Paradise Forbidden

by Natalie E. Wrye

  The bomb that has detonated moments before has wrought its destruction, and in its aftermath, it leaves a fire. That fire sweeps through me at lightning speed, obliterating all of my doubt, leaving nothing but my own need.

  I grab her waist with both hands: the free one and the confined. I let the internal blaze that she’s sparked burn into my gaze.

  “Kat… I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you. And what I feel now… the word ‘want’ wouldn’t even do justice.”

  She grins ever so slightly, biting her already red lip. It breaks what little control I have left.

  I tighten my grip around Kat, bringing her into me and into the sudden erection that emerges every time I get to touch her. I slide its length between her legs when I realize that Kat has nothing on underneath.

  She is slick and wet… and hot.

  Kat inhales sharply when she feels me, and it is all I can do not to plunge myself slowly into her sweetly soft center.

  I thank God for the little miracles. Like Jack handing me a condom to go along with that bottle of liquor.

  At the moment, it had seemed crass, but at this juncture, it is a gift-wrapped God-send. I smirk. My mom always said that God sends angels in all types of different forms.

  I turn Kat around so that she can follow me and then I back-peddle towards the bed. I sit down at the corner, leaving her standing so that I can place my mouth at the open space between her robe’s lapels.

  She moans as I lap her skin gently, taking my time to kiss and lick my way down the line of her cleavage. Her robe’s sash is no barrier at all. I open it one-handed, pulling it from its loops and throwing it halfway across the room.

  Her garment is now completely open and I can see the expanse of skin between, all the way from Kat’s neck to the edges of her small toes. The expanse is as wide as my hand, and I reach my palm out to trace it. I curl my fingers around Kat’s throat and then spread my fingers while my hand travels further and further south.

  Up under her jaw. Past her collarbone. Brushing the insides of her breasts. Spanning down her stomach. Lingering at her navel.

  And just as my fingers start to inch gloriously towards the soft patch at her apex, my hand freezes and I look towards Kat’s eager eyes.

  “Are you sure, princess? You sure you want this?” I lower my voice, inserting gravity into my tone.

  “Oh, yes,” she responds raspily. “Yes, I definitely do.”

  I prod. “Why?”

  I suddenly need to know the reason, feeling an inexplicable urge to understand.

  “You saved me, Trevor.” Her gaze is concentrated: appreciative. “And I never got to say thank you.” Her voice is husky.

  I’m conflicted about her answer. I start to withdraw my hand.

  “Kat… if you think you owe me anything, I just want you to know…”

  “Oh, God. Will you shut up?” She suddenly pushes me backwards onto the bed, taking rearward steps as soon as I hit the mattress.

  “Trust me. I’m doing this more for myself than I am for you.” She smiles slyly, sliding the robe from her shoulders. It hits the floor.

  I soak in Kat the way I soaked in the Oasis: drinking in the vision of her, taking huge gulps of the view like a desert-stranded man. She’s magnificent. All of her.

  Guilt suddenly materializes out of nowhere and slams into my pelvis like a sledgehammer.

  There’s so much that we’ve managed to share in such a small amount of time, and still so much more we need to cover. How do I tell her? How can I explain: that our meeting on the bus was no mere coincidence… that our shared commonalities are not by chance?

  But then Kat abruptly cuts the light, allowing herself to be bathed by the moonlight streaming through my bedroom window. The glow illuminates her skin, shooting sparks off each and every curve of her wavy brown hair. She’s a goddess… planted here amidst mere mortals.

  I am in awe just being in her presence. I drop the self-reproach in favor of something stronger: a pure lust, some carnal craving that surpasses all else.

  Her light pink nipples are hardened peaks in the center of her now-tanned, teardrop breasts. Her stomach is a flat, toned plane cinched at the middle, and her hips flare out delicately, creating silky slopes of perfect skin.

  My voice is rough when I beckon to her. “Come here, princess.”

  ***

  Kat

  Part of me doesn’t think I should be here.

  I wouldn’t have come back… if it weren’t for what Ama said to me last night.

  She made me realize something, and in doing so, I found the courage that I needed: the strength to finally go for it.

  What Trevor and I have is no fluke. More like fate… and I can’t keep running from it. If it had been any other person – any other man – we wouldn’t have made it this far, and I’d be singing this song at the bottom of some sea instead of under his watchful gaze.

  It had to be just right. It had to be him. And now… it’s truly over.

  There are no barriers between Trevor and I anymore, no survival over which to worry. Trevor and I are free: free to do what we want… with whom we want. The notion is terrifying… and intoxicating.

  Right now, it’s just intoxicating.

  I move toward Trevor slowly, my gait emboldened by the longing in his stare. It’s animalistic in its intensity, almost hunter-like in its approach. I think I like the way that I look in his eyes.

  “You’re staring at me as if I’m something to eat,” I say when I reach him.

  He leans over from his laid-back stance, grabbing my fingertips and dragging me towards him. “That’s because you are.”

  His tug is no longer a tug, but a lift and in seconds, I am sitting astride his barely-covered hips… his waist… his chest. It’s like a fun-house ride sliding down his chiseled body: a slow motion merry-go-round on top of a beautiful boy.

  I’m in a trance, mystified by Trevor’s unpredictable finesse. By the time I make it to his shoulders, I am finally aware of what is happening and before I can react, his mouth is on me.

  I am completely naked atop Trevor, straddling his face, and he is devouring my wetness with the ferocity of a starving man. His free hand clasps onto my thigh, positioning me into a vice grip.

  I try to move, but it’s no use. Squirming is futile. Budging: not an option. I throw my head back with a loud groan, letting Trevor take control of everything below my navel.

  I can’t move or breathe or think. I hear myself moaning and don’t recognize my own voice. One more stroke of Trevor’s tongue, and I will come apart: crumble into pieces.

  “Trevor, no,” I hear the strange voice say. “Don’t. Pleaaaaa… waaaaiiitttt.” But of course, he doesn’t. He buries his tongue inside of me and I explode into a million little pieces, crying out in a disembodied squeal that tapers off into tiny soft whimpers.

  My body convulses into one last shake; it becomes almost boneless: satiated and sapped of all energy. I reach below, grabbing his good shoulder for support, afraid that I will slump into a crumpled heap at his side.

  Trevor shifts me suddenly, adjusting my bottom back onto his pelvis. His earthy eyes are lust-filled: hot; they sear a scorching path along the line of me.

  He twists around, reaching for the nightstand but what he’s looking for is already in my hands. I break open the seal, using both hands to roll the rubber down on him, taking the opportunity to marvel at his impressive length.

  His robe is open, but not off. I swipe at it with both hands, letting my fingers explore the places that my eyes can now see. A dusting of sandy blond hair covers his muscular chest. A trail of it teases from his navel to his cock. A shag of it sits at the base of his “v-lines,” and the proudness of his erection makes me want to fist a handful of it.

  He watches me sightsee over his body like a tourist; his smile is playful as he witnesses my eyes widen with excitement. I’m done waiting.

  I position my hips over his, looking for his approval. The way his bre
ath hitches lets me know he agrees. I sink down slowly on his shaft and he sighs with a satisfaction that almost makes me come right there.

  I whimper, wanting to slow my ascent into ecstasy. Our fit is flawless; his fullness: perfect. And I’ve never felt so complete.

  His voice is gruff, nearly a growl, as he gives a thrust into me.

  “Don’t come apart yet, baby. Let me show you how.”

  He rocks himself upward and into me, and the sensation makes me grind my hips downward onto him, my need to feel him overriding the nagging in my ankle.

  He’s hurt. I’m hurt. But it stops no show. We move together like a samba, a fluid rhythm like a dance. He controls the tempo, and I follow his lead, letting him take me to the peak and back down again.

  Trevor repositions himself, throwing his weight onto one elbow, and I can feel by the twist of his hips that this will be our finishing act.

  “I’m going to let you come now, Kat. Hold on tight, baby.”

  The words alone are enough to undo me, but I clamp my lips, giving it all over to him. My body is not my own, and I don’t know that it ever was. In the bed of Trevor Cassidy, I am merely the instrument… and he plays me oh so well.

  Strum me, baby. Blow me, baby. Play me just like that.

  One final swirl from him, and my orgasm hits hard, shooting up from my throbbing center and out to my tingling extremities.

  The warning from Trevor prepares me for what my body is poised to feel… but it doesn’t prepare me for what happens to my mind. Thoughts I didn’t know exist hit the surface of my lips. I clasp a hand there to close them in. He climaxes seconds later.

  I collapse on top of him finally, matching his heavy pants with my own. He’s warm and solid: a heated mattress made of muscle and flesh.

  We begin to doze off in each other’s arms. For the first time since we’ve met, I actually watch Trevor go peacefully to sleep. But for me? This time?

  There is no rest: just the words left unsaid, marinating in my mind, steeping me deeper and deeper into turmoil.

  Trevor

  I’m out of my robe and back into my clothes. I change into them mere minutes after I awake.

  Kat’s sound asleep, swathed in sheets as tousled as her hair. I stare over her: thinking, reminiscing.

  Leaving her is the last thing that I want to do. I’d honestly give a limb just to not leave her side. But… duty calls.

  We’ve been in and out of sleep all night, resting in between sets. We make love. We pass out. We start the cycle again.

  The breakfast spots in town are open (or so I’ve heard), and I want to have some type of sustenance in here before Kat opens her eyes. She’ll be hungry when she awakes, and as long as she’ll let me, I’ll aim to please whatever desires she may have.

  I, on the other hand, need nothing to eat; I now luckily have her to nibble on. A small voice interrupts my thoughts. Sleeping Beauty sleeps no more.

  “You’re up,” she says, smiling drowsily. “Where are you going?”

  “To satisfy that sweet tooth of yours.” I wink. She grins.

  I clear my throat, leaning over the bed, making sure Kat’s eyes meet with mine. I need to settle something once and for all. And to do that, I need her attention. No distractions. No misconceptions.

  “I want to make something clear, Kat,” I declare. She nods, sitting up straighter, and I pause, searching for words.

  “This is not a passing thing: another romp in the sack. It goes deeper than that. Hell, we wouldn’t have fought it so hard if it didn’t.” I smirk, dropping it quickly. “I saw you holding back last night, hiding your voice from me.

  “Don’t hide that from me, princess. I want all of your pleasure. The sights, the touches and the sounds. I will not be denied. Not anymore. We’ve both been denying ourselves long enough.” I look harder at her. “Do you understand?”

  I expect a fight, some sort of resistance… but Tropical Storm Kat is on hiatus, and this version of her is nodding meekly in my direction, biting her lip, regarding me quietly.

  The urge to bite that same lip is strong, but I resist. I manage to make it to the door and outside of the B&B without ravaging her again. Score one for Team Me.

  Jack the clerk lets me bum a ride to town, where I pick up doughnuts and hot coffee. He’s not offended that I passed on the stale toast and runny eggs from the inn’s small, skimpy kitchen.

  The smell of the stash is delicious, but it holds neither flicker nor candle to what awaits me back at home. I rush through the bakery with my belongings so that I can make it back to her as soon as humanly possible.

  I struggle up the stairs of the bed and breakfast, clenching a brown bag between my teeth. I’ve burned my arm, dropped two doughnuts and still am happier than a pig in shit when I reach my door.

  I open the door with three fingers, drop the food onto the nightstand, and turn around to find my bed completely empty. Kat is gone and, in her place, is a note. My stomach bottoms out immediately.

  I snatch up the note, breathing easier as I read:

  Freshening up. Be back before you know it ;)

  I read the note twice over, giving a grin before putting it down.

  She leaves a winky-face at the end, and I grow hard at the thought of what’s next. Such a simple sign of mischief, and already, I’m thinking about round two. Or is it four?

  She used a page out of her crumpled agenda to write the note. I can tell by the large water stains. She must be back in her room, taking a shower. I could sneak in behind her, do her washing instead.

  Damn, I can’t. First things first. Call Chris.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, nursing one coffee-burnt arm while the other bandanged one dangles uselessly. I reach over to the nightstand, grabbing the phone near the wall. I push a few buttons. Nothing left to do but wait.

  While the speakerphone dials, I hold my arms at my midsection. I wonder what I’m going to tell Chris, but I don’t ponder for long. He answers the phone gruffly.

  “Hello…?” It’s early (for him, at least), but he’s the more responsible of my two best friends.

  “Chris…” I sigh: exasperated. “It’s me, man.”

  “Foxx? What the actual fuck, man?!” Objects clatter on the other line as I listen. A bunch of expletives explode into the air.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Chris continues. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, bro. We thought you were fucking dead, man!”

  I scoff, shaking my head sadly. “I almost was… but listen to me, Chris. This is important.”

  I tell him about the bus crash, which he’s already found out about on the news. I tell him more about the drowning of the ill-fated bus driver and to contact the bus lines to rip them a new one for what has to be an insufficient employee screening.

  I tell him that I’m ok: that I’m with someone, and I direct him to the bed and breakfast where we are staying. His questions are unending. His concern: palpable. He’s peppering me with too many inquiries, and my early morning brain can barely keep up.

  We grow tired of not getting through to each other and agree to meet in person. He agrees to wire the money to the bed and breakfast. I give him the name and address of “The Little Stay-Inn B&B” and prepare to hang up the phone.

  “Wait!” Chris calls out: last minute. “Who’s the girl?”

  I freeze. “Who?”

  “The girl. You said you were with someone. A girl.”

  Shit. Did I say that? I didn’t mean to.

  “What’s her name? I’ll call ahead of time and get you guys the best hotel out there. Not that that’s saying much, but…”

  He pauses, waiting for an answer. An answer that I really don’t want to give.

  “Look… Chris… I don’t even know how to say this.” I hesitate, collecting myself. “You won’t believe this…” I tell him who before I can change my mind, the trepidation creating a sour taste on my tongue.

  “Kat Lexington? Are you fucking… I can’t believe this sh
it. You found her! How the fu— That’s fucking crazy, man. Seriously?!”

  He stops talking, huffing heavily over the phone. I can see him now: probably grabbing a handful of his own curly hair.

  “Well? Did you get a chance to talk to her? Did you tell her?!” he asks.

  The question prompts me to grip my own hair.

  “Chris… it’s actually not that simple.”

  “What, seven days together, and the subject didn’t even come up? Come on, bro. I mean, it’s you. You’re Brendon Foxx. How is it hard?”

  The door of my bathroom slams open, and suddenly, a wind-blown Kat appears at the entrance.

  “You son-of-a-bitch.” Her voice is low, quivering, but her words are scathing from thirty feet away. She’s holding her robe closed with one hand, and I can see that more than just her voice is shaking.

  “Kat…” I stand up abruptly, knocking over the hot coffee in my haste. It spills scorchingly from its cup, splashing the phone (and me) with liquid, brown lava. SHIT! It burns like a bitch.

  I trip over my own feet, crashing my knees into the mattress. I reach weakly for Kat… but she is already out the door.

  Through the pain, I try to speak. “Kat, wait! Let me explain... see…”

  She whirls towards me from the hallway, her eyes wet and truly seething.

  “There’s nothing to see, Brendon. I don’t have anything to say to the man who ruined my life.”

  She disappears briefly into her room, dragging her black bag out of the door. I watch her go, not knowing what to say, completely stunned into silence. She slams the door to her room, room 212, taking everything she owns… and a piece of me with her.

  ***

  ELEVEN DAYS AGO

  Foxx

  “Excuse me, Mr. Foxx? You’re all set.”

  “What? Oh, yeah. I’ve got it. Thanks.” I start walking away. I stop and turn back to the female attendant.

  “No need for the Mister, though. Foxx works just fine.” She gives a small wave, shrugging her shoulders: indifferent. But I’m not.

  I’m not Mr. Foxx. My dad is. Shit, I don’t even want to be Brendon. I’ve always hated that stupid fucking name.