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“Yeah… I am… But… My purse! It’s a Lana Marks purse!” I tell him, running one hand through my hair. If there’s something thing that I hate, is when something comes between me, my shoes, and my purses. And if there’s something Arsen hates, is when something between me and whatever I want.
“I got this,” Arsen merely whispers with a smirk and, before I can grab him and stop him, he starts running down the waterfront. The muggers steer the bike back onto the road (and straight into oncoming traffic), but Arsen has already anticipated their movements.
By the time they start swerving between the cars, Arsen’s already dashing between a row of cars lining up behind a red light. He’s running fast and, for a moment, I almost believe he isn’t Arsen but some super athlete out of the Olympics or the Super Bowl. Even though he’s wearing flip-flops, that doesn’t stop him from closing the distance between the bike as it swerves right and left between cars; extending his right arm, he grabs the guy riding in the back of the bike just as they try to speed up.
It happens in a fraction of a second.
Arsen hooks his fingers on the man’s shirt and yanks on it as the bikes jumps forward. Unable to resist Arsen’s hold, the mugger falls back while still clutching the guy riding in the front. Both men crash onto the road like bricks while, at the same time, the bikes keep riding itself for a few seconds before finally being stopped by an unsuspecting trash can.
“Arsen!” I cry out as I run toward him, afraid of what might happen, but he doesn’t seem
to be listening to me. His smart eyes are narrowed into slits, and I can tell that he’s appraising the muggers as they go up to their feet. They’re both wiry and tanned, their eyes holding the promise of violence. Faithful to that promise, one of the men reaches for the pocket on his shorts and brings out a switchblade knife. “Arsen!” I call after him once more, completely forgetting about my stolen purse. All I care about right now is Arsen.
“Stay back,” he says as I finally reach him, holding his arm to the side and blocking me. He says it so casually that he almost seems to be commenting on the weather. There are a few moments of silence, and then the man holding the knife lurches forward, the blade aiming straight toward Arsen’s chest. Sidestepping him easily, Arsen then brings his fist up in an arch, connecting it with the man’s nose. I hear the sound of bones breaking, and then the man simply falls back, the knife forgotten as he takes both hands to his face and wails, covering his broken nose. His accomplice simply stares at the scene with wide eyes, almost as if he didn’t believe that a foreigner could have balls that big (oh, he has no idea); when he finally comes back to himself, he rushes toward the other man and, after pulling him to his feet, they both scramble toward their bike. Turning the engine on, they disappear into the road as fast as they’ve appeared, scared for their lives.
“There ya go,” Arsen says with a grin, picking my purse up from the floor and patting it with one hand, almost as if he’s trying to brush off the dust. “Safe and sound.”
“You’re crazy!” I whisper, one hand over my chest as I feel my heart punching against my ribcage. “They could’ve hurt you!”
“No, they couldn’t. I wouldn’t have gone after them if I didn’t know I couldn’t take them both. And I didn’t even need to kick both their asses.”
“What if they had a gun?”
“They wore shorts a thin shirt… As soon as they raced past us, I knew they weren’t packing.” He replies, trying to calm me down, and then takes one step toward me. Handing me the purse, he rests both his hands on my hips and leans down, bringing his lips down to my forehead. “Now, don’t worry. That’s done.”
“Don’t do that again,” I whisper, locking eyes with him and managing a weak smile. Gallons of adrenaline are still rushing in my bloodstream, and my heart is beating so loudly that I can barely hear my own thoughts.
“Don’t worry,” he tells me again, and then he tucks a stray lock of hair over my ear. “Come,” he continues, his hand once again on mine, our fingers tangled on each other. Taking me back to the sidewalk, he then keeps going and jumps straight onto the sand, kicking off his flip-flops. I follow after him, taking my shoes off as well, and then start walking down the beach hand-in-hand with him.
Each step we take guides us deeper into the lonely darkness of the beach, the moon’s reflection floating on top of faraway waves. We walk closer to the ocean and then sit down on the sand, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore creating a kind of loud but impenetrable silence, the bustling nightlife of the city somewhere behind us.
“I got scared back there,” I finally say, the breeze of the ocean somehow carrying my words toward Arsen, that despite the loud sound of the waves. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t lose me. Not now, not ever,” he replies with a smile, turning to me and placing his hand on top of mine. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Idiot,” I laugh, my smile no longer pale and weak. Around Arsen, it seems that I can’t be worried for too long. He just makes me feel safe, even when the whole world is collapsing around me. I think I wouldn’t even worry if I knew the world would end in just a few seconds, as long as he remained by my side. The only thing I fear in this world is losing him.
“Your idiot,” he corrects, softly caressing my face with the back of his right hand. Then, laying me down on the sand, he follows after me and makes me turn to him. Our gazes meet, and then the same happens with our lips. Just like the first time we were together, I find that deep magnetism drawing me toward him, a kind of animalistic urge that makes me forget myself anytime I’m close to him.
“I love you,” I whisper as we pull back from each other, my right hand resting on his chest and feeling the steady beat of his heart.
“I love you too, you know it.” No more words are needed as our mouths meet again, our tongues softly dancing around one another. My hands slide down his chest until I meet the thin patch of skin between his shirt and shorts, and then I finish the climb down by flattening the palm of my hand against the hard shape pushing back against the fabric of his clothes. Curling my fingers around it, I give it one hard squeeze and allow one grin to take my lips, desire making my heart flutter.
All the adrenaline that boiled inside my veins has now faded away completely and, in its place, lust has taken over.
“Let’s do it,” Arsen tells me, his voice heavy and laden with anticipation. I open my mouth to ask him what exactly does he want to do, but then I close it again – after all, do I really need to question him when the answer is as obvious as it could be?
“Let’s do it,” I repeat, letting go of his cock and allowing my fingers to slide under his shirt, the hard contour of his eight-pack under my fingertips. Smiling, Arsen reaches for me and places one hand over my right breast, squeezing it and making my nipples harden so much that they feel as if they’re on fire.
Resting his other hand on top of my naked knee, he then spreads his fingers and takes them up toward the hemline of my dress. Sliding them under the fabric, I hold my breath as his fingers move over my inner thighs, brushing against the wet fabric of my thong.
God, I’m so wet right now. I don’t know if it’s because of the adrenaline that coursed through my veins, or if it’s because I’m sitting on a paradisiac beach, completely alone with the man I love.
“I need… that cock… I need it bad,” I find myself saying as he brushes his fingertips over my thong, gently pressing down before he cups my pussy with the open palm of his hand.
“As much as I need that pussy of yours, I bet,” he answers me in a single breath, pressing harder against my pussy. Then, moving fast, he pinches the fabric of my thumb between his index finger and thumb and flicks it to the side. Bringing his thumb back to my pussy, he runs it along the length of my pussy and only stops when he meets my clit, applying that maddening pressure once more.
Rubbing my clit at a steady but growing rhythm, he makes me arch my back in anticipation; then, when I least expect it, he turns his wrist around and parts my inner lips with his index finger. He curls it upward and slides inside of me in a single flowing movement, pushing it all the way and only stopping when it’s firmly pressed against my G-spot. He holds it there for a few seconds, pressing hard against that pleasure center, and then slides one more finger deep into me, stretching my pussy and preparing it for the main event.
