One morning Dillon found me outside on the beach. I sat cross-legged on the sand, my sketchpad on my lap.
I shaded my eyes from the mid-morning sun to look up at him. “Good morning.” I patted the blanket beside me.
“Hi.” He sat down next to me and put an arm around my shoulders. His skin was already warm from the sun. “I don’t like waking up to find you gone.”
“Sorry.” I gestured to my sketchpad. “The ocean was calling me. Look what washed ashore in the middle of the night.” I showed him the conch shell I was drawing.
“It’s beautiful.” He looked around at the water and the palm trees. “I don’t think you could ever run out of things to draw here.”
“No. Probably not.” I set the sketch aside and turned to face him.
“I don’t think I could run out of reasons to kiss you,” he said softly, pressing his lips to mine.
He kissed me passionately, possessively, and worked his way down my jaw and neck until he captured my left nipple between his teeth. I gasped as he nipped and suckled until the sensitive peak puckered and hardened. He flicked his tongue over the stiff nub before moving down my belly to my thighs.
I sighed and let my legs fall apart and he settled between them. With a flick of his wrist, he moved aside my shorts and made an approving sound when he discovered I wasn’t wearing any panties. He leaned forward and kissed my wet opening before plunging his tongue inside. He cupped my ass and lifted me up as he continued to work magic with his tongue.
He was careful not to get sand near my private places, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him on me and over me and inside me regardless of the sand.
His tongue and thumb worked in tandem and soon I was trembling, gasping for air. Dillon was like a starving man feasting on my body like he couldn’t get enough. I panted and clawed at his hair as he brought me to climax right there on the beach.
I slumped forward, exhausted. Dillon sat back on his heels and after I caught my breath, I rested back on my elbows.
I felt satisfied, but also primed for more. He had me thoroughly swollen and throbbing.
I looked down at his semi-hard cock and thought of something I wanted to try.
I scooted around to his legs and when Dillon read my intentions, his eyes darkened and smoldered with what could only be lust.
Gently, I cupped his balls in my hand, testing their weight.
When I looked up to catch his reaction, his head was tossed back, eyes closed.
His cock twitched to life and grew to its full length. It was warm and throbbing against my fingers. Dillon let out a low groan that sounded like it came from deep within his chest. I gently pumped my hand a few times just to hear him make that sound again. Even though it was quite thick and long, I figured I could fit my mouth around his cock. I had to at least try.
I wanted to absorb his heat, his essence. I took him into my mouth and savored every inch of his velvet smooth cock as it slid in and out over my tongue. When Dillon gasped for breath, I licked his salty skin from base to tip before pulling away to look at how his cock glistened with my saliva.
I licked my lips and pressed a kiss to the head.
“Christ, Livi,” Dillon moaned and his hand fisted into the blanket.
I smiled and kissed him again, harder this time and then slowly slid my lips down the length of him. His skin was soft and smooth against my tongue. When I gave him another tender sweet kiss, a dot of silky fluid pearled at the head and I licked it up.
This time when I looked at him, Dillon’s eyes were half open, his lips parted. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up to him so that we were both kneeling on the blanket. He crushed his mouth over mine and I let him suck my tongue. Now both of our essences swirled around our mouths. He pulled back and grinned.
“Was that okay?” I asked.
He half snorted, half laughed. “Was that okay, she asks. Jeez, Livi, you drive me crazy with that mouth of yours.”
I smiled, basking in the compliment.
Framing his face with my hands, I pulled him in for a kiss. I pulled his hips toward me until I could feel his erection nudge my opening. “Do you want more?” I asked. I thought I should probably finish the job. I couldn’t just leave him hanging there like that.
“Oh, Livi.” He kissed my cheeks, my forehead and my lips. “I need to be inside of you. Right now.”
He pulled a condom from thin air, that sneaky devil, and sheathed himself before sinking into my heat.
When he pushed inside me, I caught my breath at the sensation of him filling me up.
I hooked my leg around his and in a move he wasn’t expecting, flipped him over so I was on top. I leaned down to kiss him and could feel him smile against my lips.
Dillon folded his arms behind his head and grinned.
“What?” I asked, already breathless and drunk with my own aggressiveness.
“Just admiring the view.”
I leaned down and kissed the smugness right off his lips. His hand came up and his fingers buried into my hair.
I leaned back, my hair tickling my back. It was invigorating there on the beach, riding Dillon like a cowgirl. I tilted my hips just a bit and could feel his cock press against my G-spot.
I leaned forward, put a hand on the sand to anchor me. Rising up, I slowly sank back down again, riding his cock like a piston. It was incredibly satisfying being in control like this. I could control the speed and the angle and it felt amazing. I pressed my palms against his chest for leverage and rode him until the spasms of my orgasm enveloped me.
The sensation must have been overwhelming for Dillon, too, because within minutes, he thrust one last time and spilled his hot seed inside me.
He collapsed beside me and cradled me in his arms.
Later, I set up an easel on the sand and painted Dillon as he walked along the beach looking for shells. His back was facing me, shirt off, board shorts low on his hips, a trail of footsteps in the sand behind him. A lone palm tree curved over the beach, reaching for the water. The sun kissed his hair and shoulders. Strong contours of his defined back. I painted what I could on the first application, then let it dry to take back home with me. It would be my most favorite painting to date.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
On our last night at Bel Ange, Dillon and I sat on the deck and watched the sun go down in a lazy ceremony of pink and orange. The almost full moon took its place in the starlit sky and glowed, causing the blue water to shimmer. The scent of rain still lingered on the trees from a mid-day downpour.
We snuggled together on the rattan love seat and Dillon sighed. “This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen you, Livi.”
“Hmm,” I mumbled into his chest. “I love it here.”
“You’re lucky I have to be back in Vegas tomorrow or I might never want to leave this place.”
“I’m thinking about staying and having you send the boat back for me in a few months.”
Dillon straightened in his seat. “Really?” The look on his face was priceless.
“No,” I said, smiling. “As much as I’d love to stay, there are some things I need to take care of back in Vegas.”
“Oh, good,” he said with a sigh of relief.
I doubled over with laughter. “You should have seen your expression.”
“What?” He tightened his hold on my hand. “Sorry, but the thought of you staying here all alone freaks me out a little.”
“What? Nothing freaks out the mighty Dillon Milano.”
He sat back in his seat and relaxed again. “You really lived out here all by yourself?”
“Yep. For almost a year.”
“And your Dad was okay with it?”
“At first. Then he started nagging me to come to Vegas.”
“Didn’t you get lonely…or scared?”
“Not really. At that point I needed the alone time.”
“No distractions, right?”
“Right.”
No distractions. That gave me an
idea.
“Be right back,” I said, jumping up and going inside.
The days of associating Chopin with my grief were over. We would dance to “Nocturne No. 11 in G minor” under the light of the Bel Ange moon.
In the living room, I plugged my iPod into its docking station, pointed the speakers toward the open window, selected the song and cranked up the volume. The song’s romantic melody poured out the window and into the night air.
I rushed back outside to Dillon. “Come on.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him out onto the beach. I locked my arms around his neck and the sand shifted under my feet as I kissed him with all I had. He dipped me, pulled me back into his arms and I wished we could stay like that forever.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I learned a lot that week at Bel Ange. I discovered that Dillon was a generous and considerate lover, always making sure I came before he did. I learned that Dillon loved to contort me and pretzel me into different positions and that every different angel felt exquisite. I learned that I’m guaranteed an orgasm when I’m on top, controlling the tempo and thrust. And most importantly, I learned, if Dillon’s moans of pleasure were any indication, that I was pretty damn good at sex after all. Suck on that Derrick Huntington!
Dillon and I returned from Bel Ange happy, tan (minus the tan lines!) and content. It was quite possibly the best week of my life and definitely the most satisfying.
In Las Vegas, my driver dropped Dillon off at his house as he had a meeting with Mike about the new gym location. As for me, I had one little stop to make before going home to the hotel.
At Davenport Imports of Las Vegas, Mr. D came around the front of his desk with a smile the size of the Grand Canyon. “Olivia, what a pleasant surprise.”
“Hi, Howard,” I said. “I’m here to buy a car.”
It was strange coming home to the hotel after a week in paradise. Everything was different in the desert. The climate, obviously, but also the architecture, the view, the sounds and smells.
In the lobby, instead of birds chirping, the nearby sound of slot machines being mined for their jackpots rang in the air. There was plenty of dry heat instead of a cool tropical breeze. And rather than the aroma of gardenia’s and the salty ocean air, the hotel smelled of money and indulgence.
Inside my suite, it was eerily quiet. I was alone.
I set my purse and new keys down on the table by the door and sat down on the sofa. I leaned my head back and sighed.
I had bought a car.
And a fancy smancy one at that.
That afternoon, Mr. D had enthusiastically helped me pick out my very own piece of freedom on wheels. I chose a silver metallic Porsche Cayman. It was cute and sporty and small enough to where I didn’t feel like I was maneuvering a behemoth boat around the city. Sure, it was a slightly nerve-wracking experience, but I trusted Mr. D to give me a good deal and not take advantage of me.
I’d only driven it once, from the lot to the hotel, but I was told it had 320 horsepower. It had leather seats and a Bose surround sound system and that’s all I cared about.
It was a big step, but it shouldn’t have been quite so surprising. After all, I’d been fairly independent in college before Derrick had come along and screwed everything up. Sure, I had a shortage of self-esteem after years of bullying, but I knew how to survive on my own.
Like the year I’d spent at Bel Ange. I’d been self-sufficient. When the generator when out during a storm, I’d figured out how to fix it. I’d been strong. Independent. Now I was ready to be strong again. And reclaim my freedom. I could do it because I had faith in myself. It had been there all along, it’d just been buried under my issues for a while.
All my life bullies had convinced me I wasn’t good enough. What made them the experts? Why did I have to be the one to suffer because a handful of brats chose me to pick on? I was good enough. I was worthy. Of love, of success, of a fulfilled life. I wouldn’t let them hold it over me for the rest of my life.
Something else was about me was worthy too. My art. I was talented. I poured my heart, mind and soul into my paintings and they deserved to see the light of day. Not everyone would like them or understand their message or feel their emotion but that was just the way life was.
I remembered something Dillon had told me. “Sometimes you just have to take a chance.” Well, this was mine and I was grabbing it by the balls.
Before I unpacked, I had a very important phone call to make.
“Olivia, it’s so wonderful to hear from you.” Elaine’s voice was crisp and cheerful in my ear. “We were just talking about you.”
My stomach knotted and I quickly shook away that old feeling. “Oh? Who?”
“Your father and I. In fact, I’m at his office as we speak. Cornelia’s been yapping my ear off about your golf painting so I had to see it for myself. It’s just beautiful.”
“Oh, well thank you.”
“I don’t suppose I could talk you into painting me a piece for the gallery.”
“Well, actually that’s what I’m calling you about.” I took a deep breath and went for it. “I’d like to take you up on your offer to show my work at the gallery. That is, if it still stands.”
“Oh, most definitely, Olivia.”
“Great,” I said on a sigh. “I have some pieces ready if you’d like to come by and look at them sometime when you’re back in town.”
“As it turns out, I’ll be in Las Vegas all week visiting Cornelia.”
The coincidence was eerie and that’s how I knew it was meant to be.
“I can come over this afternoon. Does that work for you?”
“Yes, that would be perfect.”
Less than five minutes after I got off the phone with Elaine, my phone rang. I smiled, thinking it was Dillon, but it wasn’t him. A woman’s voice was on the other end of the line.
“Miss Sharpe?”
“Yes, this is Olivia.”
“Hello, this is Beverly from the Sharpe Gallery.”
“Yes, Beverly?”
“I’m calling to inform you that your painting Submersed was purchased this morning.”
“Oh, it was?” Myriad feelings swirled around in my blood. Sadness. Relief. Disappointment. “By who?”
“Well, uh, he paid in cash and didn’t quite leave us his entire name.”
“Oh, well what name did he leave?” I had a feeling I knew before she even answered.
“A Mr. Bigelow. D. Bigelow.”
Quickly I did the math. The price paid for Submersed was roughly the amount I had given Dillon for the week in Bel Ange.
“Thank you, Beverly,” I said and hung up the phone.
D. Bigelow. Deuce Bigelow.
A smirk turned into a smile that turned into a full-blown attack of the giggles. It took me twenty minutes before I stopped laughing out loud.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Elaine was the complete opposite of her sister Cornelia. Where Cornelia oozed money and wore flashy clothes and jewelry to remind everyone she was wealthy just in case they forgot, Elaine showed up on my doorstep wearing a plain, dark tailored suit with simple jewelry. She was prim and neat and professional.
Needless to say, I liked her very much.
“Would you like something to drink?” I offered.
“No, thank you. I just came from lunch with Cornie.”
I enjoyed an inner chuckle at the way Elaine easily referred to the high and mighty Cornelia Davenport as simply “Cornie“. Family always had a way of taking each other down a notch.
“I stopped in at the gallery on my way up and noticed your underwater piece was gone.”
“Yes.” I pushed back the urge to chuckle. “I’m told it was sold just this morning.”
“I’m sure it was difficult for you to part with it, but I’m sure the buyer will enjoy it.”
‘Yes,” I said with a secret smile. “I’m sure they will.”
“Your father tells me you just got back from Tahiti.”
“Yes. I got back this morning.”
“It must be an artists’ dream to paint there.”
“It is. It’s also a bit frustrating to try and recreate the landscape there. Some of the colors found in nature are too beautiful to recreate on canvas.”
“I could imagine. Well, as I said on the phone, I stopped in at your father’s office. He was just thrilled to show me the golf painting you gave him. It’s beautiful. Your use of color is brilliant.”
“Thank you. I’ll do anything to make my father happy, but I think it’s time I do something for myself.” I’d thought locking myself away from the world was for me, but it turned out I hadn’t done myself any favors in doing so. “I’m afraid the pieces I have to show you today are quite different from the one I did for my father. They are from my…Dark Period, if you will.”
“I’m intrigued.”
When I led Elaine into my studio, I held my head high and pushed down the anxiety until I could deal with it after she left.
It may have been my sanctuary, but it was high time I felt comfortable enough with it to let other people inside.
Elaine looked around and seemed pleased. “You have a great space here, Olivia. Lots of light.”
“Yes. My father designed it for me. It’s nice having room to spread out.”
Some of the paintings I was about to show her I hadn’t looked at in years. They stood facing the wall like faceless soldiers.
In a way, they were like strangers to me, but I also knew them better than anyone else.
Without giving myself time to think about it, I pulled the sheet away that had been draped over them for the past five years.
Slowly, I turned the first one around. It was a swirl of gray and lavender, light on color and heavy on the despair.
Elaine studied it and began blinking rapidly. “Oh, it’s so deep. Almost sad in a way.”
“I’m sorry.” I reached to turn it back around and she stopped me.
Submersed Page 16
