Amelia had never flown in a private jet before. Truthfully, she hadn’t flown anywhere in years. Back when she was younger, she’d had different ideas for her future, and it hadn’t been anything to save up for a trip out of state to go see a concert, or something similarly frivolous. But then she’d gotten engaged and all frivolities were over. Then the engagement had ended, so she’d moved in with Gram to lick her wounds. Of course, her Grammy was still alive, and when she’d passed, it had been left to her to take care of her great-grandma.
And here she was.
If it weren’t for Charlie, she’d be nearly destitute, working the shitty job, about to lose her house, and struggling to take care of the only woman left who loved her.
She leaned back in the plush leather seat, ignoring the man in the seat opposite her, who watched her carefully.
He was her boss. Nothing more.
Never mind his beauty was almost painful to look at sometimes. She just had to remind herself he was using her for sex.
But was he? Or was that her excuse to put him at arms’ length?
She looked at him. Yeah, he was still examining her, his eyes raking over her legs now.
They’d changed on the plane before takeoff. She was wearing a short sundress, spaghetti straps, no bra, and a pair of sandals. She felt naked under his gaze.
He too, had changed into casual island wear. Now he looked like an adult frat boy. His legs were strong, yet lean, in his cargo shorts. The t-shirt he wore stretched across an expanse of muscles she’d never seen on a man, yet she could see clearly defined under his shirt, no doubt as expensive as her designer sandals.
His hair flopped over one eye, an allowance to the casualness of the attire, he hadn’t combed it back into its usual neat style. Instead it gave the illusion he was carefree.
As if he actually took vacations. For some reason, Amelia didn’t think he played well at all.
“Why do you think I’m abusing you?” He spoke as if the words left a sour taste in his mouth.
So he’d calmed down now, and was going to continue the conversation as if the hours between hadn’t happened? Fine.
“Manipulating me, not abusing.” She took a deep breath and forged on. “For sex. You’re paying for all these things for me to have sex with you. It would go right along with our Honeymoon thing.” She stated the words in as matter-of-fact tone as she could muster, but honestly, the words sounded stupid out loud.
“It’s rather expensive, don’t you think?” He was smiling at her. Now he was laughing at her. “I could have any number of women without nearly half the trouble.”
“Then why spend all this money on me?”
He sighed and leaned back in his seat, mirroring her pose. His legs stretched out, and he planted his canvass boat shoes between her sandals.
“Because I don’t want someone in my employ going without. I simply paid for things you needed. It’s what I do.” He paused, still studying her. “I’ll admit to an attraction to you, but you may have read it as more. I’m planning on staying professional, and professionally sometimes, I need a date, or a wife.”
“But I’ve read some of your files. You use blackmail to get what you want in return. I’m not a fool.”
“If you’ve read my files, you also know that I make people disappear as well.” His words were deadly, and a shiver rippled across her skin. Was she taunting a demon? Why would he say that to her?
She didn’t say anything to that, simply looked out the window into the darkness. It was encompassing, inky. As if it was a void.
She felt like that sometimes. Like she was just a black hole, waiting to swallow everything around her, into the nothingness that she was. Like now, she was disappearing. If she didn’t come back from this trip, no one would know where she went. Her Gram wouldn’t even realize she’d ever been, much less that she was gone.
Was that what people were? Their only consciousness was other people’s feelings for them? Since her Gram didn’t know she existed as herself, thinking she was some grand-niece from Regency England, and not Amelia, did Amelia Flores even exist?
“No need to make me disappear, Mr. Delmonico,” she whispered.
“As if I could.” His eyes were hers, intense and needy. It made her warm, and a trickle of sweat ran between her shoulder blades. She pressed against the seat, squashing it into her dress. “Sleep. We still have a couple of hours before we get there.”
Apparently, Amelia slept like the dead, because she awoke in a luxuriously soft bed with sunlight streaming into her eyes. She jackknifed up, awareness hitting her at once. She was still wearing her dress from the night before, but had absolutely no memory beyond the airplane.
Charlie was lying next to her, and he chuckled at her actions. As intimate as the moment was, she felt a quiver of fear tremble through her bones. Their last conversation had been about her disappearing, hadn’t it?
Yet, here he was chuckling at her. It was almost a foreign sound from the normally put-together man, so stoic and powerful. The chuckle was almost roguish, and reminded her of a wolf disguised as a sheep to tempt innocents.
She threw the comforter off herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed, needing to sit up and have some space between them. They were in bed together, and she had no idea what had happened.
“You slept like the dead. I did my obligatory duty and carried you over the threshold, joking with the bell man that we would have to do it again, when you were conscious of it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were drugged. You sleep hard.”
She did sleep hard. Everyone had always joked that if she slept during a tornado, she’d be carried off to the land of Oz.
But she’d never slept through something like this. A plane ride, presumably a car ride to the hotel, and then the check in and being carried Lord knew how far.
It was disconcerting, waking up in such different circumstances as when she’d fallen asleep. She could have been drugged. She turned her head to look at Charlie.
Lying in bed, sheets around his hips, he reclined against the pillows and headboard, his chest naked.
And freaking glorious.
She’d imagined him without a shirt, multiple times. He filled out his suits and shirts like a man who saw a gym regularly, but her imagination didn’t do reality justice. He was chiseled from granite, hard planes of sinewy muscle covered with golden skin and the dark hair of a man. His chest was glorious and the hair tapered into a trail on his belly, disappearing under the sheets in a way that had her mouth suddenly watering like a woman starved.
She swallowed and turned her head back to the front.
A magnificent view of the Caribbean ocean greeted her. Now that she was a bit calmer, she realized the sliding glass door was opened and she could hear the waves crashing into the shoreline. She stood and walked to where she could see better.
“I’ve never seen an ocean,” she mused quietly. She could hear the rustle of sheets as Charlie stood, and she risked a glance behind her.
He was standing at the closet, naked as the day he was born.
She inhaled swiftly and turned back to the ocean view, the image of his rear naked burned into her brain. The god-like chiseling extended to his backside, where she had no idea men had the sort of musculature she saw in her boss.
His ass was firm, and his legs powerful. Amelia had no idea what use those muscles on his back would be for, but she imagined exploring the bumps and ridges with her tongue.
“What’s our plan today?” Her voice was strangled, and she cleared her throat to start over. “What are we supposed to do?”
She heard him dragging clothes up his legs, and tried again to face him. He was tugging a t-shirt over his head, his rumpled hair popping out of the neck hole.
“We are honeymooners, so I think since the banks are closed, we should practice acting like that while we explore things. I can book us a scuba tour?”
She shuddered. “No, thank you. I saw “Open Water” and it send scuba diving to the bottom of my bucket list.”
He shrugged, as he bent to put on his shoes. “Parasailing?”
“Jurassic Park. The second one.”
Shoes on, he straightened. “What would you like to do?”
She looked over her shoulder at the aqua blue water, the likes of which she’d never imagined she’d see in her lifetime.
“Can we just go to the beach?”
Charlie smiled at her, and it was absolutely glorious. It lit his dark face like nothing she’d ever seen before, and gave her a warmth in her chest. She smiled back at him.
“I’ll order us some breakfast, and have a picnic lunch prepared. You take the first shower and we’ll go after we eat.” He was still in control, the all-powerful-killer-Charlie-with-a-plan. But he was smiling, and she liked it.
Amelia found her impatience building as she waited for room service, while Charlie showered and got ready for his day. She changed into her bathing suit and packed a bag for the beach, hoping she anticipated everything she would need. A towel, sunscreen, a book to read, her phone, an extra pair of shoes, a dress to wear in case they decided to do something different, was all neatly folded and arranged, as their breakfast arrived.
She answered the door and oohed and aahhed at the arrangement of fruit and cheeses, an enormous omelet, eggs benedict, and a plate full of bacon was artfully arranged on a wheeled table in the living room. Amelia searched through her purse, wondering how much was appropriate to tip the man who’d brought the food, when he waved her off.
“No worries. It’s taken care of. Please let me know if you need anything, Mrs. Stryker.”
Charlie chose that moment to come out of the bathroom, dressed in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He strode over to Amelia and wrapped his arm around her waist from behind before dropping a kiss onto her shoulder. The shock at his touch and hot mouth on her cooled skin had her stiffening.
“Thank you very much.” He spoke to the man, who winked and smiled. “I’ll leave the honeymooners to it, then,” he said as he let himself out.
The arm dropped from around her and the heat of him left her backside. “You need to relax and pretend you like me for this trip, or you don’t have much use.”
Then he went back into the bedroom to dress.
He was right. She did need to relax. One of the reasons he’d hired her was to pose as his wife for whatever covert dealings he had. Amelia didn’t need to know, and didn’t want to think about, what his end goal was, only that she was necessary.
They were on their honeymoon. She could do what was necessary.
After her little pep talk, she sat down to eat. Charlie came out and sat opposite her.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little off-balance still, waking up someplace so different. I know what my job is, I’ll do better.” She managed to flash him a smile before digging into the fruit plate and loading her own plate with an assortment of mangoes and some other fruit she wasn’t familiar with. She also put some cheese on her plate, and Charlie dished her over a half of the eggs benedict, as well as half of the omelet. She grabbed her own bacon.
“I understand,” he didn’t sound like he did, but his words helped. “I’m not used to this either. I’ve always hired an escort from a service, and they’re more skilled at acting, because they’re paid to be. And they certainly don’t argue with me about things.” She ignored the twinge of jealousy at the image of other women with Charlie Delmonico. “This is a different situation entirely.”
“The difference being, escorts have sex with you to make the charade more believable?”
To her surprise, his eyes hardened and he settled his silverware across his own plate before levelling a stern gaze on her. She swallowed the piece of foreign fruit she’d just put in her mouth, its initial sweet taste turning sour in her stomach.
What had she said?
“They do things to make the charade more believable, yes. We kiss, touch each other, and murmur in each other’s ears. They act like lovers. They don’t stiffen up when I touch them. They melt into my embrace. Then, yes, we do fuck.” He grabbed his fork between elegant fingers and speared a bite of omelet. “But then again, they don’t know I’m a killer.”
He spoke low, his voice caressing her skin, causing goose bumps to break out.
Despite her misgivings about his job, Amelia found herself crossing her legs under the table, trying to alleviate the throbbing ache his words evoked. She was suddenly hot, and the throbbing inside her was deliciously uncomfortable.
She wanted all of those things.
Especially the part about not knowing he was a killer.
If she didn’t know that, would she be willing to do the rest?
“I can do most of that, Mr. Delmonico.”
“It’s Charlie. And not Delmonico. It’s ---“
“Stryker. Yes. I’m Mrs. Stryker.” She finished for him, letting him know she was on board.”
“And how much are you willing to do?”
She swallowed. “Kiss. Melt. All of the things besides the sex.”
His eyes darkened, and she wondered how far he was going to go. And then, when they were back home, in the city, at work, how in the hell she was going to forget his lips on hers and actually get work done.
Amelia’s bathing suit was going to be the death of him, even with what passed as a cover-up. It was mesh and completely see-through, so he could see every exposed curve. She’d avoided turning her back to him, but he’d seen it when he’d come out of the bathroom, and she’d had her back to him, talking to the hotel boy who’d brought breakfast.
He’d nearly groaned at the sight. He could kiss whoever told her this was a suit he would like, because he was confident she wouldn’t have it otherwise.
It was a string bikini, not rare at all, but the butt of it when deep into her crack, showing off the ass he’d imagined so many times. A deep purple, her tits spilled around the edges of the triangles, which was heavenly enough. But the bottoms were fucking exquisite.
He longed to walk behind her with the dual advantages of getting to see her walk in it, her ass bouncing with each step, and blocking anyone else’s view of her. But he settled with walking next to her, draping an arm around her waist, tugging her next to him. She looked up at him, her eyes so wide and innocent he wanted to get lost in them. She wrapped her arm around his waist, clinging to him. The offered him a small smile.
Charlie liked it more than he cared to admit. She had said she was willing to do the things his escorts did, so he dropped his mouth to hers, taking what she was inadvertently offering him.
As soon as his lips touched hers, in what was supposed to be a casual peck on the lips, she froze again. He stopped walking, and wrapped the arm around her waist tighter, tugging her to his body, willing her to melt.
And melt, she did. Her soft curves molded to him, her pelvis against his, her breasts pressing against him. Her mouth opened, and he took it, like a pirate and his plunder.
He dropped the picnic basket the hotel had brought and wrapped his other hand around her, grabbing the ass he’d fantasized about. Firm, supple, jesus god, it was everything he wanted.
And her tongue was so sweet as it timidly touched his own. They swirled together in an exploratory dance that had him hard as a goddam rock. He broke the kiss before he lost control and stared at her breathlessly.
He was still grabbing her ass, his hand having delved between the cheeks into the heat he craved.
She breathed every bit as hard as he did, her tits pressed against his bare chest, her nipples poking him through her suit.
“Shit. Just like that.” His voice didn’t sound normal, but that was expected. She had just kissed him better than any other of the women he’d paid for the experience had. He forced himself to take a step back, and adjusted his erection in his suit before stooping to pick up the picnic basket and dropping his arm back over her shoulder. “Just fucking like that.”
That was all he could manage to say as he led them to two lounge chairs on the beach. He scooted them together, as newlyweds would. That’s what he told himself anyway, because he didn’t want a doubt in any other man’s mind that she wasn’t his. They weren’t siblings on some family vacation together. They were fucking together.
She didn’t speak as she settled into the lounge chair and got out some sort of lotion and started spreading it across her smooth skin. He watched, unable not to, and realized he was so goddam hungry for her. It would be a miracle if he made it through this week without fucking her the way he wanted.
Yeah, she was a distraction he could hardly afford, since he hadn’t thought of anything else since he’d awoken to find her sleeping next to him. She was so damn sweet and innocent, and he’d just watched her, marveling at how she’d ended up in his bed. Amelia had been angry yesterday. It was a familiar anger, born of fear, and he fucking loved it.
He had a great desire to see more of it. He loved it when people were afraid of him, it gave him power, and he wanted power over Amelia.
Now, she wasn’t afraid of him, but she wanted him. That much was obvious, from the way she’d clenched at their talk over breakfast, to her agreement to do some physical things with him, to the kiss they’d just shared.
And he loved that too. He had a desire to see how far she would go with that want.
As she caressed her skin, rubbing sunscreen into it, he realized her skin was delicate, unkissed by the sun. She would burn if she didn’t use it.
“Turn over, let me.” He wasn’t capable of complete sentences at this point, but she understood what he wanted.
Starting at her shoulders, he smoothed the lotion over her skin, then rubbed it in. Then he moved down her back, making sure to get underneath the string that tied, resisting the urge to untie it. Then down her back, to her ass. He spent a lot of time there, rubbing and smoothing, pulling her cheeks apart to see what he could see. The valley to her pussy had him groaning aloud, and he didn’t give a shit who heard him.
He massaged her as he rubbed in the lotion, going back over her again, spending even more time on the delicate cheeks of her ass. He didn’t want her skin to burn, certainly not there. He wanted to spread her wide and fuck her there. Badly.
She was his. He wasn’t pretending now. As he rubbed the lotion down the backs of her legs, he was lost in the feel of her smooth skin, the way it lightened when he pressed down, then reddened slightly in his wake. He wondered how it would look with the blush of a good spanking, and was hard again.
Then he kissed the back of her calves, the backs of her knees, watching the goosebumps on her skin. The breeze off the ocean cooled the sun, but her skin was downright hot as he kissed, then nipped at the globes of her ass before kissing again, first one then the other. He licked up her back, tasting salt and sunscreen, as he got to her shoulders, where he kissed her again. She whimpered and squirmed slightly, but didn’t move.
When he finished, he went back to his own chaise lounge, and reclined, watching her. She stayed where she was, on her stomach, with her eyes closed. He looked at the press of her tits on the chair, admiring the curves.
Finally, he forced himself to lean back in the chair and close his eyes, lurid images of the two of them together burning his retinas.
Amelia didn’t know which way was up by the time Charlie had finished with her body. When he’d started, she been so tense she didn’t know how she would ever relax. By the time he was done, she was putty, nothing but a dripping puddle of sensations on the beach.
He’d taken his time, inviting all sorts of images of sensual love-making, sweaty nights on rumpled sheets, cries of ecstasy in the darkened air of their hotel room. His hands were large, rough, and entirely welcome. He could do what he wanted to and she’d be on board with all of it, no matter what she had told him over breakfast.
When he was finished, she dozed, until a trickle of sweat ran down her leg and she decided to walk to the water to cool off.
“I’m going to go dip in the water and get wet.”
Charlie wore sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes, but he told her, “I’ll watch.” The tone of his voice suggested more, but she wasn’t sure how to take it, so she simply gave him a small smile before getting up.
She walked down to the water, aware of his eyes on her. She didn’t like this bathing suit. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but he made her feel really pretty when he looked at her in it, so maybe it wasn’t all that bad. The part she hated the most, he seemed to really enjoy if the amount of time he’d spent rubbing sunscreen into her bottom was any indication.
She sighed, wondering what she’d gotten herself into with him. She was attached, as much as she didn’t want to be. Amelia longed for things to happen between them, even though she was scared of the man, and didn’t know how to act when they got back to work.
She got into the water up to her thighs, and looked down. She could see her toes, with little silvery fishes swimming around them, darting this way and that. A few swam up and nibbled, testing her out, before dashing away. It tickled, and she giggled, shifting her feet to watch them scatter.
Pulling water up her body with her hands, she felt the coolness as it cascaded over her body, then went a little deeper before turning back to the shore. Charlie was on the chair, his sunglasses-clad eyes on her. She gave him a little wave, then dove into the water.
It was cool, but not cold, and she felt it against her heated face as she swam a little ways underwater before coming back up. She brushed her hair back off her face, and paddled around a little before declaring herself cool and going back. She’d get some sun on her front side while she read her book.
When she returned, Charlie held two glasses of something bright yellow with tiny umbrellas and skewers of fruit sticking out of the top.
She decided right then and there, to just go with things. Charlie Delmonico couldn’t be all that bad, and this was a vacation she’d never ever dreamed of going on. She would enjoy it, and do what he was paying her to do. After that rubdown, even sex wasn’t off the table, if he wanted.
They spent the next two days playing at being honeymooners in the sunshine. She kissed him whenever she got the chance, and let him rub sunscreen on her backside when he told her that’s what he was going to do. Charlie didn’t ask. Ever. And she didn’t mind.
They snorkeled, and she couldn’t get over all the fish that just swam around them, seemingly unafraid. The underwater landscape was breathtaking, and she spent a long time just floating and looking, everything quiet in the oasis under water.
sat on the beach and drank fruity drinks, and ate the picnic lunches the hotel staff packed. It was decadent, and Amelia didn’t have any problems pretending she was rich and used to this sort of lifestyle.
It was fun.
And she spent the entire time on the edge of going mad with arousal, as he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. He liked her second bathing suit even more than the first, apparently. It was similar to the first, only instead of deep purple, it was white with small pink flowers on it, and had a small ruffle along her hip before delving into the depths of her butt. She was getting used to his ogling her down there, even giving him a little shimmy when she first emerged from the bathroom wearing it.
Monday morning, they woke to shower and dress like real people instead of beach bums. They had an appointment to open an account that afternoon.
He wore a light gray suit, and she dressed in a tight fitting dress that opened up and flowed below her knees. It was demure enough for a bank setting, yet sexy enough for the island life she was falling in love with. It had wide straps over her shoulders, and a squared neckline that dipped low enough to show her tanning cleavage. The time in the sunshine had given her pale skin the kiss of the sun, and she felt beautiful on Charlie’s arm.
She slicked her dark hair back from her face, letting it fall behind her ears, and wore little diamond studs from her grandma.
She tilted her head and complied, finding a pair of silver heels with straps around the ankles and putting them on.
She didn’t question him, because she now looked perfect.
As they walked out of the lobby, her hand on his arm, he leaned down to her ear. “You look gorgeous.”
She beamed up at him, and gave him a peck on the lips, ignoring how very not pretend it felt. “I feel gorgeous.”
“I can tell.” His other hand came on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. She wondered if any of this was an act for him, then shut down that thought. She knew what was happening, and she couldn’t afford for it to. She was developing feelings for this man, and she knew it was because he’d basically paid for her to have a new life, and here she was, turning into everything she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. Then she’d talked herself around it, justifying her own actions.
She was liking this pretend life he’d paid for.
No better than one of his escorts.
That thought soured her mood.
“I booked us a couples massage after the bank, to keep up with appearances.”
“Okay,” she said, even though the idea of him spending more money on her turned her stomach. Everything was fine as long as they were on the beach, but now he was back to business Charlie, and she was his arm candy. Exactly what he’d told her in the “interview” when he’d hired her.
She’d do well to remember.
“And I wanted to warn you, there will be an exorbitant amount of money exchanged today. Don’t act shocked. Mr. Stryker is a day-trader, and doesn’t want to pay taxes on the amount of money he’s acquired.”
It was all a ruse. Every bit of it.
But he was so good at it. When they arrived at the bank, he helped her out of the car with an outstretched hand, and immediately wrapped his arm around her waist and walked her inside.
“Mr. and Mrs. Stryker! So happy you could break away from paradise to meet with us. I’m Anthony Wright.” A well-dressed gentleman with dark hair and skinny mustache met them at the door. How he knew their name was a mystery, but Charlie shook his hand warmly.
“It’s a pleasure to be here. This is a beautiful island, and we are enjoying ourselves immensely. Aren’t we, darling?” He looked down at her for an answer, his eyes twinkling with the shared game.
“Yes, so much! I’m wanting to do a boat tour later in the week. Do you have any you’d recommend?”
“Absolutely,” the rich island accent made Amelia feel welcomed and warm. She really could live here. “I have several private charters I can recommend. Let’s go into my office and get the business out of the way.”
Charlie had a briefcase and presumably it held cash, that he carried in the hand he wasn’t using to hold Amelia. When they followed Mr. Wright into his office, Charlie took her hand in his.
They sat, and while the men talked, Amelia’s mind wandered. She looked at Charlie’s square jaw and lush lips as he spoke. He shaved off the stubble of the weekend this morning, and she’d almost missed it. Not that she’d ever touched it, but she had imagined what it might feel like. And it had felt nice when they kissed.
She wanted to kiss him more. Even if this was a ruse. She’d gotten back into the justification of things, and knew that’s where she wanted to stay for the duration of the holiday. She could get back to the self-loathing when they got home.
“How much are we depositing today?” Mr. Wright asked, pleasantly, but the greedy glimmer to his eyes couldn’t be mistaken.
“Two point three million,” Charlie answered easily, and aside from a brief widening of her eyes, Amelia was proud of her reaction.
That much money fit into a briefcase? And they’d had it with them this entire time? Left in their room? Granted, she watched him get it out of the room safe this morning, but still. That was a monumental shit ton of money.
Back at the hotel, their business at the bank concluded, Charlie took her hand and led her straight to the spa.
“I sure could use something to relax after that.” He murmured as they went to where a man dressed in scrubs greeted them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Stryker, come this way.”
He led them to a room with two massage tables. “Undress and cover with the sheet. We will be back in a moment.”
Amelia was a bit surprised to see Charlie shedding his clothing almost immediately. When he dropped his boxers, she realized the masseuse meant all the way nude. She averted her eyes and turned around to undress herself.
“You’ve seen it before, Amelia. Come on … Don’t deprave me,” he was weedling, and Amelia spent a moment relishing the thought that Charlie Delmonico was almost asking her for something. Then she gave in.
She turned and lifted her dress, revealing a bra and thong set. She reached around to unclasp her bra and it fell to the floor before she bent to retrieve it and her dress and put them in a chair.
“Leave the thong on,” he growled at her from his spot on his table, erection proudly jutting up to reach skyward.
She did as he commanded, and slipped under the sheet, using it to cover her breasts. Charlie had covered himself as well, and was currently cupping his cock, squeezing it tightly, while he stared at the ceiling.
“Christ Amelia,” he began. “Your body is fantastic.” He looked like he was going to say more, but a soft knock at the door interrupted him, and a man and woman came in wheeling a tray of heated stones, towels, and various oils.
The woman rubbed on Amelia while the man worked on Charlie. It didn’t take long for her to succumb to thr skilled touch of the woman. She was completely relaxed and almost asleep by the time she finished and left her alone with Charlie.
Her mind was wandering around all the sex they could have. Him kissing her neck, her shoulders, her chest. Her breasts, he would pay special attention to, laving them with his warm tongue. Then he would go lower…
“You ready to go back to the room?” His voice, husky with his own relaxation, broke into her reverie. At some point in the massage, she’d rolled over, and now she found herself pressing her pubic bone into the table, unfulfilled desire pulsing through her.
“Actually …” she was so relaxed, she should stop talking and just nod, but she couldn’t. “I was thinking sex might not be off the table.”
Had she really just said that out loud?
A muttered curse met her ears, and her eyes snapped open. He stared at her, disbelief etched in his strong features. He was sitting on the edge of his own table, reaching for his trousers. He tugged them on and grabbed at his shirt, shrugging it on, before wrapping his underwear in his jacket and reaching for her things.
He tossed the dress at her and stuffed her bra in his pants pocket.
“Let’s go, then.”
Charlie could hardly believe it. He hadn’t had it this bad for a woman ever, and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t fucking touch her beyond what she’d promised him. In spite of the fact his fantasies had him fucking ruining her, he’d been the perfect gentleman.
But she’d given him the green light, and here he was, in the wrong damn place for all the filthy fantasies he’d had.
He hustled her out of the spa area of the hotel, and decided to take advantage of the beach front, taking her around the outside. There was a party on the beach, tiki torches, portable bars, a giant fire, and people everywhere.
But not by their room.
He stopped her outside the sliding glass door and pushed her against the wall, holding her face in his hands.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” He hated how needy he sounded, but if she stopped him as soon as he lost control, he wasn’t sure he could stop.
She stared at him with those deep fathomless eyes of hers, and licked her lips before nodding.
He kissed her then, aware of the group of people 50 yards behind him, and not giving a shit. Every other kiss before this one had been for show, for the people watching. Now, as he was sure no one was really watching them, he wanted them to. He wanted them to see she was giving herself to him.
She was his.
Using his hands, he pressed her mouth to his in a punishing kiss, demanding apology. She’d been so beautiful, so untouchable, and she would regret that he’d had to wait so long to taste her without pretense.
She moaned, and he used the desire to ramp her up more. He was about to burst, but he would take his. Eventually. For now, he would show her what she’d been missing by holding out.
He kissed down her neck, sucking and nibbling until he got to her shoulders. Removing one strap, he realized the fabric of the dress was stretchy, and he tugged it down to free a breast.
Which he practically mauled. Amelia’s sweet hands had found his hair, and tangled in it, pressing him closer. She was leaning on the wall, her shoulders supporting her, while she arched into him. He reached for the hem of her dress, tugging it up and wrapping one leg around him as he delved into the darkness under her dress.
She was gasping his name.
“Feel it, Amelia. Feel what you do to me.” He thrust his erection into the juncture between her thighs, letting the hard ridge of his cock do his talking. She moaned, as she rubbed against it, and he replaced it with a hand, teasing the fabric of her white thong aside and finding her needy, wet heat.
It didn’t take much. His kisses, one hand tweaking the nipple of her breast, and the other buried in her sweet pussy, before she fell apart on a cry, yelling his name into the darkness.
Where the party-goers surely knew she belonged to him now.
He kissed her once again, breathing hard, as he straightened her dress. Whispering against her lips, he told her the things he wanted to do to her.
“You have no idea. I want to spank that ass, while I twist your hair between my fingers. I’ll fuck you so rough you will be ruined for anyone else but me. Me, Amelia. You’re mine.”
It was like a switch flipped, and she stiffened. Her trembling legs no long shook, and her eyes weren’t daze with lust any more. Disgust filled her eyes now, and he took a step back to see her fully.
She pushed him the rest of the way and ran inside.
No fucking way was she stopping this.
He followed her in, slamming the door behind him.
“What the fuck?” He should have known. She was a goddamn prick tease. He’d seen it, in her naiveté. He should have known she’d balk at him.
“I don’t want you to hurt me. I’ve been there, done that, thank you. Not interested.”
“I don’t want to marry you. I want to fuck you. Jesus. Do you do this with every man you fuck? It’s a fuck!”
She flinched every time he said the word, and he relished it. “FUCK FUCK!” She was shaking again, but it was anger. Her face was red, but not with the blotchy haze of desire. She was pissed at him, and he just kept going, he couldn’t stop. “I don’t want to marry my fucking secretary. I want to fuck her. Maybe a blowjob. This didn’t mean hearts and flowers. Are you so stupid you thought it did?”
Now she was crying. He wanted to lick the tears, and knew as soon as he thought it it was wrong, but it was an urge he had anyway.
“No, I didn’t think it meant hearts and flowers, Charlie,” she spoke through her tears, and it was one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful things he’d ever heard. His dick was still hard, throbbing against his zipper, begging for a release. “But I won’t let you hurt me.”
Realization hit him. She didn’t mean the emotional hurt. Maybe this was salvageable.
He ran his hand through his hair and tried to figure out how to fix this, even as he realized he’d never had to work so hard to get a woman into his bed in his life. Was she worth it?
He thought about how tight her pussy was with just a finger, and realized he needed his dick in that.
Yes. She was worth it.
“Okay. Sit.” She did, automatically. Her knees folded and she landed on the edge of the bed. “Take off your clothes.” He just needed a little more finesse than he’d shown earlier. When he’d been talking, he told her of fantasies he had, but he realized she wasn’t the type of woman to go there without a little warming up. He knew that, he just had forgotten in the heat of the moment.
She sat there, not taking off the dress, so he sat next to her, and peeled one strap off one shoulder.
“Pleasure and pain go together for me. I’ve always like sex a little rough.” He kissed her shoulder, then sucked on the skin. Then he bit it gently, and she flinched before he licked where he’d bitten her. He tasted the oil from the massage, but she started shivering. “I have never made love to a woman, not since I was too young to know what anything meant.” Slowly, he inched the other sleeve off of her with his other hand, and tugged her dress down to expose both breasts.
“You’re tears are exquisite, Amelia.” He gave in then, and licked her face, tasting the salty tracks of her tears with a groan, even as he squeezed a nipple before testing the weight of her breasts in his palms. “Fucking beautiful.” He leaned back, and watched her. She still sat up, rigid, but she wasn’t shaking anymore, and she watched him carefully to see what he would do next. His girl was even leaning toward him, slightly.
“I long to see my handprints on you, red where I’ve marked you in passion. A passion born from desire, Amelia, not pain to hurt. Pain to pleasure.” He dipped his head to her breast and engulfed it with his mouth. She arched into him, and he pulled back, sucking on the nipple only. Hard. She hissed in air.
“Feel what that does to your pussy? It’s clenching and wet, isn’t it?” He looked up at her, and she nodded at him. “Your body knows.” He went back to mouthing her breast, tugging and pulling with suction, then biting softly on the nipple, letting go to suck his teeth against it. “See? Pleasure and pain. The slight bit of pain heightens the pleasure.”
He had no idea what sort of nonsense he was spilling at her, but she seemed to be eating it up.
“For future reference, I like pain too. Scrape your teeth up my dick when your blowing me, sink your fingernails into my skin, scratch them down my back while I’m fucking you. All of it. More. I love it.”
“Oh God,” she whispered.
“Yes. Now lean back and let me fuck you, Amelia.”
As if he’d lit a fire under her ass, she scooted up the bed, pulling off her dress as she went. She started undoing the straps of her sandals, but he stopped her.
“No. Dig those heels into my ass while I’m fucking you.” Standing, he shed his clothing, eyeing her the entire time. She timidly took off her panties, and he was rewarded with a wet spot in the crotch of them.
He lowered himself over her, then moved down, sucking and biting as he went, until he got to her pussy. Lifting her legs over his shoulders, she did in fact rest the sharp heels on his back, and the scratching of them on his skin had a rumble of awareness moving sharply up his spine.
And then he dipped his head and tasted her.
Amelia had gone into this with a certain amount of trepidation, but so far, he hadn’t really hurt her. His words outside had scared her, sure. Especially when pictures of Cameron hitting her, and using her hair to drag her around the house so he could hit her some more filled her mind. But Charlie had only caused a minimal amount of pain and it was in tandem with some serious pleasure, so she was intrigued.
When he latched his mouth on her clit and started sucking hard, all thoughts of Cameron fled. As they should. Charlie’s mouth seemed to fit over her nether regions in just the perfect way, the suction of his mouth so intense, she nearly screamed as she dug into the sheets with her fingernails to find some tether to reality.
Her thighs shook, and she pressed her feet down, indeed digging the heels of these shoes into his back, trying to find some purchase somewhere. Charlie made a noise she could only take as approval, and she remembered how he’d told her to dig into his back. He liked it. The warmth his noise sent into her pussy was yet one more sensation for her to register.
But she was too busy flying. It was almost like an out-of-body experience. The sensations of him were everywhere. One hand twisting her nipple, while the other wrapped around her thigh, keeping her spread for him, even while she was squeezing them closed against the torturous pleasure.
It hurt. It was delicious.
Her hands started stroking his hair, gripping it, then stroking again.
Charlie unwrapped his hand and delved fingers inside her. The sloppy noises of her wetness as he sloshed in and out of her should have been embarrassing, but instead they added to the eroticism of the experience. She wasn’t Amelia Flores. She was something else. She was wanted, lusted after, and being pleasured out of her mind.
Charlie used his teeth on her now, his sharp incisors pinched her flesh, scraping against them, while his fingers spread and scissored inside her. Then something foreign started happening—a stinging sensation down there in a place she’d never felt it before.
Somehow, he was pushing a finger inside her rear. It was an invasion, and she couldn’t stop it. Her pelvis came off the bed to writhe away from him, as she tugged on his hair to pull him up, but he twisted her nipple painfully in response, shoving the digit in deeper, and she succumbed to the darkest pleasure she’d ever imagined.
Charlie made a noise into her, his teeth replaced by a flicking tongue, and the pleasure turned to a white-hot inferno of carnality. She was pushing herself into his mouth, his fingers were pulsing in and out of her holes, and she felt so full and wanton and needing more, but it was all too much. She was about to die, and she needed more.
Then she was a quivering mass of sensations in the bed, while he was kissing the inside of her thighs, and rising from his perch between her legs. He shoved his pants down his legs, and removing his shirt, and she could only stare, rendered mute by the sight and what he’d done to her.
His eyes were darker than they’d been, and his shoulders quivered with restraint. Charlie’s hands went to her hips, and he flipped her over, tugging her into a kneeling position, one hand on her shoulders to keep them down.
Then he plunged inside her, stretching her already sore tissue. Again and again, each thrust taking her breath away. His hands on her ass, spreading it. Then only one hand. When his other hand returned, he pressed something against the tight ring of muscle.
“No,” she pleaded. Once had been enough, but she’d been mindless with pleasure. Now it had gone, and he was riding her, sticking what had to be his thumb inside her. “It hurts.”
“Only for a moment. You’ll stretch.” His voice was ragged and he ignored her plea.
He was right though. As he moved inside her, stroking places in her depths, she did in fact stretch to accommodate him. The initial burn gave way too simply pressure, and he pushed on something inside her, until she was climbing that terrifying, painful precipice again.
He leaned over her, biting her shoulder as his other hand went around to rub at her clit. He was balancing on an elbow, to keep the totality of his weight off her, and as he rubbed and pinched his tongue was doing things to her neck and shoulder and in that moment, Amelia had the impression that she was taken care of, that her pleasure was important. Necessary.
That’s when she fell apart again. She tried not to think about the thumb in her asshole, but the cock inside her and the fingers on her nub and the mouth on her neck, but at his grunts of release, the twitching of him inside her, the hot jets of his release against her inner walls, she began contracting her orgasm once more.
She cried out, and fell forward, unable to take anymore from him.
Charlie lay on his side next to her, breathing heavily, and used on arm to tug her into a spoon. He shushed her, making soothing noises in her ears, calling her beautiful.
That’s when she realized she was crying.