Trashed (Stripped #2)
Page 28
She’s speechless. “Adam. Seriously. What is this place? Is it a resort of some kind?”
I laugh as we sit on the porch of the master bedroom, watching the waves lap on the beach. “No, babe. This is ours. Welcome home.”
She turns to me, eyes wide. “What do you mean, welcome home?”
I grin even more widely. “This is the real graduation present, Des. Not just the trip here, but the island, the house.”
“The island. Explain that one, hon. The island?”
I love her inability to comprehend this. “We own half of this island.”
“You mean you do.”
I shake my head. “Nope. We.” I lead her back toward the kitchen. “Come on, there’s something I need to show you.”
On the counter in the kitchen is the paperwork, laid out in piles, with a yellow-highlighted ‘X’ wherever a signature is needed. I take the pen Dawson left, and sign each page, and then extend the pen to Des. “Sign, and it’s really, truly ours. Yours and mine. Both our names.” With a provision enabling us to update the paperwork if Des was ever to take my name. But I don’t mention that proviso just yet.
She stares at the papers, then out at the water and the sun lowering itself toward the horizon. “I don’t understand. How can we own half an island? Who owns the other half?”
“My friend Dawson Kellor, and his wife Grey.” I wave toward the other side of the island. “They have a house over there, a lot like ours, with the dock in between. On the opposite side of the island from the dock there’s a boathouse, with a sailboat and a powerboat.”
“So you and your friend bought a whole island?”
I grin cockily. “Sure did. It’s a small one, though, not even a full square mile. It was owned by some rich guy who wanted to build a house here. He actually did most of the hard work, creating a workable, self-contained power and plumbing infrastructure.” I tap the papers. “And not just Dawson and me, but you and Grey, too.”
She sets the pen down and walks back outside, and leans on the railing. I follow her and lean my butt against the rail, and wait for her. “This is big, Tory. Really big. And really permanent.”
God, she’s serious. She only calls me Tory when she’s feeling emotional.
“Are you scared?” I ask.
She shrugs, and then nods. “You bought a fucking island, Adam. Jesus. I mean, what am I supposed to do on an island?”
“Des, baby. This is a vacation home. A getaway. I’m still going to act, and now that you have your degree, you can do whatever you want. You want to stay in Detroit? I’ll buy the apartment. We’ve got my place in L.A. Where else would you want to live? I’ll have to fly back to L.A. for filming, and I’ll have shoots in other places—that’s not going to change. This doesn’t change us, Des. It’s just somewhere we can go and get away from the studio and the interviews and the paparazzi, and everything. Just be us, no interruptions.”
“Oh.” She glances up at me. “Do I want to know how much you and Dawson spent on all this?”
I grin. “Nope. You might pass out.” Big numbers make her dizzy.
When I bought her that Prada clutch, she asked how much I spent, so I told her. She got weird. Tried to convince me she wanted me to take it back, even though she had it in a death grip. Another time, I was on the phone with my agent, discussing an offer. It was for sixteen million, and my agent thought that was lowball, so I told her to counter with twenty-five, not realizing Des was standing behind me, listening. So I tried to explain to her how a big-budget payout worked, and she just shook her head, waving me off. She doesn’t like to think about money, I’ve realized. She’s lived so frugally her entire life, never having enough of anything, and I think the shock of the change in lifestyle was just too much for her to comprehend. So she doesn’t. She’s perfectly content to let me take care of money and not tell her about it.
“So,” I ask, “are you going to sign or what?”
“It’s too much to process,” she answers. “Can I think about it?”
I pull her to me and kiss her. “Take all the time in the world, babe.”
* * *
He’s wearing a tux, barefoot, the cuffs rolled up past his ankles, jacket sleeves pushed up. Black bowtie, hair slicked back and to one side. Fucking gorgeous. Such a beautiful man, so powerful, his arms stretching the sleeves of the coat. His eyes blaze, hot and intense in that unique, incredible shade of green. I never get tired of staring into his eyes. It’s cheesy and sappy, but I just can’t get enough.
And he’s looking at me with those eyes, and an emotion I never thought a man would ever feel for me shines from him, pours off of him:
Love.
I’m fighting tears, overwhelmed by the reality of this island, the stunning, breathtaking beauty of the property and the home. I’m even more overwhelmed by what he’s got planned for this evening.
He had a catering company set up a small table, covered in a white tablecloth, right on the beach, near the surf, so the waves lapped against our toes. Torches, planted deep into the sand, flickered in a row behind us, circling us. The torches extend in a double line out into the water, forming a corridor of orange flame on the black, moonlit water. The moon is rising just now, sliding up from out of the waves, up from the horizon, huge and full and white, her light shining in a gleaming silver pathway down the corridor formed by the torches.
Fifty yards up the beach, a violinist and cellist play, surrounded by more lit torches.
Dinner is four courses of light but filling fare, a citrusy soup, a garden salad, some kind of flavorful, flaky fish with jasmine rice and steamed vegetables, and then dessert.
We share a bottle of chilled, expensive white wine that tastes great. I don’t tell Adam but it tastes just like any other wine, to me.
Once the food is finished and the last drops of wine have been swallowed, Adam stands up, one hand in his pants pocket, and leads me away from the table, into the water, toward the pathway lit by moon and by fire.
The hem of my dress floats in the water.
He stops, turns to face me, his gaze serious.
I gaze up at him, expectant. As soon as I saw the setup, I knew what this was, what he was doing, and I’ve loved every minute of it. It’s perfect. Incredible, romantic.
But he could’ve proposed to me in an airport bathroom and I would’ve said yes.
“You are my Destiny.” He leads with this, and with a smile. “I love you.”
My throat closes, and my eyes prick. “I love you, Adam. So much.”
“Hey, I’ve got this all scripted out. I’m gonna forget something if you start talking.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I lean into him, slide my arms around his back. “Continue.”
He shakes his head. “No, now I’ve lost it all. I’m gonna have to improvise.”
“You don’t need a speech,” I tell him.
“I don’t?”
I gesture at the table, the quartet. “This is your speech. Just get to the good part.”
“See? This is why I love you. I never know how you’ll react.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “You changed everything for me, Des. From the day I met you on Mackinac Island, you changed everything. All I knew was that I had to have you, that I had to know you. I’m so glad I jumped off that carriage. Because it’s led me here, with you.”
He takes a small black box from his pocket, opens it, withdraws a ring, and slides the box back into his jacket. He holds out the ring so I can see it, and my breath, lodged in my throat, leaves me stunned.
“I designed it myself. You are unique, and you deserve a ring as incredibly one-of-a-kind as you.” He takes my left hand, his eyes fixed on mine. “Destiny, will you marry me?”
I’m already smiling, tears sliding down my cheeks, but my smile gets bigger and the tears flow faster, and I can only nod, wait until he’s fitted the ring on my finger, and then I lunge into him, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him everywhere I can.
Finally, I find hi
He whispers against my mouth. “Des, I need to hear you say it. Tell me yes.”
I bite his lower lip and then whisper back to him, “Yes, Torrence Adam Trenton, I will marry you.” I pull back and look into his eyes, hunger in my gaze. “On one condition, though.”
His gaze darkens, and a puzzled frown touches his mouth. “What’s that, babe?”
“Take me to that amazing bedroom up there, open all the windows, and fuck me till sunrise.”
He gathers the hem of my dress in his hand until it’s bunched around my waist, revealing the fact that I’m not wearing any underwear. His hands slide across my skin. “How about right here?”
“The band…” I breathe, pawing at his hands, even though Adam is between me and them.
Adam turns, waves at the quartet, and they scurry away. His mouth finds mine, and he devours my breath. I’m lost in his kiss, so I barely register the sound of a seaplane taking off.
“They’re gone,” Adam murmurs.
“Then take me.”
Clutching the bunched material of my dress in one hand, he reaches up with the other and unzips it. Lifts it over my head and off, drops it into the waves.
“You won’t be needing this,” he says.
I undo his belt, free the clasp of his pants, lower his zipper, and reach in and find his erection, slide my fist down his length. He gasps a breath in my ear when I cup his balls and give them a gentle squeeze. I smile against his cheek and palm his cock until he’s growling in my ear, and then I push his pants down.
“And you won’t need these,” I tell him.
He kicks them off, his shoes and socks, shrugs out of his jacket. I untie the bowtie, unbutton his shirt, and then we’re both naked and our clothes are floating away in the silver path of moonlight, my dress caught on his pants, a sock and a sinking shoe wrapped up in my strapless bra.
His fingers are busy between my thighs, stroking and circling until I’m whimpering and dipping at the knees to ride his fingers to a low, shuddering climax. And then he’s bending and sliding into me, gripping me at the knee and holding my leg up near his hip, grunting and thrusting.
I hold onto his neck and laugh as I lose my balance, falling into him, and we go toppling into the water. We splash and disconnect, and then he’s gathering our clothes and leading me up to the beach and up the stairs to the balcony, where he deposits our sopping pile of clothes. Further upward, then, to our room.
He pushes open one door, and then turns to me. “Go get in bed, babe.”
I grab a towel from the bathroom and dry off while Adam opens all the doorwalls until the sea breeze fills the room. By the time he’s done, I’m on the bed, on my back, fingers at my clit, swiping through the wetness of my desire.
Adam stands at the foot of the bed and watches as I touch myself, and then he’s between my knees and his tongue replaces my fingers, and I’m breathless, coming again, and he’s lapping at the juices as they leak out of me, squeezed from within me by the clenching of my inner walls.
“Adam, I need you…” I gasp, pulling at him. “I need you inside me. Right now, baby, please.”
He crawls up my body, nestles his core against mine, leaning over me. He’s at my entrance, hard and hard and spreading me apart. I flex my hips, and he slips in, and I’m gasping. He remains still, eyes pale and piercing on mine, hands beside my face. One of his palms scrapes over my nipple and I whimper, wrap my ankles around his spine and lift up, driving him deep into me.
“Like this, babe?” His lips move against mine, somewhere between a kiss and a whisper.
“Almost,” I say.
I grind my pussy against him, around him, feel him slide in deep, rough circles inside my body, arching my spine and rolling my hips to fuck him harder and get him deeper.
“I can’t get enough,” I groan, “I need more. I need you deeper.”
I lever him sideways and he lets me roll us so I’m on top. He just grins as I settle onto him, sink him deep, and start a rhythm. I rest my palms on his chest and let my hair drape around us, my tits swaying and bouncing as I ride him until we’re both grunting with the impending force of climax.
But it’s still not good enough.
“I know what you need,” Adam whispers to me.
I slow and stare down at him. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He sits up, slides out from beneath me, and then stands up beside the bed. “Come here, Des. On your belly. Lean over the bed for me. Show me that fine ass of yours, love.”
I do as he instructs, moving to bend over the bed, but when my feet touch the floor, he takes my left leg in his hands and lifts it so my knee is bent up and forward, resting on the bed. I’m bared to him, spread open and bent over, unbalanced.
He slips a finger between my thighs and finds my wet and waiting entrance, touches me and guides himself in, flexing his hips in a slow glide. His foot is beside mine on the floor, his hand on the bed at the crook of my knee, keeping it from slipping off the bed, and his other hand goes to the crease of my hip, pulling me back into him. I gasp at the depth of his cock inside me, and push back, pushing further off the bed. My knee bends so my thigh is pressed to my body, and I’m not so much standing as merely resting on the bed, held up by Adam’s impaled cock.
“How’s this?” he growls, smoothing a hand over my back.
“Perfect,” I gasp, “as long as you start fucking.”
He drives in and pulls out, his hand skimming my skin in a circuit from thigh to spine to ass and back to my bent thigh. He pushes on my ass-cheek as he penetrates me, spreading me apart, and I can’t help groaning low in my throat as he grinds in ball-deep, so deep I can feel his sac slapping against me.
“Fuck, Adam…yes…” I murmur, breathless.
“You like this?”
“God, yes, baby. I love it.”
“Is it enough?”
I shake my head and push back against him. “No. I still need more.”
He fucks harder, and this time as he drives in, he smacks my ass with a resounding clap, hard enough to sting and startle, and I shriek with surprise but it turns to a groan of need as the slap somehow lets him deeper yet, and now he’s fucking and slapping and fucking and slapping, and all I can do is moan his name.
“Adam…Adam…Adam…”
“You want me to come inside you like this, babe?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. I want to see your eyes when you come.”
So then he’s pulling out and I’m turning over, sitting on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t have to tell me what I want, and I don’t guess. I just know. He’s there, between my thighs, and I’m locking my ankles around his waist and kissing his sweaty, heaving chest as he slips back into me, drives deep home where he belongs. His hands find my cheeks, brush my hair away from my face and his mouth is seeking mine, kissing forehead and cheekbone and chin and jawline and the corner of my mouth and then his tongue is between my lips, and we’re kissing in that deep and desperate way, the drowning and lost and mad crazed breathless and needy kiss of soul to soul.
We’re moving in sync, grinding and rolling together, and I feel my climax rising inside me even as I feel his rhythm falter. We fall backward to the bed, and I’m scooting back and welcoming his weight on me, clinging to him with arms and legs and my lips are on his neck and my teeth nip and I’m screaming as I come, feeling and hearing his roar of release and our sweat is merged and smeared together and we’re gasping in unison, hips crushed together and moving, rolling, grinding, desperate for each fractional moment of mutual climax.
“Destiny, Jesus, Destiny, I love you so fucking much…” He’s limp on top of me, and I cling to him, feeling him tense and shudder and flutter his hips in the quaking aftershocks.
“I love you, I love you, I love you.” I whisper it into his ear, gasping it, fingers scraping and scratching down his back as my body tremors beneath his. “I love you forever and forever and forever.”
We drift and drowse together in the moonlight, sea salt on our lips and moonlight on our skin, sticky and love-slick.
And then he’s cradling me from behind, both of us on our sides, and he’s surging into me, slowly and lazily. His thrusts are like the slide of glaciers, unhurried and inevitable, and when I feel him start to shake, I slip my fingers between my thighs and bring myself there with him. And we never speak a word, never need to even look at each other.
We sleep, and then I feel his lips on my shoulder and his cock between the globes of my ass, and his fingers slide over my hip bone and to my core, and he’s got me writhing with need before my eyes open. And then he rolls to his back so I’m on top of him, my back to his chest, my weight on him. I plant my feet in the mattress and spread my knees as far apart as they’ll go and feel him slide in, sigh as he fills me, his huge rough hands cupping my breasts gently, his breath in my ear, his heart beating at my spine, his stomach tensing under me as he thrusts, thrusts, groans my name on a whisper and thrusts, harder and harder until my tits shake and my thighs are tensing as I move with him, my ass grinding down to push him deeper, my hands on his thighs gripped tight and pushing, pulling…
“I love you…”
“I love you…”
I’m not even sure who says it first, who comes first, only that it’s all a surging exploding fiery blazing blur of love and breath and his come shooting wet and thick and deep and his hands all over me and his lips at my ear.
The sky is pink with sunrise when he finally cradles my cheek against his chest, both of us sweaty and naked and sated. I watch the sunlight glint off my pink diamond, refracting into rainbows on the ceiling, marveling at the intricate metalwork of the band.
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