Chapter Fifteen - Victoria
He infuriates me. I want to kick him away and slap his face.
But his tongue, and his hands, and his promise make me still. I don’t even speak. I can’t speak because his face is buried between my legs and I can’t even be mad at him. He’s making me feel way too good to be mad at him.
I moan.
He sweeps his tongue around in tight circles. His fingers push into me. His other hand is pumping his cock, making himself hard for me again.
“West,” I say as my fingers find his hair and I grab fistfuls of it. He doesn’t answer me. I shouldn’t even want him to answer me. Because that would make him stop and I don’t want him to stop. “Don’t stop.”
I look down between my legs as he looks up, his lips curled into a sly smile, his eyes filled with lust, and mischief, and power.
OK, he wins. I’ll give him that. He wins.
I don’t even mind that he won. It usually feels good to be next to Weston Conrad while he’s winning a fight between us. It usually involves sweating, and writhing, and declarations of love.
I close my eyes and rest my head back. I just enjoy it. His win is my win right now. I let the shuddering pleasure sweep through my body as he works his mouth against my wet pussy. I allow the whole experience to build, moaning as he licks and sucks and then reaches up to squeeze my tits.
Everything is the same as it was.
Everything is completely different.
The whole world ceases to exist and the only thing that matters is him. And us. And now—right now.
“Tori,” he murmurs against my clit.
“Oh, God,” I say. “Don’t start talking now, you idiot.”
He pulls his face away and for a moment I have a shock of fear that he will deprive me. Punish me for being rude.
But he doesn’t. He pumps his cock one more time, lets me get a good look at it—fully erect and as beautiful as a cock can be—and eases into me so slowly, I have to meet him halfway by lifting my hips.
“Now it’s your turn,” he says, lowering his chest onto my breasts and kissing my mouth. “God, I’ve missed you too.”
That conversation seems years away from this moment. I can’t even recall why we were fighting or what the stakes were. I can’t recall anything but right now. This moment. I am drunk on his dick. I am lost in his world of carnal pleasures. He is the only thing that matters. He is the only thing that has ever mattered—
“Wait,” I say, pushing back on his chest, struggling to get him off me. “Wait. Stop.”
“What the fuck, Tori?”
He’s not the only thing that matters. What the hell is wrong with me?
I get a foot between us and he knows what’s coming. He tries to get off before I get in position, but he’s too late. I flatten my foot on his pecs and—
He goes flying backwards, landing on his ass about four feet away.
“What the fuck?” West yells. “What did I do now?”
I shake myself out of the stupor his cock puts me in and get up, looking around for my clothes. I still have my bra on, and I find my panties covered in semen next to the couch.
“Good God, Weston. Did you have to use my panties as your come rag?”
West is on his feet again, his face filled with anger, and rage, and… regrets. “You’re a crazy bitch, you know that?”
“I’m sorry, OK? I’m sorry. It’s just… I can’t do this with you, Weston. Not now. I have priorities and you’re clouding my mind, as usual.”
“Clouding…” But he lets it go. Just shakes his head back and walks over to his clothes, picks them up in a whoosh, and goes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
It’s then that I realize it’s dark. Not, like, for real dark. It cannot be later than two in the afternoon. But it’s dark outside. There is a raging storm. The trees near the small house are beating against the windows. Lightning is flashing off in the distance, but at least it’s not trying to burn our shelter down.
I slide my skirt up my legs and zip it up in the back, then straighten my bra out. West had pulled the cups down so my tits were pushing up towards my chin. I put the silk shirt on, then take it off again when the heat and humidity inside this room—heat and humidity we surely created during our ten minutes of fun, even though it’s got to be from the storm—threatens to suffocate me.
I just take my panties to the sink and—fuck. I can’t even waste water washing them. If there’s still water in the pipes we’ll need it to drink.
I stuff them in my purse just to get them out of sight.
My lobster lunch is cold and rubbery, but I eat half of it anyway. I feel famished, but it’s not fair to eat the whole thing since it’s the only food we’ll likely get today.
I know that pilot isn’t coming back. I have a bad feeling about this trip. I have a bad feeling about that phone call I got. I have a bad feeling about why Wallace Arlington isn’t here on this island today. I have a bad feeling about Vlad the pilot. That cannot be his real name. No one is called Vlad in the US.
The toilet flushes, audible even over the wind outside. West comes out of the bathroom, still only wearing those hot black boxer briefs and nothing else.
“You flushed the toilet?” I ask.
“Usually that’s what you do after you piss, Tori.”
“Stop calling me Tori. And I just decided not to wash my panties to conserve water. You don’t know how long we’ll be here. How dare you use that water—”
“Just shut up, for fuck’s sake.”
“Oh, fuck you. So I said no. Get over it.”
“That’s not why I’m pissed.”
“Then why?”
He lets out a long breath and walks over to the kitchen to poke the half-eaten lobster with his finger. He does not eat what’s left.
“Why?” I ask. “Why are you mad?”
“Forget it,” he says, walking over to the door.
“Where are you going? There’s a raging storm out there.”
“We have to eat and I need to see how much water is left in the catch system.” He looks at me with a sad face. I’ve upset him. And if it isn’t because I said no, then what’s up with that look? “And the storm is only going to get worse. So might as well do it now.”
He opens the door and leaves me there.