by Delka Beazer
“Do you hate me now? I mean … even more than you did just seconds ago?”
“Don’t try to be funny, you’re not very good,” she snaps at me, dodging the question, strangely my twisted soul manages to suck some much needed relief from this. There are some questions you don’t want to ask more than once.
“You’re talking about cocaine not marijuana.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” I reply softly.
“Do you know how many children you’ve killed in the Caribbean?” she asks in a vicious undertone.
She moves so quickly I am still sitting when she reaches the opening to the porch and walks off into the surrounding darkness.
I launch swiftly into action and intercept her on the grassy driveway.
“Don’t touch me,” she snarls.
I let go, hold my hands in the air but God knows that I’m as guilty as she believes. “Look I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” My mouth twists bitterly. I shake my head, trying to recover. “I had no idea that Emmanuel would realize where I’d gone so soon. He’s never traced me so fast before.”
“So you just thought you’d use your blood money and buy another set of cheap lives to stave off the inevitable?” she says remorselessly.
I stiffen under her venomous condemnation. “I didn’t force you to take that money,” I fire back.
“No! But you forced me to go with you!” She is alight with fury, pacing up and down.
I rake a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry for the danger I’ve placed your family in but you did make a choice Daphne and you’re not free from all guilt either.”
She tosses around as if she’d bat away my words. She fixes her eyes on me. “The damage that people like you have caused, no are causing, makes me sick.”
Her disgust sends me into a tailspin and red overtakes my vision, and with it the memories that wouldn’t go away no matter how far I ran.
Liam, his shirt torn apart by the spray of bullets. The deep, angry holes in his chest, it reaches back from the grave to haunt me, to accuse me.
I glare down into her eyes and snap my teeth together so hard my jaws reverberate with the force. There is no way on earth I’ll justify myself to a stranger, someone I’ve known for a few days!
I swing around, and every muscle in my body coils with trapped tension but I don’t move. Instead I’m glued to the spot as I feel with shock the first crack of the armor of indifference which has been holding my sanity together for so many months. And it’s all because of Daphne.
I must get away from her.
Within seconds I’m past the house and descending the steep slope which falls away into a river down below the property.
It’s darker out here, with the shade of the trees overhead blocking out the little bit of light from the moon. My feet pound the ground harder as I increase my speed. I hear the lighter hurry of her footsteps tracing me.
Why is she following me? I turn and see her oncoming shadow in the moonlight, the pale white of her shirt moving in the darkness. “Go back!” I grate out and immediately wince. My voice sounds like that of a tortured spirit, someone in need of forgiveness.
But she doesn’t stop. She just keeps coming forward. I ignore her and lengthen my strides. Swift paces bring me to the gentle little river which feeds into a pool at the bottom of the hill.
I had discovered this piece of paradise on our first night here and have visited it every night since.
I stop at the water’s edge, and wait for her to draw near. I round on her the moment she does. “Are you deaf? I said to go back.”
Her breath is coming in spurts and she ignores me in favor of sucking in much needed air, she glances up defiantly. “I don’t have to do a damn thing you say,” she flings back, still out of breath but willing to lock horns nonetheless.
Her very stubbornness irritates the hell out of me. I itch to give her behind a good thrashing. I abruptly recoil from that line of thought. I’m sounding more and more like my father, a no-nonsense hardworking rancher who owns a spread back in Colorado.
But I desperately need to get away from Daphne before my mounting guilt forces me to risk my life for her even knowing that she hates me.
I throw my head back and let loose some of my pent-up frustration in an angry shout. The silence bursts with a furious flapping of wings, and the piercing squawks of equally pissed off birds. Within a few seconds they settle back down and have either flown off or gone back to sleep for the night.
“Behaving like a caveman isn’t going to change anything,” Daphne says sarcastically, standing with her hands placed saucily on her hips.
I send her a cutting look which I hope she sees but otherwise I ignore her. Picking up a stone I send it skipping over the black ink of the water. “Daphne, I don’t give a damn what you think.”
She snorts dismissively. “I never supposed you did. You’re a selfish-”
I wave away her words. “Yes, yes … we’ve already confirmed that. I’m a selfish prick who is using you to try and save my own skin. Is that the reason you followed me down here to remind me of my sins or is there a more productive argument somewhere in our future?”
Her eyes narrow dangerously, then a shutter comes down over her features and it’s as if her anger has been an illusion. “I want you to let me go with my family. Tomorrow morning. We don’t have to go back to Antigua right away. I have some small savings for Aubrey’s college.”
Her change of attitude, her lack of animosity towards me for the last few days makes sense now. “Ah … so we get to the bottom of your metamorphoses, don’t we? These last few days were your way to try and convince me to let you go? By behaving nice? Am I right?”
The stillness of her body convinces me as nothing else could have of her guilt. And … and I’m robbed of breath for several heartbeats as I try to wrap my mind around the reason why I feel an emptiness which suddenly breaks open into an instant obsession to take something from her. As if in these last few days I’ve actually come to need her.
I shake my head harshly. None of this makes sense. I don’t feel anything remotely substantial for Daphne, other than desire.
But she’s being naïve if she thinks that my letting her go will solve the problem of EmmanueI. With or without me, he’ll eventually find her and I can’t bear to think of what will happen once he does. I need to convince her to give up this foolish notion. And I have to try through the only way in which I can reach past as the distrust and hostility that my actions have brought about between us. I move deliberately towards her.
She doesn’t back up. My blood rises to the challenge, and unable to stop myself, I grasp her shoulders. Letting my fingers travel greedily down to her slender hips. They settle into the tiny flare of her hips and then backwards. I cup the fullness of her neat, pert bottom. I close my eyes and groan as I massage her flesh, her breath catches and she rocks against me. I shudder at the friction. I need to put a stop to these stupid games we’ve been playing.
I lean down and nuzzle the delicate skin of her neck, she trembles beneath my touch, her breathing escalates but she doesn’t make a single sound of protest. Does that mean that she wants this as much as I? I don’t know.
I should stop. I know that I have the power to do so. To make her go back to the house. But I don’t. Before Daphne had met me, she had been innocent, untouched and now I’ve tossed my conscience aside and I’m trespassing on her body like a vagabond drifter. Which I suppose I am.
But that’s not so important anymore. I nip the tip of her earlobe, feel her shudder at the sensations.
“Do you want me to make love to you?” I ask her softly, running my hand through the soft wool of her hair which feels like a decadent sponge you could spend countless hours smoothing over your body until you have to stop for fear of embarrassing yourself.
I hear her breath hitch as a shudder goes through her body. She rears back in the demanding circle of my arms, our eyes meet in the dim light. “Yes.”
> Her chin comes up and she steps back out of my arms and I force myself to let her go instead of tearing the clothes from her body, but my eyes stay fixed on her. I don’t want to miss a second of marveling at the sleekness of the lines in her body, the wonderful jumble of her hair framing her achingly beautiful face. She makes me feel free, worthy, feelings I’ve thought lost forever to me.
She begins to undress. Her movements are slow, hesitant and my body which is already imagining itself crushed against hers explodes into life. My desire goes into warp speed, my hands become sweaty and my nostrils flare, I have to grit my teeth to keep myself from launching forwards and tearing the remainder of clothing from off her supple body.
With a supreme effort I keep myself still, though I shake with the effort to do so.
She easily disposes of her scrap of a blouse and her fingers flare out over the darkened tips of her nipples which sit high on her firm, young breasts. I gulp, as they linger there. Her head is bent so I cannot see her face. I open my mouth to ask her to look up, to look at me. I want to see her when she touches herself but only a strangled groan passes my lips.
She goes further down, over the flat, smooth surface of her tummy, the metal button on her denim skirts snaps open with a pop and a grown escapes my lips as it slides down the length of her long, shapely girlish legs.
She steps out of it with a slow, sensual movement. My eyes bulge at the picture in front of me. She’s not wearing any panties.
I move swiftly, unable to stop myself.
Capturing her lips roughly, I delve into the softness of her mouth. She tilts her head to the side to take the force of my kiss, allowing it to deepen. I grasp her face, demanding to control this kiss, my body demands that I ravish her the way I want. We go at each other for long seconds, which drag out under my hungry lips.
Finally I manage to summon the wherewithal to release her. I groan and nibble on the soft skin of her neck as I catch my breath. She does the same as she heaves against me, causing her naked breasts to rustle against my chest. “When did you become such a vixen?” I ask, my voice cracking with need.
There is no doubt now that I must have her. The only question is where. I glance around at the cocooning darkness of water, sand and trees.
She tips her head back and maneuvers herself so that we are facing each other, “You should know, you made me this way.”
She is right. I took her innocence and have brought alive the type of woman that most men only dream about. Open, bold and extraordinarily sexy.
She reaches forward and skims her fingers down the length of my chest beneath the t-shirt and it feels as if she’s opened a trail of fire down my skin.
That’s it.
I’m a man, and a tiny voice whispers gleefully in the back of my mind, that I’m more than that to Daphne. I’m her husband in every possible sense of the word. I have already claimed her untouched body and now she belongs to me. Regardless of what she wants or what I believe.
I reach for her and pull her roughly into my arms.
Chapter Six
Daphne
Nate’s hands, large and strong are like big squares of sandpaper which rove all over my body unhindered. Even the hairs on my head react from the friction like the parts of a well-oiled machine.
Tiny spasms shoot through me at every touch of his fingers. They tighten then release at these spots on my body that I would never have thought in a million years could be the recipients of this type of mind blowing pleasure.
I close my eyes, rock back on my heels which have sunk into the sand under the pressure building in my body, and let loose a guttural moan that is part desperation and part need. All of which merge into a rampaging desire that is demanding to be satisfied.
Nate chuckles as he traces a fingertip down the center of my back, tickling my spine, his hands then bunch around my buttocks, weighing, kneading the flesh.
My hips answer with a grinding rotation and I squirm restlessly in his grip. I have to have a counterpoint and I reach down and catch a fistful of his thick silky hair between my fingers.
He yelps playfully but doesn’t reprimand me, instead his silver eyes glow devilishly up at me. “You like it when I touch your bottom, don’t you?”
Oh God the man is a beast and he enjoys torturing me, and to prove it he stops touching me and sits back on his hunches waiting for my answer. I give another spirited tug of his hair to get him to continue, but he just grins widely and waits! Then he leans forward and like the devil he is blows more hot air into my navel!
A cry of frustrated delight spills from my mouth and I know I have to submit to get him to continue. “Yes … yes you bastard, I like it!”
But he doesn’t resume his massaging of my bottom as I’m eagerly anticipating and when seconds tick by and nothing happens I’m forced to search out where his delicious fingers have gone.
They are sitting on his lap and his face is turned up to me, his beautiful eyes intent. “I’m glad that you want this Daphne. I don’t want the anger from the last time to mar this between us. Let’s,” he stops and I see him look off into the distance, then he clears his throat, faces me again, “if we can, let’s make this the start of something new between us. No running away, alright?” He leans forward and nuzzles my belly button, placing quick gentle kisses all around it.
I jerk in response, and close my eyes to hide the quick leap of guilt and I nod, unwilling to chance my voice. None of what he’d just said could change a thing for me and for the first time since meeting him I would give anything for things to have been different.
I shove the thought aside. I’m not hurting him. He wants me and I want him. We are both using each other in this game.
An ecstatic moan escapes my lips and cuts short these uncomfortable thoughts at the reapplication of his hands.
He is sliding his fingers further down my bottom, and they dip between the triangular juncture of my legs.
My head falls back in mindless anticipation as he runs the pads of his delightfully rough fingers over that most sensitive opening to my body. I begin to undulate with each brush of his thumb, following the motion like a faithful servant. Soft cries of delight stream from my mouth as he works my body, sending it into a frenzy of utmost ecstasy and pain. He works his fingers back and forth and then slowly into me. I grip his hair, and tug ruthlessly but he doesn’t respond, and a spate of shivering takes hold of me.
“Are you cold?” his words are dark, beguiling. He is such an abominable prick!
“What do you think, Sherlock,” I hiss, but a smile manages to sneak past my lips that he can be so nonchalant at a time like this.
Nate’s silver orbs glint with rich satisfaction and he returns my smile with a broad grin.
I study his face in the moonlight. “You have beautiful eyes.” Immediately I nip my bottom lip. Whatever made me say something so sappy?
He laughs softly, his maleness oozing like unfiltered honey from the sound. Then he winks teasingly at me, before his gaze drops to my belly, and then lowers to the place his fingers are still resting. “You have beautiful … everything.”
I gasp and playfully swat his ears.
“Ouch,” he yelps but he throws his head back and hoots with laughter.
“You have no shame,” I say primly, my lips tremble with the effort to ignore his wicked smile. I fail and collapse with laughter into his arms. We tumble onto the sand.
Quick and agile, Nate rears back to avoid falling on me. The sand grinds into the soft flesh of my bottom but that means nothing as I watch Nate towering over me, and my need comes roaring back. “Nate I can’t wait much longer.”
He mutters something profane, then swoops down and nibbles at the fullness of my bottom lip with not nearly enough force. I groan in exasperation, thrust myself forcefully into his hard body to show him what I want.
He takes the hint, parts my lips brutally, the muscles in my neck strain as I absorb the frantic stabbing of his tongue as he answers my need. I revel
in it but seconds later a cry rents itself from my throat when he moves again and begins placing hot, small kisses all over my body. I spread myself eagerly on the sand for him.
I grip his shirt as he comes down again. “Take this off.”
He rears back and hauls off his pants and shirt, then the boxers beneath. I gulp when he reaches for me and places the shirt under my body.
I struggle to read his expression in the darkness, but there is too much there to comprehend. The sharp planes of his face are rigid with the effort to hold back, but as always it’s his eyes which convey what I can understand.
They gleam from his face with a wildness unlike anything I have ever seen before. An involuntary moan of anticipation escapes my lips. Something has opened up between us and he’s falling and I feel myself slipping away as well. “Nate please … ”
He savors my mouth for a few heartbeats then releases the soft flesh. He lowers his forehead against mine, his breath is coming in harsh spurts.
I’m so lost, and yet so alive. I’m caught in the net that I have laid and I realize that I want to be right here, regardless of what comes after.
He pauses above me. “You won’t regret this.”
I am beyond coherent thought as the hard weight of his body presses mine back into the flimsy covering of his shirt. I grip his shoulders for anchor and move my thighs apart, wrapping them high on his waist.
He bends down and places a hard kiss on my mouth. “You know just what I like.”
That’s where he’s wrong. It’s my body that seems to sense what he demands of it and I am carried along helplessly.
We merge and I tense as my first bit of resistance is torn down by the rush of need which brings my legs up even higher, just beneath his armpits.
He cries out and begins moving, and I wait, soft cries of pleasure tearing themselves from my lips as he slides unhurriedly into the depths of my body, then retreats, repeating the motion with a torturously slow rhythm that is driving me insane.