by Meghan March
I let the questions slide for now, not wanting to shatter the idyllic day by getting an answer I don’t want to hear. Am I burying my head in the sand? Absolutely. But for now, just for a little while, I want to pretend that everything’s perfect.
After we clear our plates, I settle onto a raft, and Cav finds the stereo system and cranks up some reggae. This is paradise.
But why do I feel like it’s the calm before the storm?
I’m in love with a shower. Well, not the shower itself, but how Cav lifts me so effortlessly and plunges his cock inside me over and over while the water beats down on us both. Digging my nails into his shoulders, I struggle to hold on to him and the words that want to fall from my lips.
That I need him. I’m dying for him. I need his cock and the orgasm he’s been teasing me with for the last ten minutes.
“Please,” I say on a moan. “Please.”
“You’re not gonna come until I say you can come.”
Cav’s dominance is revving my senses in unexpected ways. I’m more daring, sassier, pushing against his boundaries and the limits of pleasure. Every sensation is enhanced a dozen times over. The spray of the water, the thrust of his cock, and the pressure on my clit. I want to come like I’ve never wanted to come before, and it’s all because he’s told me I can’t.
“Please,” I beg again. “I need—”
“You need me fucking you the way I want to give it to you.” He pulls me down on his shaft and I grind my clit against his lower abs, determined to steal this orgasm whether he wants me to or not. My brain is in pursuit of pleasure and won’t be denied.
It’s rolling through me, but I hold back the scream. Like a thief, I latch on to the climax and let it crash down on me. My inner muscles convulse on his cock and Cav freezes, pinning me to the wall with his intense stare and muscles gone rigid.
“You naughty little girl. I told you not to come, but you didn’t listen.”
My body is buzzing with the orgasm, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. He can’t take it back.
Feeling bold, I wink. “What are you going to do about it, Hollywood?”
Heat burns in his gaze. “Teach you a lesson.”
My pussy clamps down on his cock instinctively. Yep, my body likes the idea of Cav teaching me a lesson just a little too much. He doesn’t miss the squeeze either.
Shaking his head slowly, Cav tightens his grip on my ass with both hands. “We’re done with this shower.” He turns to the open section in the tile enclosure and lifts me off his cock before lowering me to my feet. His eyes never leave mine as he shuts off the water, grabs a towel, and wraps it around me.
A shred of apprehension forms in my stomach. What is he going to do?
Cav can read me too easily, because his lips form a forbidding smile. He doesn’t reach for his own towel, just grasps my upper arms and rubs them through the terrycloth, drying me wordlessly, his cock still hard and ready.
The shred of apprehension grows.
“What is this lesson?” I ask, my voice more hesitant than I’ve ever heard it.
Cav doesn’t reply, just continues drying me off. When I’m sufficiently dry, he uses the same towel on himself. Once he’s finished, he loops it over the rack and returns his attention to me.
“You’re going to go into the bedroom, bend over the bed, and wait for me. Arms out. Palms flat. Ass up.”
My nipples harden into tight peaks at his command. Arousal swirls with the apprehension.
“What are you going to—”
“Go.”
I still at the authority in his tone. He’s not fucking around, and part of me loves it. Namely, my pussy, which is already growing wetter again by the second.
Teeth digging into my lower lip, I hesitate another few seconds, the challenge hanging between us, before I turn and take measured steps into the bedroom. The white coverlet is laid out innocently before me. Whatever Cav is going to do with me is going to be anything but innocent.
The four-poster bed with its gauzy white hangings blowing in the breeze that seemed so romantic only an hour before now holds a million other possibilities.
Will he tie me down? Make me wait for his command? Take me however he wants?
Each possibility is more tantalizing than the last. If someone asked me whether I had a submissive streak, I would have confidently said absolutely not, but faced with Cav’s dominance, my will is bending and my answer is changing.
It’s him. He’s the one who brings this out in me. And it’s just a game. Right?
“You’re not following directions.”
His deep voice comes from behind me, raising chill bumps along my skin. Without looking back, I fold my body over the high mattress, which is at the perfect height for me to stand, my ass in the air as he commanded.
“Determined to add to your punishment, baby girl? Because I’ll gladly oblige.”
Shivers whisper across my skin as his footsteps come nearer. His fingertips glide along the curve of my ass from hip to hip and then back again.
“I bet you didn’t realize how fascinated I was with your ass three years ago. I used to fantasize about having you at my mercy, tied down, taking you every way I wanted.” His fingers lightly glide between my cheeks. “And this ass played a big role in those fantasies.”
His touch disappears until I feel a rush of air and then a sharp slap landing on my right cheek. I jump at the stinging contact, as if trying to move out of the strike zone.
Cav’s other hand presses against the small of my back, stilling my movements. “There’s no escaping your punishment, baby girl. You agreed to play my game, and you’re going to take every smack you deserve for stealing that orgasm.” He lowers to speak closer to my ear. “And you’re gonna fucking love it.”
Again, shivers race over my skin as his fingers trail lazily across me, increased sensitivity following his every move.
He pulls away and I tense, my muscles anticipating the strikes to come. And they come. Over and over, Cav’s wide palm connects with my ass, leaving a shimmer of heat behind with every slap.
“Fuck, baby. I love seeing your ass turn red from my hand. You’re such a good girl. Not moving, waiting for more.”
When he stops after a final smack, he cups and kneads my burning cheeks with both hands. He spreads them wide and I squirm against the covers, not sure what he’s doing next. But he releases me and steps away.
Face turned sideways on the coverlet, I watch as he leaves the bedroom and returns a moment later with a bottle of coconut oil from the kitchen. My first thought is a massage, but my stinging ass contradicts me.
Oh. Hell.
My last bastion of virginity may be in jeopardy.
“What are you going to do with—”
The wicked gleam in his hazel eyes cuts me off. “Whatever I want.”
Heart hammering in my chest, I lose sight of Cav as he steps behind me.
“Seriously, I’ve never—”
“Had a cock in this sweet little ass? Haven’t been properly corrupted and fucked?”
I have to be leaving a mark on the bed, because I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet in my life. And I also don’t have an answer.
“Don’t worry, baby girl. I’m gonna take good care of you.”
Anticipation. Apprehension. Curiosity mixed with a twinge of good old-fashioned fear. It’s all there, running through my veins and kicking my heart rate up another notch. I don’t have to wait long to feel the warm dribble of oil at the top of my crack. Here, in the heat, it doesn’t solidify the way it does at home . . . making it perfect for Cav’s purpose.
His fingers follow the trail of warm oil, sliding down between my cheeks until he hits the pucker of my ass.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. My breathing picks up speed along with the hammering of my heart.
This is happening.
“This ass is mine,” Cav drawls as he presses against it. But before he penetrates, his other hand slides un
der my hips and strokes my clit. “And so is this pussy. Tight little cunt that comes when it’s not supposed to.” In a simultaneous motion, he pinches my clit between the sides of two fingers and presses into my ass with his fingertip.
Moisture drenches his hand as I push against him, seeking the pressure on my clit and sneaking away from the pressure against my ass.
It doesn’t work. The nerve endings flare to life as his finger slides further inside.
The pressure gives way to dark, spine-arching pleasure. Suddenly I’m pressing back against one hand and rocking forward for the friction on my clit.
“Your ass is going to strangle my cock, and it’s going to be fucking perfect.”
A second fingertip teases the edge, but doesn’t press inside. Not yet. His fingers begin to move, all of them. The friction on my clit climbs and climbs until my entire body is vibrating on the edge of an orgasm.
Do I come? Do I wait? What do I do?
In and out, his other finger slides into the forbidden until a second one joins it, stretching me further. Once again, nerve endings flare to life, setting off alarms in my head that my climax is close.
“I’m going to—”
“Not yet, baby.”
His hands leave my body.
“Wait—”
“Fuck. I know I can’t have your ass yet, but goddammit, I want it.”
The head of Cav’s cock fits against my entrance and he thrusts, filling my pussy before I’m prepared. He doesn’t slow. Doesn’t wait, just pounds into me. I claw at the coverlet, trying to hold off my orgasm until he tells me I can come. It’s growing bigger and bolder and unstoppable.
“You want to know what it’s like to have your pussy and your ass filled at the same time, baby?”
My mind is still processing his words when something presses against my asshole and slides inside.
Holy. Hell.
He fucks me in alternating strokes, thumb and cock, dragging whimpers and moans of pleasure from my lips. I’m losing my grip. I can’t hold off.
“Now. Come now,” Cav orders.
I let go and my climax barrels through my body, starting at my center and crashing outward.
Cav doesn’t slow, doesn’t pause.
“Fuuuck.” He pulls out, and hot jets of cum spray on my ass.
Neither of us moves for several heartbeats until Cav drags his fingers through the semen cooling on my skin.
“You’re going to need another shower, baby girl.”
A giggle escapes my lips because that’s the truth.
“And you’re one step closer to taking my cock.” His voice quiets when he adds, “I love knowing that I’ll be the first. It’s fucking primal. Just like the way I marked you tonight.”
That’s why he pulled out? To mark me?
Another tremor spirals down my spine. Who knew he would be so possessive?
He moves away once more, and I hear water running for a couple of minutes before he returns with a washcloth to clean me up. When I rise, Cav pulls me into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“You took your punishment well.”
My cheeks flame red. Now I know I can handle doing it, but talking about it after? That’s pushing a completely new limit.
“You’re going to disobey again, aren’t you? Because you liked what I did to you.”
I did like it. I can’t deny it. But the words won’t come. Admitting I loved this and want more of it seems beyond my abilities right now.
And then I recall one liberating fact. I can be whoever I want while we’re here. I can take what I want and what I need.
I press a hand to Cav’s muscled chest. “The chances of me disobeying your orders again are a high probability.”
His wicked grin validates my confession. He wants me to want this as badly as I do.
Another unexpected and quick smack lands on my ass, and I jump.
“Into the shower with you. And then get ready to explore the village. We’re leaving the compound.”
Fuck. I’m in deep. I knew it before, but every moment I spend with Greer highlights the fact even more brightly. I shouldn’t have come back, but I couldn’t stay away. How can one person draw you in so much?
Sitting across the table from her at a hole in the wall on the beach has me thinking about how simple and fucking complicated life can be at the same time. Here on this tiny island, no one knows who we are, and part of me wants to live like this forever. Fuck, if I’d brought my ropes, I’d tie her to that bed and we’d never leave. I’d feed her from my hand and keep her coming too much to complain.
Reality won’t take long to intrude, but I’m doing the best I can to keep it away. I disabled the router and flipped a setting on Greer’s phone so she can’t get cell service.
I know what kind of phone call will come, and I’m not ready. So I’ve taken steps to keep us isolated longer. My own phone is turned off because I have no doubt it would be blowing up.
If only I’d already done more movies and banked an extra few million, I’d be tempted to buy one of the deserted cays not far from here and keep her with me there forever.
But with a brother as powerful as Creighton Karas, I could only keep Greer hidden so long from the world.
She’s sipping a Panty Ripper and smiling at me mischievously. I want her to myself, and her asking to pretend like this is real, as if I never walked out on her, is exactly what I want to hear.
“What?” I take a drink of my Long Island iced tea as she bites her lip.
Greer is on drink number three, so it’s no surprise that she’s giggling when she says, “I’d let you rip my panties—if I were wearing any.”
She winks at me, poorly, with both eyes closed, and that’s when I get a clue that Greer and Belizean rum aren’t to be mixed too heavily.
I drop my gaze instantly to the sandy floor beneath our feet and lock onto the short purple skirt she raided from the walk-in closet.
“You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you?”
“It’s you and the rum. And because I wasn’t about to wear someone else’s panties.” She shivers in disgust.
“Fair enough.” I’m commando under my shorts, so I get it. “So that means no panties the entire time we’re here. I think I’m going to have fun with that little piece of information.”
She leans in closer. “Oh yeah?”
I nod slowly, ideas already springing to life in my head—along with my cock in my shorts. I need to turn this conversation to another topic.
“I think it’s time we get some food in you, baby.”
I lift my chin in the direction of the waitress lounging behind the bar, playing on her phone. She’s working on island time, but she must get the sense she’s going to get a decent tip because she tears off the ticket and crosses to the table more quickly than I’ve seen her move yet this afternoon.
I pay the tab and pull Greer from her seat.
“I’m not done with my Panty Ripper yet,” she protests.
“Food, woman. Or you’ll be passing out on me before we get home.”
“I’m not that drunk. Seriously. I can handle a few rum punch drinks.”
I watch her, expecting her to sway on her feet, but she’s steady. “Maybe you can.”
“You don’t know everything about me, Hollywood. I’ve got a few secrets.” Her sassy smile is followed by the press of her finger to my chest.
I wish she were the only one with secrets. And fuck, I want to know what her secrets are. I want to know everything.
“Is that right?”
She nods. “Damn right. A few more drinks and you can get me to spill them all.”
That makes one of us.
“So, what are you feeding me?”
I lead her out to the street and laugh. “Either lobster, conch, shrimp, or snapper.”
Every menu on this island is practically the same from what I can tell as we cruise down the rutted sand street in our golf cart, slowing for the speed bump
s, which are nothing more than thick ropes lying across the road. Whatever gets the job done.
I spy one restaurant that looks like it has been recently remodeled. The benches are covered in mismatched pillows, and fans blow from every angle.
The chalkboard proclaims they have fresh conch ceviche, which isn’t a surprise, but I think Greer will be comfortable eating here. If there’s such a thing as an upscale Caye Caulker eatery, I think we’ve found it.
We settle at a table and put in an order for another round of drinks. It’s time to get Greer to spill those secrets.
Island time isn’t a totally new thing for me, but here on this tiny island, it’s a little extreme. We’ve waited twenty minutes for our drinks and the waitress hasn’t returned, so Cav makes his way to the bar to see what’s up.
What started out as a quiet afternoon in the village has turned into a busy evening. Backpackers staying in the hostels have ventured out with their dreads in tie-dyed head scarves and reggae music blares from the basketball court that sits right on the ocean.
Business is hopping in this little restaurant, but Cav makes a place for himself at the bar. Several women about my age or maybe younger, wearing shorts bordering on daisy dukes and semi-backless tops, take notice as he lifts his chin at the bartender to ask about our drinks and our waitress.
The bartender nods vigorously and turns to grab liquor bottles off the shelf lining the mirrored bar. Like any man at a bar, Cav gets sucked into small talk. My hands are empty and my buzz is wearing off, so I’ve got nothing to do but watch him—and the women.
A brunette in white shorts and a pale turquoise midriff-baring halter takes a second look at Cav. Not surprising because the man is looking fine as hell in his borrowed cargo shorts and the T-shirt that fits him snugly across the shoulders and chest.
Shit. Did she recognize him? Is our cover blown? Hell, maybe we should have stayed in the compound for dinner.
But that wouldn’t have made this little trip feel like we were something real. Then again, maybe this is the reality of a life we’d have. Always hiding behind walls to stay out of the eye of the paparazzi and fans.