Warm bubbles simmered around us as we relaxed into the hot tub, my muscles languid and loose under the water from more than just the luxurious jets pulsing the air around my spine, my skin heated with more than the silky bubbles, but memories of Cayden's huge body mercilessly pummelling into mine as he bent me over the porcelain rim mere moments earlier. Flushes ran over my body that had little to do with the scorching heat, or the wine, or the hot tub.
The jets around us as he'd rocked his huge cock into me from behind – the obscene edge of danger that we could be seen, at any time, by the other tourists on the beach – and he'd whispered filthy words in my ear, fucking me and filling me frantically, so that I had to bite on the back of his hand to keep from screaming his name over and over into the darkness that was descending ...
"That filthy smile you're rocking right now is making me hard again, and to be honest I'm already itching for a nap," he prowled through the bubbles towards me like a caged panther – all tightly leashed graceful animal – his lips nipping my earlobe with a twinge of pain, "You're going to wear me out, you little minx ..."
His voice rolled through me, his words making me feel more powerful as a woman than anything ever had in my life. He does that to me, even now, as though I bring him to his knees and there's nothing he can do about it. I guess he probably always will.
We aren't talking about now, though, this was all then – at the beginning.
**********************************
"It's kind of nice that there's no TV here, like we've locked out the world and it's just the two of us, maybe we should just go into town later, pick ourselves up a wardrobe and a few more munchies, and just live here forever?"
I smiled over to him at the opposite side of the small love seat we were nestled into, my feet bare in his lap as he softly massaged into the arch, his head rolled on the cushion to look across at me lazily from the corner of his eye.
"Empire be damned?"
"For you? Anytime!"
I shifted into the cushions behind me, my bum numb from the soft foam I'd been sucked up into, "Yeah yeah ..." I murmured with a smirk.
"I'm serious, you know, I'd do anything for you ..."
His eyes were staring off through the French windows at his words, rather than at me, but I knew he meant every word of it from the clenched angle of his square jaw, and the intensity in his gaze. What I didn't know, was why that expression on his face, and his strong hands gripping my foot just that little harder than moments ago were filling me with such an odd, uneasy sense of foreboding. But they were ... I cleared my throat, trying to shift the apprehension I was feeling. The switch in his mood, this dark brooding behind his words, was such a startling contrast to his easy banter of just a few seconds ago.
"Cayden ..."
"We'll get a few things tomorrow," he still looked agitated, "Forever might be stretching it, but I'm not ready to get back to you running ..."
"I'm not ..." What the fuck? Where did that come from?
He looked back at me then, reaching for my hand to pull me across him.
"I hope you're right," he curled his palm around my cheek, staring into my eyes from another world entirely, "I hope you keep staying, I don't want my other instincts to kick in with you – I don't want to resent your need to pull away from me – and turn this into another game. That's not what I want with you."
I frowned down at him, wondering what was going through his mind, the words only served to make me confused, and kind of nervous. Somehow, my easy-going semi naked Cayden had become ruthless entrepreneur within seconds, and my mind was reeling, trying to sort through to the root of this change in his demeanour ...
"My whole world is empty of forgiveness – I need to be compensated for every wrong that I suffer – money or blood. You make me want something different – something better. Just by being you, you've changed my whole life, and you don't even know it."
"Cayden ... what are you talking about?" His words were really unsettling me; his body was coiled with evident tension, and it felt like he was trying to tell me something ... something important, that wasn't in the words I was being given. It felt like a fucking riddle, "I thought we went through all of this ...?"
He looked back at me, and he was back with me, in the moment, just like that. I felt like I'd just been thrown two parallel universes in a tenth of a second – that would have made more sense to me right then.
"You're right," the laugh he huffed out had no humour in it – it was quick and sharp – designed to expel all of the tight intensity that wound around him, "It must be the wine getting me maudlin!"
With a shake of his head, the apprehension dispelled from me in a moment – I accepted his words despite the uneasy feeling that something was off – simply because right then, that was what I needed. It was always that way – I would just blot over the bits of the puzzle that didn't seem to quite fit. I was so wrapped up in myself, truthfully, me and my fantasies.
Dropping his lips to mine, his kisses lit a familiar white heat through me. My arms clung to him, my knees too weak to hold me up as he led us both to the bed, wrapping my legs around his waist to carry me.
*********************************
We stayed another two days at the cabin – soaking in each other – the sun, the sea, the sand, the sex.
Well, the sex was fucking mind-blowing! Every time Cayden touched me, it was like a new experience, a different way to make love to me, to fuck me, as though he was trying to merge our bodies into one being.
I was frying off the vegetables in a pan, the cabin so small that, in the already sweltering heat, we weren't feeling any need to wear more than our underwear when the stove was running, and Cayden watched me with a dark, lingering need that I felt right through to my toes.
"It's so fucking sexy watching you cook," he dipped a finger into the glass of Pinot Grigio that he was drinking, swirling it around the rim idly, "I love watching your ass jiggle around in them Frenchies you wear so well ..."
"Jiggle?" I threw a cold piece of mushroom off the chopping board at him, "How dare you? I'll have you know my ass doesn't jiggle! Five gym sessions with my trainer every week make sure of that!"
"You have a personal trainer?"
I turned at the odd tone in his voice, but he wasn't looking back at me, he was reaching for some peanuts out of the pack on the breakfast bar he was sat at.
"Yeah," I shrugged, "I do Mixed Martial Arts training, it's just easier for a woman to hire a trainer."
I wrapped the vegetables into the soft tortilla, with a little spiced chicken, and coming around the tiny space to sit at the bench next to him, presenting my poor excuse for cuisine with a chirpy, "Voila!"
He chuckled, dropping a kiss to the top of my head as he reached across me for cutlery.
"This is nice," he murmured, giving up on the fork after barely a minute, "Doing like domestic things, just the two of us. I can't wait until we get back, and we get to do this every night ..."
How someone could still look like sex on a stick while having that same cute charm as a young teenager was beyond me, but somehow he pulled it off with the sheepish grin he gave me then.
"You were serious? Isn't that a bit fast for us?" I tried to be blasé, but to be honest I was so nervous voicing my opinion like that, I just kind of felt like it needed to be said. I looked everywhere I could, except at him.
"Don't you want to move in with me?"
"Well, yeah, of course I do – one day – it's just that I only just got here, and I feel as though I'm completely abandoning my best friend with an apartment he can't afford to keep. Plus it's like, actually mine, you know? The first thing I ever bought for me, and my future, I mean what do I do? Sell it?"
I'd worked so hard for my independence – to get me away from the old town – was I really ready to give that up?
"Why do you have to do anything with it? It's not like I need any money from you, so you could just, I don't know, take a leap of faith in us, and keep the apartment as an investment."
That was true, he didn't need money from me. I didn't know how I felt though, the thought of living off of him felt sort of sleazy, but it did make sense – when he put it like that. It was just overwhelming – he didn't even know my gym schedule and yet we were moving in – it was too fast! I still couldn't shake the feeling that if I was too available for him, then he'd tire of me sooner or later, and then what would I have? Yes, I mean, right at that moment I was so swept up in what we had that everything was perfect, but right at that moment I was also on a cabin on a beach with a hot tub on the balcony, it wasn't exactly a real life scenario!
I needed a little more time and a little more trust in what we had – it felt real, and I didn't doubt what he felt for me at that moment, but people change!
"I guess," I dragged out the words, my thoughts speeding over his, "And that way, I still have it if ..."
"You always have it," he cut in, eyes fierce on me, "But don't finish that sentence if that if had anything to do with me and you. Somehow you've gone and dug your way inside me so that I can't breathe for the need to be close to you, now you'll just have to step up and deal with that shit. You'll always have your investment, but I can't think about the possibility of you keeping it to run away to whenever the mood strikes you."
"Your intensity scares me sometimes," I kept my voice small, my eyes watching the food on my plate, "I can't help that. But I promised to try for this, and I really will. I just think, maybe, if we do do this, then I want my apartment to give me some piece of mind. I can't really leave Ryan in the lurch anyway."
He finished his food in silence, I could almost hear his mind working overtime, but the silence deafened me, kept me on edge.
I wished I could fall into his words – dive in with both feet, eyes wide open, and nothing but an eager excitement for the future – that was him, and I love that about him – his impulsive, reckless, arrogant abandon that had people falling at his feet to comply. But he had a few more years of not giving a shit under his belt than I had, and the thought of just climbing aboard petrified me.
"So tell me about your training then ..." his voice was soft, resigned, "Who is this trainer you've never mentioned before?"
I took his lead; if he wanted to drop the matter then dropped it would be.
"I don't recall you asking!"
"I'm asking now, how long have you been training MMA then?"
"I started about four months ago, I'm not good or anything, it just helps me keep fit, and keep my mind at rest a little I guess."
"Who's your trainer?"
"Just a friend of Ryan's that I met a few weeks before I moved down here, Paul Harris his name is, he's really good."
"You should train with me some time," he picked up the glass, then pulled at my hand to lift me from the stool, "I'd really show you how to ground and pound ..."
My breath caught as he nipped at the base of my neck softly, forcing my heartbeat into overdrive as his hard body crowded into my much softer one, with barely anything but scraps of lace and his Calvin Kleins between us.
"I think you already did that ... quite a few times now actually!"
He growled softly against my lips, taking my mouth in a swift, ruthless kiss that I felt to the tips of my toes, curling them into the wood at my feet.
With every touch, I fell harder for him.
He swiped the large square bottle of Patrone off the counter, walking me backwards through the French windows into the crisp darkness outside, without one breaking the pressure of his body or his lips against me.
"Get into that hot tub, minx, before I tap you out with a throwdown ..."
I turned, laughing as I stripped awkwardly as I ran, diving back beneath the warm bubbles, with a sex god at my back carrying a bottle of fine tequila.
I was really going to miss this little slice of paradise he'd pulled me into once we were back home ...