Chapter Twelve
Sam grinned. “Hell yeah, honey. I’ll fuck you. Let’s get to it.”
Serena swallowed, her throat suddenly gone dry. So much for bravado. Now that she was faced with the prospect of fucking this stranger, she no longer had the stomach for it.
In fact, she might seriously have to give some thought to throwing up.
But this is why she’d come to Paradise Resort. The erotic adventure of a lifetime, a chance to experience everything she’d fantasized about, and knew she wouldn’t be able to living in a small town.
So, buck it up, girlie. Get your ass to wiggling and fuck that big boy in front of you.
Sam trailed his hand up her bare arm, and she shivered. But not the same way Michael made her shiver. She was revolted by the concept of engaging in sex with this stranger. And the way his partner was leering at her led her to believe she’d be doing a two woman, one man, three way. Oh sure, she enjoyed watching videos with two women together, especially if the man participated, but this woman did nothing for her libido.
Oh hell. No one did anything for her libido except the man she loved.
The one who looked pissed as hell right now, whose eyes darkened, whose nostrils flared.
“That’s enough,” he said, and yanked Sam’s hand off her arm. Serena breathed a sigh of relief as Sam walked away with a shrug.
“Michael, I—” she started to explain what had happened, that she’d changed her mind, but never got the chance. He roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her into the throng of bodies in the now darkened sex room. She tripped over piles of shoes and clothing, the smell of sex filling the air around her. She glanced down and saw two men with their hands and mouths all over a naked woman. One fucked her from behind, the other rammed his long cock down her throat.
Moist desire seeped between her legs despite her panic. Where was he taking her? Was he so angry that he was going to force her to participate in sex with another man? Or maybe he’d spotted another woman, and wanted to take two of them at once. She’d never considered there might be something in this for him.
That was it, she thought miserably. She was going to be forced to partake of a three way that she had no interest in. She’d have to watch as Michael fucked another woman, took that woman to the same heights of pleasure he’d taken her.
What was she going to do? Complain? No, she refused to do that. This whole thing had been her idea anyway. And then tonight she’d hit him upside the head with her enthusiasm for group sex. She was just getting what she deserved.
Finally, he stopped. They were near the wall in the center of the room. Couples fucked all around them—pairs, threesomes, even foursomes. Some were two women together, some were two men. Anything was acceptable at Paradise Resort.
She turned to face him but he gripped her arms and flipped her around.
“Turn around and watch,” he said, holding on to her arms as he stood behind her. “This is what you wanted, right?”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, this is what I wanted.”
“Is there anyone in this room you want to fuck?”
She refused to answer.
“Tell me,” he growled, sweeping her hair to the side and biting the nape of her neck, hard.
She moaned despite her vow not to let him get to her. The slightest touch and she was like a panting bitch around him. Her nipples stiffened and she ached between her legs—damp, moist and desperate for what only he could provide. But she would not relent, would not tell him how she felt.
Despite her efforts to wrench free, he held her still, pressing against her, enough that she felt his hard shaft against her ass cheeks, knew this whole thing made him as hot as she was.
“Answer me,” he said hotly, his fingers squeezing the tender flesh of her arms. “Tell me who you want to fuck.”
He bit down on her neck again, then reached around her and yanked the laces open on her dress. Her breasts spilled into his hands and he squeezed them, pinching her nipples until she cried out in a painful pleasure unlike anything she’d experienced yet.
“You, dammit! I want to fuck you!”
She heard his exhalation of breath, his aroused panting against her neck. With one forceful thrust he ripped the dress off her shoulders and yanked it down until she was bare from the waist.
“I can’t give you what you want,” he said.
Already knowing that, she nodded. “I know. I don’t care. I just want whatever we can have for the time we have left.”
“Then I’ll make it so damn good you’ll never forget it.”
Soft candlelight flickered around the room, showcasing an erotic display of tangled limbs and naked bodies engaged in various sex acts. The sweet smell of arousal tinged the air with a sexual electricity that flamed her desire. Coupled with the fact that Michael was viciously stripping her naked and her legs shook so fiercely she could barely stand.
He pulled the dress down her legs and she stepped out of it, leaving her wearing only her thong panties and spiked heels. Michael tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her roughly against him. Sometime during the frenzy of stripping he’d removed his shirt, the crisp hairs on his chest grazing her back.
She heard the rustle of clothing as he slipped his shorts off, felt the hard tip of his cock nestle against the silk of her panties.
“These have to go,” he said tightly, once again shredding her panties with a vicious yank. She mentally calculated the cost of two pairs of expensive panties, now shredded and useless.
She didn’t care—loved his fierce, erotic, anything goes nature, needed his passion as much as she needed everything else about him. Despite her vow to stay uninvolved, she finally faced her denial.
She was in love with Michael, and could do nothing to stop the whirlwind of emotions that feeling brought about. And now she didn’t care. She wanted him like she’d never wanted another man before, like she knew she’d never want another man after. And she’d take whatever remaining time they had together, with no expectations for a future.
“You don’t want to fuck anyone else?” he whispered against her ear.
“No. Just you.”
“Then, fuck me,” he said, pushing her forward until she had to grasp the railing in front of her. Her ass jutted out behind her and Michael stepped between her spread legs.
“You look hot like this,” he rasped. “Your legs spread, those fuck me shoes making your legs look long and sexy, your pussy open so anyone walking by can see.”
She felt the juices pour from her, heard the moans escape her lips when he reached down and caressed her dripping snatch, sliding his fingers gently inside and pumping once, twice, three times.
“Fuck my fingers,” he commanded, his voice as black as the darkness of the room. “Show me how much you want my cock.”
Eagerly she bucked back against his hand, sliding her wet pussy over his fingers, moaning when he reached around with his other hand and found her clit. He circled the sensitive nub, relentless in his quest to bring her pleasure.
“Stop, please,” she begged. “You’re going to make me come.”
He withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his hard cock, the head probing her slit until he found the opening. With one hard thrust he entered her.
She screamed loudly then bit down on her lip, hoping she wouldn’t draw the gazes of the crowd surrounding her, but no one paid attention. They were all engaged in their own erotic play, mindless to the goings on around them. Once in awhile someone would change partners. Serena wondered if they knew who they were fucking, or even if they cared.
She cared, she realized. She cared who she fucked. It was either going to be Michael or no one. Her mind and body awash in the sensations of this one man, she vowed to etch each moment into her memories to last her a lifetime.
With every thrust he pushed her forward, hard. Serena grasped the railing with her hands and held tight, her legs planted. Michael leaned forward and grasped her breasts, held them in his hands as he stroked her relentlessly.
“This stuff exciting enough for you?” he growled. “Fucking while other people fuck and suck all around you?”
The exciting part was Michael’s cock buried inside her. He was the only thing that mattered. “Yes,” she lied, building the protective shield around her heart. “Yes, it excites me.”
He let go of her breasts, one hand reaching down between her legs to stroke her clit. He thrummed the sensitive nub repeatedly. Coupled with the delightful sensations of his cock ramming hard against her, she felt the first stirrings of her orgasm. Revving up her own thrusts she pushed back against him, rewarded with his grunt of pleasure.
“You ready to come baby?” he whispered against her ear, increasing the thrumming of her clit with relentless accuracy.
Unable to speak she could only nod and then shudder as the first wave of contractions washed over her. Gripping the railing tight she pushed against his cock, lifted her head and howled wildly, not caring at all who heard or watched.
At the same time Michael grunted in her ear and slammed his hard shaft home, his balls slapping against her clit. She felt the spurts of his come jettison inside her and ground her ass against him.
They were perfect together. Her body had been made for his. He was the only one to bring her to such incredible heights of pleasure, stimulating her in ways she’d never thought possible.
He withdrew and she relaxed her grip on the railing. He turned her around, cradling her in his arms. She smiled into his chest, feeling a contentment she knew was fleeting. While her breathing returned to normal, she held on to him tight, knowing that the time for them was slowly slipping away.
* * * * *
Protect. The first word that came to Michael’s mind was protect. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing for almost a week now? Protecting Serena from the types of men who would take advantage of her in a place like this?
He tightened his hold on her, his hands slipping down her back to cup her ass and pull her against him. A woman like her had no place in a resort like this. She was too naïve, too trusting.
Hell, she’d trusted him, and look what he was doing to her. Hurting her, leading her on, letting her feel something for him, only to rip the rug out from under her with his lies.
“You okay?” he asked, hating that he’d even care enough to know.
She nodded against his chest. “Fine,” she murmured in a contented purr.
Protect. Shit. He was so fucked where this woman was concerned. He’d fallen in love with her and knew that he’d let her go anyway. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could he let someone like her slip through his fingers? Did he think women like Serena stood around waiting for dumbasses like him to pick them up?
This could be his last chance at happiness, and he was too damn shell-shocked to do anything about it. He’d let his bad experience with his ex-wife color every decision he made about women.
Rightly so. He had his own heart to protect.
“Let’s get dressed and get out of here.” He gathered her clothes and helped her dress, refusing to touch her. What he really wanted to do was hold her tight against him, feel every inch of her skin cover him. But it was time to start letting go.
After they returned to their room, Serena went to take a shower, seemingly confused over his lack of conversation. Michael stepped into his own steamy shower and leaned against the cool tile wall, hoping the pummeling water would beat some sense into him.
They had one day left. One day, and then she’d be gone.
He stepped out of the shower and dried off, then went to find her.
She was in the kitchen fixing them a snack. Wearing plain cotton shorts and a t-shirt, her hair damp and streaming down her back, she looked completely different from the sex siren who’d tantalized him tonight with her wriggling ass and shapely legs.
Without makeup she looked like a college girl herself, not a professor. A down-home Kansas girl with a simple beauty that took his breath away.
“Hungry?” she asked, bringing out a tray with sandwiches and fresh vegetables.
“Starving.”
She set the tray on the table in front of the sofa and went back to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of iced tea. “Sex makes me hungry,” she said with a smile as she curled up on the couch.
He remembered not too long ago when she’d said she didn’t know if sex made her hungry or not. Apparently, it did. “I know the feeling.”
They tore into their food, eating as ravenously as they made love.
Correction—fucked. Making love was something you did with a person you cared about. He wouldn’t care about her. He’d just fuck her until he couldn’t fuck her any more.
Could he be any more ambiguous about this whole thing? He shook his head, amazed at his own lack of decision.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, taking a long swallow of tea.
“Nothing. Just thinking about this week.”
“It’s been wonderful, Michael. Have I thanked you for all you’ve done for me?”
Oh sure. Pile on the guilt. What had he done, other than toy with her emotions and tell her he loved her, only to take it back like a bully on the school playground? “No thanks necessary. I’ve enjoyed it.”
She set her tea on the table and turned serious eyes on him. “I need to ask you a favor.”
“Okay, shoot.”
Sucking in her bottom lip in a way he found incredibly sexy, she hesitated for a second before saying, “We have two nights left together.”
“Right.”
“I’d like to sleep with you. In your bed.”
Oh, shit. “Why?” he blurted.
She arched a brow. “I don’t know, exactly. Call it a need, or something indefinable. I just feel a need to sleep in your arms at night.”
Protect. That word swirled around his head until he wanted to shake it out. Violently, if necessary. Sleeping with her would be intimate. Personal. Emotional.
As if she sensed his hesitation, she placed her hand on his knee. “I know how you feel, if you’re worried about that. I know you don’t want to be involved with me beyond this week. I can accept that. Consider this just another adventure for me. And you promised to help make this week exciting for me, didn’t you?”
That he did. He’d made it exciting all right. Exciting, erotic, and completely disastrous.
So sleeping with her would nearly kill him, so what? Just what he deserved for leading her on in the first place. “Yes, we can sleep together.”
“Thank you.”
Michael tried to concentrate on work, putting the finishing pieces on his plotline for the next book. Serena sat with him, as he’d grown accustomed to, offering ideas and listening to him throw out suggestions.
She was amazingly insightful where his work was concerned, thinking along the same lines as he with character development and plotline. He could use her as an assistant, because he never had anyone to talk to about his writing.
After tomorrow, he wouldn’t have her to talk to, either.
He’d miss that. A lot.
When she began to yawn, he closed the laptop and grabbed her hand, pulling her up beside him. “Let’s go to bed.”
She nodded and offered a sleepy smile, following him into his bedroom.
They undressed and slid into bed together. Serena snuggled up against him and laid her head on his shoulder, her hand draped across his chest. Michael stared at the ceiling, ignoring how perfect she felt in his arms. Ignoring how much he wanted to pull her under him and make love to her all night long.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said.
“It’s no big deal, Serena. Really.”
“It is to me.”
And that’s what made this whole scenario suck.
“Night,” she murmured in a sleepy voice.
“Night.”
When the sounds of her rhythmic breathing indicated she was asleep, Michael exhaled.
In his bed, in his arms, was exactly where Serena belonged. How in the hell was he ever going to let her go?