by Mj Fields
I watch as he bends over and grabs his shorts. His ass is a sight to behold—hard, tight, defined … magnificent. I watch his lean muscles flex as he buttons himself then turns around and steps back toward me.
He stops and looks me over. “Bridge, you know how beautiful you are?”
I don’t know how to answer that without it making me look —
He interrupts my thoughts, “You’re fucking beautiful.”
He grabs the shirt that was soaking wet last night off the back of a chair. I didn’t even realize he had hung it on to dry, he throws it over his shoulder. At the door, he stops, bends over, and picks up my red shoes and chuckles. He sets them inside the room’s small closet and looks back. “Beauty, you need to wash your feet.”
Beauty, I think as I watch him wink, turn back around, and walk out the door.
I flop back on the bed and try to think of the million reasons I shouldn’t smile, and one reason outshines the millions.
I lie there, thinking how easy the conversation was between us. Neither of us talking about the past, just enjoying the present. It has been such a different … date? Experience? Oh hell, I have no idea what to call this. But whatever it is, it feels good.
I think about how secure I am around him. I have no worries about who he may be comparing me to. Last night, he said he only saw me, and honestly, I believe him.
Something this good, this easy, can only be messed up by concerns about pasts and futures. I have lived a lifetime worrying, planning, and wondering.
I roll to my side and send Autumn a text.
I’m feeling under the weather. I’m going to pass on today.
Her reply is immediate.
Too much to drink?
I nod as if she can see me as I type out, Yes. See you Saturday.
I watch the bubbles on the screen jump around as she types her response.
If you need anything, let me know. And I will now accept Eric’s offer to take me to dinner tonight.
I laugh as I type.
Have fun. You deserve it.
I toss the phone beside me and lie back, my head on the pillow he used. I inhale, wanting to bathe in his scent. Masculine, clean, and a whisper of the ocean air.
I then think about what he just said, sit up, and look at my feet. “Oh. My. God.”
In the bathtub, I stand under the shower while I let my dirty feet soak in the tub. I cannot believe I continually left my new favorite shoes everywhere last night. I also can’t believe that a man who looks like Joe, who could have any woman with halfway decent vision and a good judge of character in his bed at any given time, wants me.
I rub conditioner through my hair and inhale the scent of jasmine. As I allow the conditioner to do its job, I bend over and lift the bathtub drain, releasing the murky water.
When I finish scrubbing my feet, I begin to stand and hands grip my hips. I know it’s him by the possessive way he holds on to me.
When plush, pillow-like lips touch the spot behind my ear, he guides me forward.
“Plenty of room for two.”
I look back at him, but before I can speak, he covers my lips with his.
I turn my body to face him, anxious to touch him. And when I do, he growls into my mouth before kissing and sucking his way to my breast.
He steps back and bends over the edge of the tub before turning back around with a foil package. Ripping it open and sheathing himself, he turns fully toward me, hard cock in his hand, and steps into me, pushing me against the shower wall. Then he reaches down, grabs the back of my knee, and lifts it up to his hip. He rubs his head against me then slowly, very slowly, pushes into me, inch by glorious inch, while watching my eyes the entire time.
Wrapped in the white hotel robe, makeup … lightly applied, I walk out and see him in clothes he didn’t leave in, leaning over the balcony and looking out over the water.
“Are you coming out?” he asks without turning around. “Or would you rather I bring breakfast back inside?”
Breakfast? I thought we were doing coffee, I think as I walk out toward him.
When I step out onto the balcony, I laugh when I see four large cups of coffee and several containers of food.
He turns and looks at my feet, up my legs, my hips, my breasts, my neck, my mouth, and stops on my eyes.
Feeling self-conscious yet very appreciated, I point at the table. “Are you planning on entertaining?”
He takes one of the cups of coffee and hands it to me, his eyes dancing. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Taking a much-needed sip of the black coffee, I wait for him to continue.
“How long are you here?” he asks, pulling out a chair for me to sit.
“The room, tonight’s the last night. After that, I’ll be staying with a few friends,” I explain.
“So, you’re on vacation?” He pulls out the other chair so it’s across from me, then sits down.
“Long weekend. I head back either Sunday night or Monday morning. I haven’t decided yet. You?”
He grabs the arms of my chair and pulls it closer to him until my knees are between his. “I leave Tuesday.”
I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but at this present moment, I’m looking into the kind, telling eyes of the most beautiful man I have ever met, who has given me five orgasms—no, six—in less than twelve hours and has brought me coffee and breakfast. This hasn’t happened in over eighteen years. And here he is doing it in a twelve-hour period. He’s good. I should be worried.
He leans forward and pushes my damp hair behind my ear. “Stay until Tuesday.”
“I can’t,” I sigh. “I have to work on Tuesday.”
“Then stay with me until Monday.” He takes my hand and kisses it.
“I have a party to attend tomorrow.”
“Skip it.” He shrugs.
I would love to, is what I want to say, but the reality is that it’s important to attend with the possibility that the new CEO may show up. Not that we have a name, or even an inkling of who it will be, but my daughter’s future depends on me making a good impression.
He watches me with assessing eyes. “How long will it last?”
“A few hours,” I answer as I’m about to take a sip of my coffee when he takes it from me and hands me one of the other three.
“Try something different for me?”
I smile and take the coffee. Then I take a sip. “Mmm …”
“Caramel macchiato with extra caramel and extra espresso. You like?”
I nod and take another sip.
He winks. “Sweet and strong.”
I lick my lips and watch as he stares at them.
His eyes appeared lighter brown in the sun, but now they are darkening. He looks a bit perplexed as he reaches forward and touches my bracelet.
Be Present.
Then he sighs as he sits back, his strong, muscular forearms flexing as he clenches his hands then relaxes them.
He takes in a deep breath then clasps his hands behind his neck, looking annoyed, but not angry. “I’m more than enjoying our time together, Bridge. I know you are, too. This thing today, when will it be over?”
I smile as I take another sip, and his eyebrows rise as if he thinks I’m toying with him. I’m not. I’m just a bit nervous to admit that he’s right and that I cancelled my plans for the day.
“This really is delicious. Almost sinfully so.” I smile as I set it on the table beside me. Then I look back at him.
His chocolate eyes lighten a bit. “I know we don’t seem to be exchanging personal information, but I have to tell you that my middle name is sin.”
I look down at the bulge between his legs. It’s magnificent.
I push back my chair, eyeing him as I slide to my knees and unbutton his pants.
“Beauty, I brought you breakfast. You don’t have to fill up on my co—”
“I cancelled my plans,” I interrupt him before the word cock leaves his mouth. Then I wrap my hand around … most
of him and whisper to myself, “Unbelievable.”
“Fuck, beauty,” he growls. “Believe it. It’s yours. All fucking yours as long as you want it.”
I lick my lips before swirling my tongue around his crown beaded with pre-cum.
He thrusts his hips up slightly, and I see him grip the black frame of the chair as he hisses.
I lick around the rim before sucking it into my mouth.
“My. Cock. Never. Looked. So. Good.” The restraint in his voice and the white-knuckled grip on the chair are clear indications he’s holding back.
I take him deeper as I glance up at him. His strong, square jaw is set, his teeth bared, his desire for me making me feel so damn sexy, so powerful, so wanted. I want him to lose control like I did when he ate me.
I grab the base with one hand and slowly stroke upward while sucking up and down his heavy, thick, hot, beautiful cock. I use my other hand to pry one of his off the arm of the chair and place it on my head.
“Do you know what you’re asking for?”
I look up, mouth full of him, and nod.
He threads his fingers through my hair and groans as he tightens his grip at the roots. I let him set the rhythm with his hips and hand as he thrusts deeper into my mouth while holding my head in place, nearly gagging me, but he doesn’t. He pulls out while I catch my breath, and then he thrusts deeper again and again and again as I taste his flesh and listen to his hisses and curses that sound like an erotic psalm.
He fucks my face fiercely, taking pleasure from me. And yet, he almost tenderly ensures it’s not uncomfortable for me.
When he stands, I raise up to my knees. He has one hand knotted in my hair, the other raising my chin as he thrusts faster and forces his cock deeper down my throat.
“Fuck yes … so good … beautiful … swallow my cock … all for you …”
I’m kneeling before him like he’s worthy of worship, and he is. He is so much worthier than any man I have been with in years.
I reach up and pull down his shorts so they drop to his ankles. Then I cup his balls, gently massaging them.
“Your mouth … Fuck … your pussy … I’m gonna have that ass, too,” he groans.
His words deepen my desire. Evidenced by my saturated pussy.
When he stops, his face tightens, and he hisses, “Beauty, I’m gonna come.”
I roll his balls in one hand, pump his cock faster with the other, and take him even deeper down my throat.
He grunts, “Fuck yes.”
He thrusts in and out faster before I feel his cock twitch, his body shudder, and then he throws his head back and groans as the first spurt of cum hits the back of my throat.
When he reaches over and grabs the railing as he continues coming, I think he must feel the same as I did every time he made me come.
Powerful.
Chapter Five
After he came, he stumbled back and sat in the chair. Then he reached down and guided me up, pulling me onto his lap, where he nuzzled my neck, pressing kisses, murmuring thank yous, and whispering praises into my neck as he slowly caught his breath. Then he fed me.
He explained he hadn’t known what I would like, so he got a little of everything. And everything included several breakfast omelets and fruits that I assume he ordered from the hotel’s restaurant when he returned from Starbucks with four different types of coffees and the golden arches bag full of horribly unhealthy yet delicious food.
Then he left me to confirmed some plans he had made for us, ones he said were a surprise, but told me beach attire and sunscreen were all I needed to worry about.
When he returns with a luggage cart, I am confused.
“What are you doing?” I ask with a laugh as he uses my second room key to enter.
“I have a bigger room and have told the resort manager that you’ll be checking out of this one.”
“You don’t know my name. How …?”
“Room number.” He winks.
“But—”
“Why pay for an extra room when we only need one?” He shrugs.
“Joe, we don’t even know—”
He kisses me; I assume to shut me up. Then, as he begins putting my things on the luggage cart, he informs me, “You don’t need to pay for a room you’re not using, and my view’s better.”
He laughs. “Crazy as it may be, I feel like, for the first fucking time in years, I can trust a woman.” He looks at me for confirmation, but I’m sure he sees concern and apprehension. “You gave me today; I won’t ask for more than you’re willing to give, as long as you don’t either. When this night, or this weekend, is over, we can discuss what happens next. But, for now, we’re Brigitte and Joe, and—”
“Are you married?”
He looks at me and rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” I must look skeptical because he looks at my wrist. “Be present.”
He’s single, and I’m having a great time. That’s enough. Be present, Angela, I tell myself.
“How old are you?” As I ask these questions, I am literally packing up, not really caring, just wanting him to know I’m aware there’s an age difference. And although I’m one hundred percent it’s not huge, it’s clearly there and I’m aware of it. He should be, too.
“Let’s imagine we both just graduated from college and are spending our last summer at the Hamptons before we head out into the big, bad world to set it on fire.”
I look at him oddly.
“Last night, you said you didn’t want to talk about our pasts. Honestly, I’m good without knowing the asshole who fucked up a marriage to a woman like you. So, take this time we have”—he lifts my heaviest suitcase onto the luggage rack—“and live like we’re just starting out. Because, honestly, age be damned. We’re clearly at a similar, if not the same place, in our lives, and that, Bridge, means a fuck of a lot more than a number.”
Before I can agree or disagree, he takes two steps toward me, grabs my face, and kisses me senseless.
When he steps back, he tosses a bag on the bed. “Wasn’t sure you had appropriate swimwear, so I grabbed some things.”
“You what?” I ask as I hold up my very … maternal-looking one piece.
“That …” He pauses as he looks at the suit, seemingly trying to look for the proper words to use to describe my choice. Then he closes his eyes as he says, “You have beautiful curves, Bridge. Your ass is tight, tits are so good I have to remind myself I can’t actually eat them, and your pussy …” He opens his eyes and sighs. “That’s the perfect suit for a woman who doesn’t want attention. I highly suggest you wear it all the damn time, but not with me.”
I reach in the bag and pull out something resembling scraps of fabric and string. “What is this?”
He smiles broadly, chocolate brown eyes twinkling and brilliant white teeth sparkling. He bites his lower lip as he walks over and pulls out a cover up. “That’s what you’ll wear lounging with me. This is what you’ll wear when you need to keep me out of jail.”
I can’t help laughing. However, he … he gives me serious eyes.
“Trust me, Bridge; it’s necessary. Those men last night, they knew you were different from your friend. Her humor was her defense, but also her open door. They knew they weren’t good enough for either of you. But the confidence you exude tells people to proceed with caution.”
“Could be my resting bitch face,” I joke.
He gives me a stern look and shakes his head.
“You didn’t back away,” I point out.
“I’m not easily intimidated, and I’m not one to back down from something I want, like that douchebag Ken. I also had an in—your shoes.”
The way he says it isn’t like a joke. There is a seriousness in it that makes me want to know what made him that way. It also makes me ache to bring back the smiling, easy conversationalist.
“Well, I’m very happy you didn’t.”
He looks over my face, a serious smile forming on his lips. “Me, too, beauty. Me, too.”
/> When we walk out of the hotel entrance, there is a golf cart with a wagon attached. The driver steps out of the cart and begins unloading my bags.
I look at Joe, whose eyes are shaded with sunglasses, so I’m unable to see which layer of him I’m getting.
He takes my hand and leads me to the back seat of the cart.
“I thought your room was—”
He kisses my hand, stopping me from continuing. “Trust me; the view is much better.”
We sit, and then the cart starts to move. He places his arm around my waist and pulls me closer as we drive through the parking lot.
I see a sign with an arrow pointing in the direction we are heading that says, Cottages.
Driving along the narrow drive, we pass cottage after cottage covered in beachy shingles. We pass couples riding bikes and others holding hands as they walk down the narrow, crushed stone paths where it’s clear no cars are allowed to drive.
Feeling his eyes on me, I look up, still smiling as he squeezes me a bit tighter to him.
Once we reach the end of the road behind a line of trees, I see a cottage five times the size of the small, romantic ones we just passed. Then, as the golf cart swings around the trees, I see a brick-paved driveway leading to a three-car garage. There’s a smaller driveway just past it with a matching three-car garage, but this one has no house.
I look at him, and he shakes his head then bites back a laugh before he says, “Sorry to disappoint.”
“I’m not—”
He gives me a quick kiss, I assume to stop me from further embarrassing myself with ridiculous assumptions, and I laugh against his lips.
When the cart stops, he jumps off, takes my hand, and pulls me in front of him. He wraps an arm around my waist and covers my eyes with his other hand. “Do you trust me?”
I nod as he moves us forward.
“The view is beautiful, I promise,” he says as he leads us several feet away.
I hear the water and feel the breeze from the ocean.
“I feel it.” I sigh, keeping my eyes closed as he moves his hand away.
I feel him lean around and look at me. Then he chuckles. “You can open your eyes.”
