by Alison Ryan
The water pounded our backs and shoulders, and I relaxed and let my mind drift It was like the jets in a hot tub, but focused across my entire upper back. Between what Nolan did to my body, the incomparable meal we ate, and now this, I figured I must now hold some sort of world record for sustained bliss.
Nolan led me back behind the waterfall, to a sort of hidden cove filled with steam. The heat was almost unbearable. He took my face in his hands and kissed me ravenously. “I could kiss you forever, Camilla. I am so deep in love with you that it terrifies me,” he said to me, our foreheads gently touching and his hands cradling my face. My arms were around his neck.
“I love you, too, Nolan. More than anything I’ve ever loved. Or ever imagined I could love.”
We kissed and kissed until the heat we were generating was far greater than what the Lagoon could ever provide. We swam and slid our way back to the pier, and Nolan got out first and brought a towel back to the water to keep the cool air from me. I couldn’t help but notice what all our kissing had done to him.
“You’re so bad,” I scolded him for the public display of his arousal.
“That’s why I need a good girl like you. An angel to balance my demons.”
We stood and kissed under the stars before splitting up to shower and rinse away the minerals from the Lagoon. Even with such a healthy dose of conditioner and adding more for a second rinse, I could feel that my hair had become brittle. I’d attack it again in the morning. The night demanded I attack the body, and libido, of Nolan Weston.
Once we returned to our suite, we couldn’t get out of our clothes fast enough. Hands and mouths were everywhere, and he wound up on his back in the center of the bed, his arousal jutting obscenely from his flat stomach.
He placed both hands behind his head and propped his head up on a pile of pillows. “I accept your challenge, Camilla. Make me beg you to stop.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Weston,” I replied, in the sultriest voice I could summon.
I climbed atop him, straddling his cock but not allowing him entry. I writhed atop him like a cat, melting my curves into and around his sharp edges, my breasts crushed against his muscular chest, kissing him hard. He started to reach for me, but I guided his hands back behind his head.
“Those stay there.” His eyes widened and the hint of a smile crossed lifted the corners of his mouth.
I could feel his hips lifting from the bed, trying to gain access to my sexual vault, but I wasn’t yet ready. I slid back down so that I was just below his cock, and I sat straight up, running my hands all over my body. I took hold of him at his base, pointing him straight toward the ceiling. I rose up so that I was positioned just above it, so that if I dropped down, I’d engulf him. And I began to touch myself.
I held him still with one hand and rubbed myself wantonly with the other. In full view of my lover. The look of hopeful desperation on his face was priceless.
As my first orgasm arrived, I watched him grit his teeth through my hazy eyes. I let myself sink down for just a moment, reminding him how it felt then I was off him again.
His gasp was the sexiest sound I’d ever heard.
I performed for him, mewing and moaning, making myself come as he trembled and groaned. I’d slide down onto his angry hardness, allowing him three and four thrusts, then lift myself off and move up to kiss him, running my fingertips up and down his sides. I thought he might weep.
“Did you enjoy kissing my back earlier, Mr. Weston?” I asked him.
His reply was ragged, breathless. “Yes, yes I did.”
“And my ass? Do you like my ass, Mr. Weston?”
“I fucking love your ass, Camilla. It’s perfect.”
“Good. Then you’ll enjoy this view.”
I rose up and kicked a leg across his body, turning around so that I faced away from him. I impaled myself on him, grinding down so he’d fill me completely. My orgasms came easily and rapidly, riding and bouncing on him, my hands drifting down to rake his inner thighs with my fingernails. When I let my hand slide further up and I took a gentle grip of his balls, he began to buck off the bed, up into me, pounding me as best he could.
“Oh, Camilla, you’re so wicked. Oh fuck!”
I squeezed harder and began to ride him more fervently, abandoning any pretense of being a civilized 21st century human being. I was wild, a primal, sexual being. Fucking on instinct. Having no need for language or logic. Needing only to come. And more than that needing to make my man come. To feel his eruption.
“Come for me, Nolan. I want to feel you come. I know you want to. I’m going to force you to come.”
He was shaking, incoherently groaning, and suddenly… I stopped.
I lifted up and turned to see a look of complete confusion and shock on his face. I almost felt bad for him. But a deal is a deal and he accepted my challenge. I was determined to win.
I was facing him again, raised up just far enough that he could fucking nothing but air. “Let’s start again, shall we? That’s the beauty of being a woman; I can climax as many times as I want to. Can you stand it? Or will I get to hear the mighty Nolan Weston beg?”
His head was rolling from side to side, but his willpower kept his hands behind his head.
“Watch me, baby. Watch me come for you.”
I lowered myself onto him, but did not move. I rubbed myself to orgasm again, with him inside me, my eyes locked on his the entire time.
Each time he closed his eyes, I coaxed them back open. “You’ve told me I have beautiful eyes. Don’t you want to look at them? Watch me, you have to watch me. I want to be your good girl so bad. Watch me come, Mr. Weston.”
His eyes flashed with something like rage and his nostrils flared as I continued my sexual siege on him.
“Put your hands on my breasts, Mr. Weston. Feel how hard my nipples are for you. Help your good girl come.”
He placed his hands on my breasts and mauled them, plucking at my nipples and taking great handfuls of the tender flesh.
“Up and down. Please.”
The words were barely above a whisper.
“What did you say, Mr. Weston?” I feigned having not heard him, grinding my hips down onto his.
“Fuck. Go up and down! Ride me Camilla, I need to come! Please!”
He was nearly shouting. I’d never seen him so undignified. And I’d never been so aroused.
I lay down on him and kissed him deeply, fucking him wildly, until we both climaxed together. I feared the power of his orgasm might force me off the bed completely, maybe to the ceiling, but his hands on my hips held me tight to his body. My own ecstasy was overwhelming. It would be impossible for two people to feel closer to one another than at that moment. Through gritted teeth, his soul spilled out through his voice just as he flooded me with his release.
“I love you, Camilla. I love you forever. And longer.”
Limp, sweaty, and exhausted, we collapsed onto the bed in each other’s arms, kissing our way into a well-deserved sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Hours later, I woke up dying of thirst. Notices were posted all around the lagoon advising bathers to rehydrate frequently, warnings we’d foolishly ignored in our haste to get back to the suite and get out of our clothes.
I went to the minibar and downed a cold bottle of water, watching Nolan’s chest rise and fall in a sliver of moonlight that fortuitously found a gap in our curtains. I pulled out a second bottle and sat in a chair near the bed, feet curled up beneath me, just enjoying the moment. Despite the vigor of our lovemaking, the effect of the healing waters in the pool remained and had me feeling refreshed and alive. Aside from a dull ache deep within, in a place only Nolan could reach, I felt fantastic. And even that ache wasn’t something I minded terribly much. It was a constant reminder of the man who’d claimed me as his.
I rose and went into the bathroom, the mirror revealing how much the minerals in the lagoon had done to wreck my hair. I decided the only remedy was to keep conditioning, so I started
a shower, hopeful that I wouldn’t wake Nolan. I wanted him exactly where he was when I slid back into bed.
The shower was glorious, and after conditioning and rinsing twice, I was ready to return to my dreams while I wrapped my naked body around the man even my wildest fantasies could never have imagined.
With a my hair up inside a towel, I slipped quietly from the bathroom back into the bedroom.
And into my worst nightmare.
Nolan sat in the same chair where I’d been sitting, his hands behind the back of the chair. From the uncomfortable-looking position he was in, I surmised that he must be in some sort of restraints.
Sitting on the sofa adjacent to the chair, just past the bed, with a gun in his hand pointed directly at Nolan, was the man in the suit, the security guard sent by Emerson Titan to watch over me. I shrieked and attempted to cover my nakedness, but the man with the gun corrected me.
“Ah, ah, no sense in having modesty now. The whole hotel heard you two fucking earlier anyway. Come over here and turn on a light so I can take a good, long look at you.”
I’d heard him mutter a grand total of about four words the entire time I’d been in his presence, so his relative dissertation startled me almost as much as the content of his statement. I made no effort to uncover myself, nor to turn on a light, but instead looked to Nolan for reassurance. For help. For something. Anything.
Nolan was stone-faced. He gave me the slightest of nods, but said nothing.
“What is this? What’s going on?” I dug a thumbnail into my left palm to wake myself and make the entire horrible scenario disappear. It didn’t work.
“What this is, is a job, Miss Hunt. But since Nolan Weston is involved, for me it’s also a bit personal. At least one of you knows where your father is hiding. Maybe both of you do. My job is to get that answer. Period. It doesn’t matter to me, or my employer, what I have to do to get the answer. Normally, I’d follow certain protocols. None of that Geneva Convention shit, but what I’d call ‘professional courtesy’. But when it comes to hurting Nolan, I don’t mind abandoning my principles. Now do as I say and walk over here and turn on a light so I can get a good look at you.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I could see fury smoldering in Nolan’s eyes.
“He has the upper hand at the moment, Camilla. I’m sorry. I’m so sor- “
Nolan’s second “sorry” was cut short by the man in the suit backhanding him hard across the face. It startled me how quickly a man his size closed the distance to within striking range of Nolan.
Nolan spit blood and took a deep breath, staring daggers through his assailant.
Trembling, I lowered my hands and walked over to the wall and turned on the light. Only then did I notice that Nolan had a swollen lump beneath the eye on the other side of his face from where he’d just been hit. Despite the blood and bruises, there was still something dignified about him. I could see that he’d put on his underwear sometime during my shower or before, and that his hands were, indeed, bound behind the chair and to the chair. He must have been caught by surprise. He was completely immobilized.
The large man in the suit walked over to where I stood and circled me slowly, a predator with cornered prey, unhurried.
“Touch her and I’ll kill you,” Nolan hissed. “Painfully. You’re going to die anyway, but if you touch her, I’ll make it slow and excruciating.”
The man chuckled and turned to Nolan. He put his gun into a holster inside his jacket, spreading his arms wide. “Go ahead and take your best shot, Weston.” He laughed again and turned back to me. “I’ll say this much for Nolan. He does have good taste in women. I think I might enjoy this more than I did Adrianna.”
My eyes widened in horror. I looked to Nolan, who looked like a deflated balloon. He slumped in his chair, staring at something no one else could see.
The man in the suit glanced at me, then at Nolan.
“Oh, didn’t you get a coroner’s report on Adrianna? My DNA isn’t in any databases anyway.” He turned his attention back to me, looking down into my eyes. “Here’s how this is going to work. Nolan’s going to watch me have fun with you. Then he’s going to tell me where your father is. If he doesn’t, I’ll start removing body parts, one from you, then one from him, until one of you decides to smarten up. All of this can be as painful as the two of you want it to be, but I promise that when I walk out of this room, I’ll have what I need. Now, Camilla, you climb up on the bed. Get on all fours. Nolan, pay attention. This is how a real man does it.”
I felt bile rise in my throat. A panic attack was clawing at the edges of my psyche. This couldn’t be happening. None of it could be real. It was all too awful to contemplate. He tossed his sport coat onto the corner of the bed and loosened his tie.
“My father is dead! I saw his body! He’s dead. You aren’t going to accomplish anything with this, you sadistic bastard!” The words tripped over each other as they spilled out of my mouth. I’d have said anything to save Nolan. To save myself.
“Come on, Camilla, you’re smarter than that. It’s over. Unless you’ll enjoy it more if I have to force you, get up on the bed now.”
“You have family somewhere. Someone you care about. Even monsters do. I’ll find them. I’ll find all of them. And you’ll watch as they suffer. One by one. I’ll save you for last.” It was Nolan’s voice, barely recognizable through his rage.
The large man rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “You know what? After I get done with her, and you tell me what I need to know, I’m going to cut you loose and give you a chance. Killing you while you’re helpless won’t be nearly as satisfying as ending you with my bare hands while you try to stop me. While Camilla watches.”
“Do it now, tough guy. Come on. You’re what, a decade younger than I am? At least fifty pounds heavier? And you couldn’t take me without sneaking in while I slept? You’re pathetic.”
Nolan’s verbal jabs actually seemed to bother him. Nolan had him on the ropes and he knew it.
“Are you impotent? Is that what makes you rape? Or did all the steroids make everything shrivel up so that you could never satisfy a woman? Did mommy not pay enough attention to you? Thumb sucker? Bed-wetter? What was it, you cretin? Did an uncle or older brother…” Another hard backhand interrupted Nolan, followed by a series of punches to his exposed midsection.
“How many ribs do you think I just broke, Weston? Three, four?”
Nolan took a series of deep breaths, clearly in distress. “Jo’burg. South Africa. That’s where Richard Hunt is. Turn me loose and I’ll give you the address of his safe house. And then face me man to man. You fucking coward.”
The man narrowed his gaze, staring hard at Nolan for any sign of deception. He produced a phone and made a call.
“Ladson. This is Nicholas. Richard Hunt is in Johannesburg. I’ll have details soon.”
Ladson. Jessa Ladson.
I’d had enough.
He glanced at me, appraising me like livestock, then turned his attention back to Nolan. I grabbed the lamp off a side table behind me and swung it as hard as I could.
The lamp, a slender, green metallic piece, connected solidly with the back of his skull. He pitched forward, rolling over and winding up near Nolan’s feet.
“Camilla! His pants pocket! The keys!” Nolan implored me to hurry. The giant wouldn’t stay stunned for long. My mind screamed at me to run, to get help, but Nolan’s voice won out. Forsaking my fear, I knelt and dug into the fallen man’s pockets as he started to sit up, holding the back of his head.
“You little bitch.” He muttered to himself, looking at his hand, streaked with blood.
My fumbling fingers hit metal in his pocket and yanked, hard. A small keyring popped out, and I bounced to my feet. Until an enormous hand captured my ankle and brought me crashing back down.
“Not so fast,” he said, pulling me back into his clutches.
I heard a sickening “thwack!” and the grip loosened. Nolan’s arms were
bound, but his legs were not. He’d kicked the larger man viciously across the side of the head, and I was free once more.
I scrambled behind Nolan, searching the ring for the proper key. A jagged little number fit the cuffs, and Nolan leapt from the chair just as the large man rose to his feet.
Nolan’s hands found the man’s chest and he sprang into the air, a whirlwind motion that ended with his legs around the men’s neck, his momentum yanking them both backwards, crashing to the floor near the sofa. Nolan chopped at the bridge of Nicholas’s nose with the side of his hand, sending a spray of blood into the air. His legs remained tight around the giant’s neck, and holding him thus, he reached down and yanked the gun from his holster and slid it across the floor toward me.
“Take the safety off. It’s the button on the side. If this goes badly, point and shoot.”
I bent and picked the weapon up, reaching to the bed for a sheet with which to cover my nudity.
Nolan retained his immobilizing hold on the man’s neck, fending off both his hands as Nicholas attempted to extricate himself.
As his face turned deeper shades of red, Nicholas’s left arm wound up in Nolan’s clutches. He took hold of the wrist, slipped an arm beneath it at the elbow, and the result was quick and sure. Crack.
“I can go on breaking things, Nicholas. I can squeeze with my legs and you’ll pass out. Then I can take you apart. Is that what you want?”
The man shook his head, best he was able.
“Who’s giving the orders? It’s not Jessa fucking Ladson. It’s coming from above her. Who is it?”
Nolan took hold of the broken arm and twisted it, eliciting an agonized howl.
“Turn on the television. And turn it up,” Nolan commanded. I did as I was told.
“Give me a name, Nicholas.” Nolan’s thumb dug into a spot on Nicholas’s shoulder, and the large man thrashed, but stopped protesting when Nolan adjusted and began to put more pressure on his neck with his leg lock.
