Having You

by A. C. Arthur

  THE CARRINGTON CHRONICLES

  HAVING YOU

  A.C. Arthur

  “When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.”

  – William Shakespeare

  Prologue

  Turks & Caicos

  1 Month Ago

  “Come to my room with me,” he said, his voice as smooth as the surface of the water behind him.

  I could only stare for the next few seconds because this was only the third sentence he’d spoken since approaching me on the beach where I sat. My legs were partially spread—the thin gossamer fabric of my multi-colored sarong wet from my giddy run into the water twenty minutes earlier—sticking to them like a second skin. My hands were still planted in the sand as I’d propped myself up so I could look out to the waning moon as it glistened over the dark sheen of the ocean. My bikini top was too small, a testament to the last time I’d been able to enjoy time at the beach, or even a pool. My ample breasts all but toppled over the swatches of coral material. Unfortunately, it would have been too obvious if I yanked on that top a little bit to sort of save myself some pride.

  Instead, I continued to look up at him, at this gorgeous hunk of man that had just happened along the beach on the night when I had a few moments of free time to be on the beach as well.

  Score one for fate.

  “Are you serious?” I asked eventually because he hadn’t said another word and something told me he wasn’t going to, not until I answered him anyway.

  I don’t know who he is or where he came from.

  But like I believe I said before, he’s gorgeous. He’s very tall, over six feet, with a muscled physique that brings actors like Vin Diesel or quite possibly Duane Johnson to mind. His clothes hung perfectly on him, as if his personal tailor considered muscles and bulk no problem at all. With a close-shaved head and a neat goatee, his lips drawn tight, and knotted brows, he has a solemn air about him, even though I’m sitting on the beach scantily dressed at well after midnight.

  “I’m always serious,” was his reply. “I’m staying in the Desire Penthouse. We can be there in about ten minutes.”

  Again, I don’t know what to say which is kind of ironic since I’m studying to be a linguist and just landed my first lucrative job as a professional translator. Ronnel Mendoza, a Filipino billionaire businessman hired me from an ad I’d put online four months ago. He’s paying me $20,000 a month to assist him in a major business deal by helping to translate at all his meetings and also assisting his two daughters—Malaya, who is ten and Rhia, seventeen—with learning enough English so that they will not be too far behind when they enter an American school in September.

  This guy standing in front of me speaks excellent English and he smells good too. I push myself up, getting to my feet with his added help, as he reached out taking me by the arm. Heat pooled in that spot just beneath my left elbow spreading quickly like some computer virus intent on infiltrating my entire body.

  “I don’t even know you,” I say, easing my arm out of his grasp. “I’m not from this island. I’m just on vacation. I will be leaving in two days.”

  “I am leaving tomorrow afternoon,” he says. “So we have tonight.”

  “What are we going to do when we get to your suite?” I ask like I’m really considering this and really naïve to not know what he wants to do when we get there.

  While I can safely say that at twenty-five years old I am no longer a virgin, the sexual exploits I’ve had in the past have been well after I know more about a guy than the fact that he smells deliciously sinful. This guy has a neatly trimmed goatee—her favorite look on a man—and there’s a spot along the right side of his jaw where a muscle twitches each time I say something to him. I want to kiss him there, first.

  “We’re going to have sex and you’re going to enjoy it immensely,” he replies without so much as a blink of an eye.

  My pussy pulsates. Instantly. Undoubtedly. As if it understands every word of what he said, and it agrees.

  Taking a slow, deep breath, I wonder what his reaction would be if I immediately said no or that I’m not interested. Then I realize with a man that looks and smells like this that may not happen to him too often. All the more reason for me to go for it, but I pause to consider that option.

  In the last two years I haven’t had time to even buy new batteries for the vibrator I’d purchased a couple months after I’d arrived on campus in Rhode Island. I was only there for a year and a half before the company that offered the scholarship money went bankrupt. Then I’d returned to Maitlin, the small coastal town in Virginia where Gram and Pops raised me. I worked the next six months at the hardware store until I had enough saved for another semester because Pops’ last words would forever be emblazoned in my mind.

  “You’ll be the first Jefferson to ever graduate from college. A success, that’s what you’re going to be. But don’t forget to take care of your Gram. She loves you and I love her. Take care of her when I’m gone, Jellybean. Promise me you’ll do that.”

  I’d promised and I didn’t intend to let Pops down. So I worked every job I could to pay for school and to keep food and medicine stocked for Gram at the same time. Landing this job with Mendoza had been the answer to so many of my prayers. I could finally finish school, albeit three years after my original graduation goal. But I would finish and once I graduated Mr. Mendoza, promised to find me a permanent position possibly teaching in the Philippines where he’s from. So things were finally working out for me on the professional front.

  As for the personal…

  “What makes you so sure I’ll enjoy it?” I asked but had no idea that’s what I’d planned to say. The words just came out and he simply took another step closer to me, until his chest brushed against mine. My nipples hardened instantly and the sound of the waves rising and crashing seemed much louder, the tropical air surrounding us, much heavier.

  “You will,” he said, his voice lowering as he lifted a hand, running a finger along the curve of my breast.

  That finger went lower until it was between my heaving mounds, cradled in the crevice, rising and falling as my breaths quickened.

  “And so will I,” he continued before pulling that finger free then lifting it to his lips where he made a show of licking around the digit.

  I gasped. Couldn’t help it. I’d never seen anything so simple and yet so erotic in my life.

  “Condoms,” I said next. “I want to see them and put them on. That’s not negotiable.”

  “Good,” he told me. “I don’t negotiate where sex is concerned.”

  #

  As he predicted, ten minutes later we were in his suite. Plush carpet, paisley wallpaper, a glistening marble dining room table with a huge tropical floral arrangement at its center, a living area and then the bedroom with its perfectly made king sized bed. That’s all I saw before his hands were on me.

  The bikini top was barely holding my breasts in the first place fell to the floor in a heap of strings. The wet sarong followed and then the bikini bottom. I was naked in front of this stranger and instead of being deathly afraid, I was irrevocably aroused.

  He looked at me then, from the tip of my head—I have no idea how the normally unruly mass of curls looked at this moment—down to my toe nails with the chipped cotton candy pink polish. Then he moved, still looking at me, and walked around to stare at my naked ass, I presumed.

  I was hot all over, every inch of my body flushing beneath his silent scrutiny. There was a lamp on one of the nightstands, its light was casting a low, warm golden glow throughout the space. Enough of a glow that he probably saw the oddly shaped dark brown birthmark on my left butt cheek. Bikini bottoms always covered it, but that was on the floor now.

  “Get on the bed,” he directed
me. “I’ll get the condoms.”

  On surprisingly steady legs, I walked to the bed, taking a seat on its edge while I waited. He disappeared into another room, the bathroom, I suspected. When he came out his button down shirt was gone, replaced with a white tank. His pants were unbuttoned and there was a box of condoms in his hand. He came to the bed, thrusting the box at me saying, “Here, inspect them and then take one out.”

  I looked at him for a moment, not used to taking so many directions from someone, especially during sex. His chest was perfect, wide like a wrestler’s, sculpted and honed like a fitness model. His skin was honey-toned, glistening as if he’d rubbed oil or sunscreen up and down his arms. The white pants and shirt he wore covered the rest of his body but I ached to see more, to touch, and to taste. He walked with a slow mesmerizing swagger, his buttocks tight and firm and tantalizing.

  With a gulp I looked away. I opened the box of condoms and hurriedly pulled out a packet. Running my fingers over it I checked for any perforations. I was on birth control, had been for years to regulate my periods, but I wanted to make sure.

  “Open it and lay back against the pillows,” he said.

  I opened the packet, holding the latex in my hand when I looked up at him again. His pants were barely riding on his hips now, unbuttoned and unzipped, so that the V of dark, close cut hair on his groin was visible, the bulge of his erection just out of view. It tented his pants to the point where I lost my breath.

  I was hot all over, my body tingling in anticipation. My breasts were heavy, pussy lips throbbing as cream began to coat them. I was beginning to think this was a dream—a fantastically hot as sin dream.

  “Lie back,” he said again as he approached the bed once more.

  His voice was deep, but not commanding. No, he sounded more like he was making a suggestion, a very enticing one that I knew I would not resist. I scooted back on the bed, using the heels of my feet to push me until my head hit the pillows, the condom still clutched in my hand.

  He stood at the side of the bed, his hands moving slowly to grip the sides of his pants while his gaze remained locked on mine. Moving excruciatingly slow, he pushed the pants down and I couldn’t help but follow that motion. His dick was as glorious to view as the rest of him. Long and thick, its mushroomed head bobbing as his legs moved to discard the linen material. Even his balls were attractive, heavy looking and perfectly symmetrical to his cock. He should have been a model, a Playgirl supermodel with every inch of his perfect face and body.

  I licked my lips, heart pounding just a little faster than it had before. He climbed on the bed spreading my legs wide, looking down at my pussy as I opened. It was a good thing I’d splurged on that waxing just before the trip, a treat to myself the day I received my first payment from Mendoza.

  He liked what he saw, I could tell by the gasp and then deep rise and fall of his chest that followed. He touched me too, his long fingers extending until he was brushing over my clit. It was my turn to gasp, lifting my hips off the bed at the shocking bolt of desire that seared through me at the connection. He continued his ministrations, rubbing his finger around my clit until my head was thrashing on the pillow, then moving slowly down to circle in every drop of my arousal. There was a sound, like he was milking me and I bit my bottom lip. When the tip of his finger dipped inside my pussy I felt like screaming, it was so good. So intense, so new and damn, I wanted more.

  Lifting up from the pillows I boldly reached for his cock, my fingers brushing against the drop of moisture at his tip. He went perfectly still, his fingers poised inside me, his gaze lifting to mine.

  I wrapped my hand around his length, loving the heat emanating there. He was so thick at the base, my fingers just barely met and I had to swallow hard again. I moved quickly, out of desperation and anticipation, to smooth the latex over him, rubbing it down his length over and over because I didn’t want to stop touching him.

  He moved quickly then, lifting my legs from behind the knee, pulling me down until I was flat on the bed, his dick thrusting forward, ready to enter me. My thighs shivered as I lifted my hips, wanting him more than I’d wanted almost anything else in my life.

  “Look at me!” he said then, the words strained but still adamant. “Look. At. Me. While I fuck you.”

  I did. I couldn’t do anything else.

  He looked glorious, his jaw tight, eyes clouded with desire. I felt the thick head of his cock pressing at my entrance and I gasped wondering if he’d fit. I relaxed in his grip, my fingers clenching the sheets beneath me as he pressed forward, slowly at first, then with one swift push that embedded him so deep inside of me I screamed.

  Not in pain, but in sublime pleasure as he filled me. He began moving immediately, circling, pulling out to the tip, thrusting in deeply, before circling his hips again. It was a wicked synchronization, a dance I felt like he’d perfected over time. And hell, it was just that, perfection. My entire body trembled with his movements, my mind clouding so that all I could imagine was this pleasure, all I could anticipate was the beautiful climax it promised.

  I was engulfed in him, the feel of his strong arms beneath my legs, his dick inside my pussy and the low sound of his breathing as he worked. He was so controlled, so precise in the way he speared his dick inside of me, coming from this angle, pulling out and hitting another spot that made me shiver once more. Whatever he did, however he did it, he worked me masterfully and as competitive as I could be about my schoolwork, I gave everything, willingly, excitedly to him.

  Everything, even the whimpers of gratitude, the seconds of asking for more and taking it as if I’d been made specifically for this moment. For this man.

  My release took me by surprise with its intensity. I think I probably convulsed beneath him as pleasure rippled through me at an alarming rate. The action seemed to incite something feral in him as he moved faster, thrusting deeper, pounding into me as if it were a race to get to his climax just as fast. I bounced up and down on that bed as he moved, screams louder than I ever imagined coming from me.

  I didn’t care, it felt too good. Too. Damned. Good. There were no pretenses at this point. I loved how he was fucking me and I’m sure he knew it. My pussy was so wet I was positive there would be a big spot on the bed when I moved. I could hear his dick mixing in the thick coating of my desire, felt him slipping easily along the walls of my pussy.

  It felt so good. So. So. Good.

  He groaned when he came, a low, controlled sound as his body tensed over mine. He still held my legs and his biceps bulged, a line of sweat darkening the center of that white tank he still wore. I could feel him pulsating inside of me, every drop of his release emptying into the condom I’d applied. A small part of me sighed. I wanted that cum for myself. I’d never had a guy come inside of me and in this second I wanted his. This stranger that had fucked me so well.

  He pulled out of me then, moving an arm quickly from beneath my legs, his hand going to his cock to hold the condom in place. Without a word he moved from the bed and walked towards the bathroom again.

  I didn’t know what to say or do so I just lay there staring at the ceiling, my body still reeling from this delicious assault.

  “You can use the bathroom when I’m finished,” he said tightly. “Then I’ll walk you back to your room.”

  Because it was over, I thought after I heard the click of the bathroom door closing.

  This wonderfully arousing and satisfying escapade was over.

  It only took me another second to realize how definite that was. Then I was up off the bed pulling my bikini bottoms up my legs in record speed. The sarong was still a wet mess and I didn’t feel like trying to squeeze myself into the bikini top. As if it had been waiting for me, the button down shirt he’d taken off was thrown over the back of a chair near the dresser. I hadn’t even seen him put it there. But I’d admittedly been distracted.

  I grabbed the shirt and put it on, heading out of that bedroom before the water that was running in the bathro
om could stop flowing. I was at the front door of the room in no time, opening it and stepping out into the well-lit hallway. Closing the door behind me I stared back at the gold sign with the word “Desire” in black script knowing I’d never forget this place, this night, or that man.

  I would never see him again I knew, but I would also never forget him or how my body had reacted to his.

  THE ONE

  I knew I was in love from that very first day.

  There was never any question, no period of consideration, no small talk or “I need to get to know you better”. I just knew.

  And I want. With everything there is in me I want and need and can’t wait until it’s my turn to have.

  I can imagine every second of when our naked bodies touch for the very first time. It will be exquisite, like drinking the finest wine or seeing the most beautiful sunset. We’ll fit perfectly in every aspect, body and soul. And you’ll love just as deep as I do. You’ll want just as much as I do.

  And we’ll have it.

  Just you wait and see.

  CHAPTER 1

  Los Angeles, California

  Present Day

  “Your reservation is at six. Reg will be downstairs at five forty-five,” Noble King spoke in that succinct and authoritative way he had.

  He stood on the other side of the desk, wearing a gray metro fit suit and skinny purple tie. In his hand was the notepad he never seemed to be without, on his face the thick framed black glasses that reminded Jerald of his middle school biology teacher.

  “L.A. Prime?” Jerald asked as he stood, lifting the file from his desk and sliding it inside his leather bag.

  “Perch,” was Noble’s reply. “French is much more subtle than steak and potatoes. Easier on the stomach when talking business, especially when that business is taking over an international company.”

  Jerald looked up warily. “DeMarco makes the arrangements that Jack tells him to make. He doesn’t inflict his own personal desires on a professional business dinner.”