Submersed

by Rachelle Vaughn

  Blood pounded in my ears until I finally opened my eyes.

  Dillon still stood a few feet in front of me. He hadn’t moved an inch. He was still there naked and glorious.

  As for the look on his face, well, it was more like that of a child opening his first gift on Christmas morning. In fact, he was smiling that genuine smile of his. His eyes were even crinkled at the corners. “You’re beautiful,” he said. His voice was confident and sure with no trace of malice.

  From that moment on, I’d always use my week at Bel Ange as a litmus test. If I could stand naked on a beach in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I could do anything.

  Dillon leaned down, picked up a handful of sand, and closed the distance between us in three steps. “See this? This is all of your insecurities. All the self-doubt, anxiety, self-consciousness.” He let the sand sift through his fingers and fall at his feet. He bent down and cupped another handful and poured it into my hands. The sand was warm and gritty against my palms. He cupped his hands over mine. “This,” he said, squeezing my hands, “is all the bullshit.” He took his hands away. “Let it go, Livi. Let it all go.”

  I looked down at my hands and could almost feel the negativity burning my fingers. I spread my fingers and let the sand sift slowly through my hands. When they were empty, I dusted off my hands and smiled up at him. He laced his fingers with mine and led me down the beach toward the water.

  Automatically, I stiffened. Here I was already in a different zip code from my comfort zone and now he was leading me further away from the bungalow.

  He stood up to his knees in water and looked out at the blue ocean. “Come on.” Gently, he pulled me further into the water until we were shoulder deep. He dug his feet into the sand until we were the same height.

  I wrapped my arms around him and shivered at the feel of his skin against mine. There was nothing between us now. No clothes, no barriers, no inhibitions.

  My insecurities were sitting in a pile on the beach.

  Dillon kissed me in the water and I felt cleansed. He kissed me deep and passionately, telling me without words just how much he wanted me.

  I wanted him just as much.

  As I wound my arms around his neck, he lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I could feel his cock nudge at my opening. If there had been any doubt before, there wasn’t any now. I was ready for this.

  When I was breathless from the kiss and thought he’d take me right there in the water, he murmured, “Let’s go inside.”

  He cupped my bottom in his hands and I felt the water flow off our bodies as he lifted me out of the ocean. He carried me like I was weightless. Over the sand, past our pile of clothes and back to the stone path.

  With one eye on me and the other on the path, he carried me back into the bungalow. He didn‘t break the kiss until we were inside where he set me down next to our luggage. He bent down, rummaged through his suitcase and pulled out a box of condoms.

  I took Dillon’s hand and led him to the bedroom. It might have taken me months to get to this point, but I was ready now, without fear. Without anxiety or self-doubt.

  I felt weightless. My feet didn’t seem to touch the floor. I was leading him.

  I wasn’t scared. If anything, I felt a surge of anticipation ripple through me when I took his hand. We were in the right place at the right time and I was ready to give myself to him. Wholly and completely.

  The bedroom was large with big windows that looked out to the ocean. A mosquito-netted four-poster king sized bed stood against the far wall. A fresh bouquet of flowers sat on the table next to it.

  Looking back now, whenever I smell Tahitian Gardenias I can’t help but think of Dillon and the first time we made love.

  In the middle of the bedroom, he kissed me and nudged me to the bed until I felt the mattress bump the backs of my knees. I sat down and he stood in the V of my legs and kissed me. Slow and deep. Oh, so deep. Our tongues tangled together and I sucked in his breath and swallowed it.

  I lay on the bed and he lay over me without crushing me. He tossed the condoms down and nudged my legs apart with his knee so he could settle himself between my thighs. When he looked at me, his lips were swollen and his eyes dark.

  I pulled his head back down to me and crushed his lips to mine. My body arched up to his and I moaned. “Please,” I murmured. “I can’t wait any longer.”

  Quickly, he rolled on a condom and aligned himself with my center. Ever so gently, inch by inch, he pushed himself inside me. I could feel my pussy stretch to accommodate his size. If Bel Ange looked like paradise, Dillon inside me felt like paradise.

  He pulled back out, nearly all the way, before sinking back inside. It was slow and sensual and I could feel my insides heat up into a slow burn. The flames licked at me until I couldn’t see straight. All I could hear was Dillon’s breath pumping in and out of his chest. All I could taste was the passion on his lips and tongue, hot and thick. All I could feel was his warm body over mine and his heat moving inside me.

  The intoxicatingly easy tempo quickly built up my orgasm. His pelvis was tilted at the perfect angle, rubbing my clit into a frenzy. When I couldn’t wait any longer, I clawed at his back and urged him deeper. My hips bucked and I grabbed his ass, pulling him closer, deeper still. No matter how hard he thrust, I feared I could never get enough. I cried out his name and begged him for more. I needed more, it wasn’t enough. He quickened his pace and then it was too much and I barreled to release as the climax roared through me.

  Dillon was right about what he’d said that day in his bedroom. I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember my own name. Names didn’t matter. He was him and I was me. What mattered was that I was completely spent and satisfied beyond my wildest fantasies.

  I saw colors. A rainbow of colors all swirled together like I’d thrown my palette against the wall and let the paint all run together. Dillon didn’t let up, but waited for my release to ebb before he followed with his own, emptying himself into my depths with a moan.

  He laid over me, anchoring himself up with his elbows and I reached up to smooth his hair out of his face. We laid like that for a while until our breathing returned to normal, me holding on to Dillon for dear life and him still inside me. When he eventually pulled out, I was shocked at the emptiness he left behind.

  He took care of the condom and tucked his arms back around me.

  Dillon and I had only been at Bel Ange for less than two hours and we were already lying naked in bed, our legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets.

  I had my ear against Dillon’s chest, listening to his heart thump thump and he lazily stroked my arm. I giggled in spite of myself.

  “What’s so funny?”

  I lifted my head up to look him in the eye. “I just can’t believe you’re here with me.”

  “On your beautiful private island.”

  I gave him a quick pinch for his tone and in return, he playfully swatted me on the butt.

  “It’s just that I lived here and spent a year of restless nights in this bed wondering if I’d ever be able to face mankind again.”

  That year after Derrick, there was a lot of wine and tears involved. I mourned my innocence. I cursed my naiveté. I cursed the cruel bullies of the world.

  The hand on my arm stilled. “I’m sorry things were so awful for you.”

  “It’s all in the past,” I said and pressed a kiss to his nipple. “Is it always that amazing?”

  “What? Sex?”

  “Yeah.”

  Before I could blink, Dillon had flipped me on my back and was nuzzling my neck. “Let’s find out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next morning, I laid in bed staring up at the ceiling, reflecting on the past few months of my life. They were just as important and significant as the two and a half decades before them.

  I had accomplished a lot in a short time. I’d broadened my musical horizons and started using color again in my art. I’d stepped out of my comfort zon
e and trusted a man for the first time in six years. I’d started to trust myself again, too, and in turn realized I had a lot more to offer than that which could be accomplished by locking myself in a tower. I had let my hair down and it felt good.

  “Are you going to be able to survive a whole week without going to the gym?” I asked Dillon.

  “Oh, I plan on getting plenty of exercise.”

  I blushed. I hadn’t thought of sex as exercise before.

  He smiled and looked around the room. “The paintings in here are gorgeous. Are they all yours?” Dillon asked, studying a painting of a colorful lizard I’d seen resting in the sun on the porch railing six years ago.

  I nodded.

  My art hung all over the room. Tropical birds and palm trees over here. Dolphins skimming the waves over there. Across from the bed hung a colorful painting of tropical fish, so vivid they could have swum right through the wall. They were the last colorful paintings I painted before I moved to Las Vegas.

  “Who knew I’d have to travel thousands of miles to see your art on display.”

  I elbowed him and he squeezed me tighter around the waist.

  “They’re so beautiful it’s like they’re in HD, Livi. It’s like looking at a photograph. So much detail.”

  His eyes wandered around the room, studying them all. I didn’t mind like I thought I would because he seemed to be enjoying himself so much. And it was the least I could give him when he’d given me so much.

  “Thank you,” I said, tracing my finger down his arm.

  “You have so much talent, Livi. Probably more in your little finger than my whole body.”

  “I don’t know.” I laced my fingers with his. “Your fingers are pretty talented.”

  “Livi?” Dillon’s tone changed. It wasn’t the happy-go-lucky tone I was used to, but something more serious. More ominous.

  “Yeah?” I asked warily, pulling my hand from his.

  “I have a confession to make.”

  Oh, God, this was it. Panic swirled through my veins. Silently, I cursed him for waiting until I was naked and defenseless. I should have known all along this would happen eventually, but instead I’d allowed myself to get caught up in Dillon’s deception. His lies.

  This time I wasn’t going down without a fight. There would be a slap in the face or a knee to the groin.

  I remained silent, waiting for him to drop the bomb. I waited and braced myself for the words he would use. What was I this time? Revolting? Vulgar? Hideous? Would he be cruel like Derrick or smooth and suave in the way only Dillon knew how to be?

  He stroked my hair and I wanted to slap his hand away and scream at him not to touch me, but I didn’t. Not yet.

  “I think I might have misunderstood you a little when I first met you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t understand how someone could have such fear.”

  “Oh,” was all I said. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. I let out the breath I was holding and turned to look at him.

  “I had no right to judge you when I know what it’s like to be afraid.”

  I almost laughed out loud at that, but frowned instead because of the way he was looking at me. “Dillon, what could you have possibly ever been afraid of?”

  “Well, a few things actually. Of never being good enough. Of people judging me for what I did for a living.”

  “It’s okay. I understand,” I said softly. Somehow, I went from thinking about kicking him in the balls to comforting him all in two minutes flat. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore anyway. Not now with the gym and everything.”

  “Yeah, but…I never told anyone else but you about my dream to open my own gym. Besides Mike, of course.”

  “No one else?”

  “No. Not even my parents. I was afraid…I was afraid everyone would think I was dreaming too big. Or that I could never accomplish it. Or I wouldn’t have the guts or brains enough to follow through.”

  “But you did do it, Dillon.”

  “Yeah, I know. But before, when I first told you, you didn’t judge me or look down on me or laugh in my face.”

  “Well, no. Of course not. I had no doubt you’d follow through with it. And,” I added, “It’s not like your dream was to open a casino next door to compete with my father’s. Now that would have been deserving of a good ole laugh in the face.”

  Dillon smiled and everything was right between us again.

  A lime green gecko skittered upside down across the ceiling, no doubt on the hunt for mosquitoes.

  “You’re itching to paint him, aren’t you?” Dillon’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

  “No. As a matter of fact, I was just wondering how long I’d give you before I initiated round three.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asked, rolling on top of me.

  Before I could answer, his mouth was on my breast and I was at a loss for words.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The next day, I stood at the kitchen table, pondering what to bring Dillon for breakfast when I noticed a small colorful parrot perched in the coconut palm just outside the window. I grabbed a sketchpad from the counter--I kept them scattered around the bungalow so they were always handy for occasions like this--a handful of colored pencils and rushed back to the window. Knowing he could fly away at any moment, I frantically sketched his outline. If I remembered correctly from the field guide I kept in the living room, he was a type of Lorikeet. I’d seen them at Bel Ange before, but I’d never seen one sit still for so long.

  He had vibrant plumage, a green back and crown, a blue nape and bright red underside and cheeks. His long wing feathers streaked with blue and he had an orange bill.

  When I’d captured most of him on my paper, he flew away with a shrill screech. I filled in the rest of my drawing from memory. After a few minutes, I set my pencil down and smiled. Silently, I thanked the colorful little bird for letting me capture him on paper. He would make a beautiful painting.

  A second later, I heard Dillon’s footsteps behind me and felt him put his arms around my waist.

  “Good Morning,” he said, his voice husky from sleep.

  “Hi.” I set my pad down on the table and sighed.

  Dillon’s body was warm and firm against my back. He peered over my shoulder at the sketch and whistled.

  “He’s incredible. How do you do that?”

  I smiled to myself and snuggled back into his warmth. “I just do.”

  “I couldn’t draw a stick figure if my life depended on it and you can draw something in five minutes that looks like it’s going to fly right off the page.”

  “You were watching me?”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

  He tilted his hips forward and I could feel his length hard against my bottom. I reached back and caressed his thigh and discovered he was naked. He leaned down and kissed my shoulder, sending a shiver through my body.

  Before I knew what was happening, Dillon’s hands were sliding inside my robe to fondle my breasts. He found my nipples and he pinched them zealously. He must have untied my robe, because it was sliding down my body to the floor. He shoved the sketchpad out of the way and pressed me forward onto the table.

  Something changed, something was different. Gone was the patient and delicate manner I’d come to know from Dillon Milano. In its place was a man possessed, a man consumed with passion. It was like, after all these months, he couldn’t hold back any longer. There was a difference between making love and fucking. We had made love in the bedroom, but this was something else.

  This was fucking.

  And I didn’t mind it one bit. After our sweet and prolonged affair at the hotel, it was electrifying to be blindly ravaged by Dillon’s warm and capable hands.

  Those hands were everywhere at once. In my hair, on my breasts, gripping into my hips. Everything was harder, more intense. More desperate.

  He grabbed my breast, fondling my nipple until it hardened and strained against his palm. His other hand fisted the hair at the base
of my neck and my scalp tingled. It should have hurt but it felt too damn good.

  Somehow, he’d already slid on a condom and was nudging my opening. I widened my stance and leaned as far forward as I could until my breast squished onto the table. After some adjustments, Dillon was sliding into me.

  I moaned as he filled me and I cried out when he hit my G-spot. The feeling was so intense from that angle it almost hurt. He pulled out and slid back in so deeps his balls smack against me.

  The edge of the table dug into my stomach but I didn’t notice.

  My legs started trembling as I tried to hold my stance.

  When it became too much, I let go and toppled over the edge claiming my climax. As my inner muscles clenched around him, Dillon thrust one last time and came with a satisfied grunt.

  I collapsed onto the table, thoroughly out of breath and thoroughly fucked.

  Dillon must have known I had Bambi legs because he gathered me into his arms and set me up on the table. My pussy throbbed against the hard wooden table and I squirmed.

  His skin glistened with sweat.

  “Wow,” was about all I could muster with a shaky breath.

  “You okay?” he panted into my hair.

  “Yeah.” I was okay.

  During the last few months I’d known him, he’d been patient and gentle. Today, he really let loose. He had devoured me and I let him. It was the first and only time Dillon had been rough with me. Reckless. I was more than okay.

  He caught me looking at him. “What?” he asked.

  “I’m just…surprised by your stamina.”

  “Well, I’ve waited a long time for this,” he said smoothing my hair back behind my shoulders.

  “Exactly how long?”

  “Livi, I’ve wanted you since the first time we met when you almost slammed the door in my face.”

  “I never--”

  “Yes. You would have if I’d have given you enough time to think about it.”

  He was right.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I hardly slept while on the island. It was so beautiful I didn’t ever want to shut my eyes. Dillon was another contributing factor. He had an insatiable hunger for sex that kept me busy.