by Hamel, B. B.
He laughs. “Maybe she’s some kind of pagan priestess in her spare time.”
“Wouldn’t put it past her.”
He kicks over toward me, surprisingly graceful in the water. I feel silly with my shirt billowing around me. I’m tempted to take it off, but I’m not sure I can handle his stares. Not because of modesty, but because of what I might do if I let him see my body.
“You seem to have her all figured out.”
“She’s familiar to me.”
He looks thoughtful. “If you had a compound, what would you have in it?”
I laugh softly. “You’re not getting in that easily.”
“I think you’d have gel pens and track meets. You’d have a creek running down the middle with big fat bullfrogs. You’d have laser tag and arcade games and Skechers and skateboards. You’d beat up boys and laugh at all the girly girls.”
I lean back in the water, looking up at the ceiling. “You’re not too far off,” I say softly.
“I know you, Remi. Even if it’s been a long time.” He’s close to me, I can feel it. I can feel that spark.
“Not anymore. You know the little girl. You stopped wanting to know me.”
“I never stopped wanting you,” he says softly.
I look over at him, and he’s inches away in the water, his face partially submerged. I’m lost in the beautiful pools of his eyes. I remember how he made me feel and how I feel right now, tingling for him, wanting to reach out and run my fingers along his stubble.
“Come here,” he says softly. He takes my hand and we swim together to the other side. There are steps leading out and we climb up onto them, getting up onto the other side, closer to the altar.
We stand and he pulls me along. We step up onto the dais and stop in front of the altar itself, six feet long, solid stone. On close inspection, I realize that it’s inlaid with tiny blue gems all over it in a whirling pattern.
I stand close to Justin, feeling the chill now that we’re out of the pool. He looks at me, head tipped, as I press close against his body. I’m intensely aware that he’s almost naked, aside from his boxer briefs.
He runs his hands through my wet hair and stops, fisting it, pulling it taut. I gasp softly, head tilting back. My shirt clings to my breasts, my hard nipples showing through the thin fabric.
He kisses me. For a second, I think about running away.
Instead, I kiss him back, slow and deep.
I don’t know how long the kiss lasts, but I feel it build. I press tighter against him and he pulls my shirt off, slipping it over my body and tossing it onto the floor nearby. His hands are on my full breasts, feeling my nipples, teasing me. I moan into his mouth as he kisses my neck.
I reach down and find his cock already hard. I slide down his boxer briefs and he kisses me hard, pushing me back against the altar. He hoists me, gets me up on the top. I wrap my legs around his waist and take his cock in both hands, stroking him, shocked at his length. I can barely fit him in both hands, and it only wants me to feel it even more.
I’ve wanted this for so long, but the voice in the back of my head’s still there, telling me to get away from this bastard.
He’s my boss. His father destroyed my father. He betrayed me, ran away from me, ignored me when I needed him the most.
I hate him. I despise him.
His hands slip down the front of my shorts, sliding under my panties, and he finds how much I really despise him.
I’m dripping wet. He rubs my clit, sending pleasure rocking through my whole body. I groan as he pushes two fingers inside of me, back out, working my clit, kissing my neck, hand still gripping my wet hair.
He suddenly pushes me back and grabs the top of my shorts. I let him pull them off, followed by my panties. The stone is surprisingly warm underneath my bare ass. He spreads my legs apart, kissing my inner thigh.
“I’ve dreamed about this for years,” he whispers, “and you taste even better than I guessed.”
“Bastard,” I whisper back, gripping my fingers in his hair. “I should hate you, you know.”
“You can hate me, as long as you don’t stop me.”
I groan as his tongue does its work. He clearly has practiced this. My clit’s ringing with pleasure as he licks it, sucks it, moving in different directions, alternating pressures, driving me absolutely wild.
He spreads my legs wider and I feel so exposed. I’m on top of this strange altar in the middle of this pool, and anyone could be watching. The thought only drives me crazier, makes me want him even more as he slides two fingers deep into my pussy.
“Are you thinking about getting caught?” he whispers, driving his fingers deeper.
“Yes,” I whisper back, stifling a moan. “Someone could walk in right now.”
“Good. I want them to.” He kisses me, burying his fingers deeper before going back down to tongue my clit while fucking my pussy.
I’m moaning wildly now, and I can’t stop myself. I know I should try and at least control something, but I can’t. He’s pushing my limits, taking me past where I’ve ever been before.
He suddenly pulls back and gets me down off the altar. I turn around as he spins me, pushes me over, my palms flat on the stone. He pins me there, his hands on top of my hands, and I feel his big cock between my legs.
“I’m going to take what I’ve been wanting for a very long time,” he whispers in my ear. “Hate me all you want, there’s no stopping it now.”
I look over my shoulder and kiss him, the only response he needs.
He pulls back, teasing my pussy. I brace myself as he slides his enormous cock between my legs.
I groan, a mix of pleasure and pain striking through me. He slowly pushes himself deeper, deeper, until I’m so full I can’t believe it. He pulls back now, fucking me in and out, starting slow, kissing me over my shoulder.
I’m exposed. Completely exposed. He pulls one leg up, putting it up onto the top of the altar. It’s only a few feet high, but it opens my ass wide as he starts to fuck me faster.
He pulls my hair, grunting his pleasure. He pushes one of my arms behind my back, holding me down against the stone. I can feel it against my face, my legs both back flat, as his cock slides faster.
He fucks me rough and slaps my ass, keeping me pressed down to the stone. It feels so fucking good. I love being controlled and dominated like this. He’s the kind of man that could destroy me, completely wreck me, and that thought only makes me want it even more. I crave that sweet oblivion that only a huge cock can bring.
I buck my hips back, grunting and moaning. I’m wild, losing my mind with pleasure. He spanks my ass again and it must be bright red. I feel him pull my hair, yank me back to standing again, my breasts pressed together between my elbows.
“Every night for years, I’ve pictured this ass, this body. Every night I’ve imagined what I’d do to make you beg my name.”
“What would you do?” I whisper, panting, my mouth open.
His smirk is pure desire and I’m afraid to find out the answer.
He fucks me harder, and suddenly I feel a finger slide into my ass. I groan, but I go with it, letting his cock fuck me, his finger up my ass. I keep moving my hips, needing it so fucking bad. He pulls his finger out and slaps my ass hard before wrapping his hand around my throat.
Adrenaline spikes as he squeezes, not hard, not enough to choke me, but enough to control me. My pleasure doubles, triples, as the intensity rolls through my skin. He keeps fucking me, hand on my throat, other hand spanking my ass, and I know I can’t stop myself any longer.
I let him push me forward onto the altar and I come. I come hard, begging his name, just like he wants. I say it again and again, my voice pitched low, my whole body ringing with a world-blackening orgasm.
I hear him groan and he pulls back. He spins me, turns me, gets me down on my knees in front of him before pushing his cock into my mouth. He’s too big but I suck him anyway, tasting my own pussy as I stroke and suck him.
He pulls back and comes. He covers my chin and breasts in thick spurts, groaning as he does it. I gasp and taste him on my lips, salty and warm. I lick it up, get some off my breasts with a finger, and put it in my mouth.
He groans and kisses me, pressing his body against mine. We hold each other like that, leaning against the altar.
When we’re done, he steps away and dives back into the water, completely naked.
I follow him. The water cleanses us, cleans us off. We swim to the other side and climb back out. I scurry over to the towels and the robes, drying myself off enough before putting the robe on.
He takes his time, watching me, a smile on his lips. “Even better than I imagined,” he says softly. “I’ve been wondering when I’d get your clothes off you.”
I give him a look. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I never want to,” he says back.
“This was a one-time thing. Just a… just a weird thing.” I step away. “We’re still coworkers.”
“And you still hate me.”
“Right.” I can’t meet his eyes, beautiful deep pools of desire. My orgasm is still ringing through me, ghostly and pale. “Let’s just forget about it.”
As I go to step away, he grabs my wrist and turns me. He kisses me, biting my bottom lip. “Go ahead and try to forget.”
I watch him leave the room first, walking fast. I put my fingers to my lip and they come back, pink with watery blood.
16
Justin
It was like a ritual, like something magic. She’s in my blood now, or her blood is in me. I can still taste her on my lips, her pussy wet against my tongue, her blood on my teeth.
She’s fucking inside of me, and I don’t know how to get her out, or if I even want to.
I know it’ll never happen. She despises me, hates me so much that she can barely look at me most of the time. She refuses to even work with me. What happened down there in the water… it was a fluke.
It was this place.
It’s making us go as insane as Blair. Or maybe it’s opening us up to something we always wanted but never knew we could have.
I never let go of Remi, not once. Even when I was ignoring her in high school, pretending like I hated her, I always kept an eye out. I always watched her from a distance.
But I couldn’t ever get closer.
I’ll never forget the day my father told me I couldn’t see Remi anymore. “She’s bad news, Justin. She’s going to drag you down.”
“She’s my friend.” I’m fourteen years old. I barely understand anything in this world, but I know what it means to have a good friend, how important that is.
“She’s not your friend, not anymore. She’s going to try and take your money, turn you against me.” My father leans in close to me, and I can smell his breath.
Whisky, like always.
“Dad, she’s my friend,” I repeat, like it matters.
“Do you want all this money, Justin?” Almost a whisper, his hand on my shoulder.
“Yes.” I bow my head.
“Good. I’ll give you whatever you want, but you have to stay away from that girl. I forbid you from seeing her.”
“But—” I start, looking up.
“No,” he says, getting angry. “Are you going to make this a problem? You know I hate problems, Justin.”
I know what happens when he gets angry, and I know how he solves his problems at home. Especially when he’s been drinking. I have the scars to prove it.
“Okay.” I lower my head again. “Okay.”
I was never her friend again after that. I was so afraid of my father, that he’d hurt me, that he’d beat me within an inch of my life, that I betrayed my only friend and ignored her for years.
My father got his shit together. Having money helped a lot, but I think it was my mother that really pushed him into getting help. He went through rehab when I was sixteen, and now he’s been sober ever since then. He never hit me after I turned twelve, and the worst beatings happened when I was a little kid, but I’ll never forget it.
We have a relationship, but it’s strained. He’s been trying to make things better between us, been offering me money. He got me the fucking job at Optimum, even though I told him to stay out of it.
I’ve never taken a single dime of his money, and I never will.
I sigh and stretch out on the surprisingly comfortable bed. I hate thinking about my father, but I can’t help it. He always seems to come back to me whenever I’ve been around Remi for a little while.
I’m drifting in between waking and sleep when my phone rings. I hesitate a second. I want to ignore it, but it could be Remi. I grab it from the nightstand and answer without looking at the screen, feeling too groggy to care.
“Hello?”
“Justin!” My father’s voice, chipper and loud. “How the heck are you?”
I sit up slowly, getting my shit together. It’s like he was reading my mind or something and knew the worst possible moment to call.
“I’m fine,” I manage to say.
“I hear you’re on a trip.”
I clench my jaw. Fucking asshole. Of course he knows. “I’m visiting Spine in Hawaii.”
“I love Hawaii!” he says.
“It’s nice.” I lean back against the pillows.
My father is a big deal in the entertainment business these days. He went from writing films to producing them, and now everyone wants a piece of him. He’s all over the place, flying around the globe, producing some pretty solid films.
I’ve never seen any of them, but they make money, and that’s all that matters these days.
“I spoke with your host,” he says, “Blair something-or-other. Weird girl.”
I narrow my eyes. “You talked with Blair?”
“Yes, yes, very eager to talk although not very good at it.” He chuckles to himself, that arrogant ass. “Anyway, she invited me out to her little office, and I thought, why not! I hear it’s wild, and I haven’t seen you in ages.”
I stare at the blankets bunched around me, wanting to fucking scream at him. I wish he were here, right now, right in this room, so I could break his jaw.
“I can’t stop you,” I finally say.
“Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but I’ll take it.”
“Look, what do you want from me? I think I’ve made it clear that I don’t want anything to do with you.” The words come out in a rush. It’s not like I haven’t said any of this to him before, but I know it hurts him to hear.
“I’m trying,” he says softly. “I know I was awful to you, when you were younger. I guess I’m just trying.”
“Yeah, well, don’t bother. I don’t want you to come out here.”
More silence. “Sorry, kiddo,” he says finally. “I’m in the air already.”
My jaw clenches. “Are you kidding?”
“Wish I were. Flying private, heading to Honolulu right now. I’m coming to visit whether you want me to or not.”
“Shit,” I say softly. “This is a bad idea.”
“Look, we can be civil. I can apologize again, if that’s what you need, but—”
“It’s not just that,” I interrupt him. “Remi Brooks is here.”
More silence, but this time I think it’s a stunned silence. I know he remembers the name. I can’t help but smile to myself. Finally, I’m the one doing the surprising.
“Remi Brooks,” he says softly. “Peter’s daughter?”
“That’s right, and you know she hates you, right?”
He laughs softly. “I left that whole thing in the past.”
“You’re not the only one involved.”
“There’s nothing to say about that.” His voice is tight, defensive. He hates talking about what he did to his former best friend. “If she’s there, so be it. I’m not coming for her.”
“Who are you coming for?”
“I’m coming to see my son, whether you want me to or not.” He sighs. “I won’t stay long.
I know you have work to do.”
“Fine.” I relax, giving in. I know there’s nothing I can do about it.
When my father says he’s going to do something, he fucking does it whether you want him to or not. That’s just the kind of asshole he is.
I hate to admit that I’ve got some of that in myself.
“Just stay away from Remi, or at least be nice to her. We still have to work together.”
“Okay, I can handle that.” He sounds back to his chipper self. “Looking forward to seeing you, son.”
“Yeah, sure.” I hesitate a second then hang up the phone.
My father is coming here, to this fucking crazy place. The man always did have a knack for ruining things, I guess.
Now I just have to figure out how to break the news to Remi.
17
Remi
I sleep like a stone that night, and I dream of the ocean.
I’m weightless, floating near the surface. There’s nothing else around, just the sun beating down on my skin. I take a breath and let it out as my body bobs with the water’s ebbs.
It’s peaceful, until I start to sink.
I can’t stop myself. I don’t even try to swim. I silently sink into the water, the sun slowly receding into the distance, distorted by the water. Darkness starts to close in around me, and I want to breathe but I know that if I do, I’ll drown.
I feel a hand on my throat. I hear words in my ear.
I snap awake, gasping for breath. It takes me a couple of heartbeats to realize that I’m tangled in my sheets and the sun’s starting to come through the window. I roll over onto my back and groan.
“Fucking dream,” I whisper to myself before climbing out of bed. I push open the curtain and stare out at the jungle barely lit by the early morning sun.
I shuffle into the bathroom and take a shower. I try to push the dream from my mind, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t remember what the words were, but I know it was Justin’s voice. I know it was Justin’s hand around my throat.
The fucked up part is, it felt good.
Floating into the darkness, his hand on my throat, was comforting. Strangely comforting.