I have no immediate response. After a moment of studying my expression, he plants a tender kiss on the tip of my nose. He knows how to touch and kiss very well. He’s very sensual and affectionate. He knows how to make me putty in his hands. I want to run away with him into whatever fairytale Prince Charming rode his white horse out of.
“I want to do something to you and for you,” he says, grinning seductively.
“What?” I squeak past my constricted vocal cords. I swallow.
Slowly, he guides me down on top of the bed. My heart is pounding so hard that I can feel the vibrations in my throat. He takes my dress by the hem and ceremoniously slides it up my thighs.
I’m studying him, wondering what in the world is he going to do. A man has never put his face so close to my private parts. Belmont’s teeth and lips work in unison as they kiss and gently nibble their way up the inside of my thighs.
“Shit, you’re soft,” he whispers sensually.
As soon as his lips land on my crotch, I gasp.
“You’re wet…” He’s apparently turned on by the moisture.
I’m tingling all over but especially down there. I’ve never felt that spark of sensations.
“You smell good,” he whispers throatily.
“Ah!” I cry and grab the messy bed sheets. He’s latched on to what I think is my clitoris. I squirm and jerk.
“Relax, baby,” he says and takes my panties by the sides. He pulls them down my legs, kissing as he goes.
“What are you doing?” I lift myself on my elbows to watch him wide-eyed.
“You really don’t know what I’m going to do?” He looks up from between my legs, amused. I shake my head. “No one’s ever gone down on you before, Daisy?”
I shake my head. “No.”
A huge smile appears on his lips. “Oh shit, a virgin.”
“I’m not a virgin.” I sound defensive, although being a virgin wouldn’t be so bad.
“Have you ever had an orgasm?”
“Yeah…” I sound uncertain because if an orgasm feels anything like what he just did to me, then maybe I haven’t.
“Well we’re about to find out, aren’t we?” He kisses the insides of my thighs again, and then his hot, wet tongue returns to that spot.
I inhale as if I’ve been socked in the stomach and bite down on my bottom lip. What in the world is he doing to me? I clutch the bed spread, but the material seems too weak to brace myself on. Belmont offers no reprieve. On the contrary, he’s lifted my crotch closer to his face and has clamped his arms around my rear end. I can’t even move an inch. However, his grip doesn’t stop me from squirming and thrashing my upper body against the mattress.
“Oh no!” I cry. I lift my head to see how he’s doing that, and our eyes meet. But not for long. My lower half trembles. The most intense feeling ever seizes me. I’m overcome by a sensation akin to the signal of a ready teakettle. My entire vagina is whistling and pulsing. I scream, moan, and whimper. I experience some sort of white out when the full force of it hits. I think I have Belmont by the shoulders. My fingernails dig into his skin. When whatever that was passes, I am able to release the tension in my body and breathe again, although I’m panting.
“That”—his tongue rounds my clit again, and I grab a handful of blanket—“was an orgasm,” he whispers.
“Then, no,” I say breathlessly. “I’ve never had one of those.”
“How about two?”
I’m both exhilarated and alarmed. I guess it shows on my face because he shows me that wicked smile before starting all over again.
This time, the fingers of one of his strong hands stroke my waist and stomach indulgently. He slides two fingers, I think, inside of me. Not too deep. They’re slipping against the inside of my pubic bone.
I cry out as soon as sparks of that teakettle sensation strike me. I twist and turn and arch my back. The more I move, the more he groans. His fingers find what they’re looking for and draw circles around that sensitive spot.
I’m caught in euphoria.
It’s coming…
Coming…
I’m coming!
I’m screaming, maybe crying until he’s on top of me.
“Taste yourself, baby,” he whispers as his teeth and lips gather my bottom lip into his mouth. “Shit, you’re sweet.”
We are kissing deeper than ever. His tongue might touch the back of my throat, and his penis is as hard as a boulder. He’s stabbing me with it. He’s rubbing it up and down my shifting pubic bone, stimulating me.
Suddenly he unlatches his belt, unbuttons and unzips his pants, and eagerly plugs me with his full-on erection. Oh goodness gracious, we’re having sex!
His strokes are slow, indulgent.
“You’re so tight,” he mutters, “so wet.”
I feel the material of his jeans and sweater against me. His mouth and tongue haven’t pulled away from mine since he said I’m wet. He’s aroused me beyond a level I’ve ever reached. Even if this is our only time together, if I was right and he chased me to make this moment happen, then I have no regrets. Barely thirty-five years old, ten of those years as Adrian’s girlfriend, and I finally know what a real orgasm feels like.
Belmont freezes. His penis is pushed deep inside of me. He stops kissing me to look into my eyes. He’s wearing a strained expression.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I don’t want to come yet. But…”
He increases the speed of his strokes. He’s moving so fast that my insides are tickled, and I’m on the verge of experiencing my third orgasm ever. I’m moaning and grab handfuls of his damp sweater. He grunts and trembles and then collapses on top of me before I can fully finish.
One side of Belmont’s head is pressed against my cheek. We’re both breathing heavily. The seconds tick by, and he still hasn’t budged. I’m trying to think of what to say next.
“So where do we start?” he asks before I can form my own words.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“With the article we have to write for you.”
I snicker and his lips find mine.
“There’s nothing better than kissing your mouth”—he pauses thoughtfully—“other than eating you out and this.” He pushes his blossoming hard-on inside of me.
I have no response to what he just said. He seems to be getting a kick out of having sex with me. I don’t know if Adrian ever derived that much pleasure from my body. He had two modes: missionary and doggy-style. He was okay at it. He liked to pinch my nipples and suck on them until they’re sore. He always came pretty fast, which was why we usually had sex multiple times in one session. There was lots of passion between us–lots of caressing and hugging. I’m sure he desired me all the way up until the end.
“I’ll never stop if we stay like this,” Belmont finally proclaims. He carefully pulls himself out of me and uses the sheet to catch his spill off.
“We didn’t use a condom,” I whisper, horrified.
“Don’t worry. I always use condoms.”
I watch him wipe his thick penis with the comforter. “Yeah, right,” I say doubtfully.
He tilts his head. “You don’t believe me?”
“No, I don’t,” I reply without hesitation.
“It’s true.”
“Did you use a condom the other night with Kara?”
“I did, but I couldn’t stay up. I didn’t even come.” He’s already pulled up his pants, and he’s zipping them.
“We still were very negligent,” I say as I slide off the bed.
“You and I are together, so it isn’t.”
I laugh. “You’re insane,” I joke, thinking he couldn’t really mean that.
“We are. No condom means girlfriend.”
I stop looking for my panties to study him. Although his eyes have a bouncy look, he’s certainly serious.
“This is how it happens when we’re meant to be, Daisy,” he says. He’s studying me, still grinning. He’s
trying to read my reaction.
I certainly have the same irrational emotions that he has. I mean—could it happen like this? Is this how true love and fifty-year anniversaries began? Do they start with two people who know absolutely nothing about each other, other than knowing deep down they’ll never be apart? That’s how I feel. I finally locate my panties. “If you say so.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll let Charlie know so he can stop hitting on you. If he does it again, I’ll break his neck.” He winks at me just to clue me in that he’s joking. He slides his leather belt through the buckle and tugs. “Don’t worry, babe, I’m not violent. He won’t listen to me anyway. He’s going to keep trying until he has you in his bed.”
“Charlie’s never going to have me in his bed,” I say, very sure of that.
Belmont takes me by the arm and I smash into his strong chest. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
We kiss. Nothing’s changed since he declared us a couple. His lips and tongue are still greedy and eager to meet mine.
“Did I mention that your skin is soft?” he whispers between kisses.
“Yes, you did,” I manage to say.
“How about we stay in bed for the rest of the day?”
That’s when my stomach growls long and hard. It’s so embarrassing that I hide my face against his chest.
He laughs and takes my chin, lifting my face. “I take that back. How about we eat first, and then crawl into bed for the rest of the day?”
I chuckle, no longer mortified. “How about we eat and then get to work on my article? Plus I have to email the editor. I think adding this destination to my taxi series—”
Suddenly his warm tongue is wrapped around mine. When he’s done, he says, “You’re a workaholic. And every time you have an episode, I’m going to punish you.”
My eyebrows pull together. I’m perplexed. “Punish me how?”
Belmont takes my shoulders and guides me back to the edge of the bed to sit. He guides my back down onto the mattress and lifts my legs over his shoulders.
I gasp in anticipation of what he might do next. Oh my, is he going to do it again–pleasure me?
His mouth consumes one swollen lip of my vagina and then the other. I cry out as soon as his wet tongue connects with my “ON” button and he commences to punish me for thinking about work. I hear myself breathing heavily while realizing he’s going to be punishing me a lot because I’m always thinking about work.
Belmont gave me three more orgasms before my stomach warned him again that I need food. So he reluctantly left me alone to freshen up.
I’m slowly raking the brush across my teeth, wondering if I have a new boyfriend or not. I feel as if the last nine days never happened. My heart doesn’t ache anymore. Maya and Adrian aren’t distant memories, but when I think of them, my mind doesn’t conjure the image of the two of them screwing like soft-porn stars.
I splash my face with warm water and use a fluffy red towel to dry it. The linens, the bedspread, and towels are all five-star quality. One thing’s for sure: Belmont has impeccable taste, right down to his Cavalli sneakers. Believe me, I noticed.
As soon as I turn off the faucet, I hear a faint knock on the bedroom door. I give myself a final once-over. I’m glad Belmont likes my hair like this. Whenever I know I’m going to be trapped inside for a week, drinking coffee and writing, the first thing I do is wash the straight right out of my hair. I get the makeup off my face and put on a long baseball T-shirt and leg-warmers.
There’s the knocking again.
“I’m ready!” I say as I trot over to the door, thinking it’s Belmont. When I open it, there’s Charlie, looking madder than a raging bull. “Hi,” I say apprehensively.
“Here’s your purse.” He shoves the bag at me.
I’m slow to take it, but he doesn’t let go. His eyes roam past me to study the messy linens on the bed.
“Did he make you climb the walls, see stars?” he asks in a stinging tone.
My mouth falls open. I’m speechless. He’s made me feel so cheap.
“He’s good at it, isn’t he?” he continues with a cruel expression.
I still don’t know what to say.
“Ask him why he’s so damn good at fucking you.”
On that note, Charlie stomps off down the hallway, still shirtless and wearing the Bermuda shorts from last night.
Chapter 5
The Self-Appointed Tour Guide
I’m still vexed by what Charlie said. I walk down the hallway barefooted, carrying my shoes in one hand. The premium hardwood floors are so glossy it should be a crime to trample on them in shoes.
Belmont has taped signs on the walls that say, “Kitchen This Way” with an arrow pointing me in the direction I should go. It’s certainly a bit overstated to go through all that trouble, and Charlie has me doubting his brother’s authenticity. If that was his goal, then it worked. Why would Charlie know that Belmont’s good in bed? It’s simply weird. I’m sure he is insinuating that Belmont has had tons of girlfriends, which I’ve already guessed. I mean, look at him. He’s suave. If his “tactics” worked on me, then they’ll be as easy as biting into cotton candy if used on the average girl. Normally, I’m not easy to pick up.
When I make it to the kitchen, I see Charlie sitting at the large island separating the fabulous gourmet kitchen from a plush lounge area. The lounge is adorned with a purple velvet three-piece sectional facing a contemporary fireplace that’s cut into a glass wall. The beach is the backdrop. It’s a magnificent sight
Belmont stops reading the paper to regard me. I’m not sure if that look means he approves of what he sees or not. I’m suddenly aware of the fact that I care, which is not good. He leaps off the stool and rushes over to plant a minty kiss on my lips. “You’re sexy,” he whispers in my ear. “Stay in with me today.”
“Shit, Jack, I’m trying to eat,” Charlie grumbles, scowling into his waffles.
“Who’s Jack?” I ask, suddenly confused.
“My middle name is Jaxson,” Belmont mumbles, glaring at Charlie, who’s grinning like he’s holding back a secret.
“Like Action Jackson?” I ask, chuckling at my attempt at a joke.
Charlie snorts because he finds it funny.
Belmont just smiles lazily. “Almost. J-a-x-s-o-n.”
“Oh, nice.” I take a seat at the island in front of a waffle loaded with fresh plump blueberries and sliced strawberries. “Is this for me?”
I gaze at Belmont. He says that I’m sexy, but that road runs both ways. His bright eyes look as if they could perform magic, and the way his top lip curls up toward the tip of his nose gives him a bow-tie smile. I’ve never seen a man blessed with that feature before, and I’ve traveled all over the planet. His face is unique.
“All yours.” He’s flirting with me with those mesmerizing eyes.
Breakfast looks tasty, and I’m so hungry I dig right in. Usually I’m busy doing something while eating: polishing an article, planning my next pitch, research, reading my colleagues’ work etc. Suddenly I feel like I have idle hands. “Do you have a newspaper? The New York Times possibly?” I ask Belmont. I realize that I’m reaching.
He laughs out loud and holds up a finger. He trots from around the breakfast bar and out of sight.
“I thought I’d take us out to Noman’s Land today,” Charlie says when we’re alone.
I frown at him, wondering if he’s serious. Just in case Belmont’s near, I whisper, “I can’t go with you.”
“You can do what you want. It’s not too late to choose me. We’ll take the Columbus.”
“What’s the Columbus?” I ask, even though in my heart, I’ve already rejected his offer.
“My speedboat.” He’s simpering, watching me with starry, hopeful eyes.
“Why do you like me? Is it because Belmont does?” I’m discerning his affections may be the result of sibling rivalry.
Belmont’s heavy footsteps approach. Charlie leans in close to whisper,
“Because I saw you first.” Charlie and I are still looking at each other when Belmont drops a newspaper on the tabletop between us. “Chuck? What are you doing?”
“Asking her if she wants to take a ride with me.” Charlie hasn’t backed off yet.
“She doesn’t,” Belmont hisses.
“Are you sure, Jack? We were vibing last night before you showed up. Isn’t that right, Daisy?”
My lips part in awe, and Belmont takes my chin to plant a kiss on my mouth with Charlie still only inches away from my face. That one kiss sends me floating as soon as our lips touch.
“She’s not going with you, Chuck,” Belmont says.
Charlie sits up straight and hops off the stool. “I know. And it’s too bad.” He flirts with me with his eyes before he heads out, leaving his breakfast half eaten.
“What’s up with you two?” I’m forced to ask after Charlie strolls out of sight.
Belmont glares at me accusingly. “If you like him, then…”
I’m waiting for him to finish whatever he was about to say, but he doesn’t. “Listen, I like Charlie because he’s nice to me—even if he isn’t so nice to you—but that’s all.” I can’t be rational and divulge the truth to Belmont at the same time, which is, I can never be into anyone else but him at this juncture.
After a long moment of silence, he nods, accepting my explanation. “I’ll make us coffee then. I’ll make it strong. I don’t want you falling asleep on me when we go back upstairs.” He shows me his naughty-boy smirk.
“Yeah… I was thinking about later.” I keep my eyes glued to my plate. If I look at him, I might lose my willpower. “I have to do some work today.”
What we did upstairs was an epic mistake. I’ve never had sex with anyone I didn’t love, and I couldn’t be in love with Belmont so fast. I certainly like him a lot—an awful, awful lot. He’s charming, sexy, and seems to adore me for some strange reason. He knows nothing about me really, and vice versa. Maybe he’s a psycho. They always charm women in the beginning. He can’t be looking to empty my bank account because he’s far richer than I am. Our entire encounter is weird. It almost feels like a set-up, a practical joke.
Find Her, Keep Her (A Martha's Vineyard Love Story) (Love in the USA) Page 5
