by Kira Blakely
“No. I’ve been waiting to fuck you all day.” He placing a hand on my cheek. “Ever since I saw you in this black swimsuit.”
He stares at the outfit, though I wonder whether he’s really seeing it or what’s beneath it.
“Do you like it?” I ask him, touching his arm.
He takes my hand and places it on his crotch. “Does this answer your question?”
His erection throbs, straining against my palm, and I draw a deep breath. “No.”
“No?” His eyebrows furrow.
“I don’t know if it’s the swimsuit or me that’s earned this reaction.”
“Well, it’s both.” He places his hands on either side of me. “It’s all of you. I want all of you, Abby. Don’t you want me?”
Right. I’ve been keeping my husband waiting far too long. To hell with the sand. I can’t wait any longer, either.
Instead of answering, I place my hands behind Grant’s neck, pulling his face lower as I lift mine to kiss him. He lies down beside me, our arms and legs entwining as our mouths and hands devour each other.
His fingers become entangled with my hair. His hand caresses my neck, my shoulders, my arms. He squeezes my ass then runs his fingers through the back of one of my quivering thighs.
I climb on top of Grant, pinning his arms down as I take control of the kiss, pushing my tongue deeper into his mouth to taste every inch.
I want him. I always have and always will.
I pull away to breathe and wipe the trail of saliva that has trickled down my chin then brace myself on his chest as I grind against him, feeling his cock through the elastic fabrics between us.
God, I want him.
My sex aches, weeping as it longs for him. I bend backwards, closing my eyes and letting my hair flow past my shoulders as I throw my head back and continue grinding, savoring the exquisite friction.
My eyes fly open as I feel his palms on my breasts, slipping under my swimsuit to cup, rub, and caress. I continue grinding, keeping my head back as I relish each new sensation, gasping when his fingers find my nipples and twist them playfully.
Oh, God.
He pushes my swimsuit off my shoulders, my breasts springing free. I shiver, the air feeling cold against them but then Grant sits up and takes one inside his mouth and I shiver for a different reason.
He lies back down then pulls my hips forward, all the way to where his head is. Then he pushes aside that strip of my swimsuit that is soaked with the essence of my arousal and starts licking.
I fall forward, my hands clawing at the soft sand, burrowing into it as the pleasure churns inside me, that wicked tongue plundering my very core. My hair flows over my face like a veil, swaying in the breeze. I gasp. I moan. I cry softly. The pleasure is too much, his finger teasing my sensitive nub even as his mouth feasts on me, his tongue swiping at all the right spots.
My head spins. My breath comes in gasps.
Yes! No. Not… there!
I come, my orgasm washing over me like a strong wave, sweeping me away and knocking me over. Gasping for air, I climb off Grant, sitting on the towel. He doesn’t give me much time to catch my breath, though, as he spreads my legs and kneels between them before lowering his trunks to give me a glimpse of his hard cock.
I want to stare at it a little more. Fuck, I want to touch it, taste it, but Grant wasn’t joking when he said he was at the limits of his patience.
With one powerful thrust, he enters me. I lie down, feeling the sand beneath me. It gets on my skin, in my hair but I no longer care. I just cling to Grant as he pounds into my body, his jaw clenched as he grunts.
I close my eyes, moaning as he penetrates me more deeply. Then he moves faster and once more, I feel the wave building, preparing to crash down on me.
When it does, I let out a cry, wrapping my arms around Grant. He gives another thrust then shudders as he comes, burying his cock balls deep inside me while I squeeze every ounce out of him.
Then he collapses on top of me, panting. I open my eyes. At first, my vision is blurry, my senses still recovering. Then it clears and I gaze at the sky above me which is turning orange now.
I glance at the horizon.
Sunset.
And what a magnificent sunset it is, taking my breath away before I’ve had the chance to catch it.
Grant looks as well and for the next few minutes, we just watch the sun set in silence, our bodies still connected.
As soon as it’s gone, he pulls out, fixing his trunks and remembering that Tomas might be back any second, I fix my swimsuit as well then stand up, trying to get rid of as much of the sand on my skin.
“Are you alright?” Grant asks.
I nod. “I think I should go for a quick swim, though.”
Just to clean off the sand and… other stuff.
“Wait.” Grant grabs my hand, keeping me from running off. “Before you do, I want to give you something.”
He goes to the backpack, taking something out of one of its pockets and placing it in my palm.
Seeing the necklace, I gasp. It’s a diamond necklace, the large tear-shaped gem surrounded by smaller diamonds as well as a smaller heart-shaped ruby atop it and a moon-shaped sapphire below it.
“It’s beautiful.” I run my fingers over it. “Where did you get it?”
“My grandfather wanted me to give it to you.”
“He did?”
I can’t believe it. That cold-hearted old man gave Grant this necklace. But why? And why is he giving it to me?
“I guess he’s coming around,” Grant explains. “He said this necklace was my grandmother’s and it was supposed to be my mother’s at her wedding but he never did get a chance to give it to her. Now, it’s yours.”
“Wow. He’s giving this to me?”
Grant nods.
I still can’t believe it. Grant’s grandfather didn’t even want him to marry me and now, he gave me this necklace. But I guess people can change.
“He also said he wants to meet Marius,” Grant adds.
I raise an eyebrow.
“I told you he’s coming around.”
Well, I suppose he can. He is Marius’ great grandfather, after all. As mean as he was, he’s family. You can’t turn your back on family.
Family.
Suddenly, I’m reminded of my grandmother and my aunts and uncles again. They said my mother turned her back on them, but I felt like it was the other way around. Even so, could they have changed? What if they’ve put it all behind them? What if they want to see me?
“Abby?” Grant touches my hand.
“I don’t mind,” I tell him, pushing away my thoughts and remembering what we were talking about.
Just then, I see the boat and I quickly hand Grant the necklace. “You keep it first. I’ll just go for one last, quick swim.”
Without waiting for an answer, I run, splashing into the water as the boat comes closer and the light fades.
The day is gone but what a day it’s been. What a great start to our honeymoon this has been.
I’m sure tomorrow will be even better.
***
“Better?” Grant asks, standing up as soon as the plane stops on the runway.
I nod. I woke up with a few aches and pains, probably from doing so much yesterday. I already took a pain reliever, though, and after a nap on the plane during our one-and-a-half-hour flight from Palawan to Manila, I feel better, refreshed. I’m ready to spend one more day in my country before we leave for Hong Kong tonight.
“Good.” Grant gets his suitcase from the overhead compartment. “Because I have a surprise for you.”
Another surprise? I wonder what it can be.
I follow him out of the plane and into the airport, all the while wondering what else he could have in store for me. Then in the arrival area, I pause, my heart stopping as I glimpse a familiar face.
My grandmother.
And she’s not the only familiar face. My aunt Lilia is there, too, and my cousin, Reggi
e, and some faces that I know I’ve seen before but whose names I can’t remember, all smiling as they wait for me to join them.
Oh, my God. They’re here. They’re really here.
“I thought you might want to spend a bit of time with them while you’re here,” Grant says. “So I arranged for them to be here when we came back from Palawan.”
I look at him.
He did this for me? I really have the most amazing husband in the world.
“I love you,” I tell him as I squeeze him tight, making a silent promise to myself that I always would.
“I love you, too.” He squeezes me in turn.
I bask in the warmth, tears brimming in my eyes. Oh, what did I ever do to deserve such a man?
“Now, go and meet them.” He pats my back. “They’ve been waiting a long time to see you.”
“No.” I wipe a tear away. “Let’s go see them. I’ll introduce you to all of them.”
Grabbing his hand, I run to my relatives, a huge smile on my face. Right now, I have my past and my present. I have everything I could ever hope for.
Watch me, Mama. Feel all the love I’m surrounded with right now, and find peace.
And as I fall into the arms of my grandmother, I can almost see her smiling, finally at peace.
Then I glance back at Grant who is also smiling and I know that everything is right with the world and that no matter what happens, it will be.
Thank you so much for reading!
Don’t stop! I have more stories for you to read in this book! INCLUDING an EXCLUSIVE NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED short story, Big Daddy.
Untamed
BY KIRA BLAKELY
*Amazon Best-seller, 4.6 stars, 271 reviews!*
Nathan Landers, New York’s, hottest, most eligible… womanizer… just strolled up and started kissing me.
He said it was to hide from another woman, but the kiss lasted too long to be fake.
His passion, his lips, those muscular arms wrapped around my waist. It was enough to make my knees buckle and my cheeks catch on fire.
I try to escape him. But I can’t resist. I fight his power at first. But it’s useless. I’m the prey, and he’s the predator.
And once I’ve felt what it’s like to be in his clutches, I want to be devoured.
Chapter 1
Sam the Squirrel
Have you ever thought that people are not so different from animals?
Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I just like to think so, because I’d rather be a wildlife photographer than a lifestyle photographer. I know, I know. I’m a woman. I’m supposed to like parties, but I’d rather be taking pictures of animals in the wild than pointing my camera at people wearing fancy clothes and fake smiles at galas.
That’s what the event this evening is — another gala. Sure, the reason for each is different. Supposedly, this one’s to recognize New York City’s top entrepreneurs but if you ask me, it’s another excuse for the poor to look rich and the rich to spend their money.
Hiding behind the lens of my Nikon D810, I can tell who’s who. That woman in the sparkly black dress, for example, is wearing sandals that are a tad too small for her, the tips of her toes over the front edge. A last-minute loan from her sister, maybe? Or a friend?
She’s like a zebra, that one. Trying to blend in with the herd so that she doesn’t get picked off and torn apart by the lurking hyenas.
Speaking of hyenas, that older woman in the lavender gown is one. She’s already had her third glass of champagne, and she’s been looking around for prey. Someone she can say a mean word to or simply turn her pointy nose up at. Maybe someone whose cheap dress she can spill her fourth glass on.
Right now, she’s eyeing the hen across the room. I say hen because she’s sticking out her chest more than usual, and because she’s been clucking the whole time. She’s got feathers on her head, too. My guess? She was born poor but married rich. Lucky for her.
Having decided on its prey, the hyena starts moving, preparing to pounce. She’s interrupted by a man in a purple suit and a golden watch, though. A peacock. He says something, and she gives a loud, fake laugh.
Definitely a hyena.
As for me, I’m a squirrel. Samantha the squirrel. I like cozy spaces. I like nuts — almonds, pistachio nuts, and chestnuts. I keep a stock of them in my pantry. I forget where I put my things. I’d rather run than fight. And you bet I can run. I was on the high school track team. I can scratch and bite, too, though. Just ask that dumbass who tried to mess with the first camera I ever owned, or that jerk who tried to feel my butt during the first party I covered.
“Quite the party, isn’t it?” Matilda, who I like to call Mattie, interrupts my thoughts as she stands beside me in her perfect green gown.
A lynx. That’s what she is — slender and gorgeous with naturally sultry eyes and dark skin.
She’s my partner at work. I shoot the pictures. She writes the articles.
“It’s okay, I guess,” I tell her.
“I have to say, this new ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton is fantastic,” she adds as she takes a sip of her martini. “Did you know they only finished this one last month?”
“Really?”
The place is fantastic. Blue crystal chandeliers hanging from a blue and gold dome. Intricately carved arches and sculpted marble pillars. Fountains in the corners. It’s a fusion of classical architecture.
Mattie leans closer to me. “So, who do we have here so far?”
I take a picture. Snap. “No one new.”
“Really?” I can tell her thin eyebrows are creased even without turning my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that blonde in the black dress.”
Snap. “You mean the zebra trying so hard not to stick out?”
Mattie chuckles. “I see you’ve turned this party into a zoo again.”
“Not a zoo. I hate zoos.”
There’s nothing I dislike seeing more than birds in cages or lions in enclosures, lazily waiting to be tossed their next meal.
“A jungle, then.”
“A savanna,” I correct. “Zebras don’t live in jungles.”
Mattie shrugs. “Well, you’re the animal expert. Seriously, I don’t know why Henry won’t put you on the staff of the nature magazine.”
I lower my camera and narrow my brown eyes at her. “Are you saying you don’t like working with me?”
“Shut up.” She takes another sip from her glass. “You know what I’m saying. He’s stupid for not putting you where you want to be.”
“He thinks I’m not ready.” I lift my camera, pointing it around as I look for my next shot. “Bullshit. I had my first camera when I was three.”
“A pink toy camera that plays nursery rhymes whenever you press the shutter.”
I adjust the lens. “I’ve been taking pictures of animals since I was six.”
“Farm animals,” Mattie reminds me. “They don’t really move around, do they?”
“Says someone who’s never been to a farm.” I frown. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours. So what if you have no experience? You have talent. That’s what counts.”
“Tell that to Henry. He seems to have a thing for you.”
Henry looks at Mattie the way a male dog looks at a bitch in heat.
“He has a thing for everyone with boobs and a place between their legs for him to stick his cock into,” Mattie says. “Hey, maybe he’s keeping you around because he likes looking at you.”
I snort.
“And he’s not the only one,” Mattie adds. “I’ve seen a few heads turn in your direction this evening. I can’t blame them. Your red dress is hard not to look at.”
I glance at my dress. Red. One strap over the right shoulder. A flared skirt reaching up to the ankles. Quite simple, really.
“This old thing? I haven’t worn it in ages.”
“No one’s seen it then? It’s good as new.”
“So, it’s the dress,” I tell Mattie as I snap another
shot. “People are looking at the dress, not me.”
“Sweetheart, they wouldn’t look at that dress if it was on a hanger right in front of them. They only look at dresses when they have curves.”
The men in the room were staring at my curves?
Just then, I see a familiar face doing just that from a few feet away. Barry Baker. Black hair. Brown eyes. 5’5”. A little bit on the stocky side. Paparazzi by profession, if it can be called a profession. He’s been asking me out since I started, but there’s no way I’m going to let him get his greasy paws on me.
Weasel.
“That’s not very comforting.” I put down my camera and take the toothpick of olives from her nearly empty glass, eating one.
Mattie frowns. “I’m not trying to comfort you. I’m trying to compliment you.” She takes the toothpick back from me and eats the other olive. “You’re a chick, Samantha Willis. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Says the woman who’s won the Prettiest Face award at the company party three years in a row.”
Mattie gulps down the rest of her drink and smiles. “I have an expert opinion then.”
She’s got a point. Still, me, a chick? Sure, I’ve got a tiny waist and long legs, but my boobs aren’t as big as I’d like them to be, and my auburn hair has got a mind of its own.
I don’t feel like arguing with Mattie over such a trivial thing, though.
Change of topic. “Anyway, we’re here to work. Not to look good.”
“Ah, but why not do both if you can?” She places her empty glass on a tray held by a passing waiter. “Speaking of looking good, is Nathan Landers here yet?”
I pause in the process of wiping my lips with a sheet of tissue at the name.
Nathan Landers. Head of Landers Innovations. An IT magnate only six years in the making. A self-made man. Time Magazine’s incumbent Person of the Year.
And one of the hottest men alive.
I still remember the first time I saw him. I was at the Lincoln Center, just covering my third event, and he was an honored guest. As I caught him on my film for the first time, my mind preserved the image of his blue eyes, that head of rebellious, wavy brown hair, that chiseled jawline, those broad shoulders, toned arms and that flat abdomen that was apparent even through the tailored suit he wore.