Chapter Fifteen - Cindy
I stay out on the terrace, even after Pax comes back and starts blending up the drinks. He says nothing, just gets to work. And ten minutes later, after many ‘fucks,’ and ‘shits,’ and ‘goddammits,’ he casts a shadow over me when he blocks the lights from behind.
“Your drink, my lady.”
I smile, but tuck it away before I turn to face him. I take the drink and sip. “Mmm. That’s nice.”
“It’s weak as fuck,” he says, grimacing as he swallows. “And sweet.”
“I like sweet drinks.”
“Sugar,” he says.
“Hmm?” I ask, looking up at him
“You smell like sugar. These stupid drinks you like must leak through your pores.”
“Could be worse.” I take another sip, then a gulp.
“Well,” he says, holding his margarita glass out when I come up for air. “Cheers.”
“To the end of a very confusing day.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Should we talk about it?” I ask, not really wanting to talk about any of it.
“What’s to talk about?”
“Right.”
We both turn to the sound of the crashing waves down below, then lean our forearms on the terrace railing, drinks in hand.
“This is pretty. I bet Nolan Delaney comes here a lot.”
I catch a small chuckle from him. “How’d you know it was his?”
“Are we talking about it?” I ask, looking up at him.
“No. But Nolan doesn’t come here much. I really did buy this place for my mom. But I needed money to buy those islands, so I sold it to Nolan.” Then he adds, “With the understanding that he’d keep it safe for me. So it really is still mine.”
“Except for the deed and all that good junk.” But I’m still thinking about those islands.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
“You brought me here,” I say.
“No. I mean, why are you here? In my life.”
“I don’t really know, Paxton. I’m asking myself that very same question.”
“You’ve been stalking me,” he says. “For a long time, from the looks of it.”
“Yes.” I sigh. “Obviously.”
“And now you don’t like what you see.”
“I’m just questioning a lot of things tonight, that’s all.”
“About me? Or why you’ve bothered?”
“So we’re talking about it?” I ask again. “Because once we start this, Pax, we won’t be able to stop.”
He’s silent for a moment. I finish my drink and hold the empty glass in my hands, twirling it around as I look out over the ocean. There’s a nice moon tonight. Not full, not dark, not crescent, just enough to see the beach and the track down below.
“You want to go to bed?”
“With you?” I ask, a tingle running up my body at the thought. He’s so fucking handsome in this gray suit. His tie is loose around his neck, probably from the frustration of my drink demands, because it was tight before he left for the store. I bite my lip as he stares at me, that tingle turning into something more urgent as I stare back.
“Why not? We could make it fun. Turn this day around. End it on a high note.”
I have dreamed about sex with Mr. Mysterious for years. Since I was a kid, actually. And I know we’ve fucked three times already, but that was different. That was the other me. This is the real me. And now that my plans are all falling into place, it feels… fake. Like I forced this.
“I wouldn’t want to force you,” I say, that word stuck in my mind.
He laughs. Maybe a real one. “You’re the most striking girl I’ve ever dated. You’re not forcing me to do anything.”
He has no idea how well-planned this relationship was. “Are we dating?” I ask, suddenly sad.
I know he’s looking at me. And I know I’m being weird. I also know that I should make a decision right now and then never look back. Either stay here, sleep with him, and tell him the truth tomorrow—since we’ve decided not to talk about it tonight—or walk out and never look back.
I’m on the verge of option two when I feel his hand slip around my waist. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, can it wait until tomorrow? Or is it urgent?”
I like the feel of his hand over the thin fabric of my dress. It’s large, and warm, and when he pulls me closer, I feel weak with want.
“That was a lot of information to take in. From your mother. Don’t you think?” I chance a look up at him and regret it immediately. He’s somber. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him somber.
“Are we talking about it?” he whispers. “I don’t mind talking about it. If that’s what you want.”
I lean up and kiss him. Softly. Right on the mouth. He doesn’t kiss me back and when I open my eyes, he’s looking at me. He takes the drink from my hand, sets both glasses down on a nearby table and then wraps his arms around me and holds me close. His lips are on my neck, and that urgent feeling I had turns into unquenchable desire.
He holds my face, turning me towards him, and then his lips find mine and we are kissing again, only this time it’s him leading the way. It starts slow, his hands dropping back to my waist. My hands reaching up for his shoulders. His kiss remains soft. Such a contradiction between the man on the outside I’ve come to know and the one I stalked all these years
But I don’t know him, do I? Not one bit.
He frightens me a little. His perfectly planned childhood, his unplanned past, and his unorthodox present. Like he’s drifting through life, just waiting for something to happen as he takes bad opportunity after bad opportunity and tries to make something good out of them.
“Let’s go to bed,” Pax says again.
I don’t challenge him in any way this time. I don’t care what the meaning is behind his words.
He takes my hand, leading me back into the house and towards the stairs, taking those two at a time so my much shorter legs have to struggle to keep up. A shoe falls off my foot halfway up, the other follows a second later. The floor is cool and feels good as I follow him across a long catwalk that overlooks the living room and into a dark bedroom.
He doesn’t turn on the lights and he wastes no time touching me. His fingertips are lifting up my dress, feather-light touches across the bare skin of my outer thigh. Kissing me, fisting my hair, finding the wetness between my legs as the tingle becomes urge, becomes starvation and hunger for more.
“Take off my clothes,” he says. “Start with the tie.”
It’s already loose, so it slips over his head.
“And don’t hurry. We’re not in a hurry.”
I’ve come to expect passion to equal fast, and hard, and out of control. But this is nothing like that and yet… it is passionate.
I tug on his shirt, lifting it out of his pants. My hand grazes against the thick bulge hidden away in there, making him bite my lip just a little. Just enough to get my attention.
Oh, he has my attention all right.
I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow won’t even come?
“Need help?” he asks, whispering the words into my mouth.
I say nothing, just continue to fumble with the buttons of his shirt until I finally get them all undone and I drag the expensive fabric over the curve of his shoulders and let it drop to the floor.
His hands are dealing with the thin straps of my dress. They slide down, over my shoulders, his mouth momentarily distracted by my skin as he kisses and nips. My arms fall straight down my sides as he slips the top of my dress down to my waist, cups my breasts in his palms, pushing them up towards my chin, squeezing them until I let out a, “Ohhhhmmmmm,” sound.
“If you talk. If you say one word,” he says, “I will lose control and this will not be anything like I’ve imagined it.”
I want to ask him how he’s imagined it.
But why ask when I can be patient and see for myself?
He bends down, taking the skirt of my dress with him, and the silky fabric whooshes to the floor, making a small breeze against my ankles.
He stands, kissing me and nipping me. “Pants, Cindy.”
My fist is around his cock, squeezing him the way he was squeezing me just seconds ago. He’s warm, and hard, and ready for me.
“Pants,” he says again.
The button flips undone. Then the zipper is open and my hand finds the flesh of his cock. Warm and thick.
Pressure on my shoulders as he guides me backwards. I bump into the bed and sit automatically. He drops to his knees in front of my face, giving me one more kiss before pushing me back into the soft comforter.
I sigh, arms above my head at his silent urging. His mouth is on my ribs, his tongue tracing across my stomach, his kisses dropping lower and lower and lower until he’s licking me through my panties. His fingers find their way underneath the fabric, pushing into me, making me gasp with pleasure and surprise.
I say nothing as his mouth works on the delicate fold of skin that will make me come in a matter of seconds if he doesn’t back down. Two fingers inside me. Stretching and searching for that spot…
“Ohhhhmmmmmmm,” I say again.
“Shhh.” He vibrates the request against my clit and my hands fly to his biceps, fingernails digging in, my legs rising up and open to give him more access. He stands, kicks off his shoes, drops his pants and then leans over me.
“I’m gonna fuck you for real now.”