Touching Paradise

by Cleo Peitsche

  Probably it had hoped to take a chunk out of her leg. Sharks weren’t dolphins. They weren’t known for being playful.

  She waited a few minutes to see if it would visit again, but there was no sign of the animal, so she headed back inside.

  As she passed the pool, she smiled to herself. Well, she’d discovered one reason to have one next to the ocean.

  There were many doors leading back into the mansion, but she’d had enough exploring for the day, so she retraced her steps and entered the way she’d come out, near the library.

  A dark shape moved toward her, and she jumped before she realized it was Koenraad.

  “Were you out there long?” he asked, an edge to his voice.

  “Not really,” she said, blinking as her eyes struggled to adjust to the relative darkness. “I saw a shark. It…” Her voice trailed off at the look on Koenraad’s face.

  “That’s very rare,” he said carefully as they walked past the library. “I think it’s better if you stay away from the water here. It’s really not safe. I should have been clearer.”

  “I did wonder if it was a shifter. Is there any way to tell?” she spoke with too much enthusiasm, trying to cover her embarrassment.

  “No.” He took the empty glass from her hand and pulled her into his arms, and she could feel that his body was completely tense.

  Oh, god, suppose he’d changed his mind about her staying? “Is… everything alright?”

  “Work problems,” he said. A non-answer. It wasn’t her business, but there was something she could do to make him feel better.

  They were in a hallway, standing next to a sturdy wooden table with a built-in shelf that ran the length of it. She imagined it was for books, but it was bare. No dust that she could see, though. Maybe it had something to do with the ocean breeze that came in through the windows.

  Above the table and shelf, the elegant blinds over the windows were partially drawn. They were upside down compared to normal blinds, and light poured in over the top. Koenraad seemed to glow in the pool of yellow that slanted over him.

  Monroe slowly sank to her knees, her hands fumbling with the thin, rope-like drawstring of his board shorts.

  “What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.

  She smiled up at him and slowly flicked the tip of her tongue along her lips. “Returning the favor,” she said. She tugged the shorts down. It wasn’t easy because the waistband was getting hung up on something large and hard.

  Koenraad’s cock sprang free, and she nearly gasped at the sight of his hard, smooth shaft. Was any part of this man not perfect? Even his scar was beautiful.

  She sighed as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft. She could feel the kicking pulse of his heartbeat in her fist. So steady and warm.

  Squeezing the base, she directed the swollen head toward her mouth. She licked the warm skin, slid the tip slowly and sensually into her mouth, more for her own pleasure than for his. Oh, he tasted sweet. If all men tasted like this…

  He groaned, and she had to pause until she mastered her smile.

  Being on her knees in front of Koenraad felt good. Felt right.

  She began to bob her head up and down on his length. His hand came to rest in her hair, and a little groaning sigh rumbled out of his throat.

  “That’s good,” he murmured.

  If he could still talk, she needed to kick it up a notch. She slid her hand down the base so she could take more of him. She gave her head a twist at the end of each bob, swiveling up and down on him. He pulsed in her mouth, growing even harder.

  “That was nice,” he said, his voice choked as he pulled away. She reached for him, and he gripped her elbow and pulled her up to standing. Clearly, he wanted her to stop.

  Her heart sank. “Nice?”

  He set the glass on the table, then trapped her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You know what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, but I’d much rather be inside you.”

  Then he crushed his mouth against hers. There were no gentle nips this time. He urged her lips apart and kissed her deeply, almost violently.

  Like he needed her and couldn’t wait another second.

  He kissed like he fucked. Deep. Urgent. Like he was barely clinging to self-control. His kiss tasted of black licorice, dark but almost sweet.

  Then he pulled away, leaving her gasping.

  In a smooth motion, he turned her and pressed her upper body flat on the wood table. The surface was wider than she’d realized… her head wasn’t in danger of hitting the shelf, which was a good thing as she was pretty sure the shelf would win.

  Koenraad’s warm hand was firm on the middle of her back, keeping her bent over. The barest trace of citrus furniture polish wafted in the air.

  One of his massive thighs thrust between her legs. With a shudder of pleasure, she tilted her hips and pressed her core against him.

  The way he’d pinned her made breathing a challenge, but she didn’t mind. She liked that he took control, that he knew what he wanted.

  She was happy to accept this mild discomfort for him. In fact, that made it even hotter.

  Moaning, she pressed her palms against the smooth wood and arched into him, riding his leg.

  All that muscle. All that strength. Dry humping had never gotten her this worked up before.

  She met his thrusts eagerly, their bodies coming together in short, violent clashes, each one driving the breath from her lungs. Her empty glass rattled and danced on the other end of the table, which was banging into the wall

  She was ready to come, close to coming. She was…

  Koenraad’s hand slid underneath her dress. She barely felt the air on her bare skin before he was heating her with his touch.

  He yanked her panties aside and plunged a large finger into her. Euphoria set her muscles trembling as her pussy clamped around him. She gasped and closed her eyes.

  So this is how dominant men fuck.

  She’d known the night before, when he’d fucked her on his boat, that he might be a little kinky, that he might smack her ass and pull her hair. Now she wondered how far a man like him would go.

  A shark like him.

  He hammered his finger into her. Thank goodness for the sounds of crashing waves that floated through the open window. Otherwise her pussy’s gushing excitement would have been audible.

  Koenraad’s hand slowed. “I want you to stay right where you are,” he said. “Don’t move an inch.”

  He removed the hand from her back, and she missed the firm heat of him. Then he took out his finger, very slowly, making her body clench as he withdrew. Without Koenraad holding them aside, her panties slipped back over her pussy.

  She wanted to reach back and pull them away again, but he’d told her not to move, and she liked being ordered to stay still while in this sexy position. It turned her on.

  His fingers splayed across her buttocks, then his hungry mouth was on her sex, mouthing her through her panties.

  He pulled the drenched fabric aside with his teeth—she thought she heard the cloth rip—and he sucked her slick folds into his mouth.

  She cried out. Staying still was torture, but his mouth was heaven.

  He ate her pussy like he couldn’t get his fill. It wasn’t about finding her clit and making the minimum contact with the tip of his tongue. He licked into her slit, lapping her up. He ate her greedily.

  His irresistible combination of enthusiasm and skillful technique set off tremors between her legs. Koenraad wasn’t doing this to be nice, and he wasn’t pretending to be into it.

  The man took sex and pleasure seriously.

  Then his thumb, slick and warm, pushed into her ass. Her head and shoulders came up off the table.

  “I’ll stop if you want me to, but otherwise you need to be still,” he said. There wasn’t a growl or a warning in his voice, but something about the way he said it, so calmly, made her lower her face back to the table. She pressed h
er cheek against the wood. It felt cool now, probably because her face was supernova hot.

  He slid a finger into her pussy, and she sighed and relaxed for him.

  “Sexy woman.” His thumb jabbed in her ass as he continued to devour her sex. The penetration didn’t hurt in the least, but it felt unnatural.

  The contrast of sensations—the tight feeling in her rear versus the warm, wet fullness of her pussy—made her head spin. Her ass was clenched against the intrusion, but her pussy throbbed under Koenraad’s attention.

  She had never had anal sex. Not even close. One guy had once rubbed his finger over her pucker. Once. That had been enough. She’d found it humiliating and had made him stop.

  If Koenraad had sat her down and asked if she liked it, she would have told him it was off the table. But now… it was very much on the table. Literally.

  She gave in, yielded to him, and suddenly his thumb in her ass felt intimate in a nice way. And she had a feeling that there were a lot more surprises in store for her. She just hoped he’d spread them out a bit so as not to overwhelm her.

  As if sensing her growing comfort and wanting to reward her for trusting him, he began to flick his tongue over her clit, playing with her, torturing her. She cried out as he slowly drew his tongue in a circle around her nub.

  Her nipples ached for his touch. She wanted everything at once. She needed him inside her, and at the rate he was going, she would be worn out long before he got around to it. “Sex,” she gasped. “I need you.”

  Koenraad moved away just enough to speak. “This is sex.” His deep voice rumbled over her skin. Then he sucked her clit into his mouth. Her eyes flew wide open, she arched off the tabletop, and her face flushed even hotter.

  “Don’t you want…” The words turned from a whisper to panted, voiceless breaths. It was impossible to speak with Koenraad doing this to her. If he didn’t care about getting some pleasure for himself, that was his problem.

  But she wanted to feel him inside her while she came. She needed to be penetrated, to be stretched open and claimed by him.

  Rhythmic clenching started deep in her body, radiating out. They met the small, violent spasms elicited by Koenraad’s skillful ministrations, and then she knew she was going to come.

  His thumb pressed deeper into her ass—she’d assumed he was all the way in, but apparently he had only been at the entrance.

  Ass play and sex. She wasn’t that kind of woman.

  The hell she wasn’t.

  Her fingernails scraped the table as she orgasmed, and only one word spilled from her lips in a long, throaty moan: the name of the man who had just ruined her for all others.

  Even before the tremors passed, she felt slick hardness nudging at her slit, then Koenraad was deep inside her, one large hand gripping her shoulder, the other curled around her hip. His hard thighs rhythmically slammed into her, forcing her into the unyielding table.

  Thank god she was still clothed up top, or the friction would have turned her nipples raw and sore.

  She glanced back and saw his rock-hard thighs flexing. The powerful man was half squatted because of their height difference, but it didn’t seem to be slowing him any.

  But then, he wasn’t just a man, was he?

  The hand on her shoulder moved to her hair, wrapped around her tresses, and he pulled up, rough enough to get her attention but gentle enough to make her feel safe. She whimpered. Cool air licked at the exposed sweaty skin of her nape.

  Then she felt his teeth rasping over her back, her shoulder, leaving a burning trail behind.

  “Monroe,” he grunted, nearly breathless. “Please. Don’t be frightened.” He had slowed, and now he fucked her fast, frantic; she felt like she was being bounced down a bumpy road. It was almost too much, but her body responded even if her mind would have preferred that he slow down.

  He hunkered over her. Strangled groans escaped his throat. “Its… ok…” he said. His hips drove faster, and the jittering water glass crashed to the floor.

  Koenraad didn’t even seem to notice.

  His grunts turned to growls. His teeth grazed the bottom of her neck, then he suddenly clamped the thick wooden shelf in his teeth. His groans deepened, awakening a primal female lust in Monroe.

  Koenraad’s jaw flexed, and the wood splintered with a mighty crunch.

  It was definitely freaky. She’d been expecting spankings, not… whatever had just happened.

  If she hadn’t been so close to orgasming… but a blinding hurricane of pleasure swept her up and threw her over the edge, and instead of pulling away from her lover, she arched into him, knowing that as dangerous as he was, she should trust him.

  Not that she could have gotten away. Not when he had that iron grip on her hip and she was trapped against the table by his long, powerful legs and his pistoning cock, which was finally growing softer as his movements slowed.

  “Sorry,” he gasped. Even though he had clearly come inside her—she felt warm heat seeping out—he was still in the throes of… something that made his body spasm.

  He braced one hand on her lower back. “Sorry,” he repeated.

  “For what?” she asked. She pushed her hair out of her face, which gave her a very good view of the ruined shelf.

  Her trembling came out of nowhere, and she tried to pull away.

  “Not yet,” he said. “I can’t let you go.”

  That was fine because she didn’t want him to, not now, not ever. But she did want to turn around so she could look at him. “I just want—”

  “I can’t,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you by pulling out too fast. Just… give me a second.” He stroked from her shoulder to her waist, his fingers slowing as he passed the burning places where he’d nipped her. His touch was soothing, but she felt her trembling reflected in his body, and she realized that he was fighting for control.

  She went very, very still. “Different anatomy,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he said. “Did I… hurt you? Not physically, I mean… are you ok?”

  “I’m… great, actually.” She sighed softly and wondered how he’d known she was physically fine. Experience, maybe? “The table might take out a restraining order, though.”

  Koenraad laughed, the sound ripping out of him like it had caught him off guard. It made her laugh, too, and the tension between them ebbed.

  “I’m pulling out now,” Koenraad said.

  He withdrew slowly and quickly tucked himself away. The night before… it had been dark. She hadn’t seen him then, either. But there wasn’t anything strange about his cock. She’d had an up-close-and-personal view not so long ago. So why the secrecy now?

  Two male organs, she thought, remembering the guide book. Except she definitely would have noticed if there were two of them. She wanted to ask him about that, but now didn’t feel like the best time.

  “I’m going to clean up,” she said.

  Koenraad nodded. “We’ll get dinner after. I know a nice Thai place, if that’s ok for you? It’s casual.”

  “Sounds great,” Monroe said. She glanced up into his eyes and immediately blushed when she saw his expression, equal parts tender and hungry—and not for food, either.

  He tilted her head back and nuzzled her neck, finding the spot that made her go weak all over. How did he know? She felt dizzy, overwhelmed.

  “Are you… psychic?”

  He laughed. “No.” He laughed again, pressed a final kiss to the underside of her chin, then straightened. “Take your time,” he said. “I’ll wait in the back.”

  In a bathroom the size of her apartment, she learned that her panties were completely shredded. She held the black scraps up in front of the light and stared at them.

  “Holy hell,” she breathed. She stuffed them deep into a trash can and backed away.

  Shark. It was really sinking in. Koenraad wasn’t like anyone she’d met before. Different anatomy? Different brain? Different… everything?

  Though that wasn’t something
to talk about at dinner. Maybe after.

  No woman ever needed a drink as much as she did right now. Except she already felt intoxicated.

  She dug fresh panties out of her carryon bag and stepped into them, pulled them up and fixed her dress.

  She’d never told her friends what had happened, she realized. She found her phone in the bottom of her tote bag.

  Several texts, several emails. Monroe frowned as she realized that most of them had come from Thomas.

  It was the latest one, sent twenty minutes earlier, that made her breath catch. I’m in Atlanta, about to board my plane. See you soon.

  “No,” she whispered. She jabbed at the phone, heard it connect and start ringing. To her relief, Thomas picked up.

  “My plane just started boarding,” he said. “I’m stuck in coach, no room in first class—”

  “Thomas, no. I really did meet someone else. That’s why I stayed. To spend time with him.”

  “You’re… serious?”

  “I’m sorry. It just happened.”

  “No.” He sucked in air, and Monroe winced. “No. I do not accept this. You don’t meet someone else. You don’t, Monroe. You’re just confused.”

  That irritated her, but she stifled the retort that had risen to her lips. “I am begging you not to come. For your own good, too. You’d be wasting your time because I’m not going to see you.”

  He was quiet for so long that she looked at the screen to see if he’d hung up. “Thomas?”

  “This is bullshit.” He disconnected.

  Monroe’s hands trembled slightly as she quickly responded to her friends’ texts. Staying another week with boat boy. The responses started coming in before she got through all her replies, but all she could think about was Thomas.

  Was he really going to get on that plane? He wasn’t rash. Once he thought about it for thirty seconds, he’d realize it was a waste of time.

  And if he did come down?

  Then that was on him, she decided. He wouldn’t be able to find her in any event.

  She dropped her phone back into the bag and went downstairs and through the many rooms that separated the front of the mansion from the rear.