by Rebecca Foxx
She immediately turned her back to him, and he stared at it. In the semi-darkness, he could see the curvature of her spine and the roundness of her shoulders. She was the color of a cinnamon bun and he bet she tasted twice as sweet.
Even though they’d been in the ocean, and even though she’d probably been sweating all day, all Michael wanted to do was kiss her neck. He inched closer towards her, placing his arms around her waist. His face fit perfectly into he nape of her neck. She smelled sweet; she smelled salty.
Without thinking, he sunk his teeth deep into her neck. Her flesh gave way to his teeth, and he felt her throat giving way to a moan. She arched her back into his arms, the universal sign for more, more, and even more. She was pushing her heat towards him, coaxing his body back inside her body with a few pops of her back. Like a cat, she was arched, and caramel in the rain-light.
Clare felt ticklish all over. Each time Michael kissed her neck she felt it travel from her spine to her hips and back again. It was as if her blood cells were playing foosball inside of her body. She couldn’t bare it, couldn’t handle how turned on he made her. He placed a hand on her stomach and the other on her back before pushing her gently to the bed.
After that, he was all teeth and limbs, pinning her to the bed by her wrists. He planted a trail of kisses and bites down her back, sucking at her skin like a leech. She knew it would leave marks but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to feel more.
They were going to have sex again—for the second time that day. It had been a long time since she’d been with another man who could have sex twice in one day. It wasn’t that Michael was incredible for being able to do it, but it certainly helped.
When it came to Clare’s libido, she wanted to be touched all the time and from all over her body. Thankfully Michael seemed to like taking charge, which was something that had always terrified her. She let him keep her there, arching her buttocks into his groin so as to turn him on as well.
Each time she raised her back to him she felt him press back down, hard. His erection was one of the many limbs pinning her body to the bed with full force. She felt herself becoming wet even though he was only touching her wrists and her back. He let go of her hands suddenly and flipped her onto her back.
To her surprise, he began sucking at her breasts and biting at her stomach. When she thought she couldn’t handle it anymore, his kisses went down South and things became even crazier.
Michael’s tongue was like a smooth, wet fish, lapping at her clit and making her cum. He was an expert at running his tongue both hard and soft. Every so often he would let it travel, allowing it to explore the deeper recesses of Clare’s body. She felt a familiar finger slipping inside her, which pushed and tugged until it found her G-spot. Each time he pressed on it she felt her eyes rolling back in her head.
Outside, the rain beat down hard against the house. The thunder was now all around them, enveloping their bodies with its pounding and ferocity.
Michael slipped off his underwear and slipped himself inside her. She was still so turned on from when he ate her out that she instantly orgasmed when he was fully inside her. He could feel her walls expanding and contracting around him, and he moved slowly at first just so he could feel everything.
The slowness soon gave way to a roughness as he started to plow in and out of her. Now that they weren’t in the ocean, he was going to show her what he could really do to a woman.
“Clare,” he whispered in her ear, biting the lobe. She moaned and tugged him closer by his hair, which he loved. Her fingers suddenly dug into his scalp and proceeded to trace it with their sharp nails.
“Ahh,” she cried in his ear, tugging him even closer by wrapping her arms around his back.
They had sex for what felt like well over an hour. Michael knew he just needed some rest before getting back in the game and he’d be as good as new. No one was as good as sex as he was. Everything he did was incredible, and he could see it in Clare’s physical, guttural reaction to him.
She was wet, and becoming wetter by the second each time he probed in and out of her.
“You feel so good,” he said as he began to speed up.
Clare felt another familiar itching between her legs. She was going to have another orgasm, her second in one night, which was a record for her. At least when she was with another man, she came once if she as lucky. She was quickly finding out that Michael wasn’t just any man.
He was an extraordinary creature, one built specifically to attune to her needs and wants. There would never be another being like him on the entire face of the planet. She needed to figure out a way to lock him down and soon before he met and fell in love with one of the beautiful natives from the island.
That shouldn’t be too hard, she thought to herself. I’ve already got him right where I want him. I might as well try to keep him here for as long as possible. Otherwise, who knows what could happen? I’ll end up all alone in bed with my turtle.
When Michael finally did finish, he made big show of throwing his hair back and moaning. He pumped into her one final time, making sure that she felt every inch of his cock. It was pulsating when he pulled it out, and in a few short hours it would be ready for more action.
“That was incredible,” she breathed when they were once again lying next to each other.
“I agree,” he responded, kissing the nape of her neck one last time.
They fell asleep like that, her head resting on his arm. The heat had finally broken, and there was a brief, but beautiful cold spell that had fallen over the household.
Chapter 6
Michael woke early the next day, his legs itching for exercise. He was so used to walking around his mansion and jogging in the courtyard that he practically leapt out of Clare’s bed with an abnormal amount of enthusiasm.
“Where are you going this early?” she asked.
“I need to head out for a jog or I’m going to go crazy. I might have to go back to my house of a few hours. Do you have to work today?”
“Yes, but not until ten. Do you want me to make you breakfast?”
“No,” he said hurriedly. “I’ll eat after my run. But I want to make you dinner tonight. Are you going to be around after work?”
She laughed her buttery-warm laugh at him before saying, “You know I’m not going to be busy.”
“Perfect. Why don’t you come over after work and I’ll cook something for you on the grill?”
“Don’t you have personal servants to do that for you?”
“I have a cook, but I’ll give him the night off. It’ll be nice to grill for a change. Usually he makes me eat cod or tuna, and I really want to take a break from all that fish.”
“Oh poor you, having to eat all that healthy food with a silver spoon,” she teased.
He laughed. “Hey, I didn’t ask for this life, it chose me.”
“Sure,” she responded coyly.
He walked back towards the bed and kissed her on the forehead before racing out of the house towards his BMW. The drive back to his mansion was torturous. Ever since he was a little kid, Michael enjoyed distance running.
He’d never done it professionally, and had really only taken up running as a physical release for his stress and anxiety.
It wasn’t stressful or anxious to be around the beautiful Clare, but his body was unfortunately used to the routine of running. When he was in high school, he used to sneak out of the house in the early, early morning to go jogging before everyone else was awake.
He’d run whole laps around the courtyard before hopping in the shower and showing up clean-pressed for family breakfast. His parents always expected him to wear a suit and tie to breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When he had play dates with his friends, they mostly involved discussing their plans for the future, which more often than not involved banking, lawyering, or other high-paying professions.
None of them were as rich as Michael was, but they didn’t seem to mind the fact that he had a lot of money. The
y enjoyed hanging out with him for his personality, which was a rarity as he was used to people using him for his cars and status. Clare was one of those people—a good, honest woman who couldn’t have cared less that he was a young billionaire.
Michael, on the other hand, wondered how she lived all alone in that house. Compared to his mansion, her small abode was much nicer and cozier. When he walked around her living room, he didn’t feel completely alone or depressed. And she had that luxurious view and private beach to accompany it. It was all almost too good to be true.
Perhaps Ann had been right in breaking up with him. Maybe living the simple life was better. Of course, Ann had the same amount of wealth as Michael, but she didn’t enjoy flaunting it.
She claimed it made her depressed to buy material possessions such as jewelry and suits, though she had enough of those in her closet and jewelry box. She was a bit hypocritical, but that was what Michael had liked about her.
Clare was nothing like Ann; if anything, she was more genuine, and a better person all around. Michael knew they hadn’t known each other long, but he was becoming more and more infatuated with this islander than he’d originally anticipated. He could feel the anxiety melting off his body even before he hit the ground running.
The minute he parked his car in the driveway he jumped out and raced for the house. Grabbing a pair of his old running sneakers and some black shorts, he stuck a pair of headphones in his ears and began his journey around the courtyard.
In the very center o the courtyard were three enormous statues of Aphrodite, Zeus, and Hera. They were in the middle of dancing, their cement limbs flailing about like leaves in a summer storm. Michael had always been fond of the statues, even in his infancy. He felt as though they looked over the mansion, keeping everyone safe from any potential danger or robbery that might occur.
When his parents moved out, he decided to keep most of the mansion exactly the same. He left the statues, though his friends asked him why, as they were now old and covered in moss.
When Clare arrived later that evening, she told Michael about how much she adored the statues.
“It’s so romantic,” she gushed.
“You like them? My parents installed them when we were really young. They hired a really talented sculptor to create them.”
He held his arm out for her to take and led her towards the patio where the grill was. There was a glass table covered in empty white plates, a bowl of salad, and two bottles of both white and red wine. Clare sat on the patio and looked out over the backyard while Michael flipped burgers and hotdogs.
He hadn’t eaten like this in years, not since he was a little kid. He also cooked corn, making sure it was good and golden before placing it on a plate in front of Clare. She squealed with delight when she saw what he had created.
“I haven’t eaten like this in ages,” she said. She went on to explain that her father had gone on a trip to America once and when he came back all he’d wanted to cook was hamburgers, hotdogs, and fries.
Clare couldn’t believe she was even admitting it to herself, but she felt herself falling for Michael. She’d been hesitant at first because of her own complicated personal history as well as the fact that Michael was a billionaire.
Part of her feared that if she confessed her emotions to him, he might think she was only doing so because she was after his money. She vowed not to say anything until he was completely sure how he felt about her. Otherwise, she might get her heart broken again and that would be a horrifying experience.
“Are you alright?” he asked, interrupting her train of thought. “You’re staring at your plate.”
“I’m sorry I’m just lost in thought, she admitted.
“Care to indulge me in what it is you’re thinking about?” he asked, placing his head in his hands.
“It’s not important,” she stressed. Telling him how she felt about him was definitely not the preferred option. “I’m sure that’s not true,” he responded.
She sighed and looked deep into his eyes. “What are we doing?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…are we dating? Or are we just hooking up? I know it’s crazy to ask this early on, and you probably think I’m being crazy—“
“Clare stop, it’s okay. I really like you,” he said, reaching across the table and taking hold of her hands. He rubbed her palms with his thumbs, eliciting an intense tingling feeling across her forearms.
“Are you afraid of labels?” she asked. “Oh god, sorry, I’m being too forward. It’s the wine, I should probably stop drinking so much.”
“I’ve had quite a bit of wine myself,” Michael said, swirling the dark red liquid around in his glass. “Do you want to go inside?”
“Sure,” she said slowly. He hadn’t answered her question yet, but she figured it was only a matter of time until they defined what was actually going on between them.
The moment Clare entered Michael’s home, she felt like she was in a completely different universe. They entered into an enormous kitchen complete with French doors and a table washed in dark blue ink. He led her down a hallway filled with fake green leaves and flowers that ticked the top of her head.
It reminded her of a plastic jungle. She was certain that if she looked close enough, she might find an enormous, lurking anaconda between the leaves.
Michael led her into his bedroom where he proceeded to flop down on the bed. “Wine makes me sleepy,” he said.
“Oh same,” she responded, jumping in after him.
“About your question earlier,” he began.
“Don’t, you don’t have to bring it up. It’s not a big deal, I don’t want to freak you out.”
“I’d love to be in a relationship with you, Clare,” he said.
This took her completely by surprised. “You—you would?”
“Absolutely,” he responded. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone in quite some time. Like I told you before, I find you to be extraordinary.
She smiled and lay down in the crook of his neck. They fell asleep like that, waking only in the middle of the night to fetch a glass or two of water.
Chapter 7
Clare and Michael spent the entire day together the next day, and the day after that. They found that the instant they declared they were in a relationship, they couldn’t stay away from each other.
For Clare, it was nice to finally find someone mature that would take care of her both physically and mentally. Michael was a passionate lover who was attuned to her needs and cared for her diligently. She hadn’t told him she was in love, but it was pretty obvious to the two of them that they cared about each other deeply.
She planned on telling her sister about it as soon as she was ready.
For Michael, he was happy to finally move on from Ann. It wasn’t that he was entering into a relationship with Clare because she was a rebound, but it was wonderful to finally find someone that he could get along with so well. Clare wasn’t intimidated by his wealth, or his past. She didn’t care that his parents raised him in suits and ties and that he had trouble sleeping naked because his father used to scold him about it.
Over the course of the next week, they shared the innermost details of the personal lives with each other. Clare even showed Michael a scar on her lower back that she was embarrassed about. She’d been biking her best friend home from school when she got distracted by a cute boy working on the side of a lake.
The bike had slid in a mud puddle and she’d fallen face down into the ground, slicing her backside and cheek open. She now had an oval-shaped scar on her cheek that only appeared when she blushed. She also told Michael that he was the first man that had been infatuated with her curves.
It wasn’t that Clare didn’t love her body, but most men told her that she’d look fantastic if she just “lost a little bit of weight.”
She’d always found this an absurd statement to make—her curves were her everything. The only reason she felt like a strong
, confident, and sexy woman was because she had such a curvy body. Though she kept her job at the bank, Michael agreed to move in with her and sell his mansion.
He agreed to pay for half of the bills, though he had originally wanted to pay for everything.
“I don’t want to be like one of those women who completely depend on their rich boyfriends or husbands,” Clare had stressed. “I’ve worked hard for my entire life and I don’t want to stop now. What would I do with myself all day?”
“If you quit the bank? You could paint all day, hang out by the water’s edge. You can read and bike and do whatever you want. And if we decide to seal the deal, you’ll be able to take care of a couple of rug rats,” he teased her, poking her in the stomach.