“Another round of drinks?” he asks.
I’m already halfway to day drunk, so I’m more than on board. “Definitely.”
With efficient movements, he blends another pitcher, and I carry the salad and heaping bowl of shrimp out to the table on the patio. The Caribbean Sea is calm today, but that’s largely due to the barrier reef that’s not far offshore.
I can’t help but send a mental thanks to my brother for setting this up. I wish I knew whose house we were crashing, but I can’t get details right now. I checked my phone earlier, hoping the NO SERVICE label would have magically changed. It didn’t. No Wi-Fi connection either. I’m taking that as a blessing in disguise. Being completely cut off from the world is somehow liberating. It’s just Cav and me, on our own.
He joins me with the drinks, and we pile our plates full.
“How about we go out and explore the village for dinner?”
Taking a sip of the tropical drink—ah, heaven—I nod. “I like that idea.”
“I like the idea of being able to go out in public with you and not having to worry that either of us will be recognized. We owe your brother a thank-you, although I’m not sure he’s going to want to hear it from me.”
I reach for my fork and spear into a shrimp. “He’s probably already congratulating himself on this being an amazing idea because it gets me out of the way so effectively. Creighton doesn’t miss any chances to validate his genius.”
“You get along with him, though, don’t you?”
Chewing my mouthful of lunch, I pause before I answer. “Absolutely. He’s the most important person in my life. My aunt flakes out a lot, but I blame that on my uncle.”
Cav pauses as he reaches for his drink. “What’s your uncle’s story?”
I shake my head. “It’s a long one. Besides . . . he, um, took a leave of absence to go to rehab.”
I know my statement is going to raise more than one question, but it’s unavoidable. I can’t exactly tell Cav that the mob made my uncle disappear as a favor to my brother, and no one really misses him much. Not exactly casual lunch conversation. Besides, the family mob connection isn’t one that I’m even allowed to speak about. It’s been kept under wraps for over thirty years, and no one is going to bring it to light now.
The rehab story was the best solution for my uncle’s absence. Everyone knows he was a functional alcoholic, and it was only a matter of time before he lost the “functional” piece. It’s a measure of exactly how little he was liked that no one questioned it or asked for an address so they could visit.
“That must be hard on your family,” Cav says, his tone sympathetic. “I remember you saying your parents had passed when you were a baby?”
“Good memory. I didn’t know either of them. I was mostly raised by nannies, and occasionally my aunt. Creighton came home as much as he could, but he was away at school. I don’t think he ever would have come home, though, had it not been for me.”
“That explains the headlines a while back when things went to shit between your uncle and your brother.”
I ate another shrimp before replying. “No love lost there, that’s for sure.” Understatement of the century. “But I’d rather talk about you. My life is boring, and you’ve heard most of it already.”
“It’s not boring. I want to know you, Greer. This isn’t just us fucking.”
My heart clenches when he says exactly what I want to hear. But how much of it can I trust? He pulled his own disappearing act before, and I still haven’t worked up the guts to demand the full explanation. But I will. I need to know, need to understand, before I can trust him again. And I want to trust him so badly, I can taste it.
I let the questions slide for now, not wanting to shatter the idyllic day by getting an answer I don’t want to hear. Am I burying my head in the sand? Absolutely. But for now, just for a little while, I want to pretend that everything’s perfect.
After we clear our plates, I settle onto a raft, and Cav finds the stereo system and cranks up some reggae. This is paradise.
But why do I feel like it’s the calm before the storm?
I’m in love with a shower. Well, not the shower itself, but how Cav lifts me so effortlessly and plunges his cock inside me over and over while the water beats down on us both. Digging my nails into his shoulders, I struggle to hold on to him and the words that want to fall from my lips.
That I need him. I’m dying for him. I need his cock and the orgasm he’s been teasing me with for the last ten minutes.
“Please,” I say on a moan. “Please.”
“You’re not gonna come until I say you can come.”
Cav’s dominance is revving my senses in unexpected ways. I’m more daring, sassier, pushing against his boundaries and the limits of pleasure. Every sensation is enhanced a dozen times over. The spray of the water, the thrust of his cock, and the pressure on my clit. I want to come like I’ve never wanted to come before, and it’s all because he’s told me I can’t.
“Please,” I beg again. “I need—”
“You need me fucking you the way I want to give it to you.” He pulls me down on his shaft and I grind my clit against his lower abs, determined to steal this orgasm whether he wants me to or not. My brain is in pursuit of pleasure and won’t be denied.
It’s rolling through me, but I hold back the scream. Like a thief, I latch on to the climax and let it crash down on me. My inner muscles convulse on his cock and Cav freezes, pinning me to the wall with his intense stare and muscles gone rigid.