by Lan LLP
“Ah…,” I cry, feeling his hardness pierce through my aching, tender channel. His kisses are full of love and tenderness. There’s no lust in the way he’s making love to me, just conviction of how much he needs me. We’re completely lost in each other as our bodies intertwine into one, floating in clear, cool water.
“Mine…always,” he gasps, and I feel his cum exploding inside me, filling me. My insides constrict around him, holding onto him and refusing to let go. We stay bounded to each other for several minutes before he pulls himself out. The slight warmth of his fluid, contrasting the surrounding cool water, flows down my thighs and immediately brings me back to reality. What the hell did I just do? In the heat of our passion, I let him come inside me unprotected. I panic, thinking about the repercussions; I can’t allow this kind of carelessness to happen again. Pregnancy isn’t part of my 5-year plan and neither is disappointing my mother with failure. I’ll have to find another method of contraception, in addition to condoms when I get back or resume abstinence. The latter will not be an option for me, now that I’m addicted to his body.
Guilt is written all over Carson’s face. “God, I’m sorry Lil. I… I lost myself in the moment. Is there any chance you might be on birth control?” I shake my head, and he looks even guiltier. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he grumbles, blaming himself.
“Don’t, Carson. Chances of me getting pregnant aren’t high from one encounter, but then all it takes is just one time. We can’t let this happen again, alright?” he nods his head with guilt still clearly plastered on his face.
“I promise it won’t happen again,” He tips my chin up and kisses my lips tenderly. “I’m sorry, baby.” His eyes lock on mine, making sure I see he’s dead serious and that he means every bit of his promise.
“I’m guilty, too. It takes two to tango, right?” I tease, attempting to lessen our stress as a tiny seed slowly burrows inside my head with pregnancy anxiety.
____________________
The hike back was as excruciating as the hike there. I’m completely exhausted by the time we walk through the front door, so we both agree to call it a night. After a much needed hot shower, we eat dinner prepared for us by Chef Calvino at the kitchen bar. Carson and I share a glass of red wine while relaxing in front of a man-sized approved LED screen. I lean comfortably against his chest with his arms around me. He hands me the remote, prompting me to give him an ‘Are you crazy?’ look. No man ever gives up this privilege or right. Now I know he’s too good to be true. “Why don’t you choose a movie? I don’t have any favorites and to be honest, I haven’t sat through an entire movie for years.” I can’t imagine anyone not making time to watch at least one entire movie. Poor guy, he must work way too hard.
I flip through the channels and stumble upon ’50 First Dates’. “I have to warn you. It’s a corny, chick flick, but one of my favorites. I’ve seen it at least fifty times.” My light tone should tell him that I’m all about this movie. He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t oppose. Growing up, I only loved romantic comedies and hated horror or sad movies. I don’t know if it has anything to do with my mother’s contempt for romance, but I didn’t want to watch anything that incited tears. Maybe I thought that if I saw enough of those movies, I would eventually believe romantic, happy endings can really exist.
It’s nice to kick back and enjoy a relaxing evening, especially after such an active day. I love watching him laugh and appreciate Adam Sandler’s crazy humor like I do. “I can completely relate to that kind of devotion. I’d go through any lengths to keep you with me. There’s no chance in heaven or hell I’d ever let you go,” he explains. I can’t believe he’s being absolutely serious, referring to the movie and paralleling our relationship to it. This is a first for anyone to pull a real, life’s lesson from an Adam Sandler, cheesy, comedy movie. I think it’s so adorable and uncharacteristic of him.
“I take it that you enjoyed my selection,” I inquire with a sappy grin on my face.
“It wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. Plus, I’ve always had a soft spot for Drew Barrymore,” he replies in a sassy, sultry voice.
I nudge my elbow against his iron clad abs to show my disapproval. He pretends to flinch in pain. “Really? She’s blonde. Is that your preference?” I sound faintly jealous with my inquiry of hair color.
“You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say it’s too bad that she isn’t brunette. I could never resist a feisty brunette.” He laughs and squeezes his arms even tighter around me.
“If that’s the case, then I’m okay with that.” I look up at him with smiling eyes.
The next movie comes on, but my exhaustion conquers me, and I happily fall asleep in his arms. I wake up in the middle of the night to find Carson’s warm body wrapped around mine. He must’ve carried me back into the bedroom when I dozed off. I nuzzle my bottom against his pelvis and immediately feel his firm erection. “Are you asleep?” I whisper to him. He gently tucks my hair over to one side, exposing my neck for his warm lips. His trailing kisses send jolts of renewed energy down my spine, stirring all my senses, making me ready for him again.
“It’s difficult for me to sleep when I’m lying next to your irresistible body,” he murmurs breathlessly into my ears.
“Well then, what are you waiting for? Let’s make the most of your insomnia,” I playfully encourage him and giggle. He rolls me onto my back and settles himself on top of me.
“With you in my bed, I might never sleep again.” He buries his face into my hair, inhales my scent and begins making love to me.
Chapter 12
Bianca Sorte
“Sasha, I want an updated report for Mr. Bradley from Evan Miller, P.I. He’s had plenty of time to gather the information I’ve requested.” It’s been over two weeks since I last talked to Carson. He’s made no attempt to contact me, and it’s driving me fucking insane. I don’t tolerate being treated like shit.
“I’ll call Mr. Miller and get a full report for you within the hour.” Sasha replies promptly with shakiness in her voice. Fifteen minutes later she walks back into my office. “Ms. Sorte, I have the report you requested. I think you should sit down before you open it up.” She warns me.
I snatch the large manila envelope from her hands. “I want to be alone,” I rudely dismiss her. My heart beats rapidly as I rip it open to reveal the alarming contents in it. Picture after picture of Carson with a young, skinny brunette are all I see. Anger doesn’t even come close to describing the emotion I’m feeling right now as I flip through them. He appears happier in these pictures than I’ve ever seen him the past couple of years with me. Who the fuck is this whore? I hate her even more when I flip to the next one. Disgusting, he’s fucking her against a window. I can’t stand to look at these damn pictures anymore. I throw them across my desk where some of them land on the floor. I’m definitely going to have to make an emergency visit to Dr. Rancoman, my psychiatrist, to sort out my anger or I might end up doing something I should regret later on, but I won’t.
Dear Miss Sorte:
I’ve gathered the information you requested. I apologize for the graphic pictures I’ve included for your personal viewing. Mr. Bradley is currently on the island of St. Croix. He has a place on a small private island where he spends time with a young lady named Lillian Ly. She’s a medical-resident at St. Croix Medical School. He appears quite fond of her. He’s made this island his temporary residence. Please let me know if I can be of further service to you.
Sincerely,
Evan Miller P.I.
“Sasha, call Mr. Miller immediately and have him dig deeper for me. I need to know every fucking detail about this Lillian girl. She’s going to pay dearly for taking something that belongs to me!” I angrily scream my demands.
“I’m on it, Ms. Sorte,” Sasha ensures while nervously looking at me.
“Make an appointment with Dr. Rancoman and then come back and see me when you’re done. I have tension that requires your expertise to relieve.” She
’s going to have to fuck me hard and long today. I’m beyond repair right now. This whore is in over her head. I’ll make her life a living hell if she doesn’t let Carson go. She doesn’t know who she’s up against. I can be one hell of a wicked bitch when push comes to shove.
____________________
Two days later I receive an email from Mr. Miller with an extensive report for Carson’s little whore. I’m impressed with his promptness.
Lillian M. Ly
DOB: May 31, 1992, Fort Wayne, IN
Family: Mother: Lia Ly
Ethnicity: Part Caucasian, part Asian
Education: Homestead High School 2006-2009, Indiana University
2009-2013
Miss Ly is currently living at St. Dominica Dormitory on campus with Amelia McFarland, her roommate. They appear close along with a young man named Richard Stevens. The three of them study and dine together often. Richard has some emotional attachment to Miss Ly. I’ve inquired around campus and some of the students mentioned the strain in their relationship is caused by an older man. She works at Hope Hospital as a medical-resident. She’s well-liked and respected by her peers, keeps to herself and likes her privacy. Miss Ly doesn’t party, drink, or smoke. She seems like a good, wholesome, young lady with an impressive academic record. I can’t find any dirt on her.
Miss Goody Two Shoes, bastard child has no dirt for me to use against her. My plans will have to change. It looks like I’ll have to make a personal visit to Mr. Stevens. We share a common bond. I want Carson, and he wants Lillian. I think we can work something out, so we’ll be both happy in the end. I call Sasha to book the earliest flight out to St. Croix.
Richard Stevens
This is oddly mysterious. I find a sealed envelope slipped underneath the door to my room. The note is handwritten and personally addressed to me.
Mr. Richard Stevens,
I have some interesting information about Miss Lillian Ly that I would like to share with you. Let’s meet for dinner and personally discuss them. See you at Chateau Avito @ 7:00 this evening. I’ll be wearing a red dress, waiting for you.
Yours truly,
Bianca Sorte
How does this woman know Lil or me, and how the hell did she track me to my room? She’s invaded my privacy, and this angers me. What information could she possibly have on Lily that I’d be interested in, and why would she go through all this trouble to give me the information? If she knows where I live, then she knows where Lily lives, too. Shit, I have a bad feeling about this, but I don’t have a choice, do I? I have to figure out what her motives are, so I have to meet her. My mind can only think of the worse possible case. What if she wants to harm Lily in some way? Is she an ex-girlfriend of Carson’s?
____________________
As soon as I enter the front lobby of the restaurant, a burly gentleman dressed in a black suit escorts me to her table. Damn, she’s drop dead gorgeous. She looks just like one of Hugh Hefner’s Playboy Bunnies. Her eyes are deep, ocean blue, hair is straight and blond, knockers are impressively unproportional to her skinny waistline and her makeup is heavy, but perfect. She’s dressed for attention in a red, halter, mini dress with killer, black, stiletto heels. “Hello, Mr. Stevens. I’m glad you decided to meet me.” She reaches her hand out for me to embrace it with a kiss, but I shake it softly instead. The tone of her voice is purposely seductive.
“Can we get to the point, Ms. Sorte?” I hastily ask, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.
“Why yes, of course. Would you like a glass of wine?” she politely offers me.
“Sure, why not?” I snippily reply. The same gentleman that escorted me in pours me a glass of rich, Malbec wine. He doesn’t look like a waiter to me. He almost appears like a bodyguard with his stiff stance and alertness.
“Lillian has something that belongs to me. I want him back. We would’ve been married two weeks ago, but he called it off because of her.” Her voice is hateful and lethal, and I don’t like the sound of it. My assumption was right, she is connected to Carson.
“Are you talking about Carson Bradley?” I inquire, pleading innocent even though I already know exactly who she’s talking about.
“Yes, I am. And you have feelings for Lillian. Am I correct? We can work together to get what we both want.” I take a big gulp of my wine to shake this craziness away. Do I admit to her accurate assumption or deny it? “What are you proposing?” Shit, did I just really ask her that question?
“I need to prove to Carson that Lillian loves you and not him. It’s just that simple.” She grins, making me feel uneasy. There’s something heinous behind those cold, blue eyes of hers.
“And how do you suppose we accomplish this?” I curiously inquire because I want to know what’s going through her resentful, scheming mind. She happily fills me in.
I leave the restaurant feeling sick to my stomach as I recap the devious plan in my head. That scornful woman knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. She has masterminded an entire scheme with perfection. I can’t believe I’ve become this desperate to have Lil love me. Bianca is asking me to do the unthinkable, and I’m ashamed that I’m even considering it. Can I be this deceitful?
Lillian Ly
The excitement I’m feeling is unsurpassable. I passed my physiology exam, one of the toughest tests of the year, and scored the highest grade in the entire school. What a relief it is for me. Richard and Ame both convince me to go celebrate with them along with a few other friends tonight. As much as I want Carson to join us, he thought I would have a better time with my friends if he wasn’t around, being overprotective. He only had one stipulation for me; stay the night with him when I’m done. If I had my choice, I’d rather spend every minute with Carson. I can’t get enough of him and since our time together is limited I’m very stingy about it.
We hit up a local bar, popular with the college students here in town. Richard bought Amelia and me each a bottle of locally brewed Maple Ale. The music is awesome, but way too loud. Due to the deafening volume, we have to scream to communicate and then end up laughing hysterically because we still can’t understand what the person next to us is saying. I’m careful not to take big gulps of my beer. I’ve learned my lesson about consuming alcohol too quickly. “Stop nursing that bottle, Lily. Amelia is already on her third one. You need to keep up,” Richard urges me to drink faster.
“She’s part Brit and Irish; she’s born with a drinking gene,” I shout teasingly.
As soon as he finishes giving me a hard time, a slender, brunette lady with an adorable pixie haircut taps his shoulder to get his attention. “Richard, is that you? It’s Sasha. What are the chances of running into you here? How have you been?” She seems overly excited about running into Richard. Who wouldn’t? He’s good-looking and really sweet.
“These are my friends, Lillian and Amelia. Please have a drink with us. What can I get you?” Richard graciously offers to buy her a beer, always being polite.
“Good evening ladies,” she greets with a hand wave. Ame and I simultaneously smile in response. “Thanks Richard, I’ll take one of those Maple Ales, too.” She points at our bottles, gestures one with her index finger and then turns her attention back to us. “Our families go way back, if you’re wondering how we know each other,” she explains to us even though we didn’t ask for a reason. There’s something about her that makes me feel uncomfortable. I can’t put a finger on it.
“Oh, I see,” I reply and stand there awkwardly waiting for Richard to return. Sasha finally gets her cold bottle after Richard weaves through a group of admiring, giggly women. Amelia and I leave them to get reacquainted while we hit the dance floor. I’ve never been much of a dancer until I met Amelia. She makes it fun with her wild and everlasting energy. Her body naturally moves to any type of music. Anyone can see that she’s been taking lessons since she was five as soon as they watch her move on the dance floor. I’m completely drenched with sweat from trying to keep up with Ame’s dancing in th
is sweltering place. I’m exhausted and out of breath while Amelia is still going strong. Where does she store all that spunk?
The bar is overflowing with people tonight since everyone is celebrating their last day of classes. We’re officially on quarter break. Carson is bringing me with him to Chicago for a huge charity event which he’s heavily involved with, and this is where I’ll be spending my break. We’re leaving early tomorrow morning, so I really don’t want to stay out too late. All the dancing is tiring me quickly, making me realize how out of shape I really am. I yell into Amelia’s ear that I’m almost ready to go, and she gives me pouty lips and a sour face. I hate to disappoint her because she loves to party and dance, and we don’t get to do it that often, but my legs are begging me to stop. She nods her head, follows me off the dance floor and helps me fight the crowd to look for Richard. We find him with Sasha, taking a shot of some hard, dark liquor. “Richard, I’m out. I have to catch an early flight tomorrow.” Disappointment saturates his austere blue eyes the minute I tell him my fun is over. I turn to Ame and point my finger to the direction of the bathroom.
“I’ll go with you. I’ve had plenty to drink this evening,” Amelia yells out, so I can hear her. Richard offers to hold my bottle while I use the ladies’ room. It bothers me to see his melancholy expression because I’m supersensitive when it comes to hurt feelings. Things haven’t been the same between us since I told him about Carson, but I can’t hold that against him. I’d be totally bitchy if it was the other way around.
Richard Stevens
“Shit, I don’t know if I can go through with this,” I panic with trembling hands and sweaty palms.
“Stay cool, man. Give me her damn bottle. I have the sedatives right here,” Sasha exasperatingly demands, rolling her eyes at me.
“Are you sure this isn’t going to be harmful to her in any way?” I could never forgive myself if she gets hurt in anyway because of me. What the fuck was I thinking when I agreed to do this?