by Rachel Woods
For a moment, they just stared at each other, and Spencer found herself thinking of practical matters. How did he walk with that damn elephant trunk? How did he sit? Go about his day? She was being facetious, ridiculous. It wasn’t an elephant trunk or a python, but it was big. Huge. Long and thick. Her cousin Rusty would say a two by four. As pathetic and helpless and weak as it made her feel, she wanted it in her.
Eyes dark with lust, John grabbed her around the waist and lifted her from the ground. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and her legs around his waist, shivering in anticipation. Moments later, he lowered her, and she felt him sliding inside her, huge, thick, swollen, and throbbing, taking her breath away. Holding on to her waist, his legs hip width apart and his feet planted firmly on the ceramic tile floor, he lifted her up and down his long, thick shaft. He stretched her, filling her so completely, she was practically screaming with the pleasure of it, grinding her hips with each powerful, vertical thrust.
Clutching her ass, he lifted her up and then moved her down on his penis, again and again, fast, then slow, then excruciatingly slow, and then fast again. She struggled to hold on as he moved her faster. She locked her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his lower back, groaning as she felt the pleasure building, and then exploding, and she cried out, shuddering.
Clasping her hands behind his neck, Spencer arched her back, tilting her head, and stared at the ceiling, panting and moaning. She felt his mouth on her left breast, his tongue flicking the nipple as he continued moving her up and down. Each time he was inside her, she squeezed her muscles around him, holding him prisoner, loath to release him, desperate to keep him deep inside her forever, straining to luxuriate in the pleasure she could only get from him.
Lifting her up, he turned her body so she was facing away from him toward the table. Seconds later, she was on the table on her hands and knees, trying to brace herself as he entered her from behind, filling her to capacity, and then he pulled out and slid in again.
He thrust into her again, and the table legs scraped against the tile floor. He withdrew and entered, and soon he found a pace that had the sturdy mahogany table groaning, but not as loud as she was, especially when he found a way to slip a hand between her legs to circle a finger around her clit.
And for a moment, it was almost too many sensations at one time, and she didn’t know if she wanted to prolong the feelings so she could savor them or if she wanted them to come quickly, so she could explode again and again. She heard a sharp clap and simultaneously felt a warm sting on her left butt cheek.
Startled, she looked over her shoulder at him. “Did you just?”
He gave her an adorable, sheepish smile, but then he withdrew, slapped her ass, and thrust deep again. Spencer cried out in shock and wanted to protest, but the thrust-slap combination was like a jolt of supercharged electric pleasure, right through her walls, and it wasn’t long before she went over the edge again and went limp.
Gasping and shaking, she was aware of him pulling out of her, and then she felt an arm beneath her legs and realized he was carrying her.
In the bedroom, he headed for the California king, and seconds later, she was airborne for a moment. Bouncing down on the mattress, she rolled over onto her back. John was on his knees in the bed, advancing toward her, still breathtakingly huge and hard.
Exhausted, she was a bit nervous, unsure if she could take much more of him and that python between his legs, but he didn’t come at her like Ben would, demanding that she stay wet and tight for him. John kissed her for a long time, as if he’d been waiting all his life to do it.
Finally, he dragged his mouth from hers to her neck, and his tongue trailed along her throat. She felt his teeth grazing her skin and then came a series of gentle bites along her neck. She grabbed him and started to guide him, but he grabbed her hand and pinned it over her head against the pillow.
He slid inside her, and the first thrusts were slow and shallow. He gazed at her, but soon, his eyes darkened and his rhythm increased. He put one of her legs around his waist and the other over his shoulder, and then he got down to business, thrusting hard and deep—he wasn’t playing around. Spencer dug her nails into the small of his back, struggling to keep up, trying to match his pace, but he was too big, too overpowering.
Spencer gave up, letting him have his way with her as strange thoughts filtered through her mind, crazy thoughts inspired by his long, deep strokes. What if she was falling in love with John? What if she was already in love with him?
John changed his pace to slow and shallow, and she clutched him, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts as she slipped her tongue into his mouth.
The thought of being in love with John—the idea and the consequences—seemed almost heretical, blasphemous. As he went deeper into her, slow … and then slow again … and then quick, quick, she thought of some ballroom dance … what was it called?
Falling in love was against each and every one of her core beliefs. But what if she was in love with John? How would she know for sure? How could she possibly know? What were the signs? The symptoms? Spencer had never been in love and had never even entertained the thought. The thought of giving her heart away was always too daunting, too melodramatic, and too tedious.
Finally, he thrust deep one last time. Spencer felt herself being lifted up off the bed as John rose to his knees, bringing her with him as he shuddered, whispering her name, causing another orgasm to erupt within her. The spasm shook her until she went limp again, half-conscious and unaware of her surroundings.
chapter 79
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort – Owner’s Casita
“Good morning.” Huge, thick, and magnificent, wearing the sarong and nothing else, John smiled at her as he stood at the stove making pancakes.
There seemed to be so much of him. Spencer couldn’t stop staring and couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and the muscles in his back and triceps. He inspired all sorts of wild fantasies, making her wish ridiculous things like they were together because they loved each other and they would be together forever.
She couldn’t stop thinking about their lovemaking last night and how he’d touched her and kissed her, as if it was the only thing in the world he wanted to do.
Spencer hadn’t meant to make love with John. The feelings had taken control of her before she realized it, and then it had been too late to turn back. A desperate, uncontrollable lust had taken hold of her, had claimed her, and she’d given herself over to lasciviousness.
Feeling blindsided, Spencer wobbled into the kitchen, groggy, thunderstruck, and wearing the old, faded T-shirt John had given her to wear with her hair pulled back into a careless bun.
“How are you?” John asked, flipping the pancakes over in the skillet.
“Good morning,” Spencer said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I’m okay, but I kept dreaming about thunder.”
“Probably because there was a storm last night,” John said.
“A storm?” Spencer laid her head on the table.
“It was pretty bad,” John said, walking to the table and placing a plate in front of her piled with pancakes, eggs, bacon, French toast with whipped cream, and hash browns.
Spencer sat up. “What’s all this?”
“Breakfast.” John sat next to her.
“There is no way I can eat all of this,” Spencer said, her mouth watering as she polished off two pieces of bacon while she grabbed a fork and dug into the hash browns.
“Of course not,” John said, watching her, his smile sly.
Spencer cut a triangular wedge from the stack of pancakes and shoved it into her mouth.
“This is sooo good,” Spencer said, taking a mouthful of eggs, a strange idea slipping into her mind, although it was less of an idea and more like a fantasy.
Spencer imagined herself making breakfast for John. Bacon and eggs. And then she would pour coffee into his mug. Like a wife would do. And if she
were “that wife,” she would serve the coffee in skimpy lingerie. She’d seen her mother do that, but her stepfather hadn’t always appreciated her mother’s efforts; once, he’d thrown the coffee at her mother, screaming that it had been too hot, and—
Her heart thudding, she shook her head, wondering how the memory had managed to slip into her head. She hadn’t thought about her mother’s disastrous third marriage in years. Why the hell was she thinking about it now?
“Glad you approve of the eggs,” John said and joined her at the table. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something.”
“What?” Her appetite diminishing, she grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth, convinced he was about to tell her last night had been a horrible mistake and they never should have made love.
“Well, I wanted to ask you about—”
A shrill ring cut through the air. Spencer glanced toward the sound, realizing it was the phone mounted on the wall near the refrigerator.
“I’ll get it.” John got up from the table and walked to the phone.
Her heart pounding, Spencer reached for her glass of water, wondering what John wanted to ask her.
“Hey, what’s going on?” John asked the caller.
Spencer stared out of the kitchen window, her back to John, thinking about the blue folder with the photos of her Mayan ruin excursion. She hoped John wasn’t going to interrogate her about the contents of that banker’s box. She should probably get a story together, though, just in case.
“What?” John asked, his voice rising in excitement. “Are you serious?”
Curious, Spencer turned.
“Yeah, yeah. I can’t believe this,” John said and then faced her, giving her a wide smile. “Yeah, I’ll be right there. I’ll meet you at my office. One hour. See you then.”
Spencer asked, “What is it?”
“The land owners finally agreed to all the terms,” he said. “That was my cousin Truman. I’m meeting him in an hour to finalize everything and sign all the paperwork.”
Squealing in delight, Spencer ran into his arms and John grabbed her, scooping her up and spinning her around. Moments later, after John left to take a shower, Spencer stood in the kitchen, elated for him.
She was excited about the tree house expansion and anxious to see John’s visions and dreams come to life. John deserved to prove that he could make the resort profitable. He’d told her his Tuiali’i cousins didn’t believe in him and secretly wanted him to fail. She was glad he would get to show them they were wrong about him.
More than anything, she was glad she wouldn’t have to come up with some lie in response to whatever John was going to ask her about.
chapter 80
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort
“You don’t know that the dead woman is Maxine Porter,” Rae said.
“If it’s not Maxine Porter’s body, then who the hell is it?” Spencer demanded and jumped up from the chaise lounge near the pool. For the past two hours, she’d been clutching her cell phone, talking to her sisters about the newspaper article she’d read this morning. Four grim paragraphs detailed the discovery of a dead, partially decomposed body found in San Pedro.
It was a few minutes after five o’clock, and the pool was pretty much deserted, save for a few resort guests using it as part of a shortcut back to their casitas. Belize didn’t participate in daylight savings time, and the sun was steadily sinking into the sky, dropping behind the jungle landscape.
“Maybe you should wait for a positive identification from the police,” Shady suggested.
“I don’t need a positive identification from the cops,” Spencer said, pacing from the length of the chaise and back again. “The story said some tourists found the body of a dead woman and the right hand was missing. It’s got to be the same right hand I found in Maxine Porter’s closet. Those tourists found Maxine’s body.”
“You shouldn’t jump to any conclusions before you know for sure,” Shady said.
“While I’m trying to find out for sure, some psycho could be stalking me,” Spencer said. “Planning to kill me and cut my hand off.”
“Why do you think the person who killed Maxine would come after you?” Rae asked.
“Because I found her hand,” Spencer said, rolling her eyes even though her sisters weren’t there to appreciate her disdain.
“But how does her killer know you found the hand?” Shady asked. “You didn’t go to the cops and tell them that you found it.”
“I know, but …” Spencer trailed off, her thoughts scattered. “I just think I need to watch my back.”
“Or maybe not,” Rae said. “Ben Chang probably killed Maxine because of some shit that ain’t got nothing to do with you. And you know Ben won’t hurt you.”
“You think he won’t?”
Rae said, “You know how Ben feels about you.”
“Yeah, I do,” Spencer said. ”He doesn’t give a damn about me.”
“That’s not true,” Shady said.
“Your ass would be in jail right now if he didn’t care about you,” Rae said.
“The only reason my ass is not in jail right now is because he is using me,” Spencer said. “Trust me, he doesn’t care about me. He just wants me to find that stupid envelope.”
“I think Ben does care,” Shady said. “But I don’t think he killed Maxine Porter. Why would Ben want money delivered to a woman he was planning to kill?”
“Her murder probably wasn’t planned. Remember, Maxine called Spencer and said there was something wrong with the medicine,” Rae said. “Obviously, what was wrong was that some of the cash Ben promised to give Maxine was missing. So, Maxine called Spencer to confront her. But, before Spencer showed up, Ben came to see Maxine. She confronted Ben about the missing money, so he killed the bitch and chopped her hand off.”
“I think it was the guy with the green tattoo,” Shady said. “What’s his name? Tommy Wong?”
“Tommy Fong,” Spencer corrected.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Rae said. “Why would Tommy Fong kill Maxine Porter? He probably didn’t even know the woman.”
“But Tommy Fong was in Maxine’s condo,” Shady pointed out.
“Because Fong followed Spencer there,” Rae said. “Fong is after Spencer, not Maxine Porter.”
“I don’t think it was either one of them,” Spencer said. “I think it was that guy Richard.”
“Richard?” Shady asked.
“I told y’all about him.” Spencer sank back down onto the cushions, moving beneath the wide umbrella covering the chaise. “Both Maxine and that blonde girl from the cave tour said they don’t trust Richard. They both said he was the damn devil. They both said that if Richard found out they had gone against him, then Richard would kill them.”
“But Richard whoever doesn’t even know you,” Rae said. “His beef is with Maxine and the blonde girl.”
“Maybe he knows that I found the severed hand,” Spencer said.
“How would he have found out?” Shady asked.
“I don’t know!” Spencer snipped, rubbing her forehead. “I have to assume he did. Or he might. Which means he’ll probably want me dead, too!”
“If you think that son of a bitch Richard is gonna come after you, then you need to leave Belize,” Rae said.
“You can’t stay there,” Shady said. “And Ben will understand why you have to leave. Just tell him that—”
“Don’t tell him shit,” Rae said. “Think about yourself. Think about your life, okay? How the hell can you find that envelope Ben wants if your ass is dead?”
“How am I supposed to leave Belize without my passport?”
“You can get a new passport,” Rae said.
Shady said, “It might take a few weeks, but—”
“Wait, that was the wrong question,” Spencer said. “What I meant to ask was, how the hell can I leave Belize when I haven’t found that damn envelope that Ben wants? Have y’all forgotten that if I
don’t find the envelope, then Ben will have me arrested, and the evidence he has against me will definitely put me in jail for a very long time?”
“No, we haven’t forgotten,” Shady said. “But—”
“Look, I can’t leave Belize unless I find the envelope for Ben,” Spencer snapped. “I can’t get a new passport and get on a plane back to Texas, and I can’t believe y’all would want me to do that knowing the kind of trouble I would be in!”
Exhaling in frustration, Spencer told her sisters she had to go and ended the call. Laying the cell phone on the chaise, Spencer dropped her face in her hands.
She shouldn’t have gotten so pissed with her sisters. She shouldn’t have allowed her fears and frustrations to get the best of her. Rae and Shady meant well. They were just worried about her. They hated the corner Ben had backed her into, and more than anything, they wanted this nightmare with Ben to be over. Spencer did too—more than ever. The damn envelope had to be found. There was no getting out of the favor she had to do.
“You okay?”
Spencer looked up, frantic as she swiped tears from her face.
John stared down at her, looking much too handsome in the fading sunlight, framed by a pink and lavender sky.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said.
“You sure?” He sat on the chaise next to her.
“Not really,” she said, staring at the water. “I mean, yes. I don’t know. I just …”
“What?”
She turned to him. “Did you read in the newspaper about a dead body that was found by some tourists on Ambergris Caye?”
“No, I don’t think I did.”
Spencer took a breath and said, “It was Maxine Porter.”
“That’s what the newspaper said?”
