19
SEX AND SAND
“They finally caught Terrance,” Vince said, packing his bags at the last minute before we set out for our weeklong getaway.
“Where?” I asked, extremely curious. Terrance had fled Portland after the little incident at Vince’s country house, taking off for God knows where. Vince didn’t plan to press charges for the fire—it caused no real harm, he defended, and Terrance had been a good friend and bodyguard. He no longer worked for Vince of course, and the big man knew nothing good came out of Vince’s rejection or his reaction. The news stung, and it stung hard, to the point that he lost his mind, or so it seemed.
“Southern California,” Vince responded, rolling a pair of socks together. “Outside San Diego. I guess he was heading to Mexico.”
“He really went crazy, didn’t he?”
Vince shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel sorry for him . . . if only I had known about his feelings, maybe it could’ve been handled a little better.”
“What’s going to happen to him?”
“Well, nothing would’ve happened if he hadn’t started the whole high-speed chase. But he’ll do some jail time for reckless endangerment and eluding the police, and will probably have to pay a hefty fine, hopefully nothing worse than that. But I don’t want to think about that now. We’re off to Hawaii and that’s all I want on my mind.”
“You’re right,” I said, nodding with a faint smile. Friday finally had come after an exhausting week. The news buzzed with the story: “Local Billionaire And Girlfriend Nearly Die In House Fire.” How the media caught wind of the story and managed to blow it up into a house fire, I never knew, but I couldn’t stand the publicity. I tried to shut it out as best I could, burying myself in work. The only problem with that was more and more people stopped by each day as the week progressed, packing the bakery and brunch house, and every one of them had questions for me. “Is it true you lost your leg in the fire?” one woman asked, as she paid for her latte. It seemed like every person had heard a different version. She was one of hundreds to ask the same question or some variation of it. A few people even asked to see my prosthetic foot. The silver lining was that business was good. Better than good, actually.
But there was no break—until Friday, when we stepped on the private jet to Kauai. I didn’t even know about the Hillsboro airport until Vince drove us out there at five in the morning. Apparently it was where all the celebrities flew into Portland, to avoid PDX and the public crowd.
The privacy was beyond wonderful: not a soul to interrupt us. Even though it was early, I was used to the time, and I alternated between watching Vince sleep, the view from the jet window, and my book. Staring blankly out into the clouds, my thoughts turned to the details surrounding Terrance’s breakdown. The strangest detail was the broken starter in the Mustang, which had forced Vince to drive the EverGo out to the country, but why would Terrance want him to drive the EverGo?
Vince told me about the GPS in the Mustang that Alma and Terrance had access to, but why would Terrance want Vince off the grid—what did he plan to do with Vince after he confessed his love? That question had troubled me all week.
I must have drifted off at some point, because I jumped awake when the plane hit a pocket of turbulence. I hadn’t slept right since Monday and the incident with Terrance. It took some reflection to figure out why, but when I did it all made sense—I had been truly gripped by fear, not knowing what the big man would do next, always giving me a malevolent look. I was actually relieved that he was gone. He was just too cold and unfriendly.
Vince spent the glum week in sadness. He had lost a friend, and dealt with it by avoiding work altogether, shutting out everyone but Alma and me. He swore a break would set him right. We had cuddled more than fooled around in the bedroom, Vince partly withdrawn. The enduring flame had diminished somewhat and needed a spark to rekindle it.
We both hoped we would find it on the trip.
When I glanced over at Vince’s seat, I saw that he was gone, a note left in his place. I reached over and grabbed it. “Meet me in the bathroom,” I read aloud. The bathroom? Why would he. . .? And then it hit me. It was one of my fantasies on the list: to join the mile high club.
A sudden rush of arousal washed over me. I pushed in the door, and there was Vince, naked except a thong with a tux on it, standing as far back as he could. Even when the door closed, there was no room to maneuver.
His cock was hardening with expectancy, the thin fabric of the thong doing little to hold it back. After such a distant week sexually, I had no idea he was ready to resume our naughty adventures. “Why, hello,” he said, low and sexy.
“How long have you been in here?” I asked, smiling.
“I don’t know, I took off my watch before I came in,” he laughed. He rocked his hips back and forth and his cock popped out of the thong. “I don’t know how you wear these. They’re not comfortable.”
“I guess I’ll have to make it worth your trouble,” I said, seizing his cock, squeezing.
He gasped, the fire in his eyes coming to life for the first time all week.
I knelt down and took his entire length in my mouth, slowly inching down and up, while my left hand massaged his balls. Moving aside the thong, I held the tip of his head against his abs, licking up the bottom side of his shaft, then down the seam of his balls, circling my tongue around them.
His entire area was cleanly shaven, except around his pubic bone, which was trimmed short. I took both his hairless balls into my mouth, sucking, pumping his shaft. He sounded like he was about to come, and that was when he stopped me. “This is your fantasy, not mine.” He helped me up, pulling me in for a sweet kiss.
Sliding down my yoga pants and panties, he knelt, running his hands down my thighs as he kissed my pussy. The cramped spacing made it all the more intimate, his head right under my body, with nowhere else to go. I closed my legs around him as he clawed my ass. His tongue loved my clit, swirling in the most erotic way, so wet and soft and gentle—I never wanted him to stop.
When he did, I was more than yearning, and he stood, uncapping a small purple bottle of lube, designed for women’s pleasure. He rubbed the warmth all over me. I turned around and stuck out my ass. There was barely enough room, but I thought it would work, leaning over the sink.
He positioned his legs to the side of the toilet, bending over me, with his chiseled stomach on my back. His shout thundered when he penetrated. It had been so long. I couldn’t believe how much I’d missed the fullness of his cock in me. He paused, letting the feeling run through my body, and then he slid out and in, slowly, sensuously, tirelessly. It didn’t take long before we were lost in the moment, his hand holding mine above the door, the other on my hip and ass, supporting him as he thrust away. He screamed in orgasm. I followed seconds later when his cock was at its max in girth.
He nearly collapsed on top of me, spent, in the wild haze that was ecstasy. I turned around and kissed him.
After we cleaned up and returned to our seats, he handed me a pen and his notepad, opening it to our list. Smiling, I crossed off number fourteen.
OUR RENTAL WAS A small cottage on a private beach on the south side of Kauai. We were somewhere outside Poipu, but I didn’t know where exactly. I studied Google Maps for a while so that I wasn’t completely lost.
After breaking in the sheets of the king—as well as the sofa cushions—we decided to go into town for dinner. I couldn’t believe the weather, so warm and sunny. It was hard to grasp that people lived here all the time. How did anyone leave? I’d heard the word “paradise” thrown around so much before that it had devalued the real experience. It truly was paradise.
We browsed around the Poipu Shopping Village, choosing Keoki’s Paradise after some debate. Once I saw their tap list, I knew the restaurant was the right choice. We explored the rest of the shops after dinner, while Vince got updates of game three of the Blazers playoff on his phone. We ordered some gelato as dessert and watched a
hula show in the center of the shopping village.
The troubles of the week seemed to melt away in the island heat. Thoughts of paralyzing fear still haunted me, but they had dulled, as though someone were dragging the experience to the back of my subconscious, hiding it away. That night, when I drifted off in Vince’s arms, I said goodbye to the small trauma, locking it away for the week.
VINCE WAS PREPARING BREAKFAST when I rose the next morning. I’m not sure when he had gone to pick up groceries, but bacon was frying, along with eggs, peppers, onions, and mushrooms. He sprinkled a white cheese on top as I entered the kitchen area.
“Good morning,” he said, as I hugged him from behind. He twisted his neck and leaned back for a kiss.
“Morning,” I returned. “This all looks great. How long have you been up?”
“An hour or so.” He snatched up the bacon with a pair of tongs and laid the strips on a toweled plate.
“I can’t believe how comfortable that bed is. I slept so well. I don’t think I woke up once. How about you? Did you sleep all right?”
“Slept great, yeah,” he answered, but hesitation signaled that it wasn’t as tranquil as mine. “I have a surprise for you,” he said, before I could ask anything more on the subject.
“I see that. I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow.”
“No, not this,” he said, grinning. “It’s something much, much better.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows comically. “How much better can it get than bacon and scrambled eggs?” I poured a glass of orange juice from a new container.
“Well, I don’t know about better,” he laughed, “but it can get a whole lot sexier.” The hunger that existed in his eyes since I met him was now back after that terrible week, refueled from yesterday. It stirred all the urges Vince brought out in me.
I rubbed his cock through his shorts. “I can’t wait to see this surprise.”
“After breakfast though—I’m starving.” We both sat down and ate our fill. I took a shower and put on a nice summer dress. Vince was waiting outside on the patio area, lying back in a lounge chair, reading a fantasy book. He laid the book on his knee. “Ready for your surprise?”
“Are we driving or walking to it?”
“Walking.”
I smiled, excited about the prospect of some delicious treat. “Lead the way.”
He left the book on the table, retrieving our sunglasses from inside, then came back with a big-ticket digital camera strapped around his neck. “It goes along with the surprise,” he said, after I gave him an unsure look. He offered me his hand. “To the beach?”
I entangled my fingers in his. “To the beach.” The cottage was built back from the shoreline and the beautiful golden sand. Trees blocked both sides of the area, leaving only the ocean in front of us, providing some privacy from neighbors. The dirt path was riddled with black rocks and small pebbles, but I ignored the stabbing as we walked over them barefoot.
The secluded beach of the cottage stretched on for a few thousand feet. It wasn’t huge, but it was beautiful, and free of people. It seemed as though we had the whole stretch to ourselves, which made little sense with the number of other small cottages and houses along the beachfront.
“Where are all the people?” I asked him.
“At other beaches,” he replied, burying his feet in the warm sand, gazing out across the blue-green water. “They’ve been compensated for the day. We shouldn’t be bothered.”
“We have it all to ourselves?” I asked, surveying the gorgeous coastline.
“For today.” He strode up to me and took me in his strong arms. “I love you,” he said, his voice smooth and sweet.
“I love you, too,” I said. We just held each other for a few minutes in the sun’s warmth, basking in the rays and each other’s love. I touched the camera that was now resting on his back. “So, what’s the camera for?”
“For the rest of the surprise.” He took my hand and led me around scads of huge bushes. “This may be more for me, but I hope you find it as fun.” Sprawled out across the upper beach were dozens upon dozens of swimsuits. Bikinis dominated the bunch, but a collection of each style was present. The swimsuits ranged from plain and traditional to wild and exotic in shape and pattern.
I scanned over them, evaluating what they meant. Looking back at Vince’s camera, the scheme hit me. “A photo shoot?”
His smile turned wicked and seductive. “A tropical beach photo shoot. It has been a fantasy of mine ever since I saw a Sports Illustrated calendar when I was in my pubescent years. I hope you will accommodate this indulgence,” he said, his eyes yearning.
Modeling had never sounded tempting in any way, though I’d been told by a few that I should, mostly by Danielle’s single and horny friends, but also by men who dared to hit on me back in college. This wasn’t modeling though. It was a show for Vince, to satisfy a fantasy and to spur his desire. “Okay,” I agreed. “But on one condition.”
“What’s that?” He raised the camera and snapped a photo of me.
“That I get a turn taking pictures of you.”
“But I don’t have any special outfits.” He waved his hand at all the swimsuits.
“That’s all right, I like you better naked.” I flashed him a provocative smile. “So what do you say?”
“I have no problems flipping the fantasy.”
The steaming visual of Vince naked on the beach stimulated my already fluttering heartbeat. I could see why it was a fantasy for him. I picked up a pink polka-dotted top with a frill along the cleavage line. “Which one do you want me to start with?”
He pointed to a strapless red suit with three oval cutouts to reveal side cleavage. Without fear of being seen, I stripped off the dress, already naked underneath, and strapped on the swimsuit top and matching bottoms. Once I was ready, he directed me in front of the beach, facing the trees. “Now lean forward on your fists,” he said as I knelt, arching back. I did as directed and my bust squished together. He squatted in front of me, snapping photo after photo.
“God, you’re sexy,” he said after every shot. I swapped the bikini for another one after Vince had gotten all the pictures he wanted. The morning flew by as I listened to his directions, coupled with the crashing tide, and the birds that flew around the beach and treed shoreline.
After a long lunch break, we went back to the beach until I had done every pose imaginable in over thirty different outfits. I loved them all, feeling sexier with each one Vince picked out.
Then it was my turn with the camera. I tugged down Vince’s board shorts and used the massage oil we’d been pouring on me all day to rub down his cock until it was nice and long, but not erect. “Try and think of something else,” I said, noticing that his cock just kept growing.
He grinned. “I can’t help it. All day long I’ve thought about fucking you and now you’re teasing him.”
“Lie on your side and put your knee up. No, like this.” I positioned him how I wanted the picture, stroking his cock. We were both enjoying the building tension, the anticipation.
As the sun was going down, Vince rolled out an enormous blanket and weighed the corners down with rocks. I was still wearing the faux fur red bikini that apparently was his favorite of them all. We had both washed off the oil. He sprawled out, naked and hard, his chiseled abs inviting me in for a nibble.
I couldn’t resist the temptation. I kissed his neck, down to his chest, biting each of his ab muscles in turn, working my way down to his cock. It tasted salty with a slight hint of sunscreen and oil. Propping himself on his elbows, he moaned and moaned as I licked under his head, down the solid shaft, tonguing his balls at the end, and repeating the whole process until he couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m going to come,” he managed to get out.
Reading his body language, and listening to his increased breaths, I already knew, and braced for it, pumping relentlessly. I swallowed it all, rubbing his cock as it flopped against his stomach, steadily shrin
king.
He kissed me long and passionately to show his gratitude. “Now it’s my turn,” he said, switching positions so that his tongue trailed down my body. When he arrived between my legs, I was so wet from the day of expectation that I might not have even needed his tongue on my clit to make me come. It certainly didn’t hurt though.
I was screaming instantly, coming almost as fast as Vince had. My arousal had him hard in no time. I pushed him flat on his back and straddled his torso, playing with his cock against my clit.
Then he was in me.
His swollen cock was reaching so far up inside me, I could feel things rearranging. I rotated my hips around his shaft, arching back as he squeezed my ass. He pulled me down and brushed aside the bikini cups, taking my nipples in his mouth, until I pushed back, keeping my hands on his chest, sliding up and down on his cock. I leaned back again, reaching behind me with my right hand to play with his balls.
He took over thrusting—the added sensation sending him into a new gear. The veins in his neck and forehead became pronounced as he came for the second time. His breath was heavier, his shouts louder, and his grunts deeper.
The pressure in my neck exploded a second later, his hands clasping my ass so tight, it sent jolts of pain and pleasure up my spine, adding to the orgasm.
Afterward, I lay on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart as it slowly settled into a restful beat. We watched the sun vanish over the horizon while the moon rose above, shining bright on the lightless beach.
Flooded with endorphins, I fell asleep to the crashing waves and the music of Vince’s heart.
THE WEEK FLEW BY in a flash. We had done as much as possible in the short time span, zooming around the island on a helicopter to see the Na Pali Coast, kayaking up the Wailua River and hiking to a waterfall, exploring the Waimea Canyon, and so much swimming, it seemed like I had permanent wrinkles. The only thing we had yet to do was snorkel.
Chasing The O Page 27
