I reached my hands around her waist, palming her ass and bringing her into my body. My cock was still hard and it flopped against her thigh. “Just needed to get those words out. We can talk more about what they mean later. For right now, though, there’s something else important that needs to happen.”
I picked her up by her thighs, and she let out a yelp. “Yes, do it,” she egged me on, which amused me because she had no idea what was going through my mind. I carried her several feet to a grassy patch nestled in between a couple of trees, and set her down.
“Shirt. Off.” I commanded.
She took it off, and I threw off my shoes and socks. I looked down at her from above as she lay on the earth with those glorious tits of hers out and ready to be held while I fucked her cunt senseless.
“Please, fuck me already,” she murmured, and I kneeled on the grass to oblige her.
I took her legs up to my shoulders and slapped her clit a few times with my cock so I could get it nice and wet with her juices. She moaned a little with each hit. Finally, I pushed inside her hot cunt, staring into her eyes as I did. I eased in at first, so accustomed to what she wanted. What her pussy needed. She placed her hands on my hips to guide me as I worked my way in.
She was so wet it didn’t take long before I was pounding every inch of her womb, destroying that cute little slit with my cock. From the way she screamed, I knew she loved it too. I grabbed hold of her hair and pushed her legs further into her body, totally engrossed in her.
I wanted everything about her, and I loved everything she did when we were in the act. The way she rocked her hips just so, in tune with my rhythm. How she gently held her hands on my sides while I slapped her legs with the full force of my hips. How she tightened her cute little cunt--whether it was voluntary or involuntary--around my girth while I pumped into her. And especially, how she cooed and whimpered in my ear. Something about her angelic little voice turned me into a madman, made me fuck her with a rapidity some people probably thought was insanity. Maybe it was insane how much I loved her cute little whimpers, shit.
I wrapped my hands around her thick ass as I drove deep into her. Her pussy tightened and her delicate whimpers morphed into shrieks, signaling she was on the brink of coming.
“God, I love it when you howl like that. Fucking come. Come all over my cock, Princess.”
I fucked her with every ounce of energy I had, and for better or worse, all the fucking rage that had welled up inside me, all the frustration, was channeled into how hard I fucked her. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and grunted and groaned as she came.
“Yes, Connor, oh God I’m so tight right now.”
I moved her legs off my shoulders, and her toes pointed straight up in the air. I gasped for air as I ransacked every inch of her wet cunt. Dipping my head down toward her neck, I licked and sucked her hard nipples, even using a bit of my teeth to give them a light bite.
“Connor!” She shrieked. Her eyes were hazy with need.
“What?” I grumbled as I continued to plow into her.
She grabbed hold of my hair and pressed her cheek to mine before she whispered in my ear: “Harder.”
Hearing Crystal’s throaty whisper put me over the edge. My orgasm built, and my cock twitched with the coming flood that was about to shoot into her.
“Where should I come.”
“Come on my tits,” she moaned, arching her body back. “I want to see how much you come.”
I pulled out of her and kneeled by her side, stroking my length using her juices. She pressed her boobs together and focused her eyes on my cock as I shot rope after rope onto her chest.
When I was done, she smiled. “That was a feckin’ lot,” she spoke in her best Irish accent.
“You bring it out of me,” I added. As she lay propped up on her elbows, I reveled in how dirty this classy girl was once she was unleashed. I’d corrupted her, and now she was all mine.
It was mid-afternoon, but it might as well have been night with the stars I was seeing. I stroked Crystal’s inner thigh as we lay in the grass, catching our breath.
“Hey,” Crystal cooed, propping herself up on her elbow. She looked like one of those damn roman statues next to me, her body radiating from the orgasms we just had.
“Hey yourself,” I imitated back. She scooted her body closer to mine, so that we were both on our sides, our legs draped over each other. I put a hand on her waist, and ran it back and forth from her ass up to her side, and back down again.
“You said something pretty big back there, before we got started with that romp.”
“I know. I meant it. I love you.”
She swallowed.
I stared at her for a second, searching her face for hints as to her hesitation. I gripped her chin, and brought her lips to mine for a kiss.
We kissed like that for minutes, a notable delicateness present after how fiery the sex had been.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard a pounding on the door of our cabana. I figured it would go away, but it didn’t.
“I’m going to see who’s interrupting our session. You need anything?” I said as I stood up.
“Maybe some water.”
“You got it.”
I grabbed my basketball shorts, which were in some odd part of our backyard, and threw them on.
The pounding on the door was incessant. Who the fuck would it be? I’d mostly kept my distance from the locals this time, not like I had before when I’d lived here five years ago.
I was grinning, still on my post-sex high, but when I opened the door my smile dropped right off my face.
My old fling Marta stood there, a big smile on her face, her black hair hanging to her shoulders. At her side stood a little boy, probably four or five years old.
“Hello Connor!” she spoke English with a heavy Islander accent. Her tone was cheery. Of course I recognized her. But that was another time. Another life.
“Marta. Hi. Can I help you?”
“You can.” She smirked in an almost triumphant manner, and to be honest it scared me.
“With what?” I scrunched my face up.
“This little boy is your son. About time you started acting like it.”
16 - Crystal
Connor just rocked my world, and I wasn’t even talking about the sex.
Lying in his arms bathed in a post-coital glow, I felt as if I’d come home. I’d been holding tightly to those three-little-words, keeping them caged inside my chest and locked in my mind. Mostly because I didn’t want to scare him away by suddenly turning clingy. Not that I believed I would just because he said he loved me, but I worried. I still had no idea why Connor wanted me, or whether this fling would turn out to be anything more serious. There had been too many times I’d worried I would let it slip how I felt for him. That I would ruin what we were building because I’d fallen fast and hard for him. The fact that he let his heart tumble free first, hoping I would catch it, shocked me to the core.
I wanted to cry. Not in sadness, but at how perfect it was. Connor loved me. I loved him. Maybe, I could believe that we could be a real couple once we returned to Chicago. I wasn’t sure what I would do about the no fraternizing policy at work, but love would conquer everything.
I shouldn’t have been shocked. Once the surprise faded, I wasn’t surprised. Connor didn’t do anything in half measures. He fucked, cursed, drank with everything he was. There was no filter or barrier between his emotions and the realities of life. He embraced it, whether it was killing himself training or in the ring, or chasing me around the bedroom.
Connor loves me.
My mind latched onto those words, and only then did I realize a mistake I’d made.
I hadn’t said it back.
I groaned as I rolled onto the flattened grass, trying to figure out why I hadn’t told him how I felt earlier. I loved him. It scared me how much he meant to me. How deeply my Irish bad-ass had crawled past my barriers in such a short amount of time. Was I holding back
because I didn’t want to make it seem as if I was jumping onto his declaration? I wanted him to know how much he meant to me. I wanted him to know I would be by his side. That I had his back in the truest way possible.
Lord, I didn’t even want to think of the thoughts I’d had when those Zoreto douches yanked the rug out from beneath us. I hadn’t even called JW or Jeff yet to let them know that this whole contract possibility was all a ruse; a way for the suits to have an all-expenses paid vacation for two months on their company’s dime. They might give the winner of Connor’s tropical brawl a sponsorship, but it wouldn’t be near the nine-figure payday they’d tempted us with.
Assholes. Connor had been crushed. I’d felt his pain. I couldn’t imagine what it was like having your dreams destroyed again. But, he’d bounced back from his injury. After he won against El Toro, the sponsorships would come calling. I would make sure of it.
Somehow, I’d make it better. That’s what I did. Now that Connor’s career was in my capable hands, together we would make those Zoreto jerks eat dirt.
A sudden flurry of noises, which sounded suspiciously like crying and shouting, filtered out from the hut. Whoever had been knocking on the door apparently was still with Connor. Why were they arguing? I sat up, straining to hear what the cause of the fighting was about. The sudden cry of a child jerked me upright, and I frowned. That was unexpected. Why was there a kid inside? Was something wrong with one of the locals?
Sitting outside bare-ass naked probably wasn’t a good idea if there was a kid around. Cringing slightly at the cum that was drying on my chest, I used Connor’s shirt to clean it off. Then I pulled on my clothes while I mentally wished for a bra. The lazy days on the island had changed me, let me slip free of the fashionista shell I’d encased myself in, and got me closer to my farm-girl roots than I’d been in years.
“What bullshite is this,” Connor yelled as I stepped into the hut.
I allowed my eyes to adjust, blinking as I found Connor with his chest heaving and furious, glaring down at some dark-skinned, brown-haired girl. She was a waif of a thing next to him. A little boy clutched her hand in a chubby fist, and looked up at Connor as if he were some monster in the closet. His lower lip trembled, and I had a brief flash of what I must have looked like the day I’d been told my father died. The boy held the same expression—as if his life had just ended.
My heart went out to him. Connor was rough to tolerate as an adult on his best days. Though I loved him, I wasn’t blind to his faults and temper. In full rage, it was best to let him run around like a rampaging bull than try and get in his way.
“Why are you doing this!” The woman was borderline weeping. Her chin quivered, and she sniffled softly. Even with her cheeks ruddy from crying, she was beautiful. I should, just as a girl, hate her on sight. But I tried not to. She was exotic and voluptuous, with long toned legs and a lush body flattered by a two-piece cropped top and flowing skirt that had a homespun quality to it. She reminded me of a gypsy or belly dancer with the softness of her tummy that did nothing to detract from her attractiveness.
And I really didn’t like how she was looking at Connor. I wasn’t the jealous type. Or hadn’t been until now. Her watery stare was latched on him, looking at Connor as if he were breaking her heart, and in a way that was too intimate for me to handle.
“What’s going on?” I hadn’t meant to step into this mess. I’d just meant to check to make sure everything was alright. Obviously, things weren’t, but that wasn’t what prompted me to press my palm between Connor’s shoulder blades. Pure feminine possessiveness demanded I lay my claim on my man.
Connor was wired up, and twitchy. His body was keyed up, bursting with adrenaline. Soothingly, I ran my hand down his spine, quietly letting him know I had his back.
Apparently, that was the wrong thing, because he flinched away from me, and the woman in the doorway shot venom-filled glares my way.
“Who are you?” The woman snapped in a beautifully accented voice. Immediately I knew she was a local, if her swarthy, bronzed coloring hadn’t given it away.
“It’s none of your business,” Connor snarled at the woman.
I had to give her credit. She didn’t cower away from him. She planted her fist on one broad hip, and cocked it like a gun. “Yes, it is!”
“Like shite it is!” Connor’s yell almost deafened me. The little boy flinched and pressed his tear-streaked face into her colorful skirt.
I really needed to diffuse this situation. I hated the notion that Connor and this woman were fighting in front of—whom I assumed—was her kid. He looked like her in a way with his almond-shaped eyes and button knows.
“Connor, I don’t think whatever the problem is, should be discussed in front of the boy,” I whispered against his ear.
“Don’t you dare tell him what to do,” the woman screeched.
I blinked at her, stunned that this girl invaded our hut and was now trying to push her weight around. Though I was a blonde, I considered myself a smart cookie. Still, I felt as if I was missing something so damn obvious.
Who the fuck was this chick?
“Marta,” Connor snarled.
“She’s the reason, isn’t she.” The woman—Marta—stomped her foot in a sign of an impending tantrum.
Connor sighed. Aggravation stippled his muscles, bunching them in his shoulders and back as shoved both hands through his hair. When he pulled the ginger strands in frustration my curiosity piqued.
I turned inquiring eyes onto the hot-eyed woman trying to incinerate me with a look.
“Who are you?” I finally asked.
“Don’t,” Connor growled. Who was the warning for? Marta? Or me?
He swung his head around and pierced me with imploring eyes. An apology shone on his face, much like how the sun caused the reddish whiskers on his face to gleam. All at once the love bubble I’d been existing in popped.
Foreboding swam through me, and I steeled myself for what was going to come. This was the truth of my life. When everything was going perfectly, a wrecking ball came through and smashed it into pieces.
Satisfaction, and no small hint of malice, gleamed on Marta’s face. She tossed her head, sending a river of silky brown hair to swirl around her shoulders. “I’m his wife.” Her hand tightened the boys, and I knew what she was going to say even before she pulled the crying little boy out from behind her, and shoved him towards me and Connor. “And this is his son--.” She hissed at Connor, directing her last word to him. “Alfonso.”
“Crystal, wait. Please, feckin’ wait.”
Connor was begging me as I stood outside, trying to figure out how I was going to get away from the man who’d just broken my heart. I hadn’t even packed. After Marta’s bomb, I stomped out and called a taxi. That simple title explained so much of what was going on that I felt stupid for not catching the undercurrents before. I had no excuse for why I didn’t realize it. Maybe Connor had fucked me stupid.
Later, I would come back for my things when Connor’s wife wasn’t watching me from the doorway of our hut. I felt her eyes on me, dissecting me every twitch of her lashes. She’d won. Her and I both knew it. I was leaving without a fight.
I was a homewrecker.
“I can’t believe you abandoned your kid! After everything you went through back in Ireland.” Fury, and shame, shrilled my voice.
“I didn’t know about him. He might not be mine.” Connor’s anger bled from him, though I was working myself up into a full-on fit.
“The age fits. Good LAWD, Connor. You were here five years ago, and by the way you two were fighting, you were definitely in some sort of relationship with her.”
Which led reality to come crashing down around me again. Not just a relationship.
“A wife, Connor? You’re married? What the hell!” I could believe that he might not know about a son. Especially if he’d left the island before Marta realized she was pregnant. But the marriage? Oh hell no. There was a lot of things I could forgive. I
nfidelity wasn’t one of them.
“It’s not like that.” Connor’s accent was as thick as Guinness, and just as hard to take.
The urge to scream at him, or claw his lying eyes out, roared through me like a typhoon. I was wrecked on the shoals of his betrayal. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the damn world for me to draw enough breath to slow down my racing heart.
My toes curled in the dirt, and I glanced down, realizing I’d left my shoes behind. I wasn’t going back into the hut though. Not for anything. “What’s it like then, Connor? How did it slip your head that you were married!”
“It was an island thing.”
“An island thing?” If he even mentioned mana again I could not be held responsible for my actions. I might wind up stabbing him.
“It was a bit of a celebration. There was dancing, and alcohol, and there might have been some kind of ceremony, and something about joining our mana together. I don’t feckin’ remember. I was in a bad place when I was here, Crystal. You know that. But I’m not married. I swear to you.”
“Don’t you dare say that, Connor McGrath!” Marta’s voice rose like a fishwife berating her husband on the dock. “We are married in Julio’s eyes!”
Lord, she sounded like a harpy. I’ve never hated someone more than I did in that instant as I twisted in place, and glared at her as she stood at the threshold of our house and tore down my taste of paradise.
Connor flinched beside me, and I knew Marta had struck him where it mattered. From the brief interactions I’d had with Julio, and everything Connor had ever said about the shaman, disappointing the man who’d saved him would tear Connor apart.
Tears stung my eyes suddenly, and I spun back around, hunching my shoulders against the rawness in my chest. He’d made me feel so much earlier, and then he’d reached in and yanked out my heart.
Connor came closer. His heart pressed over my exposed arms, and the scent of him—us—tickled my nose. Had it been just an hour ago when he’d been inside me? It felt like days ago. “I swear, Princess. I haven’t talked to her in five years. You are the only one in my heart. I love you.”
Fantasy Island Page 14