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“Please. Please. Please,” she whimpered, running up the bed.
I pinned her down as best I could with my free hand still locked on her clit as I massaged her asshole. Once she finally gave in and allowed the feeling to take control, she began to question me.
“Wha-what is ha-happening? Wha-whaaaa—”
My mouth was full of pussy, there was no way I could answer her.
“Ummmm. Ummmm. Stop. Please. Please. Oh my God. What’s happ—”
And there it was. The tsunami crashed against my face like the waves crashed against the shore outside of our window. It wasn’t until then that I freed her, removing my finger from her backend and pushing my index and middle fingers inside of her. Curving them upward, I worked her pussy, draining it of everything it had. My hand and wrist were soaked. So was the bed. I didn’t give a fuck. All that mattered was the bliss on her face as her waters slowed to a creep.
“That little pussy packing some heat,” I whistled.
She was in no condition to respond. Glacier was busy catching her breath and moaning unrecognizable words.
Discombobulated
Adjective
Baffled, confused, and disconcerted.
Synonyms include: befuddled, flustered, confound.
I left her on the bed, struggling to regain control of herself, but not without final words.
“I’m starting your shower. Breakfast will be on the table by the time you emerge. I’ll throw something together. The day is long, we’ll need the energy.”
FIVE
I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, pressing my palms against my dress and moving them downward to iron the invisible wrinkles. My reflection highlighted the fresh bruises on my arm. I winced in pain at the thought of falling off the jet ski and colliding with the water. Hadn’t my arm hit the side, then there would be no evidence of my fall. However, that would’ve been too much like right in my world.
Bruising aside, I admired the red dress on my frame. The silk fabric clung to me, the richness of its color flexing with each movement of mine. Hadn’t the dress been chosen for me, I’d never consider it. But it was stunning. I was stunning. The man waiting for me was to be credited.
There was one thing that was made abundantly clear with each piece I’d worn since settling on the island. Makai was no stranger to quality. I’d also noted that either he had an eye for fashion or he knew exactly what looked splendid on his partner. The complaints were nonexistent. The appreciation was thick like bread that had yet to be sliced.
Because I didn’t want to keep him waiting much longer, I gathered my bearings and headed into the openness of the villa. The silk caressed my skin, swaying as I walked. I was careful not to step on the bottom while strutting in the new pumps that complimented the extravagant, yet simple piece.
Upon turning the corner, I hardly recognized the man before me. Dressed in tailored slacks and a shirt that matched the color I wore, he was tantalizing. On his feet were crushed velvet sneakers that revealed a red bottom when he walked. Upon noticing my entry, his feet halted.
Turning slowly, his bland expression transformed into a mouth-splitting, heart-shuddering smile that left me dazed. The epitome of perfection, he was unreal standing near the patio door. As if he’d just stepped out of a magazine, there wasn’t a piece of fabric or a hair strand out of place. Suddenly, I wondered if my stint in the mirror was long enough to check every box and match Makai’s appearance.
“Whaaaaat?”
The giddiness I felt was questionable. I wasn’t sure where it had come from or how it was derived, but it swelled my cheeks and stopped my heart, simultaneously. Makai’s glare was most likely to blame, as it was penetrating and deliberately after my entire nervous system.
“You look good, Mommas,” he complimented, raking his fingers through his beard as he nodded.
“Thank you.”
“You ’bout ready to eat?”
“Yes. I’m starving.”
Makai waved me over, extending a hand and waiting for me to join him by his side. Electric currents made the fine hairs on my arm stand when our fingers touched. The top layer of skin tingled as tiny, noticeable bumps rose painfully.
We stepped onto the deck where a table set for two and a young woman greeted us. Glass dinnerware and wine were among a few things that caught my eye. The gold domes that hovered over plates drew suspicion. I wanted to know what was underneath them. I’d only had two dishes from the island since we’d landed, and both were flavorful. With that knowledge, watching the domes made my stomach grumble.
“I’m Ayana, your private chef for the night. I’ve prepared three dishes for you to enjoy and paired them with a very bitter, sweet wine that I think you’ll appreciate. The appetizers are waiting. After twenty minutes, I will replace the food with dinner proportions. And then, finally, dessert, thirty minutes after.”
