by Kira Blakely
His nostrils flared just a hint before he leaned down and kissed me. His tongue traced expertly over my own as his hands roamed over my body. I moaned against him, as his dexterous fingers began cupping my breast, the heat in my belly building into a roaring four-alarm blaze and my clit throbbing between my legs. I was so very wet, so ready for him already. Maybe I’d always been ready for him. Lord knew that my one attempt at a full relationship had barely gotten even this far or made me feel such heat.
One hand snaked down my abdomen, teasing my skin through the thin cotton of my t-shirt. I mewled like a kitten, all my enjoyment so very animalistic, and pressed my body flush against his. He pulled away from me and I pouted.
“Tease.”
“No,” he corrected. “I don’t want you to have your first time on a bathroom floor, your back pressed against cold tile. You deserve better than that, princess.”
Before I could say anything else, he swept me up in his arms in a bridal carry and took me over the threshold into his bedroom. It took no effort at all for him to carry me over to the king-sized bed. Probably because even though his military service was over, it was clear from the bulging muscles in his arms and the rest of his body that he’d never gotten out of the fitness habit from his past service.
Drake laid me gently down on the soft satin sheets. I could smell the salt of the ocean outside of our window, hear the frantic beating of my pulse in my ears, and taste him on my tongue. It was like a mix of mint from his mouthwash and something masculine and pure that was all him. I arched my body up against the pillows and ran one finger over my shirt.
“I think we might be overdressed.”
He laughed, a low rumble that went straight to my clit. “We can fix that.”
I nodded and shimmied out of my jeans. He’d left me in my clothes from last night. It was a bit awkward from a horizontal position, and I wasn’t going to win any seduction points, but it was my first time, and my fingers were shaking so hard I could barely undo the zipper. Then came my top, but I still lay there with my cotton bra and panties, something simple and nothing at all worthy of some vixen, covering my body. If Drake wanted to do more with me, then he was going to have to unwrap those final layers, like a present.
He licked his lips. “God, princess, you look so fucking good.”
Then Drake slipped off his pajama bottoms, exposing his long lean legs, that thatch of dark hair, and his amazing length. It was thick and seemed to be straining up with all the need I felt building between us. Mimicking his own actions, I licked my lips, thinking of all the things we could do together.
“I love the way you look,” I admitted. “I love that sleeve of tattoos you have, so rugged and dangerous, and I’m probably not the first person to say this, but you’re amazing.”
He smirked and gestured to his crotch. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, but it means more coming from you, trust me.” Drake didn’t make a move to slip off his tank, but I didn’t ask. After all, I was leaving my own underwear layers on so he could peel them back. Maybe he wanted me to do the same. Then, like a sultry jungle cat, he started crawling across the foot of the bed. When he got to me, to the tops of my thighs, he leaned down low and kissed them, running his tongue over every inch.
My blood felt like it had turned to liquid fire in my veins, and I arched my hips, welcoming the strokes of his tongue. Drake reached my panties and pulled them off, sliding them easily off my hips with a little help from me. He grazed a hand over my pubic hair and grinned up at me.
“So, soft, princess, like down.”
“Are you going to talk through all this?” I asked, my voice quivering. After twenty-four years of waiting, a dam had burst, and I couldn’t wait any longer.
He grinned and crawled up farther so that his head was over my belly. Leaning down, he kissed right above my belly button, then snaked his tongue in and out a few times. I moaned again and pressed against him.
“Please, Drake, I need you.”
“I can do whatever you need, princess.” He pushed himself off the bed just long enough to grab a foil packet from his bedside table and slip it over his impressive member. “Precautions, always.”
I nodded. I was completely on board with that. I’d have no way to explain that to my father or sister or anyone. Protection was smart.
“But now?” I breathed.
“Sit up,” he said, his voice deep and commanding, a hint of the Dominant lurking underneath.
I complied instantly, his tone making it clear there wasn’t a point in arguing with him.
He eased over to the bed and unclasped my bra in one fluid motion, and I pushed the realization from my mind that he was only so smooth at that because of the almost limitless experience he’d had with so many other women.
God, what if I’m terrible at this? What if he hates me?
His gaze widened at my exposed breasts as I shook off my bra straps and let it fall to the mattress. “So perfect.”
His mouth was on my left nipple in a flash, even as he slid back fully onto the bed. The heft of him pinned me to the bed, the scent of him—that spicy cologne and his own musk—teased my nostrils, and his tongue laved over my nipple, tracing patterns only he truly understood against the skin.
I closed my eyes and let myself be lost in the sensation, in the ministrations of his tongue, in the feel of him against me, in the blood pounding through my veins. The pure need pulsing in my clit.
“Please…”
He didn’t need any more prodding. Drake positioned himself above me and then let the head of his member just touch my entrance. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
The unspoken questions were there between us, the fact he was so big and I’d never had anyone, but I’d been ready since he’d shown me such kindness in the bathroom, since he’d touched my shoulder. I was slick with need, and I wanted him, wanted to feel everything.
“I am.”
He nodded and started to ease himself into me, slowly. It stretched, yes, but he entered with the utmost care and the utmost precision. Inch by inch, his heat filled me, making me feel complete and satiated in a way I’d never know before. After what felt like forever, I felt every part of him, even his testicles pressed tight against me.
Part of me never thought all of him would fit.
Drake moved his hips slowly, a testing undulation, and then stopped.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “I can do this. Please, whatever you want.”
He flexed his hips and the fire was rushing through me again, heating up in every conceivable way. Then he started in earnest, his muscular back moving under my fingers, his breath fast and furious in my ears, and the heft of him over me. I looked up into his eyes and saw that intense chocolate gaze focused on me, and I felt as if I was leaving my body, that my very soul might be joining with his in this moment.
Then he came, thrusting his hips with a furious rhythm against me and it was enough to send me over the edge, to make me shudder at the force of the blaze that ignited over me. The flames licked at every part of me, firing up every nerve, every cell. I screamed for what felt like hours before falling to the mattress.
I was too hazy and my limbs too heavy to move for a while after that. Turning to my side, I let him scoop me into his arms and scooted up to him, his length still semi-hard against the curve of my rear.
“I… is it always like that?” I asked, my voice as breathless as if I’d run a marathon.
Drake laughed and kissed my temple. “Never. This was extraordinary even for me.”
With that, I fell into a deep sleep with a smile curving around my lips.
Chapter Eight
Belle
The scent of waffles and crisping bacon woke me up several hours later. Rolling over, I eyed the clock on Drake’s bedside and realized it was still only eleven a.m. That shocked me. It felt like our lovemaking had lasted hours, like it should be close to sunset by now. I felt
completely tuckered out. Of course, I’d been running on adrenaline for the last day between our fight and my flight and then those men…
I’d had a long thirty-six hours, to say the least, and having it culminate in the best experience of my life was even more confusing.
I didn’t know where I was going. Now that I’d felt Drake and had him inside of me, I had to hope that it was like tasting a drug for the first time, and that I’d be able to break free if I needed to. There was still such darkness lurking underneath Drake’s surface, and I didn’t know when I’d stumble over something that would set him off, like in the library’s hidden chamber. I just didn’t know where any of this was going to lead, but for right now I was willing to let it go, to hope I didn’t lose my heart or my reputation in the process.
Slipping my clothes on, I hurried down the halls—glad I was beginning to get a feel for the layout of the estate—and followed my nose to a new kitchen. This one must be for prepping for guests, since it wasn’t anywhere near where Leonard had taken me last night. As I entered the kitchen, I had to marvel at the fact that it wasn’t Leonard or Mrs. Johnson cooking. No, instead, I watched as Drake, dressed in jeans that hugged his ass and that same tight tank from this morning, finished flipping bacon in a pan and started hunting for a plate to set it on.
“Well, don’t you have people for this?” I asked with a coy voice.
He finished saving the bacon from dying an overcooked death and turned off the stove before turning to face me. “I figured you might be hungry. To be honest, I was starving when I woke up, and Mrs. Johnson is at the market getting ingredients for dinner and Leonard is overseeing the groundskeepers today. Besides, I can cook.”
“Can you?” I said after taking a seat at the table set up across from the massive stove setup. The thing had to have at least six burners. “I think a taste test would be in order.”
“Oh, you’ll be wrong about this, princess. I’m quite the chef,” he said. Then he set the plate of bacon and waffles before me. But it didn’t stop there; he also set out fresh-squeezed orange juice, a collection of chopped tropical fruits, and of course strawberries and clotted cream for the waffles. “I’ve been up for a couple hours. You are about to lose a bet in the most delicious way possible.”
I chuckled and sipped the juice and had to keep myself from moaning, much as I had this morning. Damn, he was right. I’d only sampled the O.J. and it was already better than any Tropicana I’d ever had. Then I dug into the bacon, my stomach hankering for some morning grease, and I nodded my approval.
“I guess I was wrong. You know,” I added as he dug into his own plate. “If that whole billionaire PR guru thing ever fell through then you always have the culinary arts.” I started into the waffles and decided I might just marry Drake if only for the room service. “Where did you learn to do this?”
“You assume I’ve never cooked because I have staff now?”
“Well, yeah. I also didn’t learn to cook myself until I came home from college. Mom was done with cooking,” I hedged, not wanting to admit it was a survival skill since Mom was actually too sick to cook. “I spent a year practicing not just turning food into charcoal briquettes. You’re really good. I’ve eaten at restaurants that have ripped me off compared to this.”
He nodded. “Well, believe it or not, I sometimes have a hot head.”
“Do you now?” I said.
“Maybe some of it, I dunno, I bottled since I came home from my post. I sometimes have those spells… that trauma bubbles up and I can’t control it. That’s different, but I never was a fan of having people tell me what to do. I joined up with the Marines after 9/11 because I felt that I had to, that my country needed me.”
I wasn’t sure if he noticed that his fingers were tracing over the scar over his eyebrow as he spoke, as if that tangible connection to his time in the service was something he needed to keep speaking about it.
“That’s so noble,” I said. I’d only been about six or seven when it had happened. I barely remembered anything, except my parents watching the TV and crying, which had made me cry because my parents never did things like that. Reaching out across the table, I slid a hand over his. “Thank you for doing that.”
“I don’t need thanks,” he said curtly, pulling his hand back. “It just seemed like the right thing to do. I tended to mouth off a lot in basic. I learned eventually to finally keep my mouth shut, but that was after more turns at mess hall duty than I could count. Turns out I have some cooking skills. Marines: Be All You Can Be, even if that’s Emeril Lagasse.”
I snorted at that and sipped more juice. “I definitely don’t think that’s gonna catch on with their recruitment flyers. I… you don’t have to talk about that time. I can tell it affected you.”
“Thanks. But I can definitely relate my harrowing tales of peeling potatoes and making sloppy joes for an angry fort of recruits with no hesitation. It sucked, but at least I can fend for myself when Mrs. Johnson takes the weekends off. Now,” he said as he stood up and began cleaning his own plate in the sink. “Hurry up. The boat leaves in an hour.”
“For what?”
“You’ll see.”
***
The water was warm, like slipping into bath water, which kept my mind focused on the oversized goggles slipping over my eyes and the snorkel gripped awkwardly in between my teeth instead of everything else going on with my life. But my inexperience with snorkeling didn’t matter, not when huge sea turtles with hints of algae stuck to their shells and brightly colored fish in hues of yellow and orange swam inches from my face. I brought my head up and slipped the snorkel and goggles off, taking my first break in almost fifteen minutes. For an environmental nut like me, this was one of the coolest things I’d ever done.
I just kept accidentally sucking in a bit of seawater as I did it.
God, I wish I was just a little more coordinated.
“You done already, princess?” Drake asked, amusement coloring his words.
“I just got a little saltwater in my mouth, needed a break,” I called back, turning around in the water to get a better view of his yacht. “Aren’t you getting in? You’ve been delaying the inevitable for almost an hour.”
“I like getting a view of your assets.”
I blushed, heat flaring in my cheeks, as I looked down at the red and gold bikini that I’d found in my fabulous closet. “You picked it out.”
“Indeed, and I was right. It does look fabulous on you.”
“But you’re still getting in, aren’t you? These sea turtles won’t see themselves. They’re so cute.”
“You’re that type, aren’t you?”
“Huh?” I asked, running a hand through my wet, tangled hair.
In a couple minutes, I was going to poke my head back into the water whether Drake joined me or not. It was so amazing to see the variety of life in the coral reef—from the kelp all the way up to the small nurse sharks. Maybe he’d done this tourist trap thing a million times, but I didn’t have access to a private yacht or the Bahamas, so I was going to take advantage of the day he’d set up for us.
Drake stood up and went to the table on the deck to retrieve his own flippers, snorkel, and goggles. “You’re that bleeding-heart type who probably tears up when you watch documentaries about turtles in the Galapagos and how the odds are against them. I think I have you pegged.”
“I have always been big into conservation,” I admitted. “Besides, turtles are adorable. So slow, but so determined; they never give up!”
He laughed as he finished slipping on his gear. I noticed that he wasn’t taking off his t-shirt though and that it remained on over his swim trunks. He hadn’t taken off his shirt early this morning either. All that struck me as so odd. He didn’t seem to have a lack of confidence in any area. Besides, it wasn’t like he was out of shape. He could probably become a P90x instructor tomorrow. The man had muscles for days, a mass of sinew that would make any straight woman’s mouth water. Besides, it was the
Bahamas and warm enough even for me in a bikini. Surely, having that cotton tee on him would both weigh him down and feel stifling hot.
Wouldn’t it?
Shaking my head, I squealed a little as he landed beside me in the water, his cannonball splashing me thoroughly. It wasn’t my business to ask anything, to pry. I’d already dug into his footlocker and things had gotten dangerous from there. Poor Drake still had the swollen nose and the puffy, bloodied lip to prove it. If he wanted to tell me about the shirt and the insistence on it, then he would.
I could be patient and wait.
Really, I could.
Chapter Nine
Drake
The day couldn’t have gone better. It floored me how different everything was from the cluster fuck that had unraveled last night. I’d thought I’d lost her, that she’d flee the Bahamas when I’d screamed at her over my footlocker. Then I’d almost been too late to save her. I wasn’t even sure if she remembered everything from the night before or if she just wasn’t mentioning it. I’d almost beaten one of those men to death, pounded into his eyebrows and nose until they cracked and blood flowed. All those things like back in the desert, back in my post.
If she remembered that, she wouldn’t still be here; she’d know how fucked up I was.
Still, we’d swam in the ocean, snorkeling and enjoying the wildlife. I’d done it dozens of times, but it had been a year or more since I’d had time. It was odd the things you could get used to. I didn’t think about how amazing it was to see, or how that sight could bring a smile to someone’s face until I’d seen Belle so excited. She really was an eco-nut, but it was cute on her, the way she kept swimming after a family of turtles and cooing when she touched a baby’s shell.
Definitely worth it.
I just had to remember all the good things in my life sometimes. I tended to forget, or maybe my wealth just left me always looking for the next high, the next big thing. I got too used to how beautiful everything could be and seeing Belle so excited woke something up in me. Her enthusiasm bled into mine, actually prodded mine back to life.