by Alison Ryan
Confusion marked his face.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said. “I haven’t talked to you in almost three days. Did something happen that I don’t know about?”
“Oh, I think you definitely know about it,” I spat my words at him. “Unless you forgot that you’re married.”
He stopped in his tracks. His face completely changed. I’d expected to see coldness or to at least hear another lie spill out of his delicious mouth.
I continued, “Oh yeah. Adrianna Weston. Your beautiful, supermodel fucking wife!”
It was like I was stabbing him. He winced at my words.
“Camilla,” he said. “Stop.”
“Are you kidding me?” I yelled. “Stop making you feel like a complete asshole for fucking me while you’re married? What did you have to gain from that? You told me you wouldn’t lie to me anymore!”
I was screaming which had caused the suit to come in.
Nolan held up his hand. “We’re fine. Just having a misunderstanding.”
The suit was undeterred and advanced into the room, stopping just a few feet behind Nolan, making eye contact with me. I nodded that I was okay, but stopped short of asking him to leave.
I returned my attention to Nolan and shook my head. “Fuck you, Nolan. You’re not talking your way out of this one. This was too much.” I was crying now. “You killed me once. But this has destroyed me. Why did you even come back for me, really? What’s in this for you?” I started to ask if my father was really still alive, but I caught myself. On the off-chance Nolan had told the truth about that, at least, I didn’t want to risk anything by talking about it in front of the Titan security man. I clung to a strand of hope that I’d see my father again. I clung to even less hope than that for a future with Nolan, that there could be some sort of explanation for his latest transgression. “Is it because of the firm? You can fucking have it, Nolan. I don’t want any of it! I don’t want this life! I want to disappear off the face of the earth and never be seen again. I want that Krav Maga bitch to give me another sedative that somehow wipes all memory I have of you. Because as much as I love you, right now I hate you even more.”
I collapsed onto the floor and suddenly his arms were around me, pressing me against him. I wanted to scratch his eyes out, but I was too exhausted.
“You have to tell me how you know about Adrianna,” he said calmly. I jerked my head up to look at him.
“I don’t have to tell you shit,” I said. “It was Jessa. She emailed me photos.”
Nolan pulled away from me for a moment. “You checked your email on the plane?”
“Yes,” I said, scooting away from him. His touch was poison. “I know, it was dumb. The stewardess had to throw my iPad out the back of the plane to keep the firm from finding us.”
He ran his hands through his hair. “That bitch.”
“She’s not a bitch, she’s actually been really nice to me,” I said. “She didn’t even act all that angry that I’d used my iPad.”
“Not her,” he said. “Jessa. She’s a stone cold bitch for sending you those photos.”
“Why?” I asked. “Because they’re the truth? It doesn’t make her a bitch.”
“It’s not the truth,” he said, quietly. “I’m not married. Not anymore.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest. I had no idea what to say to that. I still didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Which wouldn’t be far.
“So you’re divorced,” I said. “You should have mentioned that.”
“I’m not divorced,” he said, anger in his voice. “I’m a widower. Adrianna is dead.”
My stomach dropped.
He was right. If what he was saying was true, Jessa really was a bitch.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I… didn’t know.”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
He wasn’t looking at me though. His face was sad. It was one of the only times I’d seen true melancholy cross his handsome features.
“How…” I started but then stopped. That was a terribly rude question.
“She was killed,” Nolan said. “By the agency she worked for. They felt she had compromised her position by being with me. They’re rivals of the firm and they felt like she knew too much about them and would eventually double cross them. She wouldn’t have. She was leaving them… Trying to make a clean start with me. She didn’t want to have anything to do with international espionage anymore. She just wanted to be with me…” His voice trailed off. “Anyway, when she died, I was a wreck. I quit the firm for almost two years. Your father took care of me. He’d lost so much himself. There is a language of loss that only people who have dealt with a particular pain could understand.” Nolan looked at me. “You know it. You felt it when you thought your father was gone.”
I nodded. “And when I thought you were gone. I felt so terrible… That pain, the confusion, the unanswered questions, it was so much worse for me.”
Through my tears I watched the suit exit the room, closing the door quietly behind him, apparently satisfied as to my safety and my need for privacy with Nolan.
He reached out to me and I fell into his arms, crying at his loss and my own. There was so much to mourn. I didn’t even know where to start.
“Your father wanted to transition me slowly back into the firm,” Nolan whispered into my hair. “He assigned me to you. He wanted me to be in charge of his most precious person. And he never would have guessed she’d become the woman I would love above all others. Even Adrianna.”
I looked at him, my eyes wide.
“It’s true,” he said, looking at me. “It’s made me feel guilty so many times… I stopped thinking about her. I mean, I still think of her so often. She was a wonderful woman who I cared about so much. Someone I think you would have liked a lot. But nothing can compete with the desire and love I have for you, Camilla.” He kissed me gently on my forehead. “I’m torn over whether I should feel bad about that. But you lit a fire in me that had never been lit before. And every time I’m with you, every time I touch your body, it just stokes the flames further.”
God. To hear those words.
I kissed him back, softly. “Nolan. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know…”
“Of course not,” he said, pushing my hair off my face. “Not many people do. I’m not angry with you. I would have felt the same in your position.”
We embraced and just held each other, his hand running through my hair. He kissed the top of my head and down to my temples. His kisses were softer than I’d become accustomed to, and I melted under each of them.
He kissed my eyelids. The bridge of my nose. My cheeks. Just when I thought he’d finally kiss my mouth, he skipped it and went to my chin. Then my throat and up the side of my neck to just below and behind my ears. My body turned to jelly in his arms and I had to put mine around his neck, interlocking my fingers behind his head just to remain standing.
“You’re. (kiss) So. (kiss) Delicious. (kiss) Camilla.”
The kisses on my neck started to include small bites, and I gasped as he placed a hand at the small of my back and pulled me tightly against him.
His lips finally met mine, but the contact was fleeting. I whimpered in frustration as he captured my breath in his open mouth and retreated from my desperate lips.
“Please kiss me, Nolan,” I begged.
“Oh, but where, Camilla?”
He spun me around and pushed me against the wall, taking my wrists in his hands and pulling them up over my head. He held them both in one of his large hands, and his free hand reached around the graze my stomach near my belly button, laid bare by my shirt being pulled up with my arms.
His touch there jolted me like a cattle prod.
“There are so many delicious places to kiss you. I should probably kiss them all, don’t you think?”
He was kissing the back of my neck now, his index finger running maddeningly
inside the waistband of my sweatpants. I struggled to free my wrists, wanting to tear his clothes off. And mine.
But he was having none of it.
“You’re very naughty, Camilla. Writhing like this. It seems you may need to be restrained.”
He lifted the bottom of my t-shirt up, over my breasts and then my head, until it was up to where my wrists were. He twisted it into impromptu handcuffs, leaving me completely bare and exposed from the waist up.
“Now, then. Let’s get back to kissing you.”
I had never been more desperate to get fucked, to be taken, to climax, as I was as he slowly covered my shoulders and back with his mouth. He reached around and let his knuckles drag against my nipples, and I had to bit my bottom lip hard to keep from screaming and risk another interruption from the man in the suit outside our door.
He held my wrists fast above my head and I felt him moving behind me, changing hands to remove his coat and then his tie and shirt.
“Keep your hands right there above your head. Unless I tell you differently. Or you’ll be punished. Do you understand, Camilla?” He growled into my ear as his hand made a pass inside the front of my sweatpants, agonizingly close to the volcano my sex had become. But he didn’t touch it.
“Yes, Mr. Weston,” I moaned in a husky voice with which I wasn’t familiar as belonging to me.
“Good girl,” he replied, and out of the corner of my eye I watched him kick his pants and boxers away. He was naked.
I felt him kneel behind me, kissing his way down my back again. When he reached the top of my ass, he gently began to roll my sweatpants down, kissing across my beltline as he did so. With every half inch of flesh he slowly exposed, half a dozen kisses followed.
“I was going to go all the way to the floor, but you’re just too delicious. I can’t wait any longer.” He rose to his feet and took hold of my wrists again. I felt his erection pressing against the small of my back.
“Are you wet enough to take it, Camilla?” he asked, his breath hot on the back of my neck.
“Please, Mr. Weston. I’ve never needed anything more!”
“Good girl,” he replied, confidently. Something about him calling me that just electrified me. I swore I could feel his words fucking me before any part of him was inside. If he just kept touching me, kissing me, and calling me that, I was sure I’d climax without him ever entering me or touching my aching sex.
But I’d never get the chance to find out. He squatted down behind me, just low enough, and I felt him, all at once, slide into me from behind. I accepted his girth easily, my entire body made of melted butter, designed for only one thing – pleasing Mr. Weston.
He held my wrists in his right hand while his left came to rest on my hip. He slid into me again and again, and when he sensed I was close, his left hand rose to my throat, closing firmly around it.
“Come for me, Camilla. Make me feel it,” Nolan commanded.
If he’d offered me a billion dollars not to come, I couldn’t have possibly complied, I was so far gone. Oxygen was a luxury. Food and water were nice. My impending orgasm was an absolute necessity. If anything that happened to delay it, I’d surely die. But with Nolan’s glorious cock ravaging my body, I had nothing to fear.
The trembling began in my thighs. The strength in my legs disappeared as what seemed like every drop of blood in my body raced to my core. Nolan’s grip on my arms, not to mention what felt like a baseball bat attached to his body lodged inside me, kept me from collapsing. My hips gyrated violently, thrashing and bucking, but he only went deeper. All the while, his fingers closed off the blood flow to my brain, amplifying my release a hundredfold. I’d never felt anything close to what Nolan was making me feel. Every time I thought it couldn’t get more intense, couldn’t feel better, somehow he took me to a new plateau.
The orgasm lasted for what seemed like days, like bobbing in the ocean and being buffeted by waves, each one a new jolt of pleasure. The only thing keeping me tethered to reality was Nolan’s calm, authoritative voice, repeating my mantra over and over again.
“Good girl.
Good girl.
Good girl.”
Chapter Eleven
When my body finally stopped trembling and he released his hold on me, I slid down the wall, my body much more liquid than solid. He scooped me up into his arms and carried me to the bed, placing me on my side and curling in behind me.
I was drained. The emotional toll of the past few days, coupled with the soul-shattering orgasm I’d had, left me all but empty. Nolan understood that my exhaustion was complete, that I couldn’t take any more of his devastating lovemaking. He wrapped me up in his arms and we slept, just like that, our fingers intertwined, my head on his bicep, his leg twisted up between mine. My contentment could not have been more complete.
When I awoke, hours later, I thought I was in heaven. The white sheets around me, Nolan Weston’s arms around me, his stubbly chin between my shoulder blades. I wriggled and twisted and managed to roll over, wanting badly to see his handsome face and to finally kiss him in earnest.
He woke up as I rolled, and when I was finally face to face with him, he was grinning.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered before we kissed.
We cuddled and kissed and tickled, laughing softly. I felt his arousal swelling against my leg and I reached down, giving him a squeeze.
“At your age, how much Viagra does it take to keep getting so many erections, Mr. Weston?” I asked, playfully, giving him long, slow strokes.
“I could be a hundred and fifty years old and have no trouble getting it up for you, Camilla. You’re the sexiest woman on the planet.”
We kissed again and again, and I opened my legs to receive him, but he stopped just short.
“You insatiable little minx,” he teased. “Is this all you think about?” At the word “this”, he let just his tip slide into my opening before withdrawing.
I moaned in frustration, lifting my hips, chasing his cock.
“Yes! You know it is. Please!”
He gave me the most wicked smile, staring into my eyes. “Security told me you’ve barely left the room. You haven’t even been to the lagoon yet. We’ll have dinner and then we must have a soak. After that, my body is yours. I’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop. Deal?”
I pouted petulantly. But what he suggested sounded fantastic. I hoped he couldn’t hear my stomach rumbling. And I’d been dying to get into the pool.
“I’m going to make you beg me to stop,” I said.
We dressed and went to dinner in the hotel, seafood so fresh we both figured it might just have been swimming in the North Atlantic that morning. We discussed the graduation trip I’d planned with my classmates, and no matter which European city I mentioned, he’d inevitably been there before. I made it my goal to somehow, someday, find a place on the globe where Nolan hadn’t visited, someplace we’d take in fresh, together, someplace that was just ours.
After dinner, we went to our room to change. Nolan’s bag had been sent up while we ate, and when I stepped out of the bathroom wearing a robe over my bikini and spotted him in just his trunks, he looked so good that I was tempted to forego the Blue Lagoon and get right to the part where we resumed our morning activities. He was spectacular.
He noticed my hungry stare and he ran a hand up his abs to his chest, stretching his arms in front of him so that every muscle rippled. I let my robe fall open, revealing the bikini I’d bought back at school but never had the confidence to wear, light green and Brazilian-cut, something I bought more as a goal item, something to inspire me to eat right and work out harder in the hopes of one day looking good enough to fit into properly.
Judging by Nolan’s reaction, that day had arrived.
“Oh my God, Camilla.” He walked across the room and put his hand on the small of my back, pulling me in for a kiss. “Do you want to give every man in Iceland a heart attack?”
“You’re crazy,” I said. I couldn’t
imagine wearing something so provocative in public, but on Nolan’s arm, I felt like I could conquer the world.
“Shall we?” he asked, picking up his own robe from the bed.
“We shall,” I replied, and we left our suite holding hands.
It was evening, and the pool was mostly empty, just a few couples here and there. We had to pass through the lockers to enter, where a pre-soak shower was mandatory. I worked the special provided conditioner into my hair and tied it up in a messy bun. The water in the lagoon was supposed to be so mineral-rich that even with conditioner before and after and not letting hair get wet, it would still be damaged. I didn’t want to meet my father with breakable hair so I took no chances.
There was a chill in the air despite it being early summer. The moon hung full and bright overhead.
“Unfortunately, we’re here at the wrong time of year for the Aurora Borealis. I’ve never seen it from this part of Iceland,” he mused.
“That just gives us a reason to come back, right?” I asked.
“Indeed,” he replied, shedding his robe and rubbing his palms on his upper arms to stay warm.
The water was a sort of turquoise, with wisps of steam rising from it.
I let my robe fall off my shoulders and set it on a chaise, shivering from the sudden cold. “I hope that water is as warm as they say it is,” I said as we strolled down the pier toward the pool.
“You won’t be disappointed,” Nolan responded. We held hands and walked in together, the mineral-rich water sending jolts of warmth into our bodies as soon as our feet were submerged.
Nolan watched my face as we got deeper and deeper into what amounted to the world’s largest hot tub.
My joy must have been obvious, because he grinned at me as we both lowered ourselves neck-deep.
“Oh, this is absolutely divine,” I said, looking up at the stars and feeling any and all tension in my body disappear.
“Come on over this way. I’ll show you my favorite spot,” Nolan said, and we half-swam, half-duck-walked, depending on the depth, until we reached a small archway with a waterfall crashing down. Nolan backed up under the flow, sighing as he enjoyed the aquatic massage. I joined him, and suddenly I had my own favorite spot in the Blue Lagoon. In Keflavik. In Iceland. Whose life was this?
