by Arlo Arrow
Fourteen
Grant
“Do you know what you're saying to me?”
She swallows, her eyelashes fluttering and her face flushing a sexy pink. “Yes,” Sophia whispers. “I want—I want you—”
I don’t wait another second. I kiss her, long, hard, deep. She opens up immediately and I roll onto her sweet, lush body.
“God, you feel good,” I groan. I’m so hard I could come right here, right now, like an inexperienced schoolboy. She spreads her legs to make room for me, and I grab one thigh and wrap it around my waist. I can't stop touching her curves. I can’t stop kissing her.
I can't believe this is happening.
“More,” Sophia gasps as I pull away.
“We're just getting started,” I promise.
She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of loose pajama shorts. I take one second to appreciate her shapely legs, her golden thighs, her scent—God, her scent. And then I slowly lift up her shirt, revealing her quivering, flat stomach.
I meet her eyes. “Is this okay?”
She swallows. “Depends on what you’re going to do next.”
I laugh. I almost tell her—no, I don’t almost tell her I love her. That’s fucking ridiculous. She’s sweet and makes me laugh and is sexy as hell. But it’s just…friendship and fucking. I'm as messed-up as the rest of my family. I may be obsessed with her body, I may admire her innocence and light—but I'm not capable of real love. It's one reason I've stayed away from her; she deserves better than me.
But right here, right now, I can make her feel real fucking good.
I lean down and kiss her stomach, her muscles quivering at my touch. I slowly roll her shirt up and over her breasts. “Fuck,” I whisper into her heated skin. “You’re perfect.”
Her breasts are perfect, just the right size for my hands. I take her nipple in my mouth and suck, and her entire body jerks. She's so sensitive. I nip and soothe her with my tongue, while my free hand plays with her other gorgeous tit, tweaking her nipple and rolling it between my fingers. She gasps, her hands grasping my shoulders and her hips rolling in time beneath my dick.
"Grant," Sophia moans, and I swear—just her saying my name makes me twice as hard.
I pull up and kiss her, hard and fast and rough. She moans but rolls with me, her hands fisting in my hair. I grin against her lips. My sweet, seemingly innocent Sophia likes it a little wild in bed.
Hopefully a lot.
We're still kissing madly as I work my left hand down her side, and then to her panties. "I can't wait. I've got to touch you."
"Yes," Sophia says. Then she grins. "I've got to touch you, too."
I kiss my way down her perfect curves. "Ladies come first, Angel."
When I get to her pajamas shorts, I tug them off in one smooth, rough motion. She shrieks but laughs. She's got little pink panties underneath, and I can't help myself; I press my nose straight to her core, inhaling her sweet, salty perfect scent. I kiss her through her panties, where she's already wet.
Then I move to spread her legs further apart, and she clamps her hands over her underwear.
"Sophia? Are you okay?"
She's laying flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. When I ask her if she's alright, she leaves one hand over her core, and slaps the other hand over her eyes. And then she mumbles something.
"What?" I say gently. "Angel, what's wrong?"
"I haven't—I've never—" She bites her lip and stops speaking. I can see that she's grimacing.
I freeze. My mind flips back through all the years. No, she never brought a man home. Yes, I'm a bastard who had security cameras…outside her apartment. What about college boyfriends? She never introduced anyone to her father. And as much as I'd been tempted to assign a bodyguard to follow her everywhere for four years, even I'm not that crazy.
I did it for the first and last year, though.
"Sophia, has anyone ever gone down on you before?"
She doesn't answer, so I move up and lay next to her. I gently remove her arm from over her eyes. I tilt her face so she's looking at me, and I kiss her gently. "You don't have to be embarrassed. You make me feel like a fucking caveman. I want to drag you to my—" I gesture around at the ornate room. "—my cave, and fuck you for a month straight. I want to mark you so no other man will even be able to look at you without knowing you're mine. So don't be embarrassed, sweetheart, because the fucking cave man in me wants to be your first, your last, your only. And I want all of that to start right now."
Her dark brown eyes burn into mine. "I've never—Grant, I've never been with anyone. In any way. Besides a few kisses, or heavy petting."
"Who were they? I'll need names and last known addresses so I can send my men after them."
She barks out a laugh and then bites that delicious lower lip. "You're going to make them disappear?"
She's smiling, and she's practically naked. I run my fingertips over one of her perfect breasts and she shivers. "I guess I won't have them killed. But I want to make you come so many times and so many ways, that I completely obliterate the memory of any other man who's ever touched you."
And then she grabs my hair and pulls me to her. We're kissing so hard I can barely tell where I end and she begins. Except my cock. My aching cock is pressed between us, demanding I take her—that I make her mine.
Mine.
I push off her, leaving her gasping and flushed. I kneel back at her feet, and in one movement pull her panties down her legs. I can't be that gentle anymore. "I've waited years for this first taste, Angel," I tell her. And then I can't talk. I kiss my way up her shaking thighs—or am I the one who isn't entirely steady?
And then I'm at her sweet, drenched core. "You're so fucking wet, Sophia. Wet and ready for me, aren't you, love?"
She whimpers as if she's nervous. "Don't be embarrassed," I tell her as I kiss her inner thighs. I use my thumbs to spread her open and I blow cool air across her heated, swollen, gorgeous flesh. She cries out and her hips buck.
"I love to see how much you want me. Someday soon you can return the favor. You should feel my cock, Sophia. It's harder than it's ever been. And all it wants is to be inside you. Right…here."
I slowly slide my middle finger into her burning-hot core.
"Oh, God," Sophia moans. "Oh, Grant."
She smells incredible and when I look up her body, I see the curves of her hips, her breasts, her thrashing head. I grin. And we're just getting started.
I lean down and take my first taste. "You're perfect," I tell her. I tease all around her clit, licking and sucking but never quite making the contact I can tell she wants. My finger sets up a steady rhythm inside her, exploring her g-spot until she's practically gushing.
"Grant, please," Sophia moans, and it's the two best fucking words anyone's ever said to me in my entire life.
"Please what, Angel?" I tease her some more, lightly flicking her clit with my tongue, but only enough to drive her crazy.
"Oh, God, Grant!"
Her fists are clenched in the sheets, and she bucks up, trying to find the pressure, the release that she needs.
"Tell me what you want," I purr into her flesh. "Say the words. I want to hear you talk dirty, little girl."
"I—I can't," she moans.
"You can do anything," I urge her on. I finally press down on her sweet bud, working it hard and rough for just a minute. She's panting now, and grabbing my hair. Then I pull back, removing my hand and tongue.
"You bastard!" She stares down at me, angry and turned-on and sexy-as-hell.
"That's more like it." I grin up at her. "God, you're so fucking beautiful. Look at your skin. You're flushed and pink and ready to come, aren't you, Angel?"
She swallows, hard. "Yes," she whispers hesitantly.
"Tell me what you want. I'll do it. I'll do fucking anything you want." The words are out of my mouth before I realize—it's true. I'd do anything she wanted. Here, in bed.
Or anywhere.
"Make me…come," Sophia says softly.
"How?"
"With your cock."
I laugh, surprised. "I don't know if you could handle that right away, love."
She surprises me by scrambling to her knees, meeting me in the middle of the bed. Her tits bounce and I can't help but admire her dewy skin and perfect curves.
"God, I just want to eat you up. Everywhere."
She giggles and then kisses me, while grabbing my briefs and trying to tug them down and off. They get caught on my giant hard-on. Sophia looks down, realizes the problem, and looks up at me, shocked.
I shrug and carefully removed my briefs, kicking them off the bed. When I turn around, her face pales.
"What. How. That's…that's not going to fit," she whispers.
I grab her and pull her naked body to me. She smells like woman and sex and I nip her shoulder because I can't get enough. I'll never get enough.
"It'll fit," I say. "But you've got to trust me. And you've got to come. A couple of times."
I grab her waist and turn her so that her back is pressed against my chest. I'm kneeling on the mattress, and I sit her gorgeous ass on my thighs. She's lush and womanly everywhere.
I fist her hair and turn her head, taking possession of her mouth. We kiss as my hand snakes between her smooth thighs to her wet core. This time I don't fuck around. I find her clit and work it, and she's gasping and shaking against me within seconds.
"That's my beautiful angel," I whisper in her ear. The sound of my fingers in her sweet honey fills the room. "You're so sweet on the street, but in bed you're my wildcat, aren't you."
"Oh, shit," Sophia pants, her head falling back against my shoulder. "Yes, yes. Whatever. Meow. Just make me come—" She cries out as she comes, hard, shaking against me.
I'm shaking, too. I can't wait to be inside her. But she's inexperienced and was tight as a vice, even when I had just one fucking finger inside her. I turn gently lay Sophia down on her back, spread her legs wide, and admire the view. She watches me watch her. Then I lower myself so I can feast on her pussy.
"I can't, oh God, I can't come again," she whimpers as I work her clit with my tongue, and slide one—then two—fingers inside her. But within seconds her back arches and she calls my name, over and over and over again.
She's still trembling and I'm leaking precum all over my thighs when I realize—someone else is calling my name.
Right outside our bedroom door.
I think it's Roger, and he's shouting that I need to answer the door, right now.
"Shit," I say, standing up and wrapping the sheet around my waist.
"Who is it?" Sophia gasps, putting her hands over her breasts.
I take the bedspread and make sure she's covered, then stomp to the door.
My grandfather better be dying, or I'm gonna murder someone for interrupting us.
Fifteen
Sophia
I can still feel his hand—and other things—between my legs. Ever since Grant confessed his feelings to me, and made me come harder than I ever have in my life, I've been feeling light-headed and unsteady.
The boat lurches against a particularly powerful wave, and I grab the deck's railing. Of course, being out on a huge lake with these enormous waves isn't helping my unsteady feelings.
"Sophia." Grant reappears and wraps his arm around my middle. "You okay, Angel?"
I sigh and lean back against him. I don't have to act today. I know we're not in a real relationship…but the heat between us feels real. "I'm great," I say. Then another wave slaps the side of the boat with a sickeningly hard sound, and I whimper.
"I'm great. I'm happy. But also: I might throw up."
Grant curses and takes my hand. "We never should have gone out on the lake in this weather. I don't care what my grandfather wanted. It's not safe."
I turn around and press my face into his chest. Grant immediately wraps his arms around me and I feel better.
This morning, we were interrupted by Roger and the other two cousins—Blake and Shelton, no lie—who'd smugly informed Grant that his grandfather wanted everyone out on the boat by 10 a.m. Somehow we'd missed the memo for the day's activity, though I told Grant I bet they wanted to barge into our room and see what we were doing together.
"They think you hired me," I'd told him, describing the conversation I'd overheard with Cara and the man I couldn't see. "They don't think I'm really your fiancée. And…they're right."
Grant had cradled my face in his hands and said, "Fuck 'em. We don't need to convince anyone…except my grandfather."
He hadn't said it was real. He hadn't repeated any of his fervent claims from the night before. And I hadn't had the courage to ask him what he felt.
He had kissed me, dragged me into the giant shower, and made me come twice before washing my hair. He'd held my hand as we walked from our room, down the stairs and through the winding halls of the mansion. There, we'd discovered the entire party ready to board a "party bus" for the forty-five-minute drive to a huge, breathtaking lake hidden in the middle of the mountains.
I hadn't known enormous lakes like this existed in the Adirondacks. Grandfather Blackstone had ordered Geoffrey to wheel his chair next to me on the boat, and for the first thirty minutes, everything had been perfect. Grant's grandfather turned out to be a lively curmudgeon. Grandfather Blackstone had told me countless stories about the mischief Grant caused as a child. He told me a little bit about Grant's mother, whom everyone apparently had loved. And he told me all about Lake Green, which turned out to be twenty-two miles wide and looked, to me, like a calmer version of the Pacific Ocean.
Until, that is, the weather changed.
One minute the sun was shining, Grant was holding my hand as I bragged about all of Grant's amazing investments—companies inventing things like water-cleaning devices for third-world countries. Grant was amazed I knew about so much of his work.
Grandfather Blackstone was simply amazed that Grant was doing such good work.
I had no idea why the two men didn't just talk to each other, but I liked to think that, if nothing else, my time here brought grandfather and grandson closer together. And despite the older man's hacking cough from the night before, today he seemed healthy and happy.
Grant's father, on the other hand, just drank heavily and spoke with his lawyers and underlings. There was obviously no love lost between that man and his son, or his father.
I wanted to find out what had happened to Grant's father, but it didn't seem to be the right time. And then clouds covered the sun, the wind picked up, and suddenly we were out in the middle of a giant lake, with waves tossing the boat to and fro.
And I discovered…I get seasick.
Thankfully, I hadn't thrown up yet. But if we stayed out here much longer, I was afraid I would.
"Are we going back anytime soon?" I moan into Grant's chest.
Huge waves seem to hit the yacht every five minutes. The sky had gone from sunny and blue to gray and threatening. Even the water had turned from a deep blue, like the color of Grant's eyes, to a stormy, rolling gray that made my stomach turn and filled me with apprehension.
"I'm going to go talk to Geoffrey. This is ridiculous," Grant says. "Do you want to come into the cabin with me?" The rest of the crowd were huddled below deck or with the Captain. I saw Grant's father up near the Captain, and I didn't really want to deal with him. Not when I could barely stand up.
And Cara had disappeared, as well. She was probably holding court below deck, with Roger and Blake and Shelton.
"I'm fine," I say. "I think I'll just stay up here in the fresh air for a minute."
Grant frowns, then takes his jacket off and puts it over my shoulders. "I'll be right back. I'm going to tell Grandfather and Geoffrey we should turn around now." He looks across the wide, roiling expanse of water. "A big storm's coming. We shouldn't be out here."
Almost as if on cue, a few cold, hard drops of rain fall on my face.
&
nbsp; "Yes, let's go back," I say.
"Stay right here," Grant instructs. He sits me down on a seat near the middle of the deck. "I half think I should get a life jacket for you."
"I'm fine," I smile, even though as the boat pitches left, I feel my stomach pitch left, right, and center. "Really, go. I'll be waiting for you." I shiver and clutch his jacket tighter around my middle. It's getting really cold.
He leans down and kisses the top of my head. "When we get back, I'm going to focus on warming you up."
The look in his eyes is almost enough to make me forget the waves, the rain, and the freezing-cold wind. "Is that a promise?" I say, smiling weakly.
"Sweet Angel," he says. "It most definitely is."
Grant strides off and I take a moment to admire his tall, lean frame as he jogs to the cockpit of the boat. At least, I think that's what it's called. I heard someone use that term, as well as starboard and port side. I close my eyes and try to steady my stomach and my nerves. The only thing more awkward than being the only poor person on a yacht is being the only poor person who is also about to hurl on a yacht.
The wind is blowing my hair straight back from my head now, and I glance back to see Grant arguing with the captain. Then, thankfully, the boat begins to turn back toward shore. I could cheer out loud I'm so excited. Unfortunately, as it does, the waves pick up.
And suddenly, I know I'm going to throw up.
I can barely think, I feel so ill. I run to the side of the boat—fore, aft, whatever!—and clutch the smooth railing. I lean over, watching the furious white froth of the waves below.
Please don't be sick, please don't be sick, I pray. Or, please be sick and get it over with.
I gasp as a particularly large wave attacks the hull of the yacht. And then suddenly the boat dips, hard, toward where I'm standing. I shout and grab the handrail, my flip-flops sliding on the wet deck surface.
And then, suddenly, the entire deck—no, the entire world—tilts sideways, and I'm falling, head-over-heels, directly into the cold, deep water.
