“Are you sorry you ran away from me, Zoey?”
Tensing my body, I prepare myself for one more pelt of his belt. Nine. But instead, he yanks my head back forcefully by a fistful of my hair. My eyes roll back in their sockets.
“Answer me, Zoey.”
“Y-yes.”
“Please show me a little respect. And I want a full sentence.”
“Y-yes, sir. I-I’m sorry I ran away from you.”
“Good girl. Now, promise you won’t ever do it again.”
“I-I promise I won’t ever do it again.” The words come out a little easier.
Satisfied, he releases his hand. My head falls to my thighs like a limp rag doll’s while a sob pushes up from my gut.
“Fuck. Did I hurt you, Zoey?” His voice is much softer.
“N-no,” I splutter through my tears.
“But you’re crying. Oh, my brave little soldier. I took things too far. I just can’t bear to lose you. You mean too much to me, and I can’t help who I am. I needed to test you…to see if you could let me love you the only way I can.”
“I asked for it,” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. And that’s the truth. I deliberately ran away from him and wanted him to punish me…until I reached tortured euphoria.
“Oh baby, you’re so perfect for me. You turn my darkest desires into moonlight.”
And you are my sun and my stars. On my next sniffle, a breath of cool air skims my raw ass, and then he kisses the sore spot reverently, his tongue coating it like a balm. Aah! The extreme pleasure mixes with the intense pain and creates an erotic cocktail that makes me drunk with desire. I’m addicted. I fucking want more. Yes. Please. Whip me again. Again and again and again. And then put out the fire with your love. Wishful thinking.
“Don’t move your gorgeous ass, baby. Put your legs and feet together and keep your head down, pressed against your knees. Eyes closed.”
I do as asked, wondering if now he’s going to tie me up with the belt. At least two minutes pass. I feel his eyes on me. My nerves are on edge. Is he studying my backside? Measuring the width? Counting the dimples? Examining his handwork? Comparing me to Katrina? Having second thoughts? I wish he’d stop. My legs are beginning to shake in this yoga-like position. And my aching clit’s not helping.
Finally. “Now please step out of your panties, then stand up and face me.”
I can still feel his eyes on me as I slip my feet out of the leg openings and then slowly lift my torso until I’m erect again. Opening my eyes, I turn around and gasp.
Trembling, I glare at all six-feet-two of his gorgeousness. A god-like template of manly perfection lit in the glow of the full moon. I don’t blink an eye.
He stares at me.
I’m bared to him. Totally bared to him.
And he’s bared to me.
Chapter 22
Brandon
Fuck. In all my fantasies, I never pictured her to be so fucking beautiful. My eyes soak her in like a sponge. It takes all I have to restrain myself. It’s hard. Really hard. Pun intended.
Her lips are parted, her eyes wide, the expression on her face a mixture of fear and awe. Her lustrous dark hair drapes over her shoulders like a theatrical curtain showcasing her magnificent tits. They quiver as if they’re nervous about making their debut. In my head, her audience of one is applauding them. Applauding her. Screaming bravo. And my cock is giving her a standing ovation.
Against her chestnut hair and the navy sky, her breasts look like porcelain. Her puckered nipples like decorative, hand painted roses, the color of sweet Rosé wine. I so want to feel the weight of them in my hands and taste them. But I’m not done studying her. My eyes travel down her torso, taking in her luscious curves and full hips that seamlessly meet a pair of shapely legs. Her skin is the consistency of white velvet under the moonlight. I want to experience all of her. Every way I can.
“Come here, my beauty.” I signal with my finger. She’s ready for her close-up.
Hesitantly, she takes small steps toward me. Her beautiful, bountiful boobs bounce with a life of their own. My eyes stay fixed on her. My cock, already sheathed, stays on her too. Erect and at attention. In anticipation.
“You’re a goddess,” I tell her when she’s a breath away from me. I flip her hair behind her ears so it cascades down her back. And then cup the rounded edges of her shoulders to steady her, gently massaging them to relax her. Her bones are strong, but her soft skin is like satin beneath my palms. She doesn’t flinch.
“Bran—”
Lifting one hand off her shoulders, I hush her with my finger. “Shh. Just trust me. Can you do that?”
She looks up at me and nods silently, her eyes dancing with contagious lust.
I return my palm to her shoulder and then glide my hands down her smooth, silky arms and lace my fingers with hers.
“Good.” I breathe into her ear and then kiss her face. Lightly on her forehead. Her nose. Her cheeks and then her lips. Letting go of her hands, I lift mine to her lush breasts. I cup each one, savoring the fullness and weight of them. They’re firm and perfectly symmetrical. I love all of her, but her cleavage is by far one of her best features. Maybe I’ll fuck her tits later, but right now I just want to appreciate them. Hoisting the warm mounds in my palms, I begin squeezing and rotating them. My thumbs circle her generous nipples. The rosebud tips elongate and harden beneath my touch, turning into candy-sweet pink nuggets I yearn to suck. Squeezing her eyes shut, she arches her head back and moans.
“Am I arousing you?” I ask as I continue my ministrations.
She moans again and grips my biceps.
“Answer me, Zoey.” I know her moans are my answer, but I want verification.
“Oh, Brandon. Yes.”
I reward her with another kiss. This time on her neck. I suck the tender skin and then I roll my tongue up and down the length. My first real taste of her. She tastes delicious. Salty and sweet. Like salted caramel.
She moans again, this time louder and then mutters, “Oh my God,” under her breath. I’ve obviously struck an über-sensitive spot. Her moans and groans are fucking turning me on. I so want to be inside her again, but I’m going to take it slowly. That is, if I can hold on. My cock is throbbing, begging for re-entry. What are you waiting for? I hear it cry out.
My brain and cock at war, I drag my tongue down her chest until it’s deep inside the well of her cleavage. I stroke it up and down, lapping up the sweat beads that have gathered on her flesh.
“Look at me, baby,” I order before I move on.
She tilts her head forward and her half-mast eyes meet mine. A half-smile is all she gets from me.
I cup her right breast in both hands and lift it as my mouth goes down on it. I suck and gnaw and then circle my tongue around her aroused nipple. Pure sweetness. Her moans and groans are music to my ears. I repeat my actions with its twin. Then, I slide my hands down the sides of her taut torso, delighting in the pleasure of her luscious curves. I spend time caressing her gorgeous heart-shaped ass. She lets out a little wince and I remind myself to be gentler where she’s sore. My hands brush past her womanly hips and land on her thighs. I rub them up and down, surprised by how muscular they are. Gripping them, I squat down until I’m on my knees and bury my head between her legs. Mmm. She smells of her sex and my sex, the sea, and the sky. Intoxicating.
“Spread your legs so I can sample your magnificent pussy.”
With a moan, she obliges. With my hands splayed like starfish on her inner thighs, my tongue explores a new set of lips. They’re just what I thought—tender and wet. And so delicious. I explore this new territory like a conqueror searching for treasure. I can feel her legs tremble and she grasps my shoulders to maintain her balance.
“Aaah!” she cries out.
I move my tongue to her clit and flick it.
“Oh my God!”
I flick it again and again and again. Faster and faster. My aerobic tongue moving in all directions. The respon
sive nub hardens and swells. So engorged and gorgeous. Her nails dig into me. Her breathing grows shallow and desperate whimpers fill my ears.
“You’re making me come again,” she pants out. “Oh, please…Brandon.”
That’s the plan, baby, I say silently, not wanting to break contact with her. She has my permission. With just one suck of her clit, she explodes.
I feel like Moses when he discovered the Promised Land.
Chapter 23
Zoey
I haven’t recovered from the last two major orgasms and I’m about to have another. I’m not quite sure how I got into this position. Maybe I just fainted. I’m lying on the sand, my head and back on Brandon’s linen shirt. My splayed legs are hooked over his shoulders and he’s hovering over me. His hands are anchored in the sand on either side of my face.
His enormous cock is buried deep inside me, pounding me ruthlessly. I swear he’s going to make my pussy black and blue. I clench him with my inner muscles, bucking into him with my hips and meeting every forceful thrust.
“Holy Jesus. You’re so fucking tight and wet,” he breathes out. “I can’t get enough of you.”
And I can’t get enough of him. So consumed by the moment, I can’t get the words out. He’s insatiable. And so am I.
His strokes are long, powerful, and purposeful. With each one, his rock-hard cock rubs my clit, stimulating it and hitting that magic spot inside me I never knew I had. My breathing is labored, my skin heated; my heart racing. Everything’s condensed in a haze of lust and love.
“I want to own your body, Zoey.”
“I’m yours,” I pant out.
“I so needed to hear that. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He called me beautiful again. The word makes me unravel as I moan with tortured ecstasy.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
There are so many things I want. I want this night to never end. I want him to never leave me. I want his mouth on mine…all over me. I want, I want, I want…Fuck. I can’t think straight anymore.
“Do you want to come?”
Oh God, yes. The Mediterranean may be calm, but a tidal wave of epic proportions is sweeping through me, taking every cell in its midst.
“Zoey, I need words.”
“Yes! Please make me come.”
“Baby, don’t hold back. I want you to fall apart into a million pieces so I can put you back together and then make you fall apart again.”
“Oh, Brandon!” My body convulses and a sea of love meets his own volcanic eruption head on. He roars out my name yet again and collapses on top of me, taking my legs with him. For the first time, I feel his nakedness all over mine. Blanketing me with his warmth. I’ve never felt so comfortable—or beautiful—in my own skin.
After collapsing on me and staying there for a while, Brandon rolls over and repositions us so that we’re both on our backs. My head is on his chest. One of his arms cradles me while the hand of the other draws lazy circles around my nipples and then my navel. It’s ticklish and delicious. We both gaze up at the starry sky while the Mediterranean softly serenades us. It’s as if no one else exists except the two of us.
“How do you feel?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“Fucked.”
“In a good way or bad way?”
“In the best way. But I’m sore. Very sore.”
“Where?”
“All over.” And that’s the truth. My back smarts from grinding against the rough stucco, my ass throbs from the belting, my legs ache from running away from him and from being stretched, and my face stings from the coarseness of his stubble. But where I feel it the most is between my inner thighs. My pussy’s on fire.
“Show me where it hurts the most.”
I take his hand and put it on my pussy. He caresses it, the rawness giving way to arousal against the gentle friction of his fingertips.
“I gave it to you good, huh?” His voice is laced with smug victory. “Was it too hard for you?”
“I don’t think I can walk.” I loved every fucking minute.
“Do you think you’ll be able to walk down the red carpet with me tomorrow night?”
Of course, I will and can’t wait, but the actress in me says: “Not sure.”
On my next heartbeat, he stands and scoops me up in his strong, loving arms.
“What are you doing?”
He shoots me a cocky smile. “I’m going to heal you. I can’t afford to have you out of commission tomorrow night…or tonight for that matter.”
Two minutes later, to my utter shock, we’re deep in the Mediterranean. He’s still holding me, but now I’m facing him, my arms and legs wrapped tightly around him. The water is surprisingly warm and while the saltiness initially stung my soreness, now it’s soothing. I cling to him like a life preserver, and while I know this is a gentle sea, my fear of the ocean has crept back into me.
“How do you feel?” he breathes in my ear between delicious kisses.
“Better. But I’m anxious.” Truthfully, I don’t know what I’m afraid of. There are no waves and the current isn’t strong. And he’s holding me.
“Are there sharks?”
“Yup.”
I gasp.
He smiles smugly. “Just one…me. I want to eat you up alive, my sexy little beast.”
Before I can punch him, he latches his lips onto mine, consuming me with another tongue-driven, passionate kiss. He cups the back of my head while I fist his hair, deepening and prolonging it. As our tongues glide together in some kind of synchronized swim, waves of bliss roll through me. I don’t want to let him go. My fear of the ocean is abruptly replaced by my fear of losing him. And the reality is he’s not mine to be lost. He belongs to another. Katrina. For the first time since leaving the restaurant, her name sears my mind, my heart, and my soul. Why didn’t he break up with her before this trip? He hasn’t told me and I’m too afraid to ask him. Apprehension ripping through me, I pull away.
“Brandon, fuck me!” A desperate plea. A defense mechanism? I’m suddenly treading water in a sea of doubt.
He smooths my unruly damp hair. “No, baby. As much I’d like to, and believe me, I’m hard as nails, I need you whole tomorrow. You’ve had enough of me tonight.”
I can’t get enough of him. I want him in the worst way. With all my heart. Tears, as salty as the sea, fill my eyes. I blink them back.
“Please.” Mama’s magic word.
“Baby, what’s the matter? Why do you look like you’re about to cry again? Seriously, I’m not good with tears I can’t control. They drive me crazy.”
“Good crazy?”
“No, bad crazy with you.” His violet eyes, dark with night, pierce mine.
“What do you mean?”
“Because I care about you.” He traces my lips with a finger. “And have this all-consuming need to protect you. So, when you cry tears I don’t understand that have nothing to do with me fucking you hard, I think I’m failing.”
His words eat away at me. I’m fraught with emotion. He cares about me. This is not the first time he’s said that, and I flashback to the time he told me this while I was convalescing from my concussion. Somehow, those words directed at me tonight strike an especially deep chord. A traitor tear escapes.
He kisses it away. “Zoey, please don’t do this to me. Stop crying. And that’s an order.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
A grateful sexy smile lights up his face. “C’mon, let’s go for a swim before we head back. There’s nothing like swimming in the sea at night. I’ll stay close to you.”
Knowing he’ll be there for me, all my inhibitions and fears melt away. A renewed sense of security and strength washes over me. On my next breath, I’m under the water with Brandon by my side. Other than the shadow of his chiseled body and the bubbles we make, all I see is blackness. The blackness envelops me and is magical, instilling me with peacefulness and a passion for survival. Making me brave the precarious unknown that aw
aits me. Lead your dreams and land them…then live them. Right now, Brandon Taylor is mine and I’m his. The swim is sublime. And so is his kiss under the water.
I love you, I love you, I love you, I say to myself silently. For as long as my breath allows. I may be swimming in the sea, but I’m drowning in love.
Chapter 24
Zoey
Brandon insists on me wearing his linen shirt over my dress after our swim to keep warm as well as on carrying me back to the Ducati. And when we get to The Carlton after leaving the banged up bike and our helmets with the valet, he insists on carrying me through the lobby to the elevator. Not only doesn’t he want me to walk because of my fragile condition, I’m shoeless. I tossed my heels into a trash can in The Old City when I ran away from him. Barefoot, I could step on something nasty and get hurt. He’s so overprotective, but I give in to him. And besides, it’s fun. I’m riding him piggyback-style—something I used to love doing with Pops when I was a little girl. I haven’t done it in years.
“Hold on,” he says as he bounces me toward the elevator.
“I am.” I start giggling at the double meaning of my words. My legs are wrapped around him, his arms hooked under my knees, and my arms draped over his broad shoulders. The ride is stimulating my nipples, the friction of his bare skin against them arousing me. I swear there must be a power cord that plugs into my pussy. And it’s sparking. I could easily come again.
The Carlton is buzzing. International movers and shakers occupy the bar, already making strategic partnerships and distribution deals for the year ahead. I spot Blake Burns in an animated conversation with two Japanese broadcasters. I hope he doesn’t see me. And then again, I don’t care. Thanks to tight security, paparazzi are nowhere in sight.
When we get to the elevator, Brandon punches the UP button. To my relief, a car comes quickly and the doors part instantly. Mortification races through me. Standing before us is Blake Burns’s lovely wife, Jennifer, wearing a sexy red cocktail dress I recognize from Chaz’s collection. Gah! What is she going to think? Brandon’s bare-chested; I’m wearing his shirt and have a tangle of wet hair, and we’re both sprinkled with a fine layer of sand. I smile sheepishly and squeak, “Hi.”
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