At the Brink (13 page)

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Authors: Anna Del Mar

BOOK: At the Brink
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Earlier today I’d believed that the world turned on the axis of Josh Lane’s finger. I had been so wrong. From now on, my world would turn on the axis of his cock.

He stroked my back, kneading my shoulders, and then reached out to caress my breasts, murmuring comforting words. I didn’t think I could recover ever again, but he was moving very slowly inside me, nudging me softly from my stupor, returning me to life.

“Josh?”

“What is it, Lily?”

“I don’t think I can do that again.”

I heard the smile in his words. “We’ll see about that.”

“I mean it,” I said. “I don’t think my heart can survive another one of those.”

His chuckles echoed inside me. He tugged on the harness, so that I had to rise up onto my elbows. My body tilted down at the perfect angle, granting him easy access. His cock glided in and out of me. A rare grunt from him got my heart beating faster.

God, having him in me was delicious.

“Come here.” He pulled on the harness until I was rearing backward and his mouth seized mine.

My body arched between his tongue and his cock. My breasts bobbed at the pace of his thrusts and my belly arched into the hold of his hand. He didn’t neglect my nipples or my clit. He plucked, rubbed and teased in a relentless blitz. It was too soon and yet I was desperate to come all over again.

“Christ, but you feel good,” he whispered in my ear, sinking slowly into me. “I like your cunt, Lily. It’s tight and wet, deep, hot and narrow as I imagined it’d be. I’m going to fuck you so good, sweet. I’m going to fuck you senseless and then I’m going to fill your little cunt to the rim.”

He pushed me down on my hands and knees again, but kept a tight hold on the harness. His pace accelerated. His strokes became demanding. He commanded me with his body and instructed me with his cock. I was just flesh, flailing, shaking, divine flesh, delivered to him for the sole purpose of containing him, perfectly suited for the occasion.

Our bodies had linked beyond chemistry. Our connection had coalesced into a raw sexual bond. My pheromones had taken over. My body had learned both responsiveness and gratitude, and it wasn’t about to forget. I started to say something, a plea, maybe, but all I could do was pant louder with every breath.

“Not yet, Lily,” he said. “I’m going to tell you when you can come again.”

“But Josh...”

“You’ve got to learn, baby. You’ve got to pace yourself. It’s so much better that way. You can’t come unless I say so. Are we clear?”

“Oooh,” I protested in frustration.

“No griping,” he said, increasing his tempo. “You know how this goes. You do what I say and you’ll please me as much as you’ll please yourself.”

The mere thought of pleasing him brought me to the brink. “You’re making this very hard.”

“I never promised it would be easy.” He pushed deeper into me.

“Josh,” I rasped. “Josh!”

“You won’t come until I tell you to come,” he said. “Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.” I hissed, turning my hips with a measure of care, trying not to orgasm.

“You feel good, Lily, very good.” He throbbed inside me like a beating heart. “I don’t want a tiny orgasm or a whimpering dud. I want you to come with everything you’ve got every single time I fuck you. Do you understand?”

As if I had a choice.

“I don’t want you to be quiet, either.” He thrust in and out with increasing amplitude. “I want to hear you coming, sweet.”

He shoved into me hard to drive the point home. I squealed for him and I wasn’t pretending.

“That’s better,” he said. “Make sure you remember.”

Remember? I couldn’t think, let alone remember.

“So I’m going to say it and you’re going to do it,” he said, pounding into me, “because you want my come in your cunt. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“So get ready.” He twisted his cock in my channel. “Because I want you to come...now.”

Off I went, the most obedient sex toy in the history of acquired sex toys, squeezing, quaking and moaning, pulsing out of control while I took full delivery of his generous load.

I knew then I was lost, because in the midst of all of that depravity, my body relished the pleasure as much as I treasured the man giving it to me.

Chapter Thirteen

Lily

I woke up knowing that some monumental shift had taken place in my life, but for a full minute or two, I couldn’t remember what it was. Then it all came back to me in one huge wallop: Josh Lane had happened to me and no matter how much I tried to pretend it had all been a dream, I had to confront my new reality.

Part of me was shocked to find me whole and hale after taking stock. The other part of me knew better. Sure, the night had been strenuous and he’d been both demanding and commanding, but he had also been tender, thoughtful and caring, and he’d facilitated the most erotic hours of my existence.

His lust was remarkable, his stamina unreal. His intensity ramped up the act. How many times had he come last night? How many times had I?

For a plain looking girl whose ability to orgasm had been dubious, last night had been extraordinary.

I stretched in bed. I felt leaner, lither and lighter. Far from feeling used, I felt cared for, fulfilled and satisfied. The only true casualty of my night with Josh Lane had been my sense of decency. I glanced at the carpet. The things he’d made me do on it!

I rubbed my legs together to suppress the need stirring in me. A delicious soreness authenticated my memories. Contained in the blindfold’s darkness, I’d never been alone and, supported by the harness, I’d been free to feel without guilt. Each touch had been sharper than the one before, each emotion more powerful, each orgasm more intense.

After we finished on the bed, we went on to the rug, the chair and the ottoman. I wasn’t so deluded as to confuse sex with love, but I knew Josh had liked my body and maybe even me. For reasons I couldn’t begin to explain, the realization thrilled me.

I closed my eyes and savored his scent, embedded in my hair and wafting from my pores. I savored his flavors as well, lingering in my mouth like a pleasing aftertaste. Oh, my God. I had to find a way to get back to reality and soon. I had to pare down my anticipation, regulate my emotions and eradicate this misguided sense of elation. The practical part of me admitted that being Josh’s sex toy wasn’t half bad. The moral part of me was shocked, scandalized and horrified by the practical part of me.

The bathroom door opened. A pile of dirty towels flew out of the bathroom and landed next to the vacuum cleaner parked by the closet.

I rose up on my elbow. “Josh?”

A short woman almost as wide as she was tall stepped out into the room, carrying a cleaning caddy. She wore a red kerchief around her head and a flowery muumuu dress. She marched into the room like a steamroller in full throttle. Her smile narrowed her eyes to slits.

“Hello, Miss Lily,” she said with a musical island accent. “I trust you’ve slept enough?”

I clutched the covers and pulled them all the way up to my chin, aware that, under the sheets, I was butt-naked. I had a moment of panic as I scoured the room for traces of last night’s depravities but the room looked utterly sanitized for a PG rating. Maybe I could manage to pass as a common guest after all.

“Hello,” I said, trying not to sound mortified. “Who are you?”

“Why, I’m Rosa,” the woman said. “Mr. Josh’s housekeeper.”

Damn the man. He hadn’t mentioned a housekeeper, or the fact that she would be coming in the morning.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Rosa flipped on the sweeper and vacuumed the area rug, driving the contraption over the very spot where I had lain so ignominiously last night. “You don’t mind, do you?” she shouted over the noise. “I decided to come in and tidy up, given that it was almost noon and I’ll be going soon.”

“Noon?” No wonder my belly protested.

“You’ve slept away the morning,” Rosa yelled. “You must have been tired after all that traveling and whatyoumacallit.”

She knew why I was here. She knew!

“Are you hungry?” she hollered over the sweeper’s roar. “You must be starving.”

She turned off the vacuum and marched over to the closet, from where she returned carrying a silk robe embroidered with a Chinese dragon. She laid the robe at the foot of the bed before steamrolling back into the closet. “I’ve got a breakfast basket waiting for you on the balcony if you please.”

I took advantage of her brief absence to put on the robe and scurry from the bed to the balcony, pulling down on the short hem. If Rosa was scandalized, she didn’t show it. Did she know what her boss liked to do in this room? Did she suspect what kinds of “accessories” were stored in the antique traveling trunk? Did she think I was a common slut for being here?

I had a vision of Rosa dusting our decadence, disinfecting the room from the lust dripping from the walls, vacuuming all the wickedness we’d spilled on the floor.

I forced myself to inspect the basket on the table. Something smelled divine. I poured a cup of coffee and took a sip. The heat of the rich coffee warmed my belly and settled my nerves. I peeled away a checkered cloth to discover a plate of freshly baked muffins.

I picked out a muffin and bit into it. A burst of tropical flavors exploded in my mouth, reminding me that I’d woken up in paradise. Gorgeous, expansive views surrounded the balcony where I stood. The sea’s astonishing greens and blues shimmered beneath the sun’s bright rays, paradise’s dazzling palette. That new, pragmatic voice inside me encouraged me to enjoy the moment.

Behind me, Rosa attacked the huge bed like a sumo wrestler, ripping off the dirty sheets. I hadn’t counted on meeting anyone out here, but now I was curious: What did Rosa know about Josh? Could she help me figure out the man who had such a devastating effect on my wits?

Time for a little old-fashioned sleuthing.

I set my breakfast aside and went to help Rosa make the bed.

“Thanks for breakfast.” I walked to the opposite side of the bed and tucked the sheet’s corner under the mattress. “The muffins are delicious and the view of the island from the balcony is stunning.”

“Oh, you like the island, don’t you, child?” Rosa smiled. “Good eye. Good taste too, if you like Rosa’s baking. Coconut muffins are Mr. Josh’s favorites.”

“He likes muffins for breakfast?”

“And for dinner too, sometimes.” Rosa stretched the flat sheet over the mattress. “Mr. Josh, he’s very health conscious, but he’s got a sweet tooth. He doesn’t indulge it much—well, hardly ever at all—except for Rosa’s muffins. Those he loves.”

“I never made him for a sweet lover,” I said and, instantly regretting the play of words, blushed to the root of my hair.

“You can’t hide a thing, can you?” Rosa chuckled. “With all that blood rushing to your face?”

“It’s hell,” I admitted, tucking in the top sheet. “Where is he?”

“Mr. Josh?” she said. “He’s locked up in his rooms, working likely, though I wish he’d rest instead. But working’s all he likes to do.”

“Did you see him this morning?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Was he, um, fine?” I was the worst detective in the history of detectives.

Rosa stared at me. “You want to know if you pleased him?”

Dear God, just strike me with a bolt of lightning. “Forget I asked.”

“He looked fine,” Rosa said, “but he went swimming.”

“Swimming?”

“He likes to swim,” Rosa said. “But this was a long, hard swim, out to the other side of the bay and back. He only swims that long when something’s troubling him. I’m hoping that something ain’t you.”

As if anything could trouble steely Josh, let alone me. I looked out on the bay. I wasn’t good at estimating distances, but it seemed to me it would’ve been at least three or four miles to the other side, a long swim by any account.

“He must be quite the fitness junkie,” I said.

“Mr. Josh demands a lot out of his body,” Rosa said. “He’s got no mercy.”

“Amen.”

This time, Rosa stared at me with a gleam in her eye. “You ain’t like the others, are you?”

I sighed. “I hope not.”

“I think you might be different.” Rosa folded the coverlet at the foot of the bed. “You say please and thank you. You ask questions. You help. You hear what Rosa has to say. Yeah, I think you might be different.”

“Were there—you know—a lot of others?”

“Haven’t you asked Mr. Josh?”

“Like he’d answer me.”

“Our Mr. Josh, he’s not exactly free with his thoughts, is he?” she said. “But don’t let a little problem like that bother you, child. He’s bound to learn.”

“Not in my lifetime,” I said, fluffing the pillows.

Rosa startled me by laughing. “What has Mr. Josh gone and done now? Has he brought an honest woman to the cove? ’Cause you seem like an honest girl to me.” Her shrewd little eyes fixed on my face. “Oh, yeah, I see why he’s swimming in the ocean like a crazy dolphin. I see his troubles in your eyes and they’re only gonna get worse.”

No way. If Josh worried about something, it wasn’t me. He was probably working out some mega-million dollar deal in his mind. Most likely, he’d had enough of me last night and I would be going home today.

I’d come into this with full knowledge and clear expectations. At most, if I managed to interest Josh for the duration of the WindTech venture, my expiration date was the day those prototypes began whipping energy out of air. Meanwhile, he could drop me anytime and return to his regularly scheduled programming. Why did the thought of other women bother me? Why did I want to see him again? How had I allowed him to mess with my brain like this?

Maybe I was losing it. Maybe I was suffering from some sort of psychological attachment disorder. Yes, that had to be it. Maybe Bree would know what it was and what to do about it.

Rosa’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. “Miss Lily, is everything all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” she said. “You seem upset.”

“No, not me.”

“Then perhaps you could just place the bolster on the bed and stop twisting it around like you were wringing a chicken’s neck?”

“Oh.” I put down the bolster. “Can I ask you a question, Rosa?”

“Only if Mr. Josh would want it answered.”

“How long have you known Josh?”

“A while,” she said. “I take care of him and he takes care of me. He’s good, Miss Lily. He’s kind of like the coconut.”

“The coconut?”

“Hard and gruff outside, sweet and milky inside.”

I’d never thought of him quite that way but it was an accurate description.

“Mr. Josh is the kindest, nicest person you’ll ever know.” Rosa tied the dirty linens into a bundle. “Did you know he built me a house? The hurricane came and wiped everything off the map, and Mr. Josh, he showed up and built me a house like a palace. And he bought us motor boats so my grandchildren could fish and I could come out here and take care of his house. Ain’t a bad man who does stuff like that.”

Rosa was right. Only a very good man would take care of others like that.

“I’ve got to get going,” Rosa said, “but Mr. Josh, he told me to give you a message. He said he’d be busy and didn’t want to be disturbed. He gets cranky like a crab in a jar when he’s disturbed. He said you could go outside if you wish, but stick close to the main house and don’t venture beyond the point. Use suntan lotion ’cause the tropical sun is very strong down here. You may go in the pool, but there’s to be no jumping or diving. You may not swim in the ocean unless he’s there.”

“What am I, a toddler?”

“Oh, Miss Lily, he’s just a little bossy sometimes, ’cause he worries, but he means well, child, so listen to what he has to say. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Rosa put away the vacuum cleaner and the cleaning caddy. “There’s a fruit bowl and a fresh pasta salad in the refrigerator if you get hungry. Enjoy the house. God knows it needs to be enjoyed more often.”

“Thank you, Rosa. I’m glad I got to meet you.”

“Me too,” she said. “I wish you many happy returns.”

And with that, Rosa heaved the bundle of laundry over her shoulder, grabbed the food basket and negotiated her way down the stairs.

I looked around the room, trying to make sense of what I’d learned. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a little more than before. My eyes fell on the traveling trunk beneath the window where the suntan lotion stood like some sort of a secret clue. I smiled. There was a sketching pad with a box of charcoals next to the bottle.

I did a little half dance just thinking about all of the wonderful landscapes I could sketch, then tamed my enthusiasm when I spotted the tiny bikini folded beneath the pad. I had no doubt as to who’d put it there or why. Mr. Josh wasn’t around, but he was still giving orders.

Resigned, I stepped into the shower and washed off. Afterwards, I put on the bikini. By my standards, it hardly covered anything. But I’d made an agreement and now I had to live by it. I put on suntan lotion, but not too much. I wasn’t above wishing for a little tan to avoid my typical pale-greenish winter look. Then I grabbed the sketching pad and my cell, and made my way down the stairs.

As I went by Josh’s bungalow I didn’t detect any sounds or movements inside. Maybe after the long night and the hard swim he was asleep. I smiled, thinking I’d contributed to his exhaustion. The thought made my step springier and my spine straighter. Good posture was bound to help the pesky bikini stay in place.

I stole a bowl of pasta salad and a bottle of water from the kitchen and made my way to the pool. Pasta wasn’t a good choice when one was wearing Band-Aids instead of a bathing suit, but what the heck. I found a sunny spot with a stunning view and a cushioned chaise, ate my lunch, and began sketching. I kept an eye on Josh’s bungalow, expecting to see him soon, but he was a no-show.

I spotted a yoga mat by the pool. I hadn’t seen it there yesterday. Like the sketch pad, it was a thoughtful gesture that I appreciated. I did my yoga routine while enjoying the tropical heat, then jumped into the pool. Ooops. It felt wonderful, but I wasn’t supposed to dive in the pool. I looked around. Since Josh was nowhere to be found, I got out of the pool and did it again.

After a while, I went back to my sketches. They were becoming obsessively repetitive. Instead of landscapes, my pages were full of faces, or more specifically, different angles of the same masculine face. On the pages, Josh stared at me, wearing some of his most common expressions, the annoyed frown, the frightening scowl and the irritating, know-it-all, three-quarter smirk.

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