Now blushing redder than my bikini, I try and shrug off a response.
He lifts my chin and licks my lips, asking for permission for his tongue to enter.
How can I resist? I’m in his arms with his kiss sending a liquid fire into me until I’m sure my toes have curled into something resembling a genie’s shoes.
He holds my shoulders to keep me from falling when he pulls away. He has a self-satisfied, almost arrogant smile. “Again, the soreness and the cramps? I’ve been worried.”
He’s probably been up since sunrise waiting for me. “I like the soreness.”
He exhales, and his face softens. He grabs his phone and takes my arm to lead me inside. “I had the helicopter bring us some breakfast.”
“From where?”
“St. Thomas,” he says like one would say McDonald’s. He points to boxes sitting on the counter. “Cinnamon rolls, donuts, bagels, and such.” He pours me a mug of coffee, adds some cream and sugar, and hands it to me. “Are you up for a boat ride?”
I nod since I have half a donut in my mouth. When he turns to get a mug, I’m glad to see his back looks much better. There are still some faint scratches, but nothing like last night.
“You’ll have to give me more tonight.”
Does the man have eyes in the back of his head? “What?” I blink when he turns around, giving him my most innocent look. Do I look different now that I’m a woman engaging in sex?
“I should spank you thoroughly. Maybe I’ll do that tonight and take you from behind.”
“I..I..” I stammer. “I thought you liked it.”
“I did. Doesn’t mean I don’t believe you deserve a cherry-red ass.”
I almost drop my coffee mug, so entranced by his green eyes and the image of him, inside me, from behind.
He cups my neck and pulls me into his chest, depositing my mug on the way, and holds me close. “I’m teasing you. I didn’t mean to scare you. Last night was perfect for me too.”
“I’m not scared. I want more.”
He runs his hands down my back and cups my ass. “I thought we could cruise around for a while and do some shopping in St. Amelie and Frenchtown, have dinner, and come back home to make love on the deck under the stars.”
Can’t we skip right to the sex bit? “Okay.”
His fingers slip underneath my bikini bottoms. “You have the most perfectly shaped ass. Plump and round in all the right places.” His fingers firmly knead me until my breathing increases, and I’m kissing his chest and sliding my hands down the front of his waistband.
He growls. “We have to wait till later tonight.”
“Why?”
He grabs my hand inches away from his hardness. “Give it a few more hours until we make love again.”
“You won’t always be pushing me away, will you?”
“No.” His voice is sharp. He gently tugs my hair to capture my lips, claiming my mouth, and then as quickly lets me go. “Be patient and ease into it. We don’t have to do everything all at once.”
I pout and grab a cinnamon roll. In my heart, I’m glad he's careful and caring. “But only if you’ll do what I want tonight.” I hold my hand up to keep him from interrupting. “Non-negotiable.”
His jaw is clenched, but his eyes are playful. I can hear his mental gears turning while he’s thinking about what I might want. “Alright, Miss Aldridge. Tonight, you set the agenda.” He dips his head. “Now I’m going to put on a shirt and grab a bag. Do you want me to pack some things for you?”
Why not, as he’s the one who picked out everything I have to wear. “Sure. I’ll finish up my roll.” And maybe have another before he gets back.
Again, he laughs. Who has taken Roy and what have they done with him? I smile back. He likes my ass, he’s a sex god, and he feeds me sweets. Yes, this has to be love.
It’s nearly three o’clock by the time we bump along the goat path to the dock. I’m thankful I took two Advil before leaving, as my nether regions feel every jolt. If he buys this place, he has to do something about the road. The boat, as he calls it, looks the size of a battleship, but he’s assured me it’s a cruising yacht. How do you board something three stories high?
He takes my hand and leads me to the other side, where a ramp leads straight onto a lower deck. “Not bad for a poor boy from the ghettos of LA.”
Seeing him happy makes my heart sing. “I’d say those days are long gone.”
“Mr. Blackwood.” The oldest member of the crew, sporting an impressive beard, gives him a nod. “Miss Aldridge.”
“We have dinner reservations at Oceana in Frenchtown at six. Until then, we’d like to cruise and enjoy the sun.”
Roy leans with his lips close to my ear. “Don’t get any ideas about his beard.”
It’s unexpected for Roy to make a joke like that and unnerving the way he seems to read my thoughts. I was thinking about how Roy would look with a full beard. I cut my eyes up as he gives me a wink.
“Sir, anything you want in the launching dock?”
Roy looks to me.
I shrug, not having any idea what he’s talking about.
“No, not today. Thank you.”
“As you wish. Let us know if you require anything.” The crew disperses, and soon I hear the rumble of engines below my feet and the boat backs away from the dock.
“You know, from up there—I point to the villa sitting atop the island—“this looked like a regular boat.” I smile up at him. “Instead of a floating mansion.”
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s like something I see in the celebrity magazines. Something you fantasize about.” I peer down, way down, to the water. “It’s too much.”
He runs his hand along the railing. “This is Dorothy’s baby. She can board in Palm Beach and take it up to the Hamptons and here to St. John."
Dorothy must be the name of his wealthy grandmother. He takes my hand, and we pass through an entertainment room, a dining room, a gourmet kitchen, and out onto a deck at the front, complete with a Jacuzzi, tables, chaise chairs and shaded areas with sofas.
“You like her?” I ask as he looks out over the water. We’ve left St. John behind, and he’s pointed out St. Thomas. “This grandmother of yours?”
“We’re enough alike to understand each other and different enough to enjoy each other’s company.”
“Will you tell me about her? About your mother? Father?”
“One day.”
I let it go, sensing how painful it is for him. “You’re going to buy the house, aren’t you?” I ask, standing next to him by the railing and looking out at the clear, blue waters.
“Only if you’ll come with me.”
“Have you brought anyone here before?”
“Gavin and Proctor were here in the summer.”
I bump him with my hip. “I meant a woman.”
His answer is immediate. “No, never.”
“Well, we did christen it and all.”
He turns his back to the view and slips his slightly calloused hand around my shoulders. “In a most spectacular fashion.”
“You know, you don’t have to impress me with things like this.” His hand tightens on my shoulder. “It’s you I want, not what you can give me.” I grin. “Unless it’s more orgasms. You can give me all those you want.”
He chuckles, kisses my shoulder, and pulls me onto the couch under the shade. “My little redheaded temptress. I’ll give you anything you want.” From one of the bags, he pulls out a bottle of sunscreen and lathers his hands, turning me to rub it on my back. “You can’t know how poor I was. And how desperate I was to make something of myself. I worked nonstop building and growing my company. Now, I want to enjoy life a bit more. I’ll still work like a fiend.”
He turns me over, spending a lot of time on my breasts. “These fucking tits of yours.” He twists my nipples until they’re sore and hard and alive, exactly how I like them. “You make me weak.” He lifts me up and carries me into a be
droom before I can utter a word and sits me on a dresser, spreading my legs wide with his hands and kneeling before me. “I’m going to lick and suck until you come.”
He tosses my bikini bottoms on the bed and pushes my back against the wall. Like a racehorse trained to the track, I’m already panting and quivering with anticipation.
He inhales deeply of my most intimate part. “You don’t know what this does to me.”
His tongue slides over my clitoris. “Tell me.” My fingers run through his hair, and he looks up at me.
“Your scent”—his voice husky, his eyes hooded—“sends signals directly to my brain, highjacking it and telling me you’re ripe and ready and my cock must be in you… fuck you…make you come.”
“Oh God, when you talk like that.” Holy shit! “Do it,” I urge.
He yanks my hips to the edge of the dresser. His tongue slips inside me while his thumbs spread me wide open as he licks and sucks. He continues on and on until I’m grinding against his mouth and pulling his hair and screaming out his name. I come hard and fast. Effortlessly, he slips me over his shoulder and carries me to the bed.
When my motor functions return, I sit up on my elbows. He’s staring at me, all calm on the outside, but his massive erection tells a different tale.
“Well, I’m waiting,” I purr, and shamelessly open my legs to him.
He lowers his head. “Not until tonight.”
He's utterly ridiculous and I’m primed and ready and wanting him to fuck me, hard. “We have to do something about that.” I nod towards his groin. “You’ll scandalize the crew.”
“They’re men, Daisy. Trust me, they’ll understand.”
I plead my case with my eyes.
“Alright.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “What do you have in mind?”
I lick my lips while focusing on his erection. “I want to taste you.”
“Do you now?”
I roll over onto all fours. “I do… now.”
He backs up. “Not yet.”
“You aren't fair.”
“I know,” he states. “What else?”
“You know you’re an insufferable bastard.”
“I do.” He smiles and runs his thumb over his bottom lip like he’s reminding me of where it’s been.
He’s gorgeous as he stands in front of me, his legs thick with muscles. His massive chest and tree trunk-sized arms relax at his sides. And there is his manhood straining against his swim trunks, thick and long and pointing right at me. “I want to watch you come.” It’s been one of my fantasies. Something I’ve dreamed about while he was away.
“How?”
Does he have contortionist’s skills I don’t know about? “With your hand,” I reply, tentatively.
He laughs. “Do you want me on the bed? Standing?” He walks over to a door and pushes it open. “In the bathroom? On my knees? Shower? Will you be involved or only watching?”
I hold up my hand. “Okay, I get it. The balcony, is it private enough?”
“Put on your bottoms.” I do. “Come on.” He holds out his hand and waits for me to take it and walks us outside. “The water carries noise.” He warns. “If we keep our voices at conversation level, the crew shouldn’t be able to hear us.”
I look around. Though the balcony is open it’s also private as all sides, except for the one facing the water, have walls. In the center is a queen-sized chaise. Against the wall is an area with a wet bar and a cabinet filled with towels.
“Well.”
“I’m thinking.” Who knew orchestrating a sexual fantasy took this much brainpower.
He chuckles, steps out of his trunks, and grabs a towel. “While you formulate your grand plan, factor in where I should aim.”
Cripes, I hadn’t thought of that either.
“Why don’t I get started, and we can go from there.” With his back to the ocean, feet shoulder-width apart, he spreads the towel onto the chaise in front of him.
I can’t decide if I should get on the chaise or stand next to him.
“Fast or slow?”
“Slow.” I want to take everything in.
I’m standing beside him, shifting my weight from foot-to-foot, unsure of what to do with myself.
With his hand wrapped around the end of his cock, he runs his thumb around the tip, drawing out a clear liquid and rubbing over his length. “I want to see you.”
I climb onto the chaise and sit on my knees watching with fascination as his breathing increases, his hand slides and twists at his tip, and continues on in the same fashion. His forearm muscles bulge and move his arm in rhythm to his hips. My eyes run up his ripped chest. Roy is always focused, but this is different, more of an internal focus.
He growls. “Show me those perfect tits.”
I shake my head. “Only if you’ll let me taste you?”
“You’re maddening woman.” His hand pumps his hardness. “Touch them through the fabric,” he groans.
“You want these?” I slide my hands under the material, while keeping them covered, and push my breasts up and squeeze my nipples with my thumb and forefinger. It’s true wickedness that makes me slide my hand down my stomach and slip one hand between my legs.
“Fuck!” he barks.
Oh yes, this is heady. “Ahh,” I cry out, as I slide another finger inside me. “I’m all wet and sore,” I coo.
“Let me come, baby.” His legs are shaking, and his breathing increases like he’s running up a steep hill.
“Let me taste you.”
He drops his hand to the chaise inches from my thigh. His other continues stroking, his fist tight around his cock, on and on, until a deep guttural sound, something between a growl and a groan, slips between his lips.
I place my wet fingers on his lips. He snorts like a stallion smelling a mare and sucks my fingers clean.
“Can’t stop.” His free hand shoves me back while he violently jerks himself off. “Fuck!” he cries out.
I watch in fascination as clear liquid discharges, followed by three long streams of a creamy liquid, until there is a small pool on the towel. He throws his head back, letting his arms fall to his sides, and gulps air into his lungs.
I run my hand up his chest and cup around his neck to pull him to my lips.
His lips and hands are hard as he pulls me into his chest. “Can’t get enough of you.” He groans into my neck.
“I ache,” slips from my lips.
His arms envelop me and whisk me away into the bedroom and place me on the bed like I’m made of the most delicate bone china. “Lay back,” he orders. “I’ve no control with you.” And he’s atop me, pulling me toward the head of the bed with one hand and yanking off my bikini bottoms with the other. “I’ll be gentle,” his gruff voice intones.
“Don’t you need to recharge?” I nibble on his shoulders while opening my legs wide as he slips his hips between.
“Apparently not.” He keeps most his weight off of me and slides inside with his eyes locked on mine. Without saying a word, we’re binding one soul to the other. He fills me and retreats and fills me again.
I could spend eternity with him communicating his love and care for me with his body. The now-familiar tightening of my inner muscles warns me of an impending orgasm. I try to fight the pull, to keep us locked in this almost spiritual place.
“Let it happen.” He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. “Come for me.” He’s a sorcerer and I comply.
Unlike last night where I was exhausted afterward, now I’m filled with a calm energy.
“I love you, Daisy Aldridge,” he moans, increasing his pace. Locking his hand under my hips and entering me deeper.
“Yes.” I place my hands on either side of his handsome face. Why can’t I say the words? I feel them. My back arches when his thrusts hit deep and strong, and again my muscles tighten, and I hold on to him as we both shatter.
Chapter Twenty
After a few hours of enjoying the sun, well Roy in t
he sun and me under a canopy slathered in layers of sunscreen, the yacht pulls into the bustling port of Charlotte Amelie. Compared to the secluded compound on St. John, it’s jarring. All the tourists remind me of ants invading a rival hill.
“No,” I groan as I spy Proctor waiting for us at the end of the pier. “I thought this was just for us.”
“It is.” He propels me forward with his hand on the nape of my neck.
“Then why is he here?”
“I told you there would always be a level of security.”
“We haven’t had any on the island or the yacht.”
He stops and crosses his arms. “We don’t need it there. This is non-negotiable. Proctor won’t impede anything you want to do.”
“Jason’s dead. And I doubt the person who gave me the ring is here.”
“Baby, this is because of what I do, my company.”
I remember the day he showed up at Mangler. What I thought was a driver opened the door for him. Standing on a dock in St. Thomas is not the time to have this conversation, but I’m not ready to be followed around like we’re being chaperoned. “I’m not okay with this.”
“It’s standard operating procedure. We can talk about it tonight if you want.”
I smile as we near Proctor; it’s not his fault.
“Are we set?” Roy asks Proctor.
“Yes,” Proctor replies.
“Alright then, shopping first, followed by dinner.”
“I’m not a big shopper,” I mumble. “But I should get something for my aunts and Vincent. Dammit!”
Roy’s arm wraps around my waist protectively while Proctor scans the crowd.
“I forgot my purse.”
“Baby.” Roy relaxes against me. “You don’t need money; you’ve got me.”
“I meant to bring it, but someone sidetracked me.” I smile up at him. “I’ll pay you back.”
“You will not,” he responds and directs me toward a street filled with colorful shops.
Proctor slips in behind us, probably frightening more than a few tourists.
We meander down the cobbled streets while perusing the varied selection of items in each store. And it’s hard not to pinch my arm because none of this feels real.
Secrets In Our Scars Page 28
