by Ella Miles
“I’ll go get you a drink. What do you want?”
She frowns. “You don’t need to get me a drink. A bartender will be around in a few minutes.”
“No need to wait. I’ll get you something now. Do you just want whatever the drink of the day is or a piña colada or what?”
“Drink of the day is fine,” she says.
I expect her to smile or give me some indication that she is happy that I’m doing something nice for her. Instead, I get a blank expression. I walk away up the beach and toward the bar that sits on the edge of the property.
I pull out my phone as I walk and type in everything that I know about her, which isn’t much. Her first name and that she’s a veterinarian. And then I hope that something comes up.
I take a seat on one of the small circular barstools attached to the bar.
“Can I get two drinks of the day?” I ask while I wait for my Wi-Fi connection to kick in and pull up the results.
The bartender nods and begins making our drinks.
Slowly, the search results start coming up. I click on the first article and watch as her big eyes and sly lips come up on the screen. The only difference between her now and in this picture is that her hair was red then and, now, it’s blue. I didn’t expect to find out much about her so quickly without even a last name to go off of. I glance to the two other people in the image next to her and read the caption. But I guess, when you are friends with a princess and prince, Google assumes you are searching for that famous Skye and not someone else.
I continue reading through the article but don’t find out much more about her. I search through other articles, but all I can find out about Skye is her connection to her princess best friend. I don’t find anything about a rich father or that she sold a company that made her millions. She has a rich friend. That must be why she is treated like royalty when she comes here even though she isn’t a princess herself; she knows a princess.
I close my phone as the bartender hands me our drinks.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the drinks and walking back to Skye.
My ego feels less crushed, knowing that she doesn’t make outrageous amounts of money; she just has a rich friend who takes care of her.
“Here you go,” I say, holding her drink out to her.
“Thanks,” she says, forcing a fake smile onto her lips.
She sits on her lounge chair, half in and half out of the sun.
“Do you want me to move the umbrella, so you are out of the sun? Or do you want to work on your tan?” I ask.
“I’m fine as is.”
I take a seat in the lounge chair next to her, and we both stare out at the ocean while drinking our drinks. I’ll give her a few minutes just to enjoy the beach before I make my move. It’s a quarter till eleven. I’ll start my plan on the hour. It will make it easier for me to execute.
She eyes me out of the corner of her eye as she drinks, but she doesn’t say anything. She just drinks, like I’m not even here, obviously lost in thought.
I take her hand and gently kiss it.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice exploding with her anger toward me, which she has obviously been hiding all morning.
“Kissing your hand,” I say, confused as to why she is so upset.
She pulls her hand away and sits up, straddling the lounge chair. “No, what are you doing, being so nice to me? The opening doors for me and carrying my bag and fetching me drinks and, now, kissing my hand. It has to stop!”
I wrinkle my forehead because I think she has absolutely lost it. “I can’t do nice things for you? Why?”
“Because that’s not what we are. We aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. We aren’t dating. We aren’t doing anything with emotions. We are just fucking. The rougher, the better. So, stop being so nice to me.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “I can’t be nice to you? Seriously? I get that you want the bad boy in the bedroom, but what I’ve done so far isn’t even that nice. I got you a drink and carried your bag. So what? Next time we need a drink, you can go get it if it will make you feel better.”
“It will.”
“Fine.” I slurp down the rest of my drink. “Then, get me a refill.”
She smirks and storms off toward the bar to get us new drinks while I try to figure out what the hell just happened. She’s an independent firecracker. I know that. I just didn’t realize that doing anything for her would turn into such a fight. There is something I’m missing. I know that. I just don’t know what it is or if it matters.
I have six days left with her. I just have to let more of my asshole nature out so that she doesn’t feel like I want something after the six days are up. I don’t. And not trying is easy. I’ll just pretend like she doesn’t exist, except when I want sex from her.
“Here,” she says, roughly handing me my drink.
I take the drink from her without saying thank you, without a grin, without anything.
She carefully watches me as she takes a seat next to me. “You’re not living up to your end of the deal.”
I exhale deeply, closing my eyes and leaning back. “How am I not living up to the deal?”
“You’re supposed to be giving me hot, I can’t move for a week sex. Not lying around, giving me compliments, and getting me drinks.”
I don’t open my eyes. “Seven minutes.”
“What?”
“I’m giving you I can’t move for a week sex starting in seven minutes.”
“Why seven minutes?”
“If you had listened to me instead of your favorite to win yesterday, then maybe you would know the answer to that.”
She sighs while I grin on the inside. She’s flustered and confused. She says that she wants me to be in control, to be an ass, but when I do it for even a second, she hates it.
I hear her shift in her seat, not able to get comfortable while she waits for what’s going to happen in seven minutes. I listen to her breathing get faster and faster. She sighs every few seconds, annoyed that she gave up control to me and this is how I use it. To torture her. She slurps from her drink, trying to calm her mind. But it won’t work either. She wants me too badly.
I, on the other hand, have never been more relaxed.
“It’s been seven minutes,” she says, her face right over mine as she waits for me to open my eyes.
“Six minutes. It’s been six minutes.”
“How do you know that? Your eyes have been closed the entire time.”
“I know because you are far too restless to wait the entire seven minutes, so that means that only six minutes must have passed.”
I open my eyes, and she bites her lip as trying to keep it from curling up in a smile.
“What happened to you giving me complete control?”
She narrows her eyes as she tucks her hair behind her ear while she still hovers over me. “I’ve realized that I’m not very good at it.”
“No, you’re not. But you’re going to be.”
I tackle her back onto her lounge chair, and she gasps. I pin her body beneath me. With my eyes, I make my intentions clear of exactly what I want to do with her.
“No, we can’t,” she says, looking around at the other people on the beach.
“We are.”
“Brody, we can’t—”
My mouth presses down on her soft lips, which are trembling as she has thoughts of getting caught having sex on the beach. She thinks she has a choice, but she doesn’t. If she wants me to continue to fuck her for the rest of the week, then she has to do exactly what I say.
“Fuck me right here. Anyone could see us. We could get kicked off the resort for this. Arrested even. But none of that matters because you can’t help but fuck me,” I say into her lips as I continue kissing her.
She writhes beneath me, trying to fight between what she wants and what she feels is right.
My hand slips down between her legs, beneath her bikini bottoms. I rub over her clit and then into her pussy
. She wants me. Now. She can’t hide what her body is telling me.
“Decide, Skye. Fuck me here, or don’t fuck me ever again.”
Her eyes search mine. “You couldn’t stop fucking me if I didn’t fuck you here.”
I smirk. “There are plenty of other women I could fuck. You said you wanted a bad boy, a man to take charge and play out your wildest fantasies. So, either let me have the control or find someone else.”
“Fuck me,” she says without hesitation. Whatever doubts she had before are gone. She wants me, and that’s all that matters to her now.
“Good girl,” I say, settling between her legs as I bite her bottom lip hard for hesitating in the first place.
She whimpers at the sting of the pain, but it does want I intended it to do. It makes me the sole focus of her attention. She’s forgotten that we are on a beach chair, only feet from the nearest couple.
I move my kisses down her neck, and my fingers trace circles between her folds. Her breathing is slow and heavy, but I know it’s soon going to turn fast and desperate.
“Grab my cock,” I say into her ear.
Her hand finds the waistband of my swim trunks, and she slips her hand inside, finding my hard cock, stroking it over and over.
“That’s my girl,” I say, loving how she strokes my cock with just the right amount of pressure.
I pull a condom out of my pocket and place it in her other hand.
“Put it on,” I command.
Her eyes grow heavy as she rips the condom wrapper open with her teeth.
“Don’t move,” I say as a couple walks by us, hand in hand.
I can feel her heart racing in her chest. She holds her breath, not moving an inch. And I’m afraid she’s going to back out and not let me fuck her.
The couple passes, and I look her in the eye again, trying to get her focus back on me. “Put the condom on.”
She takes a deep breath with a sexy grin. “Don’t worry, handsome.” She leans forward, firmly kissing me as her tongue darts into my mouth. “I don’t think I could ever stop fucking you.”
I growl and shove her hand holding the condom toward my cock, needing the damn condom on now before I fuck her whether it’s on or not.
She gets the hint and places the condom on. I shove her bikini bottoms down and pull my cock out, not caring who is looking as I slide it into her slit. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer to her, and I push harder inside her.
I know I need to make this fast, but I could stay buried deep inside her forever if she let me. And I have a feeling, from the look of ecstasy on her face, that she would.
But I can hear people coming. I know that our risky moment can only be that—just a moment. That, if I want to fuck her properly, I’m going to need to find a place more private than the beach. Because, if we get caught, I’ll lose her trust and ability to take control of her body. And I won’t give that up.
So, I fuck her hard. Fast. Thrusting quickly without giving her a second to breathe.
“Come, Skye,” I command as I come deep inside her, not waiting for her.
She comes as she buries her face into my shoulder to keep from crying out.
“Hey, guys! Look, I found the two lovebirds,” Noah says.
I quickly slip out of Skye as my face turns redder—not because of embarrassment, but because my douche-bag friends were the ones who caused me to end that romp much sooner than I wanted to.
“I’m not talking to you until we are back home and in the office and I don’t have a choice but to talk to you. Until then, leave me alone,” I say as I turn my attention back to Skye, who is still pinned beneath me.
I know I wanted to fuck her every hour on the hour, but I’m not sure I can wait a whole hour to have her again. She’s far too addictive for me to wait.
Noah laughs. The other two look at us with an amused grin on their faces, arms folded across their chests.
“You know they have bedrooms in this place for you to fuck in,” Noah says with a wink.
I glare at him. I’m going to fire him when we get back home.
Skye laughs and pushes me off of her. I sit on the edge of the lounger while she turns and hangs her legs off, facing the men who are still standing, looking at us like they just found gold. But, if they think they are going to hang this over my head for the rest of eternity when we get back, they are wrong. They forget I’m their controlling boss who will fire them all if it comes to it.
“Actually, you were just who I was looking for,” Skye says.
My glare turns from them to her. “What are you talking about?”
I know that Skye wants some kinky sex to make her forget about whatever she came here to forget, but if she’s going to suggest a threesome with any one of these guys, I’m going to throw her over my shoulder and trap her in my room for the rest of the week. I won’t share her. Not even with my best friends.
She ignores me, looking at them.
Noah sits down on the other lounger, curiously looking at her. “How can I be of help?”
“Well, this was supposed to be a no-strings attached, hot romance kind of thing for one week. But, unfortunately, a cat needed some rescuing the other day. The cat is fine now, but I had to show off some of my fabulous veterinarian skills, revealing far more about myself to Mr. Romantic here than I wanted. Now, he won’t share anything with me to even the score. Care to share and get me caught up on him?”
“Noah is not saying anything,” I say, looking at him dead in the eye, threatening more than his job if he says anything to her.
He smirks. “What do you want to know?” he asks, leaning closer to Skye.
“Something juicy. Because Mr. Romantic over here is acting far too perfect, and I know he has a darker side that he isn’t showing me yet.”
He glances at me while I continue to frown.
“He’s being too romantic, huh?”
She nods.
“Hmm, that’s shocking. I didn’t think he had a romantic drop in his body.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he’s a ruthless, controlling boss to us. A man who doesn’t date. He doesn’t do romance. All he cares about is money and pussy. Back home, he has a woman for every day of the week. So, whatever romantic he’s pretending to be here, he’s the exact opposite. It’s a lie. He’s nothing but a prick who will rip your heart out if you let him get too close.”
I’m going to kill him. Here. Now. I won’t even let him go back home. He’s dead to me.
Skye smiles, placing her hand on his folded hands. “Thank you. That’s just what I needed to hear.”
I look at Skye like I’m looking at her for the first time. I thought she just wanted me to act cold toward her to help her keep from getting attached to me. That way, she couldn’t have feelings toward me, and we could easily go our separate ways after this week. But I’m beginning to think it’s more than that. She doesn’t just want me to act distant toward her; she wants me to be cruel toward her. I’m missing something. A piece of her puzzle that I may never understand.
5
Skye
He’s a bad boy, just like I wanted him to be. Every drop of romance he’s given me has all been an act, most likely because he thought that was what he needed to do to get me into his bed. But, hopefully, now, he understands it’s the exact opposite of what I want. I don’t want a man who does anything more than kinky sex.
But still, from the look on Brody’s face, he isn’t too happy with his friends for revealing his true self to me. He doesn’t realize that it’s a blessing, not a curse, to know the truth. But he will.
“Skye, go to your room. I’ll meet you there in five minutes,” Brody commands.
I feel the familiar knots form deep in my belly at the thought of what he wants to do with me in my bedroom. We just had sex, but I’m nowhere near satiated, and it seems he isn’t either.
I glance at his friends, silently wishing them luck, before I give in to Brody’s command and head
to my suite. I have a feeling that he’s about to chew his friends out the second I leave, but I don’t care as long as he keeps his promise and is knocking on my door within five minutes. If he doesn’t keep his promise, I might have to punish him for not keeping his word.
I wait in my room for what seems like far longer than five minutes before I finally hear the rattle of his fist on the door. It’s not a patient knock. Instead, it’s an if you don’t open the door in three seconds, I’m going to knock the door down kind of knock. So, as much as I want to swing the door open and jump into his waiting arms, I also want to make him even more pissed off than I’m sure he already is. The angrier he is, the better the sex is going to be. And I want the true bad boy he’s been hiding from me to come out and play.
I make my feet drag on the tiled floor as I walk to the door in nothing but my bikini. I get to the wooden door separating us and take a deep breath as I hear him pound his fist on the door again. He’s pissed. It’s exuding off his body through the door to me. I bite my bottom lip as my lips curl up into a smile. I flip my wavy blue hair out of my face, and then I open the door with an amused smirk on my face as I look at Brody standing there with both hands grasping the doorframe. His face is dark, his nostrils are flared, and his eyes are full of rage. He looks like he doesn’t know whether he’s going to rip the door off the frame or punish me for taking so long to open the door. But I already know the answer. He’s going to punish me. Hard. And I can’t wait.
“Would you like to come in?” I ask smugly.
He drops his hands and walks into my suite, looking around at it like he wants to destroy every sparkling glass, every bottle of wine, every fancy lamp, and every piece of furniture in the room.
“Something wrong with my room?” I ask as I follow him into the bar area, which is large enough to function as a kitchen despite not having an actual stove or oven because there is no way anyone would actually cook on a vacation here.