by Lexi Whitlow
“I work for the government,” I say. It’s not really a lie. “Last month I celebrated my twenty-fifth birthday. My family threw me a surprise party and it was quite fun.” Of course, the stripper that popped out of the giant cake wasn’t planned and her presence caused quite the scandal with the upper crust.
“I hate surprise parties. Ally did one for my twenty-first birthday and it was an epic failure. I screamed when everyone yelled surprise. It didn’t help I was running late, and everyone was already tipsy by the time I got there. It’s a sad day when you’re the sober one on your twenty-first birthday.”
“That’s tragic,” I say, laughing.
We sit in silence for a bit. It’s not awkward though; anything but, actually. It’s comfortable. Listening to the music, the ebb and flow of conversation, and the faintest sound of waves beyond the city’s reach—that’s all just enough for me right now. It feels good just to be with her.
The sun starts to rise now, and the sky floods with an array of warm, bright color. It’s breath taking; something about this sunrise makes me feel like something new is starting. The beginning to something amazing, and it has everything to do with the girl sitting by my side right now.
“I’m glad we bumped into each other today at the fountain,” I say. I purse my lips, thinking of the last time I haven’t bragged and boasted in front of a woman out of my own insecurity. The kiss this morning—well that was for the hidden paparazzi snapping pictures that could well get back to my parents. But running into her again, it seems like fate.
Or maybe that’s just the champagne talking. The best that often comes of vacation romances is a faint, but pleasant, memory. I’ll take that, if that’s what she’s able to offer. If she only wants to talk for the evening, I can accept that as well.
“I bet you tell that to all the girls. You seem like a bit of a bad boy. Getting strangers to play your girlfriend and all.”
“Just you,” I counter. “I had to kiss you. It was a base urge and I gladly gave in. I’d do it again too.”
She turns her head, and I capture her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. A slow burn warms my entire body. I need more.
There’s a soft, slow ache building in my core. There it is—the desire I felt this morning for the briefest moment when my lips met hers. If I can just touch her, explore her body and let it meet with mine, it seems that everything would be right in the universe, if only for a moment.
“Will you come back to my villa with me?”
Freya hesitates for a minute, like she’s thinking hard about her answer. “You have a villa?”
I laugh. “Not the response I expected.”
“What was the response you expected?” She gives me a wry smile.
“Either a sultry kiss or a slap in the face. But I was willing to take my chances on a girl like you.”
“Again, that seems like something you say to all the girls.”
“It might be. I’ll tell you for sure if you come home with me.”
“And I’ll come home with me if you explain why you have a villa in Ibiza.” She pronounces ‘Ibiza’ the Spanish way, and I like the sound of it on her lips.
“Ah, it’s my cousin’s. He lets Caelan and me stay there while he’s away on business.” I say. It’s technically true. It belongs to my cousin—as well as the entire monarchy of Bellecoaste. For now, I can’t let my secret escape. “So, is that a yes?”
“Lead the way,” she answers. She looks back at her friend, who is caught up in a passionate conversation of some kind with Caelan. Ally waves us both on and gives Freya a wink, then goes back to arguing with my brother. Caelan doesn’t even give us a look. He’s too busy mansplaining something to the tiny, fiery woman who looks like she could best him intellectually any day.
I laugh. “Those two.”
Freya looks over. “Yeah, I don’t think they care much what we’re up to.”
“They’ll be arguing like that for a while. He always scares women away with his need to be right.”
“He just hasn’t met Ally yet. She’ll set him straight.”
We walk toward the lobby and out to the set of elevators that lead us down to the ground floor.
In the elevator, I kiss her again, happy that she’s taking a chance on me. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”
“You better make it worth my while. Because it’s been a long damn time since I’ve had any fun with a guy.”
“I will.” And that, I know for sure, isn’t a lie.
3
Freya
My first thought when walking into the villa, is that it’s insanely big. The open floor plan and vaulted ceilings create one gigantic, monstrous space.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Andreas asks. “Water, wine, or maybe coffee since it’s so early.” He smirks as he says the last part, and I laugh too. The tension in the air fizzles and dissipates.
“Water’s fine. Thank you.”
There’s something regal about Andreas that makes me nervous, something that I can’t put my finger on. But the larger part of him makes me feel at ease, at home—in a way that Kirk never quite did.
I only met him today—or I guess yesterday—since it crossed over to midnight hours ago. He could turn out to be anyone. That’s how these things go. I say that to myself over and over as I wander around the main living space of the villa, kicking off my shoes and stepping onto the luxurious wool rug that sits between the expensive chairs and pillows that decorate this massive mansion.
He could be anyone. Anything could go wrong. He could be boring or unfunny or a player. Or not smart enough to carry on a conversation. Don’t go thinking this is anything yet.
I say it like a mantra. Anything after a breakup must be casual. That’s how life is. That’s the conventional wisdom, anyway.
He walks into a huge kitchen, which is filled with top of the line appliances, opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water for each of us.
I thought about asking for some wine, but I want to be clear headed. I want to be able to remember every detail for when I go back home.
“What’s on your mind?” Andreas asks. “You have this little frown thing going on.”
I must have been concentrating harder that I thought. “Can I tell you something?”
He raises his hand and runs it down my face, cupping my chin to look at him. “You can tell me anything.”
I’m lost in his green eyes as they patiently wait for me to continue talking. “I’ve never had a one-night stand before. I’ve only been with one guy—Kirk.”
He looks thoughtful. “Then we can wait. How long are you here for?”
“What if I don’t want you to wait?” I challenge. “And we’re here for two weeks. There’s not much point in waiting.”
“I don’t want to be your first one-night stand.”
“Maybe I do want that,” I say, crossing my arms. Andreas gives me a look that conveys need, desire, the things he wants to do to me.
“I’d rather give you time to enjoy yourself. I’d like to get to know your body.”
I swallow hard and feel the blush rising in my cheeks. “That sounds… good.” I think of his hands on me, the feeling of his muscular, lithe body against mine. I want that too.
“You do deserve an entire vacation of pleasure, not one night. And I’d like it if you actually wanted to be with me—more than one night.”
“That makes sense,” I say. I try to keep calm when I say it, when I watch as his body moves toward mine, as he places the cool water in my hand. But my heart is beating fast, blood rushing in my ears, my pulse quickening in time with the rising need in my blood.
“Come along then,” he says, taking my hand and leading me through the living area, down a hallway until we finally stop in front of a wooden door. “You can change your mind, too. I only want you to be here if you want to be.”
He kisses my lips lightly, sending a spark deep into my core. The fire lights deep within me, spreading through my center, an
d down to my thighs, to the places I want and need him to explore. “I do want to be.”
This time, he kisses me again, deeper, pushing me against the door and trailing the back of his hand over my breast. My nipple stiffens beneath his touch. My tongue glances against his. I take him in—his taste, his essence, lost in the sensation of his warmth and the comfort of his desire.
He opens the door and leads me into the enormous, downright luxurious bedroom. Beautiful cerulean blue walls pair dark teak furniture, and a silent woven ceiling fan. I come into the room further, running my fingers over pure white, soft sheets—I notice as I take notice of the French doors that lead out to a balcony. They blow in the open-doored breeze that cools my heated skin.
“Do you want me to close them?” Andreas asks, gesturing to the doors.
“No, they’re fine. I like the breeze.”
He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my stomach, pulling me closer to him. Kisses trail softly along my shoulder, down my neck; I shiver at the sensation. I reach up, fingers running through his soft hair.
One hand comes up to cup my breast, his thumb brushing my nipple. I moan softly, my breath hitching in my throat. The heat between my legs intensifies, consuming me, threatening to take me over. When I close my eyes, I see light and color, dancing and playing as Andreas cups my breasts and gently unzips the purple dress. Beneath, I’m only wearing black lace panties. He groans in my ear as his hands roam over my body, worshiping each inch of skin with the offering of his touch.
His deft hands find my breasts again, cupping them, bringing each nipple to hardness. A rush of wetness comes between my legs, and I have the passing thought that I should tell him I want it all—that I want it more than anything right here, right now.
He plays with my nipple, lightly pinching it and tugging, making it rock hard. The other hand rubs up and down my stomach, not going too far down. I turn my head so that we can kiss, and I can’t get enough of his lips against mine.
The scent of him is musky and warm, like dark pine mixed with the salt of the sea. For once in my life, I’m not ashamed to have my body seen, not ashamed that my makeup and hair are probably a mess. Everything within me is desire, and I am a part of that timeless sensation, a need as relentless as the moon pulling the tides.
He tips my head back, kissing me harder, his hands roaming over my bare back. I fumble with the buttons on his shirt, and I imagine ripping it away, buttons skittering across the floor. But I don’t do that. I can’t. It’s not who I am.
Instead, I gingerly undo each button. He watches me as I do, a smirk on his face, a dimple in one cheek. He doesn’t tease or say anything, not like Kirk did in moments like this. I manage to get the last button undone and then slide the shirt off his broad shoulders, letting it fall to the ground.
And I can tell you, Kirk’s name isn’t worth mentioning, not when there’s a man like this in the world.
His skin is golden tan. His chest and stomach are defined with muscle and there’s a tiny trail of hair from his navel that leads down to the waistband of his boxers.
My mouth waters looking at him. If he smells and feels this amazing, I find myself wondering about—and wanting—his taste. He pulls away, and his eyes wander over my bare body.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says as he picks me up and throws me onto the bed. I bounce a little; it’s soft and I land in a sea of decorative pillows. I swipe some out of the way so there’s more room for us.
I prop myself up on my elbows, so I can still see him. I trace the long line of his jaw with my eyes and rest my hand on the sinewy strength of his bicep.
Andreas grabs my foot and rubs it softy as he kisses my ankle. He takes his time kissing my ankle again, then my calf, moving up to my knee and then to the inside of my thigh. It’s slow and torturous. Lightning strikes my center again, spreading out to every nerve, every fiber of my being. I feel the heat of his breath, the gentle brush of his messy hair against my skin. By the time he gets to the inside of my thigh I’m silently begging him to keep going, so I can feel the touch of his tongue, the heat and tenderness of his lips.
But he doesn’t. He stops and touches the inside of each thigh with his lips, sending a deep, needy agony through every reach of my body. I whimper a little when his hot breath touches my sex. My hips arch upward, heat pooling between my thighs.
“More, please,” I whisper.
I close my eyes, imagining it—what the first true touch will be like. I want him to lead me, guide me, own me, even if it’s just for tonight.
He doesn’t disappoint.
He trails his hands up the outsides of my thighs, kissing my lower stomach. Purposeful fingers find the waistband of my panties, pulling them forward for a moment, lowering his fingers downward and teasing the outline of my sex. I shudder, hips bucking upward to meet him. He pulls away in the very moment I want him most.
“Don’t stop!” I moan again.
He continues kissing down my stomach, down to my waiting pussy. He hasn’t taken off my panties; he kisses me right over the top of them. The lace is frustratingly in the way and I whimper as he licks one long slow lick directly up my center. My head falls back, and I can’t take it. The buildup as been so long and I’m so damned wet. The lightning strikes inside of me again, spreading through my body.
Andreas keeps licking, not stopping until my panties are so soaked through. He slips a finger under the lace, moving it enough to the side that he can easily slide his finger inside me. He adds another, and I’m so far gone I see stars. His mouth teases my clit, alternating from light sucking to deep powerful pulls that make me squirm.
I groan, long and deep, my body taking on a life of its own. I need to come, now. Andreas moves his fingers deeper within me, expertly stroking my g-spot with every pass. I pinch down hard on my nipple, falling back against the pillows.
I dig my toes into his back and grab his hair, pulling him closer. I want more. I grind my sex against his face until I’m finally there. My whole body tenses up, tight around his fingers. I shudder almost violently as I come harder than I ever have before.
When I’m done, I’m still shivering, breathing deep and intense.
Andreas continues to play with my pussy, slowly and gently. He wears the sexiest smirk as he watches me come down. “That was so fucking sexy, Freya.”
The fire in his eyes burns bright and I want him to feel exactly how I feel right now.
“Stand up,” I order, my voice still shaky from the orgasm.
He grins. “Yes ma’am.”
When he stands, I reach to undo his belt and add it to the growing pile of clothes. Agonizingly slow, Andreas pulls the zipper down over his rock hard length. His pants are tight, making the journey that much more drawn out—but so worth it.
I slip one hand down his pants, straight into his briefs. I’m greeted with hot, hard skin and a soft sigh from Andreas as my fingers make contact. He grabs my head with both of his hands and kisses me. It’s hard and wild, just how I want him to be.
He pulls back to push his pants and briefs down all the way, kicking out of them so he’s just standing there in all his naked glory—and glory it is. Taunt muscles stretch over his tanned skin, his eyes are dark and hooded, just waiting for me to finish what I started.
I get down on my knees in front of him, loving how he’s watching my every move. He’s awakened this emboldened vixen inside of me, one that’s eager to lean in and run my tongue along the hard flesh of his thick cock. I’m rewarded for my boldness when his mouth falls open and his eyes close, body tense and waiting for more.
I start out slow, working him in the same torturous fashion that he teased me with. Up, down, I suck and stroke on his cock with my mouth and my hand; he’s too huge for just my mouth.
“God, that feels so good,” he praises, pulling my short hair back so he can see my eyes.
I stroke his length, licking the underside with my tongue. I keep stroking as I take more of him down my throat be
fore I pull off to lick his balls. Andreas spasms and it’s clear that he’s enjoying it. Encouraged, I keep licking, sucking down lightly.
Leaving kissing in my wake, I trail back up to bob my head on his cock once more in a steady rhythm, working my hand in time with my mouth.
I pause and try to take all of him down, opening my self to take him completely. I breathe steadily through my nose, tasting him, welcoming him. I go down, slow, easing him into my throat until he almost all the way in…
“Fuck, Freya. Don’t stop, baby.”
Hearing him on the edge is all the incentive I need. I double my efforts and take him to the back of my throat again. He threads his fingers through my hair, hips arching and thrusting. In the dark tangle of my thoughts, his pleasure becomes my own, and a surge of desire sweeps through my body again. My mind tips into oblivion, and my only focus is him—the stranger I only just met, the boy who wooed me and took me back to his villa with sweet compliments and the hard, delicious lines of his body.
It seems strange that something like this should change me so immediately, but it does. I feel it as I taste him, rich and salty. He fills my mouth, groaning, and I take in his essence as he shudders and whispers my name again and again. When I finally pull away, he lowers himself to the rich carpet and pulls my body into his arms.
“That’s it, I’m never letting you out of my bed,” he says. He presses his nose to my hair and takes me in, then traces kisses along the line of my neck.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” We lay there together in a tangled heap, warm and isolated, together in a small bubble that seems timeless. We stay up until the sky begins to turn light, talking about Europe and the places I’ve been, the places he’s seen. He has strong opinions on politics but listens to my own. At some point between drinking bubbly water from the kitchen and eating olives on the broad, dark coffee table in his room, we end up in bed. It’s hard to know what time it is, but somewhere along the way, night became day, and we both finally became tired.