With unseemly haste I fit the other tip into his warm, wet mouth. So gentle. The way I imagine a toothless baby would take a nourishing nipple. I let out a long breath of satisfaction and start grinding my sex against the heel of his palm. He lets me until the tremors begin shaking my whole body, and it is clear that I’m going to climax. Then he pulls his hand away and catches my nipple between his teeth. I look at him. I am almost screaming with frustration and the sadistic fucker is enjoying this.
‘Let me come, damn you,’ I groan.
He lets go of my nipple and smiles slowly. ‘Persuade me.’
‘There is this,’ I say, and lifting my hips away from his crotch, I unzip his trousers. His erection is straining against the waistband of his boxers.
‘That’s the most persuasive argument I’ve heard all day,’ he says.
‘Wait till you hear the rest of my argument.’ I slide my hand around his shaft and it swells even more.
‘Can’t wait,’ he mutters.
‘Get your knees down,’ I order suddenly.
His eyes flash at my strict tone, but his voice is even: ‘Done.’ He flattens his legs.
I lift myself off him and on my knees walk along his body up to his face and then carefully turn around so I am facing his feet. I lower my sex until it is suspended a few tantalizing inches away from his mouth.
‘Smell me,’ I command. I hold still while he lifts his head and sniffs me. I know what is coming next. And it does. His tongue flicks out. I allow one lick. It makes me shiver with pleasure. The desire to let him carry on is immense, but I control myself.
‘Who told you to lick me?’ I ask sternly, and lift my hips away from his mouth. ‘You’ve ruined it. You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow now.’
He moves so fast I register the sound of his muffled laughter before I realize I am immovably trapped between two hard hands around my hips.
‘You wait till tomorrow if you want to. I’m having you tonight,’ he growls and suddenly I am sprawled awkwardly on his body with my legs spread, my pussy opened on his mouth, and his tongue thrust into me.
‘Hey, I’m supposed to be in charge,’ I protest as I try to push myself up on my hands.
‘Cock teasers don’t get to be in charge.’
His hand comes down around my waist to force me down while the other slips underneath my body. His fingers work my clit in exactly the way he learned from me earlier. In that exposed, helpless position, him devouring my pussy, and his fingers doing exactly what I love to my nub, my orgasm comes so fast and so hard, my nails claw into his thighs.
When it is all over, I find myself lying with my cheek on his belly and panting hard while he is still sucking my swollen folds softly. It’s very, very delicious and unspeakably decadent, but I lift my cheek, turn my head, and find myself looking at a very beautifully decorated, very erect throbbing penis. Clear liquid is running down it.
On my belly I shimmy toward it and extending my tongue follow the body of the snake all the way to its open mouth.
‘Oh yeah,’ he encourages hoarsely.
With my lips held in a tight pout, slowly, inch by hot inch I swallow that deliciously bulbous apple, and then as much of that thick and twisting snake as I can. I bob my head faster and faster, not even stopping when I feel one long finger slide into me. It occurs to me then—the kind of view he must have of my open pussy with its gaping, glistening hole begging to be penetrated. I squirm encouragingly and he fits another finger in and starts pumping into me while I suck him as furiously and as fast as I can.
Suddenly, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me off his shaft. My mouth comes off with a wet, slurping sound. Before I can say Jake Eden I am put on my hands and knees. Threading his fingers into my hair, he pulls my head back, as he rams into me.
‘Ahh…’ I scream, my head jerking back.
‘That’s what I was missing. Watching my cock disappear into you,’ he says, pushing himself in so hard I shudder.
He fucks me harder and harder, forcing his cock deeper and deeper, and I start to feel the verge of another climax.
‘Yesssss…’ I push into him, my muscles clenching and tightening as we climb the heights together.
He wakes me up in the night.
‘Want to go for a midnight swim?’
It is too dark to see his expression, only the bulk of his naked shoulder, the way it rises out of bed, strong and full of power. ‘Yes,’ I whisper.
We pad down to the swimming pool. He dives in. I dip a toe in. The water is cold. But it is OK. Under the stars we swim together like two carefree eels, sparks flying whenever we touch. Later his body is warm as it moves on top of me.
TWELVE
I wake up alone and touch the indent on the pillow where his head has been. Then I roll over to his side and bury my nose in the scent of his shampoo.
‘Oh, Jake,’ I whisper.
I get out of the bed and walk to the living room. The house is very quiet. For a while I think he has gone out and then I know where he is. The sliding doors are open. I walk around the swimming pool and stand at the edge of the cliff and far away in the ocean, much farther than he went yesterday, I see him, swimming furiously. He only came back yesterday because of me.
Once again, I am beset by gnawing fear and worry.
I go into the kitchen and open the freezer door. Other than a couple of trays of ice it is filled with bags of breadcrumbs. I take a bag and go down the steps. I go into the water and feed the fish. I watch them as they frantically snatch at the crumbs and it is a beautiful thing, but I feel restless and distracted. Suddenly, impulsively, I decide to swim out to him. I know I won’t be able to swim that far, but perhaps I can meet him halfway on his return.
I strike out toward him. I must have been swimming for a good ten minutes, and yet he seems even farther away. I realize that I am already very tired. I stop and start treading water. I look back at the shore. It looks dauntingly far. It was a stupid idea.
I holler out to Jake, but my voice doesn’t carry. I have a little moment of panic. Suddenly, as if he has somehow felt my distress, he stops, turns, sees me, and immediately begins swimming powerfully toward me. I tread water and watch. He is a fine swimmer, sleek and fast. He dives under and pops up in front of me, water sluicing down his hair and face, as ageless and as at home in the sea as a seal.
His eyes are thunderous. ‘What the fuck are you doing so far from the beach?’ he demands furiously.
I feel stung by his anger. He has never spoken like that to me before. I stare at him in astonishment.
‘Don’t you know how fucking dangerous it is?’ he snarls.
‘Fuck off,’ I spit at him, and begin to swim toward the beach. He grabs me from behind. His body is hard and slippery.
It is a relief to stop kicking and simply relax into his body.
He nuzzles my neck, his breath warm. ‘Can you make it back on your own?’
‘No,’ I admit reluctantly.
He catches me under my arms, and slowly we make it back to shore.
We lay at the water’s edge, naked. I look up at the wonderfully blue sky and feel the heat of the sun penetrating my skin. ‘It was a stupid thing to do, I’m sorry.’
He turns his head and our eyes meet. In the sunlight they are bright and intense, dizzying: the color of spring grass. His eyelashes are all long and dark and stuck together with seawater, like a child that has been crying. ‘I’m sorry I shouted at you, Lil. But you scared me.’ He blinks. ‘If anything had happened to you, I would have been too far out to do anything to help you.’
I raise my hand and lay it on his flat stomach. He takes his hand and traces my mouth and desire starts to stain his eyes. He moves forward and leans his forehead on my shoulder and takes a deep shuddering breath. ‘Oh, Lily. What am I going to do with you?’
I wriggle myself so I am underneath his body, sweat seeping into my skin. ‘I have an idea,’ I say, focusing on his brutally masculine chest.
He looks
down on me. A hint of that which is centuries old, plain ol’ human lust, shines in his face. Fire explodes in my skull. I am so addicted to this man.
‘I really like the way you think.’ His amused whisper slides into my head like a little mind trick.
Some may call it love. I don’t.
‘Hungry?’ I ask.
‘Starving.’
We toss a coin to decide who is to make breakfast. He loses and to ease the pain I promise to make dinner. I stand against the counter and watch him put a pan on the stove.
‘Who taught you to cook?’
He smiles, cheeky. ‘Let’s get something straight, Lil. I don’t cook. I’m frying a couple of eggs because I lost a coin toss.’
I can’t help smiling back. Like this he is pure magic. The twinkling of his eyes warms my heart the way standing next to a three bar heater in a freezing room in winter warms the body. It actually makes me want to kiss that sexy mouth.
‘You don’t smile very often, do you?’ I say.
‘No?’
‘No.’ I look at him from beneath my lashes. ‘What would make you smile right now?’
An inscrutable expression crosses his eyes then is gone as quickly as it came. Then he smiles suddenly, dashing and irresistible. The pull of it is undeniable. I feel my knees weaken.
‘How’s that?’ he asks.
‘Not bad, considering how out of practice you are,’ I tease.
He steps closer and taking my shoulders in his hand, lowers his mouth to mine. The power of the unexpected kiss is shocking. It whips through me, setting fire to my senses. I hear the roaring in my ears as my mouth opens. He draws me closer and my whole body presses into his hard, clear need, and gives without questioning. My body knows what I refuse to acknowledge: I need him. I open my eyes quickly.
‘I’ll make the toast,’ I squeak, and walk unsteadily away to put some slices of bread into the toaster.
We have breakfast on the terrace and I eat with relish. I wipe my plate clean with a piece of toast and grin at him. ‘That was delicious, thank you.’
He leans back in his chair and smiles, beautiful eyes flashing. ‘So, my little wildcat, how would you like to take a tour of the island?’
I let my gaze travel over him, cool. ‘You know all my buttons.’
‘Good. Because I’m trying to impress you here.’
‘You’re doing great so far.’
He rises and holds out his hand.
Putting a sway into my hips, I walk with him through the house into the garage. He hits the button that opens the outside garage door and pulls a plastic cover off an absolutely stunning red and black Ducati Multistrada.
‘Wow! This is some bike,’ I exclaim walking around it, my sway forgotten. It is so spanking new there is not a scratch on it. I look at him, impressed.
He is beaming like a child. ‘Great, isn’t she?’
‘Awesome.’
‘Come on,’ he says, throwing his leg over the machine.
‘What? You’re going to go like that!’ He is wearing the same faded jeans, old sneakers and nothing else.
‘Why not?’
‘No helmet?’
‘Ah, Lily. Do you need the government to be your nanny and tell you what to wear all the fucking time?’
‘What if we meet with an accident?’
He sighs. ‘There’s a helmet in the cupboard.’
He kicks the bike over and it roars dangerously into life the way a really good bike should. The smell of exhaust fumes fills the garage. He turns to look at me as I fit the helmet on my head.
He winks at me and I gingerly swing my leg over the seat of the bike and place my feet on the passenger pegs.
‘Hold me tight,’ he says.
I scoot forward until my body is leaning against his and wrap my arms around his hard midsection.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
He takes off and as he leaves the driveway and gets on the road he accelerates and I hold tighter. He rides with precision and skill as if the bike is an extension of him. When he dips I follow. We cruise along the open road, the wind in our faces, my body glued to his. We travel downhill through the labyrinth of cobbled lanes and make for the roads lined with pines, almond trees and juniper bushes that hug the coastline. Ibiza is full of goats, picturesque coves, tall rocky cliffs, lovely beaches and old-fashioned boatsheds made of wood. Contrary to what I believe about the island being the playground of celebrities and fashion models, so much of it is green and undeveloped. We pass a lonely, whitewashed, hilltop church and at the end of it an olive grove starts. I tap Jake’s shoulder and shout over the roar of the bike for him to stop. He slows down and pulls up at the edge of the road then cuts the engine.
‘What?’ he says, turning to me, his hair wind-blown, his cheeks flushed.
The whole time the tips of my breasts encased only in the thin bikini top have been rubbing against his naked back and I am feeling unbelievably horny.
‘I want you,’ I say, and taking my helmet off I get off the bike and walk into the grove.
By the time he comes for me I am lying naked on the hot orange soil, my legs spread. When his hard cock enters me, his eyes raping me, raking over my exposed body like rough hands, I hiss with relief.
THIRTEEN
Jake
From the open door I watch her wash vegetables in the sink. She turns off the tap and reaches for a knife. Her hair falls forward and she flicks it away carelessly. The gesture arrests me. Compels me to stay and watch. It is as if I am watching a movie. She is someone else. I am someone else. The picture of domestic bliss is so foreign. So alluring. It warms my heart.
What is it about her that makes her so magnetic? Even the simplest thing she does becomes a movement of grace and beauty. I have to stop myself from going into the kitchen, lifting her onto the counter and fucking her until she claws at me.
She leaves the tap running and turns to check on a pan of boiling water. As she puts the lid back on it she looks in my direction, sees me, and for an instant loses her concentration. The lid slips from her hand and falls to the ground, catching a ladle resting by the side of the pan on its way. The ladle pings up and falls into the pan of boiling water and splashes boiling water onto her hand.
I hear the ladle clatter to the floor as I rush to her and try to pull her toward the cold water tap, but she shakes her head vehemently.
‘Flour,’ she gasps. ‘Find me some flour.’
I stare at her, confounded; convinced I have heard her wrong. ‘What?’
‘Where’s the flour?’ she barks urgently.
Flour! As if I would know where that is. I start opening cupboards and clumsily rifle through them. Dropping packets on the counter and floor. Cursing. I find an unopened packet in the third cupboard I open. I turn around quickly,
‘Open it,’ she instructs, white with pain.
I open it and pass it to her. She takes a handful of flour and holding it against her burn, closes her eyes. It must have given her some relief because she looks up at me and smiles tremulously.
‘I know it looks weird but it’s an old Chinese trick my grandmother taught me. She actually keeps a packet of corn flour in the fridge so it is cold and ready for use whenever she burns herself.’
I stare at her in shock. This is the first time she has offered a tiny little snippet of herself, without being prompted, and something real!
‘It’s brilliant,’ she adds. ‘It actually helps heal the burn faster and stops the skin from marking.’
I keep my voice casual. ‘Your grandmother is Chinese?’
She smiles. A tender expression comes into her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘And you love her very much, don’t you?’
‘Yes, yes I do.’
‘And she is still alive?’
Suddenly the expression in her eyes changes, becomes guarded and fearful. And all I want to do is hold her close to me and tell her it doesn’t matter. It does not matter a damn. She has ruine
d nothing by telling me that.
Lily
I stare at him in horror. Oh! My! God! I have totally slipped out of character. My alter ego doesn’t even remember her grandparents. I can’t believe I have fucked up so bad. What if he wants to know more about her? Or, worse, wants to meet her? I can’t tell him she is dead. I think of her, her head tipped back, roaring with laughter. My grandmother is very superstitious—Chinese believe all mention of death and dying is bad luck, and she would be so hurt if she knew I was telling anyone she was dead. I’ll have to tell Mills and the agency will have to come up with a fake grandmother. But that will be embarrassing, too. Admitting that I slipped up this early in the assignment.
I drop my eyes to my hand.
‘How long do you have to do that for?’ he asks.
I put my head up and see him looking at the flour I am holding against my burn.
‘Ten minutes.’ The flour has helped, but it is still painful.
He switches the fire off. ‘Come on,’ he says, and with his hand on the small of my back leads me toward the living room. ‘We’ll order in tonight.’
To my great relief he loses interest in my grandmother and does not ask anything else about her.
It will be our last night on the island. Some part of me doesn’t want to leave. I have been happy here. Happier than I have ever been in my life. We have watched the sunset over the water and had our takeaway pizza, and now Jake has gone in to have a shower.
I stand on the terrace for a little while longer soaking in the magic of the island. A lizard scampers up a tree. I know a faint tinge of envy. It lives in this paradise. I watch it until it disappears into some bushes. With a sigh I go indoors and pull out a book from my bag. Curling up on the sofa I start to read. Three pages later Jake is standing in the doorway.
‘Hey,’ he says.
I gaze at him. He is wearing a pair of faded jeans. They hug his strong thighs. Something about him always makes my mouth dry. ‘Hey, yourself,’ I reply.
‘What are you reading?’
‘The Billionaire Banker.’
Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes) Page 37
