Mad Love

by Colet Abedi

  Screw him! Clenching the beach bag I borrowed from the island villa as a memory, okay, took so I can keep, with every intention of asking how much it is at the resort, I scoot out of the cart, intentionally on the opposite side of Clayton. If anything, he looks even more furious. I pity poor Bikram and the scene that he is no doubt about to witness.

  Since now I’m so pissed that I can’t even see straight, I don’t hold back. With hands on my hips, I face Clayton across the cart, just as angry as him, and I pull my sunglasses off just so he can see for himself.

  “You know what?” My voice shakes with fury. I watch as he seethes from my words, probably barely holding on to a shred of self-control, but who gives a shit? He needs to hear this! “You are not a gentleman. You warned me that you weren’t … and you were right. I cannot believe I’ve been gallivanting around with you—against my better judgment, I might add!—living in some kind of … I don’t know … perfect, sparkling fairy tale, completely oblivious to the fact—or maybe just not wanting to admit to myself—that you were going to do exactly, precisely what you are doing right now. Just dumping me. Love ‘em and leave ‘em, right? I should have fucking known! Well, fuck you Mr. Richie Rich and your fifteen thousand dollar a night villa! I might have thought I was falling in … well, you know … but I was wrong! Good. Bye!” I’m shouting now. Every single word is belted out so loud that I’m sure people in nearby villas can hear.

  Oh wait, what am I thinking? He doesn’t let people stay close to him because he has to be all by himself so he can have his goddamn privacy! Who does that? Clayton looks like he’s been struck by lightning he’s so shocked, his mouth agape, probably incapable of believing I have the audacity to speak to him this way.

  And then I watch the shock disappear and in its place comes an icy fury. Instead of continuing on with my stinging insults, I opt to turn and walk briskly, very briskly, I might add, back to my villa as Clayton suggested. Bikram’s back is to me and I’m thankful that at least I had the good sense to put my room key card into my bag. I can deal with my stuff later.

  I reach my villa safely. Clayton obviously could not catch up to me, or didn’t want to humiliate himself in front of Bikram, who knows? But suddenly I feel like I want to throw something and cry. Seconds later, I hear the cart whizz by and know Bikram probably ran like hell. I can’t blame him for wanting to get out of here. I did too.

  Clayton is such an ass! I grab my key and plunge it into the lock.

  “Motherfucker!” I shout when it turns red. Access denied! I plunge it in again and the same red light flashes again. This is so not happening! I try again slowly, gently, hoping that being calm will somehow make the key magically work and the door open, so I can slam it shut and throw myself on my bed and cry the tears that are threatening to spill. I close my eyes before sticking it in the lock again and hold my breath.

  Fuck!

  “Your key no longer works.”

  Shit. He’s right behind me. Mother fucking shit. I keep my back to him, standing as tall and proud as I can, refusing to turn and look up at him, knowing if I do, I might lose my temper again and it won’t be pretty.

  “I’ll just go and get another.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he threatens. “The room is now booked.”

  “Oh really?!” I say as I swing around, ready to go to crazy town, not that I’m not already there, but still.

  I wish I never turned around.

  Before I can even think of what to say, he grabs me around the waist, throws me over his shoulder, and smacks my ass so hard I cry out in pain.

  “Not a goddamn word from you, Sophie! Do you hear me? Not another goddamn word!” he practically roars as he walks back to his villa. A twinge of fear courses through my body, but I quickly brush it aside.

  The door is open and he strides inside, slams it shut, and continues walking with me over his shoulder through the large bungalow and into the bedroom. Really? He’s gotta be kidding me. Does he actually think I’m going to have sex with him now after he was such an asshole? No way. No way in hell. His hand comes up to cup my ass, rubbing the place where he gave it a stinging slap moments before, and I feel my traitorous body instantly respond to his touch. Why? Why does he have to turn me on like this?

  “Put me down!” I practically shriek as I pound my fist into his back.

  “Gladly.” He grabs my waist and tosses me on the bed. I bounce. Twice. Shit.

  He looms above me, his face revealing the extent of his rage. I sit up, because I have every intention of walking the hell out of the villa, but he stops me cold.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  I stay still when I hear the warning in his voice. But I snap at him, “And why’s that?”

  Clayton’s smile is slow, sure, but completely void of any of the tenderness that I’ve become so accustomed to seeing.

  “Because I’m so fucking bloody pissed at you, Sophie, I won’t be held accountable for my actions,” he practically shouts.

  My eyes widen as I digest his words and the tone he just used. But in a second, I get my gumption back and I sit taller on the bed, but wisely choose not to move.

  “You’re pissed at me, Clayton? What about me being pissed at you?” I huff at him as I cross my arms. There. Take that buddy.

  Clayton closes his eyes, probably to get a grip on his emotions.

  “And what the fuck do you have to be pissed at me for?” he explodes as his blue eyes blaze out of his stunning face. “How could you behave like that in front of the hotel staff?”

  Mount St. Clayton has erupted.

  Oh no, he didn’t.

  “Hotel staff? His name is Bikram, Clayton. He’s a human being just like you, even if he hasn’t been blessed with your extraordinary wealth.” I give back as good as him, then instantly wish that I could take it back. Crap. Crap. Crap. I didn’t mean it like that. I inch away from him on the bed as I watch his face turn a different shade of red. His anger seems to radiate off his body.

  “This is your fucking fault, Sophie.”

  What is? Before I can even scream back at him, he quickly leans onto the middle of the bed and grabs me by the ankle and yanks my body down toward him. Like a master who knows his craft, he slowly moves his body over mine, pushing his hips into me, causing heat to surge through my being from pure, unadulterated lust. His hand slowly moves up my leg, leaving a track of goose bumps and longing in its wake.

  Shit! I know what he’s doing. I know what’s about to come for me. He showed me this side of him before. He wants me begging. His method of punishment. Simple.

  Erotic torture.

  Wanting. Needing. Dying from need. That’s his poison. Torture them until they beg for more and have to give you exactly what you want to hear. Fuck that shit!

  I twist and turn, fighting him, not wanting him to touch too much of my body, or we both know that I’ll be lost.

  “No!” I try to twist away from his hold, but he’s too damn strong for me, and I know that there is no escaping his touch. Even if I wanted to: My faithless body is already starting to react to him, it’s already starting to need him. He knows where to touch, how to get me wanting within seconds.

  “Please, Clayton,” I plead with him when his fingers move against me to softly caress. A shiver of excitement runs through my body.

  “Please don’t do this to me. Not again.”

  His hand stills and he leans over me, his face inches from mine. I look up at him and see the raw anger unmasked. It’s intimidating as hell, especially the way he just looks down at me with those wolf eyes.

  “You thought I was going to let you go?!”

  What?

  “Weren’t you?” I close my eyes and try to articulate my thoughts coherently. “I didn’t know your intention. I thought you were leaving me. We hadn’t talked about what would happen after we left the island. Where I would stay—”

  “Christ!” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, hopefully c
ontrolling that anger of his before he looks at me again.

  His head falls to my chest. “For someone so smart, it is incredibly appalling to see how superbly obtuse you are. I had your belongings moved to my villa. Do you actually think I would let you go back to your room without me? Do you actually think I would spend one night without you?” He says those last words to my face. Yelling in my face, to be exact.

  I’m in shock. I don’t know what to say. He wasn’t going to abandon me. He wasn’t trying to dump me on Bikram, or make me walk back to my villa alone. Why couldn’t I tell? Why didn’t I just look around and notice that my bags were probably taken off the cart with his? Mother fucker! I’m a moron!

  I close my eyes over my stupidity. Ugh. The things I said! Yikes. The theme of my life should be “How to lose a guy in thirty minutes of completely idiotic behavior!” He’s silent, probably waiting for me to apologize, which he so deserves, but I’m so ashamed by my behavior, I don’t know where to begin. Even though I should be happy now, I suddenly feel like crying again because I showed him such a shitty side of my personality.

  I open my eyes and they are glistening a bit. I’m trying to hold the tears back, but it’s hard. My hands clasp his angry face and I beg silently, touching his skin, his cheeks, beg him to forgive me and not hold this crazy moment against me. I ruined the last part of our romantic trip. And I hate myself for it.

  “I’m so sorry.” The words are said softly. “Please forgive me. I thought—“ My voice trembles.

  I know he can hear it, I know he knows I’m on the precipice of losing control, that I just showed him how massively insecure I can really be. His look is still guarded, but not as angry, and then I can’t help it, I just cry. My hands cover my face, loathe to have him see me this way, wanting to just dive into the ocean—with sharks, so that they can take me out of my misery.

  “Sophie.” I hear the tenderness in his voice as he pulls me into his arms and lets me cry. He holds me tight and kisses me on top of my head as I try to get a grip on the dam that’s just broken. “Why don’t you see how amazing you are?”

  I shrug against his chest. “I don’t know.” I sound pathetic, I know, but I can’t help it.

  I know he probably wants to laugh, which is better then wanting to be furious at me.

  “Christ, baby. Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said to you? Don’t you believe me when I tell you how much I want you? How much I want to be with you?” He is angry again, as he lifts my tear-stained face to look him in the eyes. He looks so damn offended that I would actually doubt him, that it takes my breath away. He wipes away my tears, then pulls me up so he can kiss me.

  “Please don’t cry, love,” he says as his mouth covers mine and between kisses, “you’re killing me. I don’t want to see you cry.”

  Our kiss is open mouthed, carnal, my salty tears mixed up in the embrace.

  “I’m sorry, Clayton,” I whisper to him between his kisses. “I shouldn’t have said any of that to you. I didn’t mean anything by it, especially the part about you thinking you’re better than everyone. My temper sometimes—”

  I shouldn’t have reminded him.

  “I’m fucking wealthy, okay? It is what it is, so get used to it. I don’t flaunt it in people’s face. I don’t judge anyone who has less than me, or more. But the fact remains that I have a lot of money, and I won’t apologize for that.”

  I feel like the biggest ass on the planet. I nod at him, properly chastised by his words, and close my eyes. He wants me here with him proving all his actions and words. I need to believe him. I need to stop being afraid that he’s going to hurt me. I need to grow up and be a big girl.

  “What you said earlier—” he says.

  I cringe.

  “About how you were—” he doesn’t finish the words.

  Falling in love with you, I say silently, but there is no way I’ll ever admit that.

  “I don’t remember,” I say unconvincingly, and lightly brush my hand up his arm.

  “Don’t you?” He asks, his eyes bright as they stare down at me.

  “No.” I whisper hoping he will just let it go.

  I can tell he’s calmed down, but the storm is still there and I know he just needs to get it out of his system. I want to help him get back to Zen.

  My hand moves down his arm then over to his stomach, then down until I find the button on his shorts. He inhales sharply, knowing what I’m about, his body reacting to my touch, instantly so hard and big that it makes my mouth water. God, he turns me on.

  I push him on his back and unzip his pants. His erection springs free and I’m so ready for him that I can’t even wait. I lean down and take him fully in my mouth, sucking on him so hard that he cries out in pleasure. I lick his shaft, teasing and taunting him, wanting him to lose his mind with need.

  His hands grab my hair, twisting, pulling, pushing himself further in my mouth.

  “God. Sophie,” he moans as I take more in, working him, moving with the thrusts of his hips. My hands move around his body, under his shirt, touching, teasing, then grabbing on to his erection as I come up to look at him. He stares down at me, his eyes half-closed, lit with desire. For me. His hands caress my hair, as he waits to see what my next move will be. I hold onto the shaft and squeeze, watch him close his eyes in ecstasy, and I revel in the power I have over him.

  “You’re so sexy, Clayton.” My voice is husky with want.

  He tries to pull me up to him, but I won’t let him.

  “I want this to be about you,” I say with passion, as I lower my head and take him fully in my mouth.

  He trembles from my touch and I work him fully, completely, tasting him as he shouts my name and finds release.

  15

  Erik and Orie sit across from me in complete silence. Clayton and I stayed in his villa all day yesterday. I was happy that he wasn’t ready to give up our time alone together. Luckily, I received a message from the hotel informing me that the boys were out on a daylong fishing trip on the hotel yacht. They wouldn’t get back until really late in the evening, so I left a message telling them that I was staying at Clayton’s villa and asking if we could have breakfast in the morning.

  So here we are.

  They are both analyzing the shit out of me, trying to see if there is any difference, and I can’t wait to hear what they have to say. I pick up my glass of my fresh watermelon juice and take a sip as I wait. We’ve been like this now for a few minutes, in a complete stand-off. They’ve definitely been working on their tans because they’re positively glowing. The Maldivian sun really works to their advantage.

  Erik breaks the silence, as I knew he would. “This is insane.” He leans in over the table to give me a look of censure, trying to be intimidating as hell. “Do you realize how fucked up this is?”

  I still stay silent as my gaze moves over the both of them. Okay, part of me is enjoying this first moment I’ve had in my friendship with Erik—the first time I actually know more than he does. He’s practically foaming at the mouth.

  He looks at Orie for moral support. I know this is killing him. It takes another ten seconds before he reaches his limits with me. He says to Orie, “Are you going to tell her what a complete and utter secretive ass she’s being?”

  I can feel the laughter well up inside. Orie just smiles at me, winks, then looks at Erik.

  “Maybe she wants to keep it all to herself. A woman’s heart is sacred, after all … ”

  “Oh, fuck sacred,” Erik interrupts, his voice dramatic as he dismisses Orie’s defense of my silence.

  “Do you want to know what sacred is? Sacred is buying this bitch tampons at two a.m., because she’s bleeding like a double homicide crime scene and can’t make it to the pharmacy. Sacred is waxing her armpits and bikini line so she wouldn’t look like a beast at the high school graduation beach party! Sacred is driving her ass to Jerry the Fairy’s and waiting down the street, in a goddamn rose bush, with thorns in my ass, by the way, just so that
she wouldn’t be alone when she dumped him … ”

  “Enough! I get it!” Orie says. “You’ve done a lot of shit for her. I understand. And so does she.”

  Orie tries to say this with a straight face but ends up laughing hysterically. I can’t take it anymore. I crack up and double over on the table; I can barely catch my breath.

  Erik looks at the two of us and shakes his head. “And the most fucked part of all of this is that I know what this bitch is doing. She is making me wait for it. She wants me to beg for the details.” I look at him, unable to stop laughing, and he continues to point a finger at me. When Erik is on a rampage, it’s like a goddamn runaway train. “Don’t think for one moment that I don’t know what this is about. This is the first goddamn time you have more information than me. I’ll let you taste the feeling of knowledge, of being the one who is going to tell the story that everyone is dying to hear. Go ahead! Bask in it! Feel the glory!”

  I finally pull myself together. “What would you like to know?”

  “And you call yourself my best friend?” He shakes his head at me.

  “Come on!” I laugh. “I’m just playing with you. It’s so rare that I ever have the opportunity.”

  “Rare?” Erik interrupts me, his arms still crossed. “Try never.”

  “Agreed. And you are my best friend, the one I adore and love forever. Until the end of time,” I tell him solemnly as I reach out across the table and squeeze his arm.

  “So where do I fit into this equation?” a voice I know intimately says. “Should I be jealous?”

  Clayton has come up to the table. Snuck up, more like, and puts his hands possessively on my shoulders. He leans down and kisses me on the head.

  I blush as I look up at him, touch his hand, and then look at Erik and Orie, who are staring at the two of us with, their mouths wide open. I try my hardest not to laugh at their expressions, but it is very difficult, all things considered. Clayton is totally unfazed by their shocked looks; in fact, I feel like he is enjoying their surprise over our intimacy.