"I don't see that," I objected immediately.
"Regardless. I am older. But back in my day, I was a good girl with a body like yours that bad boys wanted to get to know every inch of. I know the appeal of rich and powerful and enigmatic men. I wasted years of my life trying to convince myself that I could fit into their lifestyle. But I couldn't. You can't. And women, we can't give our bodies to a man without losing a small little chip of our hearts as well. I don't care how old school you think that mindset is, it is the truth. Every time we wrap ourselves around a man, every time one sinks inside us, a part of us imagines what it would be like if we could have that forever."
"Ella, I..." I didn't know what to say. Because, quite frankly, I agreed with her. But that didn't change the fact that I didn't want to talk myself out of continuing with Byron.
"I get it," she said, nodding. "Believe me, I do. My mother gave me this same warning that I am giving you."
"And you didn't listen," I said with a smile.
"We never do," she smiled back, turning back to the counter and starting to chop the potatoes for dinner.
We worked in silence for a long couple of minutes before the words blurted out of me before I could stop them. "What was he like when he first moved in?"
Her shoulders straightened and she was silent for a long minute before twisting her head over her shoulder at me, giving me a knowing smile. "Oh, sweetheart," she said with a head shake. "You are so screwed."
With that, she went back to work.
And, I figured, that was Ella's way of telling me to steer the fuck clear of Byron.
But, just as she didn't listen to the sage advice when she got it, I didn't listen when I did either.
TWELVE
Prue
I spent the entire rest of that day poised for Byron to finally grab me and start something. But I waited in vein because it never happened. He ate dinner alone in the dining room while answering emails on his phone. I ate dinner in the kitchen with Ella. I helped her clean up because Byron went out, I assumed, to Mandy's. I hung back in the kitchen making brownies even though it wasn't my day to make desserts, but I had literally nothing else to do with my time.
I went up to try to go to bed, but tossed and turned for an hour before grumbling, going back downstairs, and taking a walk around the grounds. And, well, when I got to the hot tub, there was really no going back to the house without getting in. My nerves were frazzled and there was no way I was going to get to sleep without some kind of relaxation. True, I had a tub in my room, but every self-respecting woman knew a hot tub beat a bathtub any day. I did a quick look around to make sure none of the guards were in the back and quickly shimmied out of my jeans and tee and climbed into the water in my bra and panties.
I lost track of time, submerged almost to my chin as I watched the stars break out across the sky.
At some point, my heavy eyes closed and I knew I should have gotten out and made the mad dash back to the house, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
"Trying to pull an Ophelia, babe?" Byron's smooth voice broke into the quiet of the night, shocking my eyes open and making me lurch up in the water, my heart slamming hard in my chest.
Byron was standing right beside the hot tub, hands tucked into his suit pockets, watching me. I swallowed past the instinctive scream that rose up in my throat and tried to relax back into the tub. "I didn't fall out of a tree," I said, my voice a little edgy with surprise. I watched as his hands slipped out of his pockets and he shrugged out of his jacket, untucked his shirt and started to unfasten buttons. "What are you doing?" I asked, feeling my chest tighten as the shirt split open and showed a big chunk of skin for a moment while he worked his cufflinks off. He tossed them carelessly to the ground then pulled off his shirt.
"I'm coming in," he informed me, somewhat unnecessarily as he kicked out of his shoes and unfastened his belt and pants. Naked save for his boxer briefs, he took the final step toward the hot tub and climbed in. To my surprise, though, he didn't move toward me. He didn't pounce. He settled into the corner directly across from mine, leaning back for a second, and I swear I could see tension slowly leaving his body. His eyes opened and he tilted his head back down to look at me, the intensity there making my sex clench hard. "Come over here," he commanded, his tone soft, but deep.
And, well, there was no staying where I was. I pushed off of my side of the hot tub and moved toward him. As I got within arms-reach, he grabbed my hips and turned me, his arm folding across my belly and pulling my back against his chest. I hadn't excepted sweet from him. I expected the sex that would apparently leave me unable to move afterward. Granted, he'd given me little pieces of sweet before, but when it came down to it, I expected rough, hard, primal. That being said, I wasn't complaining.
"Relax," he commanded, his breath in my ear, and I slowly forced myself to lay back on him, sink into his body, enjoy the safe feeling of a man's strong body holding mine. "Did Ella try to talk you out of it?"
"Of course she did. Just like her mother tried to talk her out of this kind of thing when she was younger."
"Does it bother you, being motherless?"
I took a breath, mulling it over. Because the answer wasn't simple. At some points during my childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood... yes. It had bothered me that I hadn't had a mom around to French braid my hair or show me how to apply makeup or explain tampons to me or tell me their 'first time' story like everyone else I knew. "Sometimes, yeah. Mostly just because of the girl stuff I never got to learn from her. But in most ways, no. My father was always overflowing with love to give. He poured it into me until I overflowed too. I was never wanting for love or attention missing from only having one parent around."
"You've never been in contact with her?"
I shrugged. "She moved on. I used to get birthday cards up until I was eighteen with gift certificates."
"Then she just stopped?"
"Well, I never wrote back. I guess I never forgave her for leaving my dad."
"And you," Byron prompted.
"Not so much me, I guess. He really loved her. He was just... sick, you know?"
"Was it because Mack was a complete fuck up that you learned to always be so self-sacrificing?"
"You say that like it is a bad thing to be."
"It is if it's at the expense of your own happiness, babe."
"I've been happy," I half-lied.
"Babe..." he said and I could actually hear the sarcastic smile in his tone.
"I have. I mean, not blissfully so. Having some pennies to rub together after paying my bills would be nice. But I've gotten by just fine. I don't need fancy stuff to have a good life."
"No," he agreed, his free hand starting to trail up the side of my thigh, chaste by any means, but it was sending off shock waves to my system. "But when was the last time you could buy some fancy chick coffee shit without feeling guilty? Or go on a vacation? Or got your nails done or go out to eat..."
"There are plenty of people without your means who live good lives, Byron."
"Fine, babe. Then when was the last time you could just... take a deep breath?" he asked, his hand rubbing across my belly and making me exhale harshly. And, well, he had a point there. I felt like I always had air held in my lungs, like my chest was constantly tight. "Take a breath, Prue," he suggested, his fingers tracing over my ribs. I exhaled hard and sucked in another deep breath. "For the first time in your shitstorm of a life, things are going good."
"Except I have no job and no income."
"But you got me. Maybe not for long. Hell, maybe just for the night. But it'll be worth it."
"You keep saying that," I said, smiling a little. "I have yet to see any proof."
"Is that so?" Byron asked, his tone a little teasing. He shifted beneath me slightly and I felt the hard outline of his cock press against the juncture of my thighs, promising all sorts of proof.
"It is," I insisted, focusing every bit
of attention I had into stopping myself from squirming against him.
"So that night on the couch..."
"Hardly proof," I shrugged.
"Perhaps you need a little refresher?" he asked, his hand sliding toward the inside of my thigh and gliding up, gripping the very highest part of my inner thigh, his pinkie fingers almost brushing my panties, but not quite.
"That might be, ah," I tried, but lost my train of thought as his fingers sank in hard.
"Prudent?" he suggested, his chest rumbling a little with a chuckle.
"Byron..."
"Byron, what?" he asked, his fingers raking over the soft, sensitive skin, making my thighs press together to try to ease the ache, strong and insistent, there.
"Byron please," I said, head turning to the crook of his neck, breathing him in.
Then just like that, his finger pressed into my panties, stroking exquisitely over my clit. I slammed back against him, my back arching slightly, my mouth opening on a silent moan.
"I wanna hear you," he demanded, his finger stroking again. And even if I wanted to, there was no way to keep the whimper inside. "There it is. But I think we can do better," he said, his finger briefly leaving my clit so his hand could slide up and then under my panties, sliding up my slit and moving gently across my clit, just barely a whisper of a touch, but it was enough to make me groan softly. Beneath me, I could feel his cock getting harder against my ass. Then, without warning, his finger slid back downward and slid all the way inside me, making me cry out his name. "Fuck yeah," he groaned, starting to fuck me with his finger, the pace frantic, constant, driving me upward hard and fast. "Give it to me," he demanded, his thumb moving up to stroke over my clit as his pace quickened. Then, just like that, I gave it to him, clenching hard around his finger as I choked out his name. As soon as the waves stopped, I lost his fingers. "Turn, babe," he demanded.
"I..." I started, shaking my head, not quite ready for thought.
"Turn," he said, grabbing my hips and helping me do so. His hands went to my knees, using them to coax my legs around his sides, before they slid to my ass and used it to bind me against him, his cock rubbing against me. Despite still being sated from my orgasm, I could feel the need growing again, clawing, a tightness in my core, a heaviness in my breasts. "Don't need this anymore," he said, his hands sliding up my spine, snagging the band of my bra, and making short work of the clasps. He reached up and slid the straps off my shoulders and pushed me back to remove the material from my chest. His eyes slid slowly downward and settled on my breasts, his hands moving up to settle at the sides of them. "Fuck, perfect."
His hands slid inward, cupping my breasts and moving his thumbs over the slowly-hardening nipples. He took them between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling them with perfect pressure until they were in painful points. My hips sank lower against him, rocking back and forth to ease the throbbing need. My hands moved up, one settling on his shoulder, the other going to the back of his neck as I lowered my face toward his, too wrapped up to feel insecure about initiating. Beneath my lips, his were surprisingly passive, letting me set the pace and pressure, letting me lead. But I didn't need him to lead. The second my lips met his, I lost every drop of insecurity, of uncertainty. I angled my head and deepened the kiss. My tongue pushed into his mouth to claim his, small whimpers escaping me as my hips ground against him until my breasts lost his hands as I was crushed to his chest, his hands going up into my hair, pulling it from its tie and sinking in.
A minute later, my body poised for an impossible second orgasm, his hand curled into the strands and used them to yank me back. "Like to finish this here, babe, but my condoms are in my pants and my pants are out there and we aren't at the point where raw is an option so it's time to get out."
"It's cold out there," I grumbled, moving off his lap.
"It's seventy-degrees out."
"And it's like a hundred in here," I objected, watching him turn and climb out of the tub, the water cascading down his body.
He turned back to me, brow raised like he had expected me to immediately follow him out. When I didn't, he nodded. "One minute," he said, walking mostly naked toward the closest cabana. He came back less than a minute later, still just in his wet boxer briefs that, I noticed, did absolutely nothing to hide his erection, but with a big white fluffy towel held out for me. "Come on," he said, jerking his chin up at me.
I swallowed hard against the ridiculous urge to feel self-conscious. So what if I was almost fully naked? He had just been touching my breasts in the hot tub. It was stupid to feel that swirly sensation in my belly. I exhaled and stood up, watching as Byron's eyes raked over me slowly before coming up to settle on my eyes. I climbed out and he wrapped the towel around me, holding the ends closed at the front with both his hands. "What?" I asked when I couldn't take the inspection any longer.
He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it, then dropped his hands from the towel and turned away back toward the cabana. "Grab my wallet," he called to me, making me stiffen a little.
Grab his wallet?
And then follow like an obedient little dog?
He got to the doorway and turned, head cocked to the side, smirk on his lips, like he knew what he was doing, like he knew it pissed me off when he did that alpha shit, but that a part of me responded to it. And all of me responded to him physically. With a huff, I bend toward his pants and fished out his wallet, pointedly keeping my gaze from his face because I knew he would be giving me that cocky smirk and I just didn't want to see it.
Finished, I stood to find him already inside the cabana. I had no idea what the cabanas were like inside. Matt hadn't opened any of them on our tour of the grounds. He'd simply explained that they were completely closed in unlike tropical cabanas because of the harsh winters. That was all I knew about the gorgeous white hexagonal structures.
I guessed I was about to find out a lot more, I decided as I got close to the doorway.
I took a breath and stepped inside to find perfectly beachy white shiplap walls and rustic wide-planked gray-stained hardwood floors. To the left in the small space was a counter with a drink fridge and sink. Directly inside the door was a white wood cabinet stuffed with white towels. And directly in front of me was a round outdoor daybed with white pillows. And, well, sitting on top, boxer briefs completely discarded, cock standing hard and expectant, was Byron.
He was at the end, feet hanging over, eyes watching me as I quickly took everything in and focused on him. "Drop the towel," he demanded almost immediately, making a flush break out over my skin, both from arousal and embarrassment. I tossed his wallet onto the bed beside him but his eyes never left me as I released the one-hand hold I had on the white fabric and let it fall. There was a low, almost growling sound from his chest before he clipped out, "Panties too." There was nothing I could do about my furious blush as I bent and shimmied the soaked material down my legs and stepped out, taking perhaps a little longer than absolutely necessary to fully straighten again, pressing my thighs together tightly. "There's going to be no hiding tonight, Prue," he warned me, his tone deep, almost threatening. "Come here," he said, tone a little softer and I felt my feet moving toward him before I was aware of telling them to do so. I stopped a few inches away from his knees, waiting.
His hands landed at the sides of my knees and drifted lazily upward until they reached my hips, landing there and pulling slightly, "Come on," he said, voice sexy-rough, and I slowly lowered myself down onto his lap, feeling his cock press into my belly. Unsatisfied with the careful distance I put between us, his hands landed mid-back and crushed me against him, my hard nipples pressed into his chest, my sex pressing against the base of his cock. I gasped at the contact as his hand grabbed the back of my neck and crushed my lips to his. There was no giving me the lead, no tentativeness, no submission. He set the pace and pressure. His head slanted. His teeth nipped. His tongue invaded. It was more than dominance; it was consumption. He consumed me.
Leaving behind only a achy, needy, desire-filled shell of the woman I once was.
His body moved backward, his hands holding me against him, so I moved with him, my body sprawling over his as his back hit the cushions of the round day bed. His hand dug into my neck for a long minute before sinking into my hair, curling into it, then yanking until my head moved backward several inches, the sting in my scalp somehow sending a shock of desire in a line down to my core, making my sex clench hard. "Feel how wet you are already?" he asked, his voice gravelly, his eyes heavy, as his hand on my hip pulled me against the length of his cock, sharing my wetness with him. "Time to get a taste," he declared, throwing his weight up and sending my back onto the mattress.
As soon as I was flat, he was over me, his wide palms pressing and holding my thighs spread wide for him, his body shifting and lowering. And then I felt his mouth on me, every bit as hungry as it had been with my mouth, giving no gentleness, no hesitance. More consuming. More confident exploration. His tongue lavished over my clit in circles, vertically, horizontally, keeping me guessing and driving me upward hard and fast until my whimpers became moans and my moans became gasps. His tongue traveled downward when I was sure the swirling need was going to be satisfied, curling in on itself then thrusting inside me. My hips jerked as my hand fell onto the back of his head, realizing what was happening, what he was doing: he was literally fucking me with his tongue. No one had ever done anything quite so unexpected, so primal, so erotic to me before.
"Oh, my God," I groaned as his tongue thrust into me over and over, the action familiar but the sensation entirely new. His hand moved up above his mouth and started working my clit again until, literally just seconds later, my body exploded into a thousand tiny, overwhelming shocks, making my thighs shake and my back arch completely off the cushions as my sex clenched over and over and I realized I was coming around his tongue, the thought sending off another small, but intense shock before I was spent and fell back against the bed, gasping hard for the air I hadn't realized I hadn't been breathing.
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