All I Want is You_A Second Chance Romance

by Carter Blake

  “I dropped it on soft fucking sand, Aaron. And it was dead to begin with. Long dead!”

  When the boat ran ashore on some random fucking island, we passed the next signpost:

  Now this is really not happening. No, it’s all some big misunderstanding, and I’ll just blink and everything will be back to normal.

  “Did you check your phone, Macy?”

  “Did you check yours?” is the best I can manage as I dig my phone out from the waterproof pouch in my handbag.

  When the radio stayed dead when we needed it most, and Aaron started skulking around like this was some newfound land to conquer, we passed the next signpost:

  Oh, for fuck’s sake, this is really fucking happening, isn’t it?

  “No signal on mine, Mace. How about yours?”

  Looking at my phone, I resist the urge to stab it with my thumb like I did with the radio.

  “No. Nothing.”

  And there goes the next and final signpost.

  No, no, no, no, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

  “Let me take a look at the radio.” Aaron points to the useless hunk of black plastic on the ground.

  At least he didn’t just reach down and take it.

  “Be my guest.”

  I take a few steps backwards, and he scoops the radio in a weirdly swift and fluid movement, then began working on it immediately.

  I look at my phone again. There’s no signal, but there must be some way to get through to the rest of the world.

  Aaron now has the battery or something already pulled out of the radio.

  I go back to my phone.

  “Ah. No. This thing’s completely defunct. Why did they give us this piece of shit?” he exclaims.

  “I said that like twenty times already—and there’s no Wi-Fi here either.”

  Aaron goddamn laughs loud enough to shake the goddamn trees, but I don’t entirely mind it.

  Panicking’s not going to do us any good.

  “Do they have another manifest back at the pier? Or will they mention us to the guides when they get back? And notice we’re missing?” I ask.

  I don’t know why I think Aaron would know all this shit—but he fucking might, and there’s little else I can think of right now.

  “Those are possibilities,” he says, “but most likely, they’ll notice their missing boat before anything else.”

  “So, they should be out here in like an hour at most?”

  “That’s possible, but highly unlikely.”

  “Then, when will they find us?”

  “Depending on how many other islands are out there, how far we are from the group, and the resources they can put on this, it could be days.”

  I feel like we’re about to go down that road again, with those signposts—but this time I’ll just skip a few steps.

  “No, no, no, fuck!”

  “Or it could be shorter, if this sort of thing happens often. Although you’d think they’d have better fail-safes.”

  “Alright, fine, no time to panic.”

  I’m the only one panicking, but Aaron nods understandingly.

  “Nah, I don’t think so. But it still happens, too. It’s also not the time to beat yourself up, either.”

  My hand travels into my handbag as if both were suddenly magnetized, and emerges a second later with several tiny gin bottles from the suite’s fridge.

  “It is time to drink, though.”

  “Whoa, lady, you carry those around in your purse? I think we might need to have a little talk.”

  “Oh, you always want to have a little talk, don’t you? Well, it’s not always a good time to do that.”

  Aaron pulls four tiny gin bottles from some seemingly bottomless pouch at the back of his swimwear.

  “You got me, Macy. When I say I want a little talk...well.”

  I’m going to have to start thinking of some new analogies, because there are no signposts for what starts to unfold next.

  There are no easy ways to describe it at all.

  “Seriously,” Aaron begins as we look out onto the sea, sipping from our little bottles, “do you have the habit of carrying liquor around in your purse?”

  “In my purse? No. In my handbag?” I shrug, waiting a perfectly uncomfortable couple of seconds. “Also, no.”

  This time, Aaron’s laugh seems to echo down the yawning chasm of water before us. There’s no actual echo, but it just feels so...powerful.

  “Do you usually carry around liquor next to your butt?”

  “Only if I’m on set, and if one of the stars has something about that in his rider.”

  “That the producer has to carry around liquor somewhere...special?”

  “That might as well be my job description, to be honest. But it’s never for me. Even today—it was for the both of us.”

  “Well, I’d ask how the fuck you knew we’d be in a situation like this, but I grabbed some too, so...did you happen to grab any snacks, too?”

  “Hell yeah! Did you?”

  A little more straight rum, a few crackers with hummus, a few more Belgian chocolates... I don’t need any fancier dining than this.

  It seems to be working out tonight, at any rate.

  Yes, it’s somehow gotten dark over the course of a few snacks.

  And we’re still sitting on the sand, staring out at the ocean—although the view is mostly stars, now.

  I polish off my latest bottle, trying to think of the right thing to say.

  “At this moment, I am seeing more stars than I’ve ever seen up until now combined.”

  I turn lazily to the side to gauge Aaron’s reaction to that bit of poetry I just fucking dropped.

  He just keeps looking up to the fucking sky as he says, “Heh. Upper West Side, right?”

  I bring my view, even more lazily, back up to the sky.

  “You can’t see any more stars on the East Side. Or in fuckin’ Midtown. S’all the same. Where did you grow up, Mr. Big Shot? Fuckin’ Big Sur or something?”

  We both laugh upwards into the vastness of the night sky.

  “No, but close. Brentwood.”

  My head drops for another look at Aaron, considering this information, and then back up at the universe.

  “You’re really born and bred, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a product of the system, baby.” Aaron twists the cap off another rum bottle. “The studio system.”

  “I didn’t know the studio system produced human beings.”

  “You should ask my parents about that.”

  “Ask them about what?”

  “Being part of the studio magic, that old-school Hollywood glamour, when I was trying to grow up and be an actual person.”

  “Did they try to make you a child star or something?”

  “No. And that’s one thing to be grateful for. They just let me raise myself while I got inadvertent little glimpses into the sleaze through the artifice.”

  “So, they were producers?”

  “Fuck, yeah, couldn’t you tell?”

  I’m not even sure what’s funny, but more of our laughter flies into the constellations.

  “Wait a second...” I turn over to face Aaron, and he faces me at the same time, and the view is somehow even better than all the stars. “Your parents were into old-school Hollywood glamour when you were growing up? How old are you? Is this old-school glamour from the nineties?”

  “Yeah, early nineties, and later. You know, Jack and Rose.”

  “So is that one of the movies you like?”

  Aaron rolls his eyes, and that’s enough to take me on a little journey—and leave me feeling flushed out of fucking nowhere.

  “What do you think, Macy?”

  “How about TV, music?”

  That sentence was a hard one to get out.

  “Oh, yeah. Music videos...the Bangles...”

  “Weren’t they before your time? Also, what?”

  “They’re timeless. Susanna Hoffs is not of this Earth.”

&n
bsp; “What about Belinda Carlisle?”

  “She’s more about being down to Earth, no matter what.”

  “I think I get that. What else, Madonna?”

  “Are you calling me Madonna?”

  “No, she’s just from the same whole thing. Or maybe not.”

  “No, I’d say definitely not. Like a Prayer was great, though.”

  “How about beyond that? Blonde Ambition? Truth or Dare?”

  Yes, I’m the one who says it. Guess who runs with it?

  I’ll give you a hint: he’s suddenly got a lot more energy, and he’s now sitting upright.

  “If you’re suggesting we play Truth or Dare, I think that’s a great idea.”

  “I’ll tell you what...” I sit upright, now. It seems like the thing to do. “I’ll do it—but I’m choosing truth every single time.”

  “Macy, that sounds perfect.”

  I wasn’t expecting that, but I’ll take it.

  “How does it start? Fuck it I’m going: truth, ask away.”

  “What’s the most embarrassing thing you could possibly admit right now? And remember, this is truth, so make it accurate.”

  The answer springs to mind immediately, and blood rushes to my face, which I bury in my hands for a moment.

  “Oh, no, not this. Not you. You’re the last person I should be telling this to.”

  “Sounds like you’ve found the exact right answer to this question. So, let’s have some truth.”

  Uncovering my face, I spit it out as fast as possible. “IactuallylikePaulyShore.”

  “What? I have to understand what you’re saying.”

  “I. Actually. Like. Pauly. Shore. Okay?”

  “Uh, I said embarrassing. That’s normal. Pauly Shore’s great.”

  “So those are the movies you like?”

  “All I said was Pauly Shore’s great, but you’re obviously embarrassed so you’re off the hook. My turn.”

  “Allow me to guess...”

  “No, my turn: dare.”

  That flushing from earlier return with a fucking vengeance, and I feel weak. I lie down, unthinkingly, my eyes still on Aaron, waiting for his dare.

  This is it. I’m in control.

  The way Aaron looks at me is clear—he’s mine to do with as I please.

  I now know that this is the situation I’ve been waiting for.

  “Okay Aaron, your dare is to stand up and take off all your clothes.”

  Aaron moves to leap off the ground.

  “Woah there, Superman. This time, take it nice and slow. I want to enjoy this show.”

  Aaron

  What started as a joke has quickly turned into something...different.

  Standing naked, with my hands on my hips, I channel my inner Superman. Or Thor.

  From mythology or Marvel, or DC, take your pick. Any of those icons will do.

  Although, I do feel like my own icon right now, in my own mythological land.

  Macy’s passion-filled eyes are the first clue that nobody’s ready for this show to be over. Dropping my knees to either side of her feet, on the towel that she’s been lounging on, I slowly lean forward and connect my lips with hers.

  Only our lips are touching as I hover over her.

  She moans encouragingly, opening her mouth.

  Slipping my tongue inside, I start traveling down what I hope is an epic, endless path of losing myself in all that is Macy.

  Pulling back, I work myself down the side of her jaw kissing lightly.

  “Well, I’m naked now. Maybe I could take this off, right?” I whisper in her ear, and she shivers slightly under me.

  Reaching between us, I use my index finger to lightly trace a trail from her collarbone down her chest. Stopping at her bikini top at it’s joint between her tits, and giving the fabric a couple quick taps, I raise my eyebrows questioningly.

  I don’t see much of a reaction at first, just that same heat in her eyes, but when I see that stellar heat start to go supernova and feel her breathing quicken, I move my fingers down slowly.

  My fingers shift to the right, and I cup my hand around her tit, feeling its wonderful heaviness. Circling her nipple with my thumb lightly, I gauge her reaction before going any further.

  When she moans, I capture her lips again with my own. Sliding my tongue into her mouth, I press against her softly.

  She shifts slightly under me, and I draw back a bit, releasing her lips.

  Are we stopping? Even though I’ll be sad, this vacation’s already progressing to more amazing places that I could imagine.

  I’m happy to see that as she leans back on one arm, shifting away from me slightly, her other hand reaches up and pulls her bikini top away from her chest.

  She’s already untied it and tosses it to the side. It slides down her arm, still supporting behind her.

  My eyes are locked on her chest.

  Her fucking perfect chest.

  I guess it wasn’t fanciful, blown out of proportion daydreaming, then.

  I was beginning to wonder if that vision of her that first day, surrounded by steam, had started to become more imagination than memory, with all the accuracy that’s implied.

  Fortunately for me tonight, my memory is still accurate when it comes to important details.

  As I reach for her chest again, she arches into my hand, her nipple grazes my palm. She makes the most stirring, wondrous moan. My cock jumps in anticipation, now as stiff as the coral limestone formations on the shore of this island and getting even harder.

  This time, I add a delicate embrace to my kiss, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck as we slowly descend to the ground. Through my swimwear, my cock is meeting with Macy’s smooth, heavenly thighs. At last as our tongues duel.

  As fucking incredible as this is, my greed is increasing steadily, wanting to hold on to each moment tightly while also sending the powerful signal through every part of me. I keep climbing, getting higher into the blissful skies of ecstasy and deeper into the velvet throes of passion, testing the limits in every direction before breaking into new realms of pleasure.

  And I’m pretty sure we’re just getting started.

  Plunging my tongue into her mouth, I rock against her briefly.

  Fuck.

  I need to turn the heat of my smoldering want and greed before it burns through me too soon.

  Or to put it another way: break time, or I’m going to lose it on her lap.

  Closing my eyes, I attempt to keep the worst of my id at bay by remembering what’s important.

  She’s inspiring this, so you need to share it with her. Remember, this is all about showing Macy the most amazing fucking time of her life, like you promised.

  My silent lecture has worked. I feel myself naturally slowing, settling to a pace we will surely enjoy.

  Pulling from her mouth, I trail kisses down her neck, tasting her and her sweet, feminine flavor of sunshine. It takes a few seconds to work my way to her nipples. Even if those few seconds were a few hours or a few days, they would still be worth it.

  Moving her tits close together, I circle her nipples with my tongue and pinch them lightly with my fingers, turning their light rosy color into a flushed pink.

  Sucking one of the soft globes into my mouth, I continue to caress and explore them softly. I’m overtaken by the flawless way they feel, as if this is what my hands have been searching for all their lives, and the poignant perfection inspires a low feral moan.

  “Aaron, yes.”

  Her encouragement tells me to suck harder. I’m on the right track.

  Licking back and forth between her nipples, I labor like a chef crafting a meringue, not stopping until they’re stiff peaks. Macy’s fingers are curled around the top of my shoulders, squeezing hungrily, encouragingly.

  Sliding my left hand down her stomach slowly, I’m slow and purposeful, locking with Macy’s eyes to both absorb their fire, and to give her every opportunity to communicate anything she wants—and that’s what I’m here
for: anything she wants.

  The brilliant blue sparkle of her eyes has never been brighter, and although that’s my sole focus, I can almost feel the stars and the moon fading in shame, knowing they can never compete.

  A sigh followed by a soft, deep, almost guttural moan of animal pleasure emerging from Macy tells me I’m on the right track so far—along with that sparkle in her eyes.

  But sometimes, even the most vivid, penetrating hue in the universe isn’t clear enough to compete with the magic of human language.

  This is one of those times in which words become necessary.

  “Are you okay, Macy?”

  “Ugh...” Her breathing gets swifter as she struggles for her voice, I lift my hand away from her. “Just keep going, please.”

  My hand descends back down slowly, and reaching her bikini bottom, it absorbs heat radiating from her. Staying at the same pace, it slides across her mound and delve into the area between.

  Spreading my fingers, I lightly pinch both sides of her cunt. Skating along the edges of her bikini bottom, back and forth, I question her eyes with my own.

  She nods slowly, her eyes widening with mild, ecstatic shock—almost like she’s never felt anything like this before. Sometimes, all it takes is the right touch, and it’s like a whole new level, almost like the very first time all over again.

  If this ultimately winds up being my purpose in life, to finally take the time and the care to give this woman the pleasure she deserves, then I’m beyond fucking happy to fulfill it now and accept this as my peak.

  And if it ends right now, I’m happy to have fulfilled my purpose.

  I’m not in charge, though, and Macy doesn’t look like she’s ready for it to end.

  She’s so perfect, sprawled below me like a piece of art so beautiful, it almost feels wrong to behold. As if the human mind isn’t worthy or even capable of appreciation…

  “Is there a reason you stopped?”

  I can tell it took Macy a moment to summon the concentration for those words, which means I must be doing something right.

  My fingers run gingerly around her inner thighs and then up to where they meet.

  “Is this okay?” Stroking her pussy over her bikini bottom, I start to feel just how massively wet she is through the cloth.

  “Oh. Oh, yes. Oh, holy fucking shit, yes.”

  Her hand reaches between us and lightly fondles my stiff cock.