Manwhore Heir (The Heirs Book 2)

by Brandy Munroe

He was taking longer than I anticipated. I filled the Thermos with the black coffee and headed to the lighthouse. I should have been too tired after last night to brave the long flight up the stairs.

  Knowing what was waiting at the top made the journey pleasant.

  I reached the top and handed him the coffee. “Hill, Mohamed. You know the proverb, what’s the holdup?”

  “No one there, just static,” he said, playing with the knobs.

  I pulled out my cell and walked around the room holding it above my head. “No signal.”

  “You have your cell and you never thought to mention it,” he scowled.

  “It doesn't work out here. Signal dies half way across the sandbar, however, it comes in handy for the remainder of the trip,” I shrugged.

  He was leaning casually against the railing drinking his coffee, staring at the ocean. “She sure is beautiful, when she’s not kicking my ass,” he snickered.

  “It’s really clear out there, I thought we would have made contact by now. Where are they?” I wondered out loud.

  “Is this the brushoff the morning after?” he grinned. “Wow, most women just kick me out of their bed. You take the cake, kicking me off the entire island.”

  The comment would have been amusing had he not used the term “most women.” I turned my back to face the ocean, hoping he did not see the cringed expression.

  I chose to be celibate after Michael; an attractive virile man like Richard would not be.

  It wasn’t the day I had planned when I came here. It happened and I enjoyed it, now it was over.

  He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. The touch of him made my knees weak. I stabilized myself, holding onto the counter that housed the electronics. If he was leaving today, walking out of my life, what harm would it do to satisfy myself one more time?

  I could tell he was still afflicted with the arousal he woke with. It must have been uncomfortable pressing against his jeans. He had gone commando under those jeans this morning and shirtless under the hunter’s jacket.

  I had only slipped on a pair of boy shorts under the oversized pyjama top.

  I took his hands and prompted him to follow my lead in unbuttoning my top, matching my fingers in slowly undoing them one by one, giving him access.

  His breathing increased and his hands began their exploration of my naked breasts. My back was to his chest and his breath was in my ear, whispering, “You are so fucking beautiful.”

  His hands worked their way under the shirt, assisting me in removing the obstruction between us. I was wet and needy, and climaxed at the mere touch of his hands on me.

  “You didn't wait for me baby,” he nudged as he nestled into the nape of my neck, attacking it with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth.

  I was enthralled at his expertise in knowing how to please my body. It left me unable to respond.

  “It’s okay,” he assured me when he came up for air. “There is nothing wrong with being greedy, Mac. Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you,” I moaned, my voice a low soft mewl, barely audible, “here, now.” I was past the point of no return, the liquid pooling between my legs molten, burning as it dripped down my thighs.

  I faced him attacking his mouth, letting him know I was ready for him.

  I lowered his zipper and the growing bulge crying to be set free of it’s constricting prison sprung forward. He pulled me into him; close, we became one. He placed his hands on my ass as I climbed him.

  I lowered onto his cock, impaling myself with his enormous shaft.

  “Baby, you’re so fucking wet and hot,” he rasped against my ear.

  We fit together perfectly, the rise and fall harmonic, passionate and all consuming like the majestic ocean before us.

  My multiple orgasms were evident by my cries and body language. It wasn't the raw primal sex like last night; he was gentle, compassionate, he was making love to me.

  He wasn’t supposed to bring emotions into this. This was about fulfilling a longing, a need, a sexual release.

  I feared the subtle tension in my grip, the pause in my breath, gave me away. I held tight as I climaxed. I was over my head.

  He had not come as I had; I couldn't let him leave this way.

  “Richard, we made no promises.” I kissed him gently on his full captivating lips.

  I leaned into him, my breasts against his bare chest. I wanted him to lose control to me. A puppet master pulling his strings to my bidding.

  I wasn't bidding him to satisfy me, I wanted him to fulfill his needs. I pulled him closer, letting him feel my breath in his ear.

  “You did make me a promise last night. You promised you would make me scream.”

  His hands lifted me, holding me onto his ever-growing cock. I wrapped my legs around him and held on for dear life. I took the lead and directed him where to position me on the console.

  Thrust for thrust we bucked in synchronization, giving, taking of each other.

  There was no holding back. He pushed harder, deeper. I wanted every bit of him. Then that tell tale shriek, the one that told me he found the essence of my womanhood. He plunged into me again and again while I screamed and begged him not to stop.

  I wanted to make it last for him and for me. Orgasm after orgasm I tightened around his shaft with a sensation that sent shockwaves through my nervous system.

  I felt the hot fluid leave his body, filling me with the spastic jerking of his cock as it emptied into me.

  I faltered, leaning my head on his shoulder. He had pushed me to capacity, to a brink of insanity. I hoped his own orgasm was so complete, so pure. He took me to a place I feared I would never go again.

  I sat clinging to him for support, my body still tingling, my mind still reeling. I laid my hand on his thumping chest.

  “Beating, that's good. I told them you didn't break anything, I want to keep you that way until you get rescued.”

  Our breathing had returned to normal. I was finally able to pull away from him. I picked up my underwear.

  “I am going to go shower and get dressed, then I’ll come monitor the radio,” I explained as I headed for the stairs.

  I couldn’t allow myself to bring emotions into this. That wasn’t what this was about. This was sex, nothing more. The best fucking sex I had ever had in my life, but it was just sex.

  The Coast Guard would come for him and take him away. He would leave me, like he did before. I have to protect my heart.

  Once he was gone, how long would it take him to come back this time? If ever?

  Chapter 9

  Richard

  I knew it was only a matter of time before the Coast Guard would come looking for me. I wished I could stall them long enough for her to see what had happened between us was more than mind blowing sex.

  How could she say we made no promises? What happened between us was a promise in itself. When she was begging me for more, was that not a promise from her, for me to satisfy her?

  I had never wanted to spend more time with any of my past conquests. She was not another conquest, she was becoming an obsession.

  I could feel my cock asking for her again. I prided myself on my stamina, but with her it was unnatural.

  I had just spend myself, yet watching her leave had my cock twitching at the sight of her bare thighs.

  I needed the Coast Guard to call soon before I decided I no longer wanted to be rescued.

  She was wrong, she had broke something, she broke me. She broke my fear that someone could love me for me, not my name.

  If I wasn't careful she was going to break my heart.

  Would I let her?

  Chapter 10

  Mackenzie

  I showered quickly, careful to leave hot water for him. I decided to take inventory of the perishable supplies I intended to have eaten the first day. We hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday.

  Well, we had eaten but not anything of sustenance. I would correct that; some bacon, bagels and cheese.

>   The smell of cooking bacon had me famished. I couldn't imagine how Richard maintained his stamina with the lack of protein.

  Sex with Michael had been good, gentle, safe. Michael was my first, my only until Richard. Was it my fault Michael had never ravished me the way Richard had? The way we met, the way he found me, saved me.

  He was protective of me. It wasn't fair of me to ask why now. Michael was gone and until last night, I never knew the intensity of raw primal sex.

  I wasn't looking forward to being alone on the island, not anymore. I would finish what I came here to do. I would have to check with the Coast Guard that my calculations for the next low tide were correct.

  I still had a major decision to make, where to go from here. My world was already turned upside down.

  Did Richard turn it right or did his presence make it worse?

  I would not know until he was gone. I once thought Richard would be my first and in many ways he was. My first kiss, my first after Michael, my first broken heart.

  If I wasn't careful, I was going to let him do it again.

  I heard the creak of the door. “I like my bacon crisp,” the voice behind me resonated.

  “Making demands again, King Richard?” I taunted.

  “Deja vu,” he slammed as he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

  “Take your shower,” I ordered, elbowing him in the gut gently. I wasn't going to ask when he was leaving. If he returned to the cabin he must have made radio contact.

  This would be our last day together.

  He immersed from the shower, absent of the scent of sex on his body, the scent of me.

  “Coast Guard gave me a choice, be ready for pickup within the hour and spend the day with them while they continue the cleanup from the storm.

  Or wait it out here, and they will swing back late afternoon then head to the mainland.”

  I continued preparing breakfast. “It’s a good thing you don't have much to pack.”

  I placed the food on the table. “Sit, you need to eat something.” I served him coffee and poured the last remnants of milk from my Thermos into my cup. “Looks like black coffee for me too for here on out.”

  The mood was sober. We sat quietly as we ate. He spoke first. “You didn't ask which I chose.”

  I brought the coffee to my mouth to wash down the contents in it. I ran my tongue across my lips and smacked them together, devouring every last drop. “Your choices were spend the day with the Coast Guard or spend the day with me.

  Was there really a choice? Besides, I still owe you a shave and a haircut,” I smiled.

  “We have the entire afternoon, what do you want to do?” he beamed, doing the Groucho Marx eyebrow raise.

  “I thought you could help me survey the island. Make a list of what survived the past year. I’m going to take some pictures, get some quotes from contractors, then decide to keep or sell.”

  “Mac, would you really sell?”

  “Two days ago I would have said yes. Today, I'm not sure. Two days ago I never even wanted to step foot back on this island. I knew I would eventually have to come back and make a decision. Are you game for a field trip? I’ll let you drive,” I enticed, twirling keys around my fingers.

  Driving across the island, Richard noted, “I forgot how beautiful this island was.” I saw his face in awe at the fall colors that had finally arrived.

  “There’s talk of large fishing charter companies coming and buying up islands along the coast. One of those companies hired Michael do to some research. Tides, currents, feasibility, environmental stuff. Unlike most of the islands around, the sandbar links this one to the mainland at low tide.”

  “My brother-in-law Dickie talked about something similar last time he and Evonne came into town.”

  “Does he work for the charters?”

  “No he lives on one of the islands off Long Island Sound. That was where I was heading before I got caught in the storm. It sounded like they were trying to push out the lobster fisherman, put in resorts, run fishing charters.”

  “Your sister Evonne married a fisherman and lives on one of those practically deserted islands?

  Your sister, the one you referred to as the pampered princess, married a fisherman?” I was amused and shocked.

  “I guess love changes people,” was all he said.

  I heard something melancholy in his voice but did not want to pry. I was enjoying the casual conversations, the scenery and the menial task he agreed to assist me with.

  “Don't waste all my memory with selfie’s,” I protested and took my phone away from him.

  “One more,” he insisted, wrestling the phone from my hands. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and planted a juicy wet kiss on my cheek as he clicked away.

  “Yuck,”I exclaimed as I wiped the slobbering mess off my face with my sleeve. “What are you doing now?”

  “I emailed it to myself. The minute you get service, voila. Now that you have my email, there's no reason not to stay in touch.”

  I retrieved my phone. “Let's get back, have lunch, then I’ll clean you up. Make you presentable for your family. You’re starting to look like a castaway.” I was starting to forget the reasons I should not be keeping that email.

  Oh yeah, broken heart.

  He took my hand and ran it across his face. “You don’t like my flavor saver? You didn't seem to mind it last night or this morning,” he drawled, his eyes predatory like he was about to pounce.

  I blushed and pulled my hand away. “That’s disgusting.” I turned my back to him and headed for the truck. “You coming?” I hollered over my shoulder.

  As I prepared lunch, I suggested he bring some wood from the shelter so I would have some dry ones in case I got hit with more rain. On his return he told me he secured the storm shelter.

  “Don't go down there alone, Mac. If the lid drops you could be stuck there for some time before anyone comes looking for you. Someone knows you’re here, right?” he pushed.

  “Of course. If I’m not back by the weekend or my friend Sally hasn’t heard from me she threatened to call out the cavalry, so don’t worry. I hope you like canned beans, I used all the perishables this morning.”

  Sitting at the table he reached for my hand. “Thank you.”

  “It’s only canned beans,” I replied lightheartedly.

  “Not for lunch, thank you for saving my life.”

  I blushed and he laughed. “What is so funny?” I objected.

  “I like that I can still make you blush.”

  “You like that you can still make me blush like that fourteen year old girl?”

  He randomly asked, “Mac, if you sell, where would you go?”

  Chapter 11

  Richard

  “I don’t think I have to worry about that, I’m not going to sell. This island holds too many memories to let them go.” She had a far away melancholy gaze.

  A part of me wanted her to sell, then she could move to Tranquility, be closer to me, closer to Richard.

  I would have to put Rick on a shelf. Mac was not the type of girl that was going to stand for his shenanigans.

  Did it matter? She didn’t live on the island, we could vacation here.

  My mind was going a mile a minute. Making plans for a future with a woman I essentially met two days ago. She was my first crush, my first love. Was that why I never had a committed relationship? I was already in love and had been for the past fifteen years?

  Before I could tell her, let her know of my intentions, she continued.

  “Maybe I can partner up with the charter company, get them to back me so I can make this island livable year round. I could run a fishing charter, move here permanently.”

  My big plans, my big dreams, shattered in less than a minute.

  What was I thinking, anyway? I was not made that way, not made for commitment. My creativity, my prowess in the boardroom, it came from who I was, and these melodramatic feelings from my adolescence, that was no
t me.

  I forced myself back into reality, and the reality was, I was going home today. Back to work, back to the boardroom, back to the responsible businessman everyone was counting on.

  “How about that shave and haircut?” I cut in. I was no longer interested in her big plans for her future.

  They did not include me, they never would.

  “I will get the stuff ready, bring the chair in here,” she pointed to the bathroom. “Have a seat and let me take this off.” She removed my shirt as her hand gently brushed against my face.

  She lathered my face and was steady, meticulous — she knew what she was doing. She took her time with every stroke of the blade. She lay a towel across my lap and proceeded to straddle me.

  “I can only get to these delicate places like this, will you be okay?”

  The way she said it, direct, made me understand this was in no way a sexual advance on her part. She had a job to do and she was going to it right.

  It drove me insane, having her barely touching me, hovering just about where the bulge from my jeans could not reach.

  I was happy for the towel. I knew she placed it there to allow for discretion.

  When she finished, she took a hot face cloth and washed the remaining lather away. She gazed at my face, her breath caught in her throat.

  Finally able to speak, “You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen,” was all that came out.

  It took me a second to regain my composure. “Now how about that haircut?”

  She was as skilled with this as she was with shaving. Her hands accurate, reliable, taking only what was required.

  “All done, what do you think?” she sounded proud of her work of art.

  I looked in the mirror. “Wow, you did a great job. Hello, Richard old friend, goodbye, Rick.” I heard the razor drop into the sink and panicked.

  “Mac, are you all right? Did you cut yourself?”

  She was white, trembling. I was stumped what had spooked her so horribly. “Mac, what is it, what’s going on?”