TroubleinParadise

by Cindy Jacks

  Upon his return, he performed some unfamiliar ritual on the car, mixing this, filling that. As if by magic, the car sprang to life as soon as he turned the ignition key.

  “Thank you so much. You’re my hero,” she teased, though half-serious.

  “No problem. Where you headed?”

  “Nowhere in particular. I was just driving around. I’m going to school at UH and it’s my first time in the islands.”

  “Your first time? Then you need one kama’aina fo’ show you around.”

  “A kama—what? What’s that?”

  Mika winked at her. “That’s me.”

  They spent the rest of the day traveling along the H1 and H2 highways. It took only four hours to circumnavigate the entire island. They stopped to eat at Mika’s favorite spots. He showed her the best beaches, the ones the tourists didn’t know about. At sunset, they shared a six-pack of ice-cold Primo at Kaaawa, watching the last rays of sunlight bathe the sky in outrageous gold and fuchsia tones. It was then that Mika stole their first kiss. Little did he know, he’d also stolen her heart.

  Only a few weeks later, she gave him her body. That evening had begun much the same way their other dates had—a cookout and a few beers on the beach—but on the drive home, she told Mika to take her to his place.

  “Really?” He gulped, eyes wide.

  “Really.”

  He ground the gears of his van and laid heavy on the gas.

  As soon as they reached his small cottage, they latched on to each other as if they couldn’t bear one more second apart. Shirts, flip-flops and other articles of clothing dropped to the ground, a trail of passion rushing them through the screen door.

  Mika kissed his way down to her abdomen, dropping to his knees and sliding her bikini bottoms to her ankles. Tongue flicking over her warm skin, he traced the curves of her breasts and hips. Her sun-drenched body burned, the cool trail of his licks drawing her nipples into tight buds. She sighed, wrapping her arms around his head. The saline scent of the beach mixed with his natural aroma and the clean smell of his shampoo.

  Need claimed her pussy, tension and pleasure rolled through her like the tide. She sank to her knees. Dragging her tongue along his neck, she tasted the salt clinging to his skin. Another shiver passed through her, his breathtaking beauty overwhelming. Bronze skin was marked with dramatic black tribal tattoos, broad shoulders sculpted by ropes of thick musculature. Allowing her hand to stray to his firm penis, she stroked his erection and cradled his sac. Shudders and faltering breath shook him.

  Making her way down his taut abdomen, she licked at his head.

  “Oh shit,” he groaned.

  She had encircled his cock with her hand, but he nudged her backward then pounced on her, pinning her wrists to the floor.

  His mouth engulfed her sex, his tongue invading her warm, soft and wet. He pressed long, languid kisses onto her clit and labia. Her pulse skyrocketed, her cunt contracting with each swipe of his tongue.

  Tremors rippled through her core. She held tight to his shoulders, writhing against the tatami mat. Gasping, she sucked in a ragged breath. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like this and really, she was sure no one had ever touched her quite like Mika. Quickly, he’d brought her to the brink of orgasm.

  Pussy swollen and throbbing, she pulled his face up to look at her. “Not like this. I want to come with you inside me.”

  Clearly no more explanation needed, he helped her to her feet and then swept her off them, carrying her to his bedroom. Once he’d placed her on the bed, he slid up her body, brushing his lips over her bare thighs, torso and neck.

  “Just a second,” he murmured in her ear.

  Squeezing her legs together, she savored the pulsing need. Her hands strayed to her breasts as she watched him fish a condom from his bedside table and roll it down his cock. Clarissa could hardly stand the wait.

  As if sensing her impatience, Mika quickly nestled between her thighs and stroked her moist slit. Slowly he eased inside, exhaling as the base of his shaft met her mound.

  Gasping at the intense sensation, she wrapped her legs around him, overcome with arousal. Though she grasped at his back, urging him to thrust harder and faster, he used a long, drawn-out stroke, sliding from tip to base, in and out. Body rippling against hers, he made love to her. Her pussy grew wetter and more swollen, an unbearable heat piercing her center. Moans vibrated in her throat, her inner walls clamped around his cock.

  “You feel so good,” he murmured.

  “So do you.” She met his gaze, saw the fire dancing in his eyes.

  Pleasure washed over her, seeping into her every pore, every breath. Nipples brushing against his chest, she rocked back and forth, meeting his forward thrusts. Filled with emotion, she clung to him, tears wetting her lashes.

  He pushed deeper and deeper, his cock stroking her G-spot. She bit her lips, whimpering. The stimulation was too much to bear. Trembling and panting, she closed her eyes, color and light playing behind her eyelids. Release tantalizingly close, she drew in a deep breath and held it. Her pussy contracted, pumping ecstasy through her. The orgasm shook her, racking her with wave after wave of sensation.

  Tears leaked down her face. Unable to suppress a sob, she buried her face against his chest. Spasms continued to shake her though they lessened in intensity.

  “Hey.” He cradled her face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I-I don’t know why I’m crying.” She stole furtive glances at him, trying to calm down. A crooked smile warmed his heavy-lidded expression.

  Holding her close, he kissed her cheeks and neck. Gentle thrusts pushed him deeper. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut, teardrops still wetting her lashes. Pleasure blossomed again in her core, need and heat tightening her inner walls.

  Their mingled scent surrounding her, she trembled. Her body tingled, every synapse crackled with anticipation. Her pussy swelled and throbbed, needing release. Breath ragged, core tense, she writhed, moaning. What was happening? Was she going to come again?

  “Oh…M-Mika.” Her voice cracked as her nipples brushed his chest.

  “Yeah, baby?” He grazed his lips over hers.

  She couldn’t reply but managed several gasps, every breath taking her nearer to climaxing. The second orgasm hit her and she cried out.

  “Kala,” he groaned as he too exploded, his thrusting more frenzied.

  Cock twitching, his whole body spasmed. She hugged her arms around his neck and shoulders, riding out the storm of pleasure. Little by little, he came to rest atop her.

  Gently he withdrew and disposed of the condom, then settled her onto his chest.

  “You okay?” he asked, nuzzling her head.

  “Yeah, sorry I cried. How embarrassing.”

  “Nah, it’s sweet.”

  Still, her cheeks flushed. Clearly, this had been more than just sex. At least for her. Peppering his chest with soft kisses, she closed her eyes, desperate to block out the noise in her head.

  Was she already in love with him? That wasn’t possible…was it? Heart pounding, she tried to rein in her emotions. They’d only been going out a little while. How in the world could she feel this way so quickly?

  “Kala,” he murmured, breaking her internal monologue. “I think I’m falling for you.”

  She gave a halfhearted chuckle, shifting to look at him. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

  Meeting her gaze, he shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

  “Well,” she swallowed hard, “I feel the same. It’s not like we have to define it or put labels on each other or anything—”

  He cut her off with a deep kiss.

  * * * * *

  After that, no other man existed for Clarissa. She’d barely noticed Mika’s cousin, though the two were joined at the hip. The same age, the boys had grown up together, more like brothers than distant relatives. Sione had been Mika’s best man at the wedding. But unlike Mika, Sione always had some drama going on, usually in the roman
ce department. One too many girlfriends or a girlfriend with one too many husbands.

  The man was a mess. He drank too much, smoked too much pakalolo and held little regard for other people’s expectations. Sione enjoyed his bachelorhood and didn’t intend to give it up any time soon, no matter how many pretty travel agents or retail clerks his aunties set him up with.

  Clarissa’s trouble with Sione didn’t begin until a year ago. About the time Mika turned up the pressure about starting a family, Sione’s brand of freedom became intoxicating—his looser morals, his less-stringent ideas about commitment. So what if he played around a lot? Sione wasn’t the type of guy you married, but the dalliance would be one hell of a ride while it lasted. She’d heard as much from Michelle, who’d dated him for several months—yet another reason Clarissa knew Sione was off-limits. Aside from the obvious fact that screwing Sione would mean screwing up her marriage, her life, her…well, everything.

  * * * * *

  The smell of French toast pulled her from her memories. She plaited her hair into a long braid and squeezed into a pair of ultratiny jersey shorts before she made her way to the kitchen.

  “Oh my God, that smells divine,” she said.

  “Order up in five minutes.”

  She set the table and poured the coffee. If her nose did not deceive her, Mika had made syrup from pureed tropical fruits. A scoop of vanilla ice cream would round out the dish—his famous Pacific Rim French toast à la mode. Thoughts of Sione ebbed further from her mind. Mika had it all over his rebel-without-a-pause cousin. Clarissa admonished herself to remember this fact.

  After breakfast, she settled in on the couch with her e-reader and a second cup of coffee. With little time for pleasure reading during the week, she often stole a few hours on Sunday to indulge. A far cry from the heavy art theory tomes the university expected her to master, a light whodunit or contemporary romance gave her a vacation without ever having to leave the house.

  Mika headed to the gym for a couple hours to run and lift weights before he’d shoot hoops with Sione and the rest of the cousin posse. The man had more cousins than Clarissa had family members. Their Sunday game was his way of blowing off a little steam.

  In an attempt to give him a break from the kitchen, Clarissa volunteered to make dinner. To say that her cooking skills didn’t match her husband’s would be like saying a toddler lacked Michael Jordan’s ability to dunk. Still, she put forth her best effort and kindly, Mika never complained.

  She thought tonight she might tackle the mysteries of chicken cordon bleu. Whatever the result, Sunday dinners proved an adventure.

  She kissed him on the cheek and bade him a good workout as she turned the virtual page to find out the latest Stephanie Plum predicament and steep herself in Steph’s number one question—Ranger or Morelli? Clarissa could sympathize with this plight. Sione or Mika?

  “Mika,” Steph whispered.

  “I know, I know.” Clarissa waved away the imaginary voice.

  * * * * *

  Blobs of chicken sat tense and forlorn on a porcelain serving platter, burned on the outside but still too pink on the inside. Clarissa had not a clue how to fix this catastrophe. And all the cheese had run out of the center, forming a chewy brown collar around the cutlets. Damn it to hell. She’d seen Mika make this dish a thousand times. He’d even left the recipe card out for her. And she’d followed the instructions…at least she’d tried to.

  The sound of the front door closing drew her from the kitchen.

  “Something smells…interesting,” Mika said.

  “It’s a disaster, another disaster. I don’t know why I bother. Next time let’s just get takeout from the get-go. Honestly, I don’t know why I feel the need to try.”

  Sweaty from his workout, Mika stripped off his shirt and toweled dry before heading into the kitchen. As usual, her gaze was drawn to his elaborate tattoos. If she’d seen them once, she’d seen them a million times, but they never ceased to draw her in.

  Mika’s ink had taken weeks of work by a relative who utilized old-school methods—a mallet and sharpened combs made of shark’s or pig’s teeth to apply the dye, literally carving the tat into Mika’s skin. An unbelievably painful process and one Clarissa could not imagine enduring.

  “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He inspected the chicken. “Maybe I can fix this.”

  Folding her arms, Clarissa watched as he did his best to repair the meal to no avail.

  “I’m going to have to call it.” He shook his head playfully.

  “You did your best, doc.”

  “Mama Ding’s?”

  She sighed. “Mama Ding’s it is.”

  * * * * *

  Once the food had been delivered, they sat at the dinette. Mika offered her a forkful of his twice-cooked pork.

  “Delicious meal I made.” She kissed his cheek. “Next Sunday dinner, stop me before I kill again, okay?”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I couldn’t sculpt anything to save my life. We’re just good at different things. That’s all.”

  A sip of chardonnay washed down the spicy pork. Slicing a bit of sesame chicken, he fed her another bite.

  “I can feed myself.” She giggled around a mouthful of food.

  “It’s more fun this way.”

  A forkful of lo mein came next. Each time she reached for her own cutlery, he pushed her hand away. Alternating bites, he fed the two of them until both plates were clean.

  They claimed their respective fortune cookies, eating the cookie before they could read the fortune as was their habit.

  Eying hers dubiously, she wrinkled her nose. “‘Jump in with both feet’? That’s not a fortune, it doesn’t even make any sense. How else would you jump into something?”

  “Mine’s not much better. ‘True understanding is the key to all hearts’.” He shrugged and tucked the fortune in his shorts pocket.

  “Do we have anything else for dessert?”

  He ran to the kitchen and scooped out a bit of ice cream and smothered it with fudge sauce.

  He set the bowl before her as though it were a sacred offering. “To finish us off.”

  “You’re the best. I guess it’s a good thing I’m good in bed.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, there are only two ways to a man’s heart and I certainly can’t make it there through your stomach.”

  Dotting a bit of ice cream on her lips, Mika kissed away the sweet residue. “My heart is all yours, bad cooking or not.”

  “Ew. You’re still sweaty.” She gave him a playful shove.

  “Let’s go soap me up then.” He caught her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “What about our ice cream?”

  “The ice cream can wait.”

  Leading her to the bathroom, Mika stripped her clothes off and shed his as well. Mouth pressed to hers, he adjusted the water, backing her through the stall doorway. Warm water surged over her body, each rivulet licking at her skin just as Mika soon would. Her nipples grew tight, her pussy pulsing in anticipation.

  He quickly soaped his body and rinsed, then turned her around, pulling her back against his slick front. Hands mapping her curves from every angle, he lathered her as well.

  Reaching behind, she stroked his solid erection as she rubbed her ass cheeks against his pelvis. No more foreplay, he bent her forward and buried his cock in her slick folds. She gasped, biting her lip. Each forward thrust crushed his head against her G-spot.

  “Like that,” she moaned, letting her hands stray to her breasts.

  As she pinched and tugged at her nipples, Mika drove into her harder and faster. Hands grasping her hips, he collided against her, the smack of his pelvis warming her ass almost as much as the water. He reached around to tease her clit, hastening the buildup of tension and pleasure in her core.

  Her cunt tightened around his cock, her legs trembling. They had played this game before—how fast could he make her come? He had become an expert at the fast and fur
ious quickie.

  As he strummed her swollen bud, she felt herself nearing the edge. She impaled herself on his shaft, riding every inch of him until finally, the dam broke and wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

  “Yes.” She spread her legs, bracing her hands against the shower wall.

  Milking his cock, her pussy contracted over and over again. The soft sucking sound reverberated around the stall. She quaked, bucking against him. He pushed her forward, pinning her to the cool wall. Cock pulsing inside her, he too came, ragged breath grazing her ear.

  After their bodies had calmed, she felt laughter rumble in his chest.

  “I think that might be a new record,” he said.

  With a chuckle, she nodded. “I think so.”

  She wriggled free, letting his cock slip out, and turned to face him. His hair clung to his face and neck. She kissed the streams of water running down his chest.

  He finished rinsing off and handed her the shower head. Washing away the cum leaking down her thighs, she shivered at the stream of water passing over her still-engorged clitoris.

  Once they’d shut off the faucet and toweled off, they scurried, naked, into the living room to find that they hadn’t been quick enough. The ice cream had turned into a bowl of hot fudge soup.

  Chapter Four

  Monday morning began like most weekday mornings. Mika slept in since the dinner shift didn’t start until three in the afternoon and ended at midnight. As much as she would’ve loved to lounge in bed with him until she had to leave for classes, there never seemed to be enough hours in a day to focus on her own projects. Not that Mika would’ve been conscious anyway. The hours he kept rendered him comatose until at least eight or nine. Clarissa got up around six in the morning to squeeze in some work time before her first class at eight. Her hubby had set up the coffeemaker to start brewing at five-fifty. By the time she dragged herself from the bathroom, a fragrant pot of coffee awaited her.