The quaking that shook her body was only partially from her orgasm. She understood part of it was the fear and the excitement of surrender, and she wanted more.
He used her mouth to moisten all his fingers, and she sucked and nipped at them greedily. Letting out a low chuckle, he began to nibble her jaw in response. Finally guiding his hand away from her pussy, she felt him unfasten his pants, heard the soft fabric slide down his legs, heard the ripping sound of a condom wrapper. Every sense was hyperaware, and her skin craved his warmth.
The fingers she’d wet for him, using her own saliva, were suddenly at her breast, pinching and pulling. It was enough to concentrate her attention on a new sensation, just enough pleasure mingling with the pain to send her mind into turmoil.
His arm spread across her stomach, pulling her body away from the window to arch her back, opening her to him.
“Now you’re ready. You wanted to be fucked. Brace yourself.”
With a final tweak to the nipple he held, he grabbed both hips and filled her in a single thrust. She was forced up onto the balls of her feet, arching and lifting so he could seat himself fully inside her. He held still for a moment, and it helped her adjust to the position and the fullness it brought.
“You’re tight this way. Such a tight pussy in such a dirty girl.” Leaning away from her ear, his whispers were replaced with grunts as he moved slowly out, plunging in just when the head of his cock was the only part of him inside her. He wasn’t fast, but he was fierce, each thrust lifting her slightly and reminding her that he controlled their dance. All she could do was keep her palms against the glass and take it.
Her hands were growing numb from holding the same position, but that too became a delicious ache. Holding the position became an offering of sorts, but she also reacted to the feeling of helplessness it gave her. All she could do was feel.
Michael’s hands rocked her hips, ensuring each thrust had the maximum impact. The sensation overwhelmed her, thoughts of the glass in front of her and the stranger behind her, the wicked and dirty things he’d said to her, swept away. When his hands molded to her breasts, she moaned loudly. Her body kept the rocking rhythm without his guidance as he kneaded her and pinched her nipples, sending sparks of pleasure to her pussy.
She’d never come without some kind of direct stimulation to her clit. Never. The sheer eroticism of the encounter, coupled with the almost brutal attention to her breasts, was bringing her to the edge. His strokes were becoming more erratic, and she could sense he was close too.
Finally pulling away from the balcony door, she lowered her arm to stroke herself with her hand. Before she could make contact, the smack of his hand on her hip startled her, distracting her from her goal.
“Hand back on the glass. I didn’t say you could touch yourself,” he said through gritted teeth. The hand still on her breast pinched harder and twisted her nipple; the pain made her eyes tear.
“No, please,” she whimpered. “Hurts.” His touch became teasing for a moment, but his thrusts remained deep and hard. Lowering his head to her neck, he bit harshly before sucking. That’s going to leave a mark. After he’d slapped her, he’d kept a firm hold on her hip. Slowly his hand moved around to her stomach, pressing and tracing designs on her skin, headed for her mound.
He tugged lightly on the hair there.
“You want me to touch you here?” His tone was teasing, and she could only moan. His finger moved directly to her clit then as he sped up his relentless pounding. Simultaneously he pulled on her nipple and squeezed her clit and she cried out, the keening in her ears sounding more animal to her than human. In one corner of her mind she knew it was her voice, but the part of her psyche that normally called the shots, that normally kept her life so orderly and focused, was in denial.
She collapsed in his arms as her orgasm faded, barely registering the grunts and thrusts that would have told her that he’d climaxed as well. Suddenly she was completely uncontrolled, her limbs filled with lava, fluid yet aflame. As the last of the shock waves overtook her, she was gratefully supported by his arms and chest. Understanding fully the term wrung out, she let her head fall forward.
Guiding her only a few steps, he pulled her down onto his lap. She thought to herself that it was lucky there was a chair nearby, because she’d have pooled at his feet the way her dress had dropped to the floor if she’d had to travel any significant distance. Gathering her in his arms, he rested her head on his shoulder and stroked her arm gently.
As her mind cleared, she began to process what she’d just done, what had just been done to her, and she began to shake and squirm in his lap. I have to get out of here. Vicki was not a woman accustomed to losing herself the way that she had, and an avalanche of mortal embarrassment began to bury her. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, trapped in his arms. I need to get out.
“Victoria.” His voice focused her but didn’t alleviate the shame. She hardly knew the man, and she was naked in his arms. He’d said things, done things that she shouldn’t have liked. But she had. She hadn’t just liked them. She’d been overwhelmed and devastatingly aroused by them.
She couldn’t make eye contact. The shame was too much, worse than when she’d seen 22F give her his dismissive wave as he’d gone to catch his connecting flight.
His hand held her chin, tilting her head so he could see her face. She kept her gaze averted until he caressed her cheek.
“Talk to me, sweetheart.”
Chapter Seven
“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s just—I have to—” She stammered and struggled for words while her body curled in on itself, trying desperately to cover her lush figure. He very badly wanted to stroke her body, entice her to show herself again. He’d seen her reflection in the glass, but being behind her had significant visual disadvantages. The tremendous physical advantages had been obvious, but he longed to drink in her sumptuous curves and beautiful skin.
The swimsuits he’d seen her wear were conservative, but hinted at the type of body he favored most. Nothing turned him on more than a round, soft ass, something to hold on to that jiggled just enough on contact to let you know you’d done your job right. Having just spent a fair amount of time pressing up against Vicki’s, he knew hers fit the bill. She was tall, which not only proved helpful for fucking while standing, but put her shoulders and lips in just the right places when walking or standing, ready for a kiss, a hug, or a caress. Seeing her naked, her flawless skin glowing in the filtered sunlight, had exceeded his expectations; he wanted the chance to study her, memorize her.
Changing her tactics, she tried to squirm out of his lap again rather than cover up. The eye contact he’d achieved had been short-lived. As soon as his gaze flickered to her body again, she went back to looking anywhere but at him. Sensing her panic, he pulled her into a hug and reached for the beach towel folded on the end table.
Covering her first, he wrapped her up tight, stroking her arm and kissing her hair.
“Hey…it’s okay. You don’t need to go anywhere. But I really think we should talk,” he murmured quietly to her.
Vicki shivered and shook her head. Her entire body, which had been limp as a dishrag only moments before, had tensed up. She was skittish. He knew she had no idea how to process what had happened, because he’d seen the reaction before. He’d never done anything beyond vanilla with a woman as self-controlled as she seemed to be, not until they’d known each other much better. Her personality type—strong and self-assured—had always appealed to him, but it was the first time he’d seen it layered over someone as pained and vulnerable as she seemed to be. With only a couple of days to learn the truth, he’d accelerated things a bit. And now she was in turmoil.
He had to fix it.
It was his job to be the responsible one, and although he might have given her what she needed, even what she wanted, now he had to help her deal with it and understand that it shouldn’t cause her shame.
He knew he needed to act quickly
with Vicki. She was as clueless as she could be about the world to which he’d just exposed her.
Having the towel to cover their nakedness seemed to calm her, although part of him believed she was still debating whether to leave the safety of the towel to grab her clothes and run, rather than risk what she might do if she remained, naked and cradled in his arms.
“Do you really have someplace to go? Or are you confused about what we just did? About why you liked it so much?” There was no question she’d enjoyed it. He needed her to remember that, even if it was at the root of her embarrassment.
Her head turned into his neck, hiding her face but finding comfort in him. That was a start.
“We both enjoyed it. You know that. If you’re ashamed, we should talk about it. There’s nothing shameful about two people pleasing each other.” He continued to drop kisses on her hair, rubbing her arm gently through the towel. “Haven’t you ever done anything just a little bit kinky?” His tone was slightly playful. He was trying to draw her back out.
She exhaled heavily against his neck in frustration. “Aren’t guys supposed to be the ones who don’t like to talk? Why can’t we just chalk it up to a good fuck and leave it at that?” As she said the word fuck, he felt her shiver in his arms. He could tell she was trying to convince herself that would be good enough for her too.
She hasn’t let go of the urge to flee. Well, to hell with that.
“Let’s see…for starters, I’m not quite interested in leaving it at one experience,” he said sternly. He pulled her away from his chest and ducked slightly to see her face. “I don’t think you are either.” Unable to avoid his stare, he could see her shields go up, her gaze turning into a glare.
“Good. Get annoyed. Argue. Be pissed off if you want to. But don’t hide from me.” He took a deep breath, calming himself. He needed to encourage her anger and channel it, but he needed to control his own. It was a delicate balancing act.
For a moment, he saw her retreat, ready to go back into hiding, but then the dam burst.
“God, you’re a bossy son of a bitch. And you scare the shit out of me. So can you please just let me get up and get dressed? I’ll be out of your hair in a minute, and you can plan your next mind fuck. I’ve got to pack.” She pushed her hand against his chest, moving even farther from him, and tried to turn her body so she could put her feet on the ground.
He clamped his free arm down over her legs, stopping her movement.
“I never denied being bossy, as you call it. I certainly don’t want to scare you.” He smiled gently and tried to catch her eye again. “A little anxiety is always good, but not fear.” He winked, and she stared at him, puzzled. “But I really don’t want you to leave. If you give me five minutes to explain myself—just five minutes—I promise you I won’t stop you if you still want to go. I won’t call. I won’t knock on your door. I won’t follow you or watch you. I’ll let you go.”
He’d begun to read her body so well that it surprised him when he couldn’t discern her reaction. He waited, nervous and unsure for the first time in a long time.
She crossed her arms underneath the towel and blew her hair out of her face in what he thought was a decidedly delightful huff.
“Fine. Five minutes.”
Unable to fully contain his reaction, he quirked an eyebrow and smirked at her response. In spite of her resistance—hell, maybe even because of it—he found himself incredibly attracted to this woman who seemed full of contradictions.
“The first time I saw you, it was at the airport. You had such a pained look on your face I wondered what could have happened to make you so sad.” He reached over to brush the hair from her face and let his finger trace her cheekbone. “When I saw you again, checking in here, I wanted to talk to you. I held back because you seemed to be searching for something, and I wanted you to find it. It seemed important to you. But I ran out of time, and I was afraid you’d never take a chance and speak to me. So I put myself in your path and hoped you’d come to me then.”
Her eyes widened at the knowledge that he’d been paying very close attention to her since she’d arrived on the island. When his voice became gruff and tense, her mouth opened slightly, seemingly surprised at the intensity of emotion behind his words.
“I’d seen the guy in the golf shirt, the one at the airport, and then the other ones—like a parade—a different experience, a different man every day.” She started to protest, but he held up his hand.
“None of them filled the void, did they? The empty space inside you. It wasn’t what you needed.”
As soon as he paused to let the question sink in, she interjected, “I didn’t sleep with all of them!” Covering her face with her hands, she muttered, “What the hell am I doing?”
“I know.”
Her head snapped up quickly, eyes narrowed.
“Well, I don’t know know. I didn’t follow you on your dates.” Chuckling, he tried to ease her discomfort a bit by lightening the mood. He wanted her to stay present through the conversation, and if she withdrew, she wasn’t going to really hear him. “I limited my surveillance to the hotel, for the most part. But I could tell when you came back from most of them that you were even more upset, more frustrated than when you’d left.”
“How the hell can you know so much about me? You don’t even know me. I mean… I don’t know what I mean. I’m not making any sense at all. Jesus, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. What makes you think you understand me?” The sadness was bubbling up from underneath the anger; he could see the raw edges of vulnerability in her eyes.
“You and I, we’re cut from similar cloth, I think. It makes me feel like I get what you’re going through. Something happened before this trip, something that made you question who you really are.” He held her gaze as he spoke. “I don’t know what, but it seems like you’ve been trying to figure that question out since you got here, and you haven’t been able to find the answer.”
Burying her face in her hands again, he felt her shoulders shake and knew she had begun to cry.
“I figured out I’m a slut; that’s the answer I found. And I can’t even do that very well.” She sniffed, trying to hold back her tears.
He knew she’d need to let out all that pain somehow. In his experience, crying was usually the most cathartic part of the process. But he shut down that line of thinking immediately. “Victoria, you are not a slut. You’re hurting inside, and you may have done some things you’ve never done before, but learning about yourself isn’t easy.” He pulled her hands away from her face and held them in one hand while he wiped her tears away with the corner of the towel.
“You took some unnecessary risks. I won’t deny I wanted to put you over my knee for that more than once this week, but in a way you were very brave.”
Her head jerked when he suggested wanting to spank her, but she immediately focused on the suggestion that she was brave. Slowly she started to shake her head, silent tears still trickling down her face.
“Don’t contradict me. You were. Something has you shaken to the core, but you still came here, you tried to figure it out. You didn’t run away from it. So don’t do it now. Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what happened so I can help you deal with it. Cry if you need to let it out. I can help you with that too.” She probably hadn’t understood he meant he would comfort her if she cried, or make her cry if that’s what she needed to do, but she relaxed into him.
She wept.
He was using quite a few of his five minutes just holding her, but something told him she wasn’t going to walk away at the end of his three hundred seconds. She wasn’t exactly sure what to make of their conversation, he thought, but a part of her was responding to him.
When her body finally stilled and her tears seemed to have abated, he dried her face again with the towel.
“What happened to make you so sad, Vicki?” He tried to soothe her, softening his voice.
He waited. He could be patient; he was very good at being pa
tient, in fact.
Finally she took a shuddering breath and whispered to him, almost too quiet to hear.
“My life…well, I’ve kind of lost everything. My husband. My kids. My job. The people in town don’t want me around anymore. I even killed the Dunkin’ Donuts.” Her eyes grew glassy again as she failed to suppress a grim smile at her last comment, but he saw the resolve in her eyes. Once she decided to let him in, she was going to do it, no matter what it took. She shared some of her story in soft, flat, emotionless tones.
His urge to protect her made him want to pound her cheating husband into the ground. No matter how shitty things got in a relationship, it was unacceptable to start a new one before ending another. She deserved at least that much respect after all their years together. The way the company let her be the bad guy was pretty miserable too. He marveled at her perception that she was a failure to her family, when the only reason she’d stayed to live through the misery was the simple fact that they’d asked her to.
Her kids rejecting her seemed to have been the thing that sent her into a tailspin. Worse, it sounded like they were going to join the cheater and live with the other woman. Every anchor she had seemed to have been torn away. No wonder she seems so lost.
The cop in him knew there were always two sides to every story, but he also had a pretty good bullshit detector, and this woman certainly believed every word she said. At a minimum, it was her truth.
It was apparent to him that she didn’t see herself very clearly.
If he could keep her from bolting, he’d be sure that she did.
Chapter Eight
Michael held her close and let her weep. She marveled at the difference: Alan would always comfort her when she cried, but his goal was always, first and foremost, getting her to stop. Her crying always seemed to disturb him, as if it were somehow damning of him as a husband that she was sad or upset. Thinking of Michael’s comment about helping her cry made her wonder—what exactly did he mean?
Mission Statement Page 6
