Eighty-Three
Isobel
“Forget the hot tub, Isobel,” he said just as I was about to disrobe. “Sleep the night here. I’m heading out.”
“Where are you going?” I asked without turning back.
“Back on the yacht.”
I knew it. He wanted to shag one of those women.
It didn’t take long until their faces swam before me, making me feel hot and cold all over. What did I care if he planned to fuck one or a dozen of them? It wasn’t my problem, nor was it my business.
“Fine, then. I’m still going in with or without you.” I shrugged, untying my robe as I did so before letting it fall to pool around my feet. And since I was already on display while he watched me from behind, I audaciously took my knickers off, baring my smooth bottom.
He hadn’t made a sound, yet I knew he was still there. The heat of his gaze was powerful as I slowly went into the massive tub.
For the first time, I saw the picturesque view before me. The sea, the stars, and the gorgeous place itself brought magic to my eyes. It was the perfect backdrop for seduction.
“Why aren’t you leaving yet?” The question wasn’t said loudly, nor was I facing him, but he caught it for some reason.
He didn’t bother responding. Instead, I heard him move towards me. Not before long, I heard the sound of a zipper being pulled open and the sudden, swift sound of the garment falling to the floor. With bated breath, I stilled as I heard his movement before he finally came in view through my peripheral vision, before he brazenly showed me his naked body, full frontal and the whole… nine inches? His dick wasn’t fully aroused yet, and the mere sight of it and the thought of what it would look like to its full girth and length gave me fluttering butterflies all throughout my stomach.
The man was made to drive me mental, challenging me physically and mentally, blocking whatever kind of argument I’d had with him and with myself.
My heated gaze drifted away from his form as I waited for him to settle in the hot, bubbling mass of water.
Sitting on opposing sides, he splayed his arms as far as they could reach, lounging and looking like he was Don Juan.
Well, he sort of was.
“Tonight began with our eyes meeting, devouring each other with lust and admiration, but look at you now. You can’t even look at me.”
Giving him a death stare, I aimed to bite his head off—figuratively. “Has it entered your semi-brilliant mind that maybe there’s nothing worth looking at? Maybe, I was just pretending?”
I didn’t get to bat my eyelashes before he was immediately right in front of me. He was so swift in his movements that I hadn’t had the chance to do much when he claimed my lips without our bodies touching. My mouth took him in without hesitation. Our tongues fought out the hungered passion that was escalating out of control between us. I wanted to mold against him and cling to his body. This fevered response that he and I couldn’t seem to control was beyond maddening. As much as I hated it, I also couldn’t resist it.
“There’s no pretending,” he rasped out, breathing raggedly against my lips. “This is real… what you do to me… and what I make you feel. It’s real, Isobel.”
Our passions were so raw even I couldn’t deny it out loud, most especially right after we’d just kissed with pure, utter abandonment.
“Now that’s settled, will you tell me what’s going on in this pretty head of yours, ma belle?” His fingers brushed away the hair from my forehead as he stared deeply, intensely into my eyes.
“I’ll give you a hint,” I sighed, simply because I couldn’t deny him when he was this close to me. “I heard that men who love fast cars drive it harder when they use their stick shift.”
He frowned before he started barking out a deep belly laugh, all the while continuously giving me an incredulous look. “Oh, come now. Admit it, it was quite hilarious.”
“Sure.” I was laughing on the inside…
“What’s wrong now, ma belle?” He dropped a light peck on the tip of my nose, melting me with his tenderness.
“What do you think?” I asked timidly, slightly humiliated for finally admitting what was bothering me. “You’ve embarrassed me in front of your friends by flirting with those insipid women who use sex to get a man’s attention.”
“It happens all the time.” He seemed unperturbed. “I’m used to it.”
There it was: this was his sort of lifestyle. The polar opposite of mine. “Whatever.”
Hugo wasn’t ready to let go of the subject yet. “What is really wrong with you?” he queried on.
“You!” I admitted without thought, barely catching myself because my emotions were rolling off me. “You’re what’s wrong with me. You’re a notorious flirt, and you don’t give a damn that I was there, watching it all happen!”
He suddenly looked serious, eyes seeking my own. “I apologize. I hadn’t realized that you were jealous and hurt by my actions.”
“I am not jealous!” I hissed out, immediately denying it. It wasn’t jealousy. It was being disrespected more like…
“You’re acting like you are.”
“Well, I’m not,” I stated succinctly. “Why should I be? I don’t love you—you’re not Damen.”
His eyes were like black diamonds, glittering, beautiful, bottomless depths, but his temper was apparent in them. “I’m very well aware that I’m not Damen!” he gritted out, almost yelling.
I raised my hands, surrendering this bloody argument that kept going in circles. “This is stupid. Let’s forget that this conversation ever happened. I’m just having a rough day, is all.”
Black diamonds flickered back and forth, seeking for my soul. “All right,” he finally uttered, sounding tired.
All right? Nothing will ever be okay again, and it petrified me.
“I don’t get you. One second, you’re a total wanker, and then, in the blink of an eye, you’re a kind gentleman. Which one are you, because I’m beyond confused?”
“I’m the same man you first met. I’m the same man who fancies a quick fuck whenever I feel like it. When my cock springs to life, I put it in action. You very well know that I’m ruthless, that I have the tendency to be despicable, and yet you somehow melt towards me when I kiss you. I’m a wicked temptation that you want to try and taste, even though you’re telling yourself that I’m an obligation.” He was relentless. “Admit it, you like me, even just a little.” His breathtaking smile blinded me from my senses. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“Okay, maybe I do like you… a little,” I muttered with a blush.
His dashing smile immediately vanished from his face before something of meaning replaced it. Then, before I had the chance to ask him what it was, he determinedly savored my lips, kissing them as though they were a delicious treat to taste, slowly, eagerly, melting my core and every ounce of my common sense.
Consumed by the fire that had overtaken us, engulfing us in flames as our mouths devoured one another, little did I notice that he was pressing against my body, backing me against the wall of the tub while my legs had somehow parted to accommodate him. The majestic feeling of awe at having him this way was overruling everything I had told myself not to do. My hands caressed his chest before I cupped them behind his head as I pulled him closer to me. I wanted him so badly, and he felt divine. God help me.
His hands squeezed my breasts before they explored between my thighs. Then I unexpectedly felt him pinch my clit; thus making me spasm in his arms. His digits kept exploring my pussy, but he never dared insert anything in me. I admired his control… until I felt him. His hard and hot, turgid length teasing my clit, gliding and thrusting back and forth.
“Hell, Hugo!” I moaned from the explicit pleasure that seized my body from the sheer, intimate contact of him.
“Does this feel like Damen to you?” he demanded before he bit the side of my neck, making me scream and moan like I had never done before.
Fuck, this was truly different from what I’d experienced with Damen.
“Definitely…” I stuttered, “not.”
Damen’s lovemaking was different. This? Whatever this was between us, it was savage.
It drew out our animalistic sides—the mating, the banter, the possessiveness. We circled around on our baser instincts and senses.
It was as vulgar as it was exquisite.
Vulgarly, undoubtedly, exceptionally exquisite.