By Danica Williams
Copyright © 2011 Danica Williams
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content and is intended for a mature audience only.
All persons portrayed in this book are over 18 years of age.
Chapter 1
The heat caressed his face as August Lang stepped out of his hotel room to the white sand. Waves crashed over the shore thirty feet away and a child was laughing further down the beach. There was no rush to do anything. It was a feeling he was slowly falling in love with.
He headed in the general direction of the little cantina he’d found the day before that served the best tacos and coldest beer in three miles. Ratty leather sandals, cargo shorts, and t-shirts were the only attire he’d allowed himself on this trip. It felt damn good not to be wearing a suit and tie.
It was clear, blue, and for once he didn’t have a fucking headache. He’d left his headache behind in Boston; otherwise known as his ex-wife Madeline. With a grimace, he pushed her from his mind. Violently. There was no room for her here, his first vacation in over a decade. His only vacation since he’d married her after college that wasn’t a miserable excuse for her to shop.
He was doing it again. He had to admit, at least to himself, that he wasn’t getting past the anger. Ten years of his life, nine as the lawful husband of a woman so self-absorbed, there were times she didn’t acknowledge other people in the same room with her. Like him. In their home. So much time wasted and he couldn’t figure out why.
Why had he signed his life over to her? He’d disconnected from everything he once knew about himself. Why had he allowed her the freedom to dictate whether or not they would be having children? They hadn’t. Whether they would spend Christmas with his parents, as their only son, or skiing in Switzerland? He’d spent upwards of fifteen grand on that little getaway and it had broken his mother’s heart.
And when he’d walked in on her having sex with her ex-boyfriend from college, why had he allowed her to be offended that he had invaded her privacy? He’d walked away, called his attorney, and packed a bag.
An hour later, she’d come from her bedroom on the other side of the house (another idea of hers that should have freaked him the fuck out) and calmly reminded him about a charity event they had to attend that evening.
Just as calmly, he’d told her to go fuck herself.
Six months followed of haggling over every dime, every stick of furniture, every knick-knack. His shark of an attorney hadn’t let her have anything easily. August had remained faithful. Madeline had not. It wasn’t even that he cared about any of it. It was baggage. Mostly shit she’d bought for far more than it was worth to show her friends how much money they (he) had.
He just didn’t want that bitch to get it. Had she been awarded the house, he feared he might have burned it down.
Instead, he’d escaped her cold claws for two million in cool cash and a fuck you very much. She’d walked with her personal clothes, jewelry, and the thirty pieces of tacky art her college boyfriend, the artist, had been giving her for six of the years they’d been married. A shit painting for each time they found to be together.
No wonder she’d completely cut him off years ago. He’d even considered having an affair more than once but just didn’t have it in him. His parents had been married for almost forty years and were still in love. It was a hard standard to live up to and he obviously hadn’t even tried with Madeline.
Taking a deep breath, he trudged up the narrow path lined with red clay pots overflowing with flowers to the patio entrance of Lagarto Loco. It meant the crazy lizard but was quiet inside the shaded space. He settled with a sense of relief at one of the tables looking out over the ocean. It calmed him, being here. He felt the tension draining away, the warm air seeming to fill up the empty space his marriage left behind.
Time moved differently here and it was several minutes before a voice at his elbow drew his attention from the waves. “Hola, señor.” He turned and found himself on eye level with a beautiful pair of breasts. Quickly raising his gaze, he didn’t miss the sparkle of amusement in the waitress’s eyes. They were dark chocolate with a hint of amber highlight. Calm eyes, like this place he’d become so fond of, but seemed far older than her twenty-something age.
“Hello,” he returned blankly. He felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck and wanted to kick himself. He hadn’t blushed since he’d stolen his first kiss in fourth grade.
“Inglés?” Her voice was sultry and warm like the air. He nodded and she smiled. Her teeth were very white and straight. It was dramatic against her toasted skin and pillowy-soft lips. Some would have called her chubby, Madeline would have insisted she was fat, but her curves seemed just right to August. Lush. Like a woman should be. Like no woman he’d ever allowed himself to have. Long, curling black hair was pulled back from her face. Her accent was strong but her English was perfect, “Very good, sir. What can I get you?”
What a loaded question.
He hated the hoarseness of his voice, knew his reaction to her was stupid and immature. “Spicy tacos. Beans and rice. Dos Equis,” the same thing he’d had yesterday.
“I will also bring you grilled vegetables for your tacos. You will like them. They are good for you, yes?” She smiled and turned away before he could answer, speaking rapid Spanish to the man leaning in the open window of the kitchen, watching them.
August’s eyes were drawn directly to her ass. She had a firm but well-rounded bubble butt in crisp khakis. The bottom edge of her bright white t-shirt flirted across the small of her back leaving a small gap showing caramel skin. Her hair fell just above it and the sway of it and her rear was hypnotic. When she glanced over her shoulder and caught him staring, her eyes widened in surprise and he felt heat slash across his cheekbones. Giving a slight shake of her head, she chuckled and murmured something about men that he couldn’t translate.
He was surprised at his body’s reaction to this woman. It had been years since he’d reacted so physically, so sexually. He had to get himself under control. This shit was embarrassing.
She brought his food a few minutes later and he heard himself ask her name. One side of her lush mouth kicked up and she murmured, “Emiliana Rojo, señor. My friends call me Lily.”
“I’m August. August Lang.” What the hell was he doing?
“A strong name, señor.” Her gaze slid purposefully over him.
He knew his dark blonde hair was shaggier than usual. He hadn’t cared enough to get it cut. A good face, his mother would say. Women often told him his dark green eyes surrounded by long lashes were his best feature but he knew his body always pleased them as well. He was six-one and corded from hours spent on the climbing machine he kept in his office. Since his initial confrontation with Madeline, he’d used it to work out his anger and mounting sexual frustration.
“How long have you been in Puerto Vallarta, señor?”
The melody of her voice flowed over him and it took a moment to answer. Clearing his throat, he said, “Three weeks.”
Nodding, she perched in the chair across from him. “You are running from something, yes?”
“Running? No. No, not at all.”
Resting her chin on her hand, she motioned to the food. “Eat, señor. Food is very healing. I have seen many like you come here. Many come to heal. You came to hide, I think.” She seemed to notice the tightening of
his features and smiled again, “You misunderstand me, señor. I do not mean cowardly hiding. Often, we must step back from a bad time, a bad person, and settle down, yes? Before we can deal with what comes after.”
Strangely, her words struck something inside him. “What comes after, Lily?” He hardly recognized his own voice.
A light shrug of her gently rounded shoulders, then, “Only you know, August Lang. Maybe you start fresh or you fix what was broken. Or,” she paused as she stood, patting his hand that sat clenched on the scarred wood table, “you allow the bad, the anger or sadness, to hold you prisoner and it colors the rest of your life.”
“I can’t fix it.” He hadn’t realized he’d turned his hand to hold her fingers. “I don’t want to fix it but I am angry. So angry.”
Sliding her hand more fully into his, she whispered, “Then you may as well be still in the bad place. Your anger keeps it new, raw like a wound you keep opening.” Removing her hand, she squeezed his shoulder and headed back to the kitchen, adding, “Eat, August Lang. Soak in the smell of the ocean, the warmth of the air, and enjoy the best tacos in Puerto Vallarta. Try not to think too hard, yes?”
Thirty minutes later, he’d finished his food and sat staring out over the water, replaying Lily’s words in his mind while he sipped his second beer. That a stranger saw him so clearly was unnerving. He didn’t like it but he couldn’t deny what she’d said.
He was so angry it was like still being married to Madeline. She’d kept him off-balance and frustrated from the beginning and he’d let her. Except for the divorce proceedings, he hadn’t spent time with her in almost eight months. Why was he still so furious? It wasn’t as if his heart was broken. Theirs had never been a great love story, more like a business merger.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Lily wait on other customers, talking to all of them and making them smile. She touched often, patting a hand, ruffling a young boy’s hair, giving a kiss to an elderly man who seemed to know her well. August had never met anyone like her. She was so…relaxed. Free in a way he had never been.
He was so hard for her, it bordered on painful.
He lost track of her for a moment and she appeared at his side holding a basket of pastry that smelled of honey and cinnamon. “Something sweet, August. To remind you that it still exists.” She took a seat again and stared at him for a long moment. The stocky cook came and placed a plate in front of her. She thanked him and they spoke too quickly for August to have a hope of following along. The man didn’t seem happy.
When the man returned to the kitchen, she put together tacos and ate daintily. “Is everything alright? I don’t want to get you fired, Lily.”
Her laugh washed over him warmly as she said, “Marcio is my brother, August. He cannot fire me and he would not since I do most of the cooking in the morning.” Sipping a glass of water, she ate quietly for several minutes and August suddenly realized he’d never just sat quietly with a woman without awkwardness. This seemed…natural. “He does not like me talking to male tourists.”
“Why not?”
“August Lang, my last relationship was six years ago. A man much like yourself came here to heal, he said his wife had left him with a broken heart. He was here for a month. Enough time for his wife to arrive. He’d lost a lot of money in Las Vegas and came here to hide. She had not left him as he claimed. I was happy when he left and very angry.”
Feeling like the air was being sucked from the room, August asked, “How old were you?”
“Nineteen. Young, yes, but I should have known better.” She shrugged her shoulders and gave him one of her warm smiles. “I am not bitter but I naturally avoid falling into the same trap.” Her fingertip traced the condensation on the side of her glass, the silence stretching out until she met his eyes again. “Three months after he left, I found out I was pregnant. My daughter is five now, August. I am familiar with the consequences of giving in to what feels good.”
Leaning forward, she whispered, “You will leave, August, and go back to your life. I’m no longer a young girl and I would like to spend time with you while you are here. Catriona is staying with her grandmother up the coast this week.”
“Can you come with me now?” he asked her, shocked at the need pounding through his voice. She nodded and he gave her money for lunch. When she returned from the back, her narrow apron was gone and a small pouch-like bag was slung over her shoulder. Holding his hand out, she took it and let him lead her outside.
Chapter 2
He didn’t rush but August realized he moved much faster back to his small cabana than he had going to lunch. He never let go of her hand. Now that they were both standing, he realized she was around five-five, maybe a little less, and it made him feel more masculine than ever in his life. All of his reactions to her were strong, none of them familiar.
They stepped from the sand to the back porch and he didn’t slow down. Opening the door, tugging her inside and quickly locked it before trapping her body against the wall with his and cupping her face in his hands.
“Why me, Lily?”
“I recognize your wounds,” she said quietly.
Their first kiss was unlike anything he’d experienced in his life. She tasted so clean, a hint of lime from the water earlier, an undertone of almost brown sugar that made his brain stutter in his skull. Never had a woman’s mouth seemed to fit him so well. His cock throbbed against the zipper of his cargos, restricted and aching to get inside her. Her small hands were on his stomach, beneath his t-shirt, and the contact jolted him like an electric current.
Desperate to feel her skin-to-skin, he yanked his shirt over his head before sliding his palms under hers and soaking up the silken warmth that was Lily. When the soft material disappeared behind him, he was shocked to stillness at the sight of her full, perfect breasts in a demure white lace bra. Hard nipples stabbed against the material as if trying to get closer and August bent his head to suck one through the fabric.
Upper body arching to him, her fingers clenching in his hair, she whispered his name. The single word an accented sigh in the quiet. His hands moved everywhere, needing to strip her, to touch her as he continued suckling first one nipple then the other. Lily’s bra was the last piece of clothing he took from her and the dusky rose nipples hardened impossibly further under his gaze. Her teeth held her full lower lip captive, as if she fought to be quiet.
She was deliciously rounded, soft, every inch of her skin the same golden brown. Strands of her hair curled over her shoulders and teased her breasts; the trimmed curls shielding her pussy were the same silken black. When she moved her hands up as if to cover herself, he stopped her. “No. Please, Lily. Let me look. You’re so beautiful.”
The urge to take her had his blood pounding in his temples and groin until he wondered if she could hear it. “I haven’t had sex in years, Lily. I need you too much.” His eyes lifted to hers and she smiled shyly.
“If you’re worried about me, please don’t be. I imagine the first time will be quick for both of us. I’ve only had one lover and it was long ago. This is…un comienzo fresco, yes? A fresh start?”
Her words scared him, made him wonder if she was looking for more than he was willing or able to give. He stilled and she noticed, giving him a soft smile. “Do not worry, August Lang. You will not stay, I will not go. I expect nothing. You are like my…eh, the reset button, yes? We help each other move past the things that hurt us.”
For the first time in a long time, he exhaled and didn’t feel the pressure of his life and the consequences of his choices so painfully. All he could say was, “I’m sorry, Lily.”
“Never sorry.” She cupped his face in her small hands and pulled him to her lips. “Just don’t stop. Do not stop, August.”
She popped the button off his shorts in her haste to get them off his body and he grinned. Then she was sinking to her knees, taking his clothing with her until she was settled on her heels with his cock thick and hard in front of her. She kissed th
e tip, her small pink tongue peeking out to lave the drop of fluid slicked there. He felt the shudder through his entire body. When she took him to the back of her throat, he almost fell, slamming both palms flat to the wall behind her.
“Sweet God, Lily.”
She whimpered around his thickness and he watched as she eased back leaving half his dick shiny with the moist heat of her mouth. Her rhythm was steady and skilled. Using her hands, she cupped his balls and stroked the half of his cock she couldn’t take. It was when her eyes flicked up to meet his with a low moan that he almost lost control. “Yes. It’s so good, Lily. So good.”
Her mouth around his dick was one of the most intense visuals he’d ever seen. Her chocolate brown eyes darkened in pleasure and hunger. “I don’t want to come in your mouth, Lily.” He moved to pull away and she gripped the back of his thighs. “I can’t, Lily. I’m on the edge. I’ll thrust. I could hurt you.”
She held him harder, pulling him more firmly against her and his groan bounced off the wall in front of him. Then his hands were in her hair, tightening against her scalp, as he held her still and began to thrust slow and steady. “Lily. Fuck, Lily, it’s so good. Breathe, baby. Yes. Like that. Just relax.” One of her hands moved up between his thighs and cupped his balls. His legs almost gave out, he was hanging on to his control by a thread.
Then she squeezed at the same time she tightened her suction. “Fuck. I’m coming, Lily. Oh god, yes. Yes!” He watched her as he continued to stroke between her lips, watched her determination to swallow everything he pumped into her, still sucking. A hard shudder rolled up his spine and he swore he came again.
For a long time, they remained where they were. She was still softly sucking; he continued to thrust gently, his cock still half hard and wanting her. His stroked her cheek and whispered, “You are so beautiful, Lily. Thank you.” Then he pulled from her lips and bent to lift her off the floor. “And now, pretty girl, it’s your turn.” He spun with her, laying her over the dining table a few feet away, and pulled up a chair. She lifted to her elbows to watch him as he pulled her leg up to rest on his shoulder.
Hot Vacation - Sensual, Erotic Getaway (An Erotika Short Story) (Erotika Short Stories) Page 1
