by Kate Aster
I gaze at him, somehow so damn grateful to be pulled temporarily from this hole where I’ve fallen. I pull one of my fliers out from my purse and hand it to him. “If you ever need a babysitter, I’ll do it for nothing if I don’t have another job lined up. And I promise they didn’t just fire me for any good reason,” I feel the need to add.
“Aw, I knew that just looking at you. I’ve seen this happen before.” He chuckles, glancing down at my flier. “And mahalo. I might take you up on that. I’ll keep my ear to the ground for another job for you. I’ve got a sister who works at the resort off Hapuna Beach. She might hear of something.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” My voice wobbles with emotion as he opens my car door for me. He knows as well as I do how hard it is to find a decent job on this island.
Sighing as I sit in my car, I wonder how long it will be until I need to hang my Home Sweet Home sign from my rear-view mirror.
When I pull away, my tears start to flow, hard like a storm, leaving streaks of mascara on my cheeks, until I turn into a gas station to wipe them away.
I reach into my purse and dial Sam. It rings endlessly, but my call goes unanswered. She has a life, I remember. A job. A future. And her life is moving forward just as mine stays stuck in one place, as I hide in my hole. And it’s lonely as hell here in this dark place where I’m trapped.
I hang up without leaving a message.
I wish now that someone had my six—the weight of Cam’s words from the other night striking me.
Cam.
Cam—who I’d hoped to be having sex with right now.
Cam—who I don’t mess around with because I don’t mess around with my boss despite what everyone says about me.
My frown deepens at the irony of it.
It deepens even more as I flick down the mirror and wipe the tears from my eyes.
There’s a resolve that suddenly burns inside of me, scorching every part of me until I find myself pulling back into traffic, headed in the opposite direction.
Fuck it all.
If the whole world seems to think I’m willing to have sex with my boss, I may as well be doing it.
The surge I feel is a strange blend of blinding rage and sheer desire that has me increasing my speed down the road. I need to feel something good, dammit, even if I know this is completely, utterly the wrong thing to do. I need to escape the stranglehold of my past, and it doesn’t hurt to imagine doing it with my legs wrapped around that glorious hunk of male flesh.
And when Cam opens his front door at the sound of my rapping, shirtless with his shorts slung low on his hips, I feel completely validated.
No woman would be strong enough to resist him.
“Hey, Annie.” He looks perplexed as he watches me kick off my shoes on his doormat. “What are you doing here?”
“Is Stella at preschool?”
“Yeah. Are you okay? You look a little frazzled.”
“And your brothers? Where are they?”
“Kiteboarding. Do you want some coffee? You look like you haven’t—”
I cut him off, risking looking like a complete fool, and launch myself at him.
Our teeth actually click against each other’s when my mouth meets his. I should apologize, but I take the more direct approach, deepening my kiss until I can caress his teeth with my tongue. No, no chips there. Just perfection, I think as I savor the taste of him I remember so well from a couple nights ago.
Needy and desperate, there’s no hesitation in me this time. I’m not in a locked car, feeling a dark memory biting at my heels. I’m not even on the beach where someone might find us. I’m here in this condo where I’m more comfortable than I am in my own skin, and I’m with a man who knows how to play my body like a violin.
Breathless, he comes up for air with bewilderment in his eyes. “Is this your idea of keeping things professional?”
“I’ll be professional again in thirty minutes.”
“Who says this will only take thirty minutes?” He grins back at me before taking my mouth again.
Just what I need to hear, actually. Because I want more of this feeling—of losing myself in him, in us, in this feeling like I’m not alone.
I am not an island.
Desire crashes over me as I score my fingertips against the taut skin of his back, pulling him closer as our mouths fuse. Our teeth scrape and our tongues tangle. I feel emboldened—and mildly shocked—to sense the raw desperation in him which reflects the magnitude of my own.
This may not last. This may end badly. But I need to feel something good—to let the way his hands feel on my body eclipse the anger that seethes inside me.
This is going to happen. Now. And I will savor it.
And savor it, I do, as I feel his fingertips tugging upward on my shirt. I shiver at the scrape of the slight callouses on his hands as his touch lights me like a torch, and my center heats, pooling with need.
My hands stray from his back, tracing the distinct lines of hard muscles, until I’m touching his pecs, then moving downward. I could count the abs as I go, if my brain wasn’t so fuzzy; I doubt I could even spell my name right now.
Savoring the hills and valleys of his muscles as I move my hands downward, my kiss deepens, rallied by the feel of his tongue inside me and wanting it in all the places I’ve dreamed about.
As I splay my fingertips on that remarkable V of muscles that points downward, he tosses my shirt on the floor. His muscles fascinate me with their rigidity, and yet they are covered by skin so soft and smooth I want to lick it like a gourmet lollipop.
Now there’s an idea.
Fueled by imagination, I find myself bending to do just that, not even bothering with his glorious pecs, but instead, planting my mouth right at that twin set of top abs. They tighten even more under the pressure of my lips, and I thrill at the vibration of a low moan of pleasure coming from him.
I did that. Me. The girl in the retro glasses.
My glasses.
Holy shit, I’ll have to take off my glasses for this. And it’s not dark like it was that night on the beach.
And I don’t even give a damn.
My lips continue their journey downward, and both my thumbs plant themselves at either side of his lowest abs. I can feel the heat emanating from him, with my mouth so close to his cock.
Yet not close enough.
His hands touch the side of my face, softly at first, then firmly, easing me upward.
Shit. He’s not having second thoughts, is he? Because I need this so desperately I’m ready to trade him my car for five more minutes exploring his body (not that he’s not worth a lot more than my crappy car, but it’s all I’ve got.)
His hands then ease downward to my upper arms as he lifts me back to a standing position. To send me on my way? I might weep if that’s the case.
“I’ve spent the last three weeks picturing you naked,” he tells me. “And it was never in my foyer.”
With that, he bends and scoops me up so easily that my breath catches. In truth, I can’t recall ever being carried like this. I savor the feeling of it, this feeling of being cared for, being dominated, being completely helpless to his strength.
He takes me up the stairs and to his bedroom. I’m struck by the fresh scent of his sheets as he sets me down. I made this bed for him just a week ago, stretching out his sheets over his mattress and, I confess, fantasizing about what I’d love to do in here the entire time. And now that I’m here, I’m tempted to pinch myself to make sure this isn’t just another lascivious fantasy.
But I don’t pinch myself. Who would? I have no desire to end this, even if it is a fantasy. Especially if this is a fantasy.
“I’m having an argument with myself right now.” His voice is low as he settles into the bed next to me.
I reach for him. No—more specifically—I reach for that glorious bulge in his shorts and tug at the zipper. If he’s arguing with himself right now, I need all the help I can get. “And what’s the ar
gument about?”
“Whether I should stop this. I don’t want this to be something you regret.”
His eyelids press together when I manage to open the zipper and touch him through the thin fabric of his briefs.
“I regret a lot of things in my life, Cam.” The words slip from my lips, the most honest words, perhaps, that I’ve said in the past two months. “If I do regret this later, I plan to make it worth it.” I push him onto his back, sensing the battle inside of him, and tug his shorts downward. Then, I do the same with his briefs, revealing a cock that makes my core ache for entry. But later, I decide, needing to distract him from the quarrel that’s inside of him.
I stroke my tongue against his length, savoring the feel of the thin, hot skin stretched out over something so massive, so hard. He throbs when I take him in my mouth, and I know I’ve won when I hear a thick sigh expel from him.
Like a luscious delicacy, he tastes glorious to me. I let my tongue swirl around, savoring him, before I take him in as deep as I can bear.
“Oh, baby,” he moans. And I moan right back, the vibration making his cock go from hard to harder. I bob up and down on him, mimicking the motion I want to feel from him inside of me.
His cock is huge and perfect and too big for me to take in fully, even as I do my best to let the tip of him strike against the back of my throat.
He jerks my head off him, lifts me, and slams me onto my back in such a dizzying moment I’m stunned.
“Want to know who won the argument?” he growls before his mouth takes mine, as though to give me my answer.
Claiming me as his own, his kiss consumes me as he tugs off my bra, not even bothering to unstrap it at the back. His mouth moves to a breast, sucking it in, nibbling on it. It’s like there’s an anger there, teeth scraping against the tender bud of my nipple, and I glory in the feel of it, this feeling of arousing a man like this. A man like him.
A damp trail of moisture is left on my breast as he moves to the other, all the while, unzipping my shorts and pulling them downward taking my panties right along with them.
I feel the cool brush of air against this hottest part of my body and I shiver from the exposure. His fingers find the tiny pearl of my arousal beneath my landing strip of short curls. Then his mouth—holy fuck, his mouth—moves to my bud as he opens my legs to his perusal.
My eyes want to shut and just savor the feeling of this, yet they can’t help but watch; he’s such a sight to see between my legs.
So delicately, his tongue strokes my clit. I need so much more than that.
“Harder,” I murmur, only seeing his head give a quick shake of no.
And then I figure out why.
Lightly, he flicks against me, and my body coils up. Still painfully lightly, a goddamn tease—up, down, around, and over again.
“I love watching you get wetter.” His voice is raspy as he lifts his head a moment, before giving my slit a long stroke with his tongue. I feel so vulnerable right now, so completely vulnerable and it feels like the heights of heaven.
Again he returns to my clit, and my hands grab my own breasts, needing more than just his light strokes on my body.
“Not allowed,” he says, rising from me, and guiding my hands to the bars on his headboard. He affixes my palms to them, forcing me to hold on. “Hands stay there. This is my job.”
I practically climax just from the sound of that.
“Trust me,” he urges, moving down my body again. “I’m going to make this so good for you.”
And I trust him.
Because it’s already that good.
Again, I feel his light touch against my clit, this time, it’s his finger that’s circling its small circumference. He just watches me, fucking watches me, while I quiver and shake under his touch, wanting his penetration so much.
It’s erotic just being watched as my body thrums beneath his fingertips. He presses harder, just this side of hurting me, and I feel my ass cheeks tighten along with the rest of me. Two fingers then, pressing against my clit and making a slow circle even as my slit weeps for intrusion.
“You’re going to come when I count to five,” he says. And I can’t even comprehend what he means until I feel the pressure make its circle again. “One.”
My body stiffens.
“Two.”
I press my mound harder against his touch.
“Three.”
My eyelids shut as my pelvis arches and my grip on his headboard tightens, bracing myself as the pressure to explode builds in my body.
“Four.”
My eyes fling open and I see him, his gaze locked on mine, just as I shatter at the word, “Five.”
He nurses the orgasm from me, stroking my clit as I quake against his fingers.
“It’s amazing how something so small can bring so much joy,” he murmurs with a sly grin.
Then I feel his laugh against me as he takes it in his mouth.
My vision blurs, and I struggle to keep my eyes open. But I want to savor the sight of this—of his face in between my legs worshipping me as if I was a goddess. It makes me feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time and it’s a heady, addictive feeling.
Finally, when he slips a finger inside me giving me what I need, I feel the low, faraway thunder of another climax threatening inside of me, a storm that creeps toward me even as my body is still recovering from the last one.
His tongue toys with me as his finger moves inside of me, soon joined by another, stretching me slightly as he murmurs dirty words against me. The vibration of it makes my entire body hum.
More.
Deeper.
Harder.
All my demands are screaming in my head, and yet I can’t make out the words between my gasps. He’s a tease to me, prolonging this feeling in a way that makes my body sing. I’ve wanted him for so long like this, there’s little I can do now but just let the passion take over and instinct drive me toward the finish line.
Yet no words seem necessary. It’s like he can read my mind as he curves his finger in a way that touches some sensitive part of my channel, just as his other hand reaches upward to grab one of my breasts. I swear I can hear my skin sizzle beneath his touch as he explores me until I shatter again, screaming out his name as wantonly as I do in my fantasies with him. His mouth stays on me, tasting me, long past the last vibration of my climax, as though to ease me down from the apex slowly, owning every quake, every shudder, as I melt into the sheets.
Beads of sweat moisten my brow; I can feel them trickle downward as I watch him reach for the drawer of his dresser. He pulls out a box with a lock on it, and digs in a second drawer until he finds a tiny key, tucked away in the pages of a hardcover book.
“Do I dare ask what’s in there?” My brow furrows as I stare at the simple wooden box.
He chuckles. “Only condoms. I’ve discovered Stella is a bit of a snoop and I don’t want to take the risk.”
He pulls out a condom and rips off the wrapper with his teeth.
I laugh because the Cam that just fucked me twice with his mouth is such a sharp contrast to the one who’d take in a child and even think to lock up his condoms.
I reach out, taking it from his hand, unable to resist the excuse to touch him like this as I slide the condom over the length of his cock.
“You’re sure about this?” he asks.
“Never been so sure of anything,” I answer, opening to him. I’d ask him the same, but I’m afraid of the answer. Yet the fear leaves me when I feel the tip of him at my entry, then him sliding in me, joining with me completely.
He is so gentle with me like this, but not in the way that his tongue was—not a tease making me beg for more. Just gentle, as though I’m cherished by him, as though I’m made of something precious and breakable. The muscles of his chest and abs are so taut now, holding back as though if he let loose he could harm me.
In and out, each time, he lets his groin linger against me, pressing against my core. And eac
h time, the passion builds inside of me, that same bolt of lightning that struck twice seeming to threaten once again.
My fingers trace along his abs till they touch his cock as it peeks out when he pulls partly out of me. Then he slides inside me again. He lifts himself from me and groans when my fingers touch him there again. I can feel him throb, that extra hint of sensation making him swell even more.
I like this feeling, this power to make a man like him moan with desire. So I continue to stroke him when I can, until I reach beneath and play with his balls.
“Shit. If you do that much longer, I won’t be able to last.”
“Good,” I say. “You’re not the only one who gets to be a tease tonight.”
“A tease? You’re calling me a tease?” Grinning, he gives me a mock snarl as he thrusts harder into me, so hard I have to move my hand away from him and let him drive into my core. “If I were a tease, I’d pull out right now and make you finish yourself off on your own.”
“Maybe, but then you’d have to do the same,” I challenge, my voice wavering as his cock strikes against my womb.
“Yeah, there’s that,” he admits, then sucking in one of my nipples as I feel the climax building inside of us both.
I hold back, fighting the urge to explode while he’s still hard inside of me. I battle it, even as my muscles draw tighter, and my hips thrust upward taking him in as deep as I can.
My breath comes in pants. My fingers dig into his back, downward, then grabbing his ass to urge him to slam into me even harder.
Desire whips over me, feeling the throbbing build and knowing he’s going to come. Tiny whimpers escape me, which only seem to urge him on. I can’t hold off; my body needs to give in to the swell of lust. “Now, Cam,” I beg, needing so desperately to feel us in perfect unison.
And I’m rewarded by a final penetrating thrust that makes me scream as my body shatters.
