally and physically blocked—I decide to follow Noom’s advice. I find a towel and walk to the edge of the deck, sit down, and assume the seated meditation position I learned in yoga class.

  When I took yoga with Orie the physical part was easy for me to pick up with practice, but every time the teacher said, “Clear your mind, think of your breath, and picture light entering your body,” I was hopeless. She’d always start with the Om … the dreaded Om, as I called it. I was incapable of being still. Of just being in the now. My mind would always wander, as it is doing now. Crap. I try to clear it. I take a deep breath. I listen to my heartbeat. To the water.

  I wonder what Clayton’s talking about? I wonder if the call is going well? Does he ever call his family to check in? Oh my God, Sophie! Stop! Stop thinking, for the love of God! Just meditate. Meditate.

  What’s so hard about clearing your mind? Any monkey can do it. Okay, here I go. Deep breath, Sophie. Take a deep, deep breath. And … I wonder what Erik and Orie are doing? Oh my God, what I wouldn’t do to call them right now, talk to them about my night with Clayton, my morning with Clayton, his sexual domination of me, my complete enjoyment of every part of it. Is it strange that I enjoyed myself so much?

  What does that say about me? I mean, this could be how everyone feels, right? I have no clue. It’s not my area of expertise. That’s why I need to talk to Erik and Orie. I wonder if everyone has an orgasm the first time. If I could search for it on the Internet I would know and then I could read message boards, see what people say and … Oh my God. Here I go again. Shit. Sophie.

  You’re pathetic.

  13

  Gotye’s soft voice echoes across the silent deck, thankfully interrupting all my crazy thoughts. “Somebody That I Used to Know” is one of my favorite songs. His voice is so sexy, and just hearing the beat always makes my imagination go to a sexy, romantic world. I turn from my yoga pose and find Clayton standing by the sliding doors of the villa, his hands on his hips, his gaze burning with an intensity that I’ve come to know oh so well, as he watches me. I wonder if he’s a bit of a voyeur. He is always staring. Pensive, almost, taking it all in. I could be right. I smile self-consciously
and wave. I hope he wasn’t standing there observing my pathetic attempt at yoga, because if he was he must have laughed his ass off.

  He makes his way to me. He’s got great calves, I think as I admire his physique. Great, masculine calves. Let’s be real, everything about his body is perfect, from the strength in his hands, to his wide chest, to his smooth skin and perfectly chiseled features. I wonder what his parents look like. They must be such a good-looking couple to have had a son who looks like him. And his brothers are probably just as perfect looking.

  “How was your call?” I ask him.

  “Disappointing.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shakes his head. I didn’t think so, but I thought I would ask anyway. I wish he would tell me, but I respect his privacy and I don’t want to overstep my bounds with him. Not that I should have any, but still … I know firsthand from dealing with my father that the last thing he wanted when he was super stressed was to rehash a crappy conversation or a shitty day. He preferred to be distracted, eat food, have a glass a wine, or just watch mindless television.

  My mom and I always did our best to make sure he was comfortable because we knew the amount of pressure he put on himself. We never wanted to add to it. It’s actually one of the few things we agreed on. There was an unspoken rule in our house about my dad. When he came home, and most especially if he looked weary from a difficult day at work, the two women in the house would do whatever we could to lift his spirits, give him relief from all the strain, and be the part in his day that was a joy instead of a burden. It’s something I learned from her that I will take with me into my own marriage.

  “So what would you like to do?” I ask as I rise from my makeshift yoga mat.

  “Snorkel in the deep ocean with you.”