TroubleinParadise (2 page)

“Can I really?” Again with the expressive eyes.

She shuffled off in the direction of her office and called
over her shoulder, “Art. I meant any of my art you want.”

Sione chuckled, clearly pleased with himself.

Why did he have to flirt like that? She knew he meant
nothing by it. He flirted with everything with boobs, but still, it made her
current predicament that much harder to bear. And just where this unbridled
attraction to Sione had come from remained a mystery.

Yes, she’d always thought Sione was a handsome guy, but
since she’d fallen for Mika, she couldn’t think of any other man. Not in
that
way
. But for months now her attraction to Sione had been building and it
was downright disgusting. She felt so ashamed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked herself for the
second time that day.

The afternoon trudged by in a repetitive dance of grinding,
sanding, welding, filing, polishing and patina application. The bird’s skeleton
was coming together. A couple more days’ work and the piece would be ready.
Then she would add it to the portfolio for her thesis.

Symbols of freedom and escape pervaded her work, although at
the moment, she didn’t care about her artistic statement or underlying
symbolism. Her eyes ached and she had sweated through her cutoffs. A few cold
beers would hit the spot before heading home.

Settling into their usual table at Manoa Gardens, she
ordered drinks. Sione and a close friend, Michelle, showed up at seven on the
dot.

Michelle was petite, but in comparison to Sione’s thick frame,
she looked even smaller. Considered
hapa
―the local word for
“mixed”―Michelle came from Japanese and Portuguese heritage, which made itself
apparent in her straighter-than-straight black hair, almond-shaped eyes and
snowy pale skin. Even in platform heels, she was a good foot shorter than
Sione.

“Hey, blondie.” Michelle gave Clarissa’s ponytail a playful
tug.

As soon as Sione and Michelle sat down, the three friends
fell into a comfortable pattern. A couple hours flew by, spent grousing and
laughing.

Sione’s bass voice and singsong speech pattern rang in
Clarissa’s ears, amplified by the pitcher of beer they had worked through.

“So yeah, he’s using the oxyacetylene torch and a spark sets
Andrew’s shorts to smoking. I’ve told that kid over and over to wear the
protective gear, but he doesn’t listen. Maybe now that he almost scorched his
nuts, he will.”

“Well, he’s not the smartest peanut in the turd,” Michelle
chimed in, “but, man, he’s easy on the eyes.”

Clarissa waved a hand. “I second that emotion.”

Sione chucked her on the shoulder. “Settle down, you, before
I tell my cuz you’re checking out the scenery at school.”

“He knows. He says as long as I bring it home to him,
right?”

They all laughed and took sips from their mugs.

Michelle went on to complain about her studio mate, the
haole
from hell. “It’s like he’s trying to torture me. What’s with you white people
and your OCD?”

“You’re asking the wrong
haole
. I’m allergic to
cleaning,” Clarissa said.

“Oh my God, I moved his soldering iron so I could reach an
electrical outlet and he freaked out. I’ve gotta transfer studios next
semester. I can’t take it anymore.”

“You poor thing. I’m lucky, I almost never see Frank. He
doesn’t like to work indoors.” Clarissa checked her watch and started to gather
her bag. “I gotta bail, guys.”

Mika would be home soon and she had precious little time
with him as it was.

Sione stood. “I’ll walk you to the parking garage.”

“I think I’ll take the bus home, leave the van here. I’m a
little too tipsy to drive.”

“Then I’ll walk you to the bus stop. Wouldn’t want you to
get molested on the way home.”

Shouldering her backpack, she teased, “How do I know you
won’t molest me?”

“Hey, I’ve always said, if you weren’t my cousin’s wife…” He
let the statement trail off but punctuated it with a smile.

Clarissa’s stomach flip-flopped. Just what would he do if
she weren’t his cousin’s wife? Would he take her back to his place, kiss a
trail from her lips to her breasts and then—Jesus fucking Christ. She squeezed
her eyes shut, shaking her head to clear it.

When she opened them, she noticed Sione’s gaze still fixed
on her. Hopefully he didn’t know he starred in lascivious thoughts that ran
through her mind all day, every day. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder, if he
knew how she felt, would he respond in kind? Bidding Michelle good night,
Clarissa headed toward the university’s main thoroughfare. Sione followed.

Kiave trees and tuberose lined the walk to the bus stop.
Crushing seedpods beneath her
slippah
-clad feet, she inhaled the pungent
floral scent of the small white flowers nestled amongst dense foliage. In her
mind, their fragrance had become melded with Sione’s presence. How many times
had he walked her through the darkened campus? Almost nightly. It was perhaps
this attention that had led Clarissa to her current predicament.

When Mika was home—and could stay awake—he was as attentive.
Just as handsome. And as sexy.
When he was home.

Mika worked fifty- or sixty-hour weeks to, as he put it,
“provide for Clarissa”, something she had never asked him to do. She would have
her own career, provide for herself. Then again, that topic of conversation
only brought up another argument.

“No wife of mine is going to have to work,” he’d said.

“I’m not saying I have to. I want to.”

“But why? Someone has to stay home with the kids.”

Had he really been so single-minded when they’d been dating?
No, she was sure he hadn’t, but once they had gotten married his attitude
changed. Gone were the carefree days when they both skipped school or work to
spend the day making love. Now he thought only of moving up at work, buying a
home and baby-making—none of which Clarissa was ready to do. And the pressure
didn’t stop with Mika. His whole family kept asking. Apparently once she had
taken her marriage vows, Clarissa had become nothing more than a walking
uterus.

Suddenly aware of the debate raging in her head, she looked
up at Sione with a sheepish smile. The ever-present trade winds ruffled his
wavy hair. A lock fell across his eyes and he tossed it aside with a flick of his
head. A signature move. One of his best features, his hair was always on the
long and unruly side.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

“Nah, just thinking.”

“About?”

“Same old, same old. I don’t feel like talking about it.”

Picking a flower from a nearby pikake bush, he tucked it
behind her right ear.

“Wrong side,” she said.

“Leave it there. It’s a reminder that you’re your own woman,
no matter what my cousin thinks.”

Clarissa wanted to kiss him and, at the same time, sock him
in the jaw. The differences between Sione and Mika made it hard for her to
contain her inappropriate impulses. Why did Sione have to be so damn
insightful? Maybe it was the creative side of him that made him more sensitive
than Mikaela.

I’m in love with Mika, I’m in love with Mika, I’m in love
with Mika
, she reminded herself. And she was. He was kind and smart. Funny
and caring. Romantic and sensual. If only he wasn’t so hell-bent on doing the
family-man thing. And really, what a complaint to have.

Clarissa knew other women whose boyfriends or husbands
didn’t want kids, had no ambition or played around on the side. Mika was a good
man. A good husband. If he only understood that she wanted a couple more years
to explore before she settled into motherhood, he would be perfect.

But no one was perfect…not even Sione, though he appeared to
be. There had to be some flaw like rampant flatulence or toe fungus. Clarissa
glanced down at the man’s feet. Perfectly groomed toes graced his rubber
slippers. Nope, no fungus. Damn it.

Crossing the street, she settled into the bench at the bus
stop. “Thanks for the escort.”

“I’ll wait with you ’til the bus comes.”

“It’s cool. I’m sure you have better things to do than wait
around with me.” Standard banter every time he walked her to the bus stop. Each
time she told him he didn’t have to stay and each time he refused to leave her
alone. It wasn’t as though there was a lot of crime in Manoa Heights, but still
he stayed. Clarissa wondered if he enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed
his.

“Did you get much work done today on your Ku image?” she
asked.

“A little. There was a bad spot in the wood, had to work
around it so the grimace is not as symmetrical as I’d like. I hate to go back
and rework the other side though. I’ll see how I feel about it in the morning.”

His master’s thesis dealt with updated images of Polynesian
religious icons. Ku, the Hawaiian god of war, he portrayed as a modern soldier
in full battle gear—flak jacket, helmet, night-vision goggles—but with the
gaping, fierce mouth of traditional depictions. Part Samoan, part Hawaiian and
a mélange of other ethnicities, Sione used art to explore his heritage. A
heritage Mika explored in other ways, namely cooking.

At times Clarissa felt cowed by their rituals and cultural
history. Her family observed no such traditions. Since her parents’ divorce
they were rarely in the same state much less the same mental plane. She’d grown
up in the Southeast, states like Alabama, Louisiana and Florida. Her father had
been an outside sales rep for a company that produced fishing and power boats
of various sorts. After the split, her mother settled in Florida, her dad in
California, and Clarissa had wound up in Hawaii, if for no other reason than to
put an entire ocean between herself and her bickering parents.

“I don’t know what to do when you stay quiet,” Sione said.

“Just a lot on my mind. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I just want you to know, I’m here if you
need to talk. I know things haven’t been exactly smooth with Mika lately. He
means well, you know?”

“I know,” she lied. If he meant well, why did he keep
badgering her about kids and a white picket fence? They talked in circles every
time the topic came up, which was more and more often as of late.

Sione went on, “Hey, if you were my girl, I’d want to make
babies with you too.”

At this she laughed.

“See, I knew I could get you to smile.”

He could always make her laugh and the intimacy this skill
created felt a little too good. Staring at the outline of his mouth, she
wondered what it would feel like to touch lips. What would he smell like, taste
like? She imagined their bodies pressed together, bare flesh to bare flesh. A
shiver darted up her spine followed by an aching heat between her legs.

Wrong
, her frontal cortex screamed,
wrong, wrong,
wrong.

Clearing her throat, she groped for a topic of conversation
but came up short. Finally, the bus rumbled up the avenue…and not a second too
soon.

The clock on the nightstand read 10:00 a.m. Clarissa loved
the one Sunday a month Mika had off. It was the only day they had to lounge in
bed together. They had been known to spend the entire day under the covers, not
sleeping of course. The feel of his warm erection pressed against her buttocks
indicated today would be no exception.

“Good morning, baby.” Mika pulled her onto her back.

He planted meandering kisses over her neck, chest and
shoulders. Flames licked her skin with every touch. Aching need tightened her
core. She stroked his tattooed abdomen, letting her fingertips wander down his
hard cock. As she caressed it, he sucked in a slow breath between clenched
teeth. Goose bumps pebbled his arms.

Hand brushing between her thighs, he stroked her pussy.
Gently at first, then with more urgency. He slipped a finger inside and she
moaned as he flicked the spot that turned her to jelly. Cunt already soft and
wet, she clung to his wide shoulders and buried her face in his neck.

The musk of their bodies blended until she could no longer
tell where she stopped and Mika began. Conscious thought faded into a stream of
pure physical awareness. He had a way of making the rest of the world
disappear. Surrounded by his heated flesh, she gave herself over to the tide of
emotion and ecstasy.

Brushing a finger over her clit, he played her body, the
reaction to each stimulus timed perfectly. Mika watched her tremble, drinking
her in with his gaze, all the while pushing her closer to coming without
letting her fall over the edge.

Fingers moving inside her, he took one nipple into his
mouth, rolling it between his teeth. A jolt of pleasure shook her. He felt so
good and he was just getting started. Her pussy contracted, juices wetting her
labia. In and out, hard then slow, he coaxed her to the height of arousal.

Clarissa raked her teeth over his shoulder, eager for
release, but at the same time adrift in the delicious torture. Pressure and
unbearable heat coursed through her veins. About the moment she could take no
more teasing, he withdrew his fingers and rolled her onto her belly.

Pulling her onto all fours, he slid behind her then pushed
himself into her. She clamped her pussy around his cock, wanting to swallow
every inch of him. An exhalation hissed between his clenched teeth. She caught
a glimpse in the dresser mirror of him fucking her from behind, golden skin
stretched over rippling muscle. His round buttocks clenched with every thrust.
A shock of arousal gripped her at the sight and she moaned.

Hand caressing her backside, he stared down at her, his
chiseled features slack. “Push your ass against me.”

She did as she was told, impaling herself on his cock and
bouncing against his pelvis.

“Like that, Kala. Shit.” He hissed, his teeth once again
clenched.

Fingertips skittering over her skin, he slid his hands up to
her breasts. Mika kneaded her nipples, pinching and tugging to the edge of
pain, but never pushing past.

Her cunt tightened, milking his shaft. Her legs trembled,
cream wetting her thighs. Moments away from climaxing, she ground against his
pelvis, desperate to come. He moved deeper, his hands tight around her hips,
fucking her hard and fast. Mika leaned forward, kissing and licking her back.
Her body shook, pure ecstasy taking hold. Clarissa arched against him and let
the orgasm wash over her. A few more thrusts and Mika buried himself within
her, his body jerking and twitching. A sharp inhalation held for several
seconds, then a long sigh. He came to rest on top of her as he planted tiny
kisses over her shoulders and along the ridge of her spine.

“I love you, Kala,” he whispered.

“I love you too.” She shivered, goose bumps rising on her
arms.

Pushing forward, he pressed her against the mattress, still
grinding against her ass. After a couple more pumps in and out, he withdrew and
collapsed next to her. She wriggled around to face him and wrapped her arms
around his neck, brushing her lips against his. Hand cradling her face, he
slipped his tongue along the length of hers. A soft moan escaped him. Opening
his eyes, he gave her that Cheshire cat grin, all pearly white teeth set
against a ripe strawberry mouth.

“Good morning.” An Elvis-like crookedness tugged at his
upper lip.

“Very good, I’d say.”

They spooned for a while, their conversation meandering with
no agenda other than savoring the time together, but eventually the pull of
hunger drew them from their love nest. She donned one of his t-shirts, which
fit her more like a dress, and he pulled on a pair of boxer briefs.

Making a pit stop by the bathroom to freshen up, Clarissa
washed down a birth control pill with a glass of tap water. A look of annoyance
flashed across Mika’s face but he held his tongue. At least they wouldn’t
rehash that argument today. Instead, he scooped her up, hands beneath her
buttocks, and pressed her against the wall, kissing his way from her lips to
her breasts.

“You keep that up,” she said, “we’ll never get around to
breakfast.”

“It’s your fault. You’re too sexy.”

“Even when I brush my teeth?”

He laughed. “Especially when you brush your teeth.”

Tongue flicking over her skin, he nuzzled her neck, giving
her shivers. She threaded her fingers in his hair, grinding her pelvis against
his cock. Drawing one leg around his hips, he parted her sticky folds with two
fingers. Pussy still throbbing from the first round, she melted against the
wall, ecstasy rippling through her.

“You’re still wet,” he murmured, lips to her ear.

Goose bumps rose on her arms. “What are you going to do
about it?”

Once he’d freed his cock from the fly of his underwear, he
boosted her up, wrapping her other leg around him. She guided the velvety head
to her opening, then one slow push and he was inside. A moan on her lips, she
clung to him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders.

Mika thrust forward and up simultaneously, drilling into her
pussy, his pubis brushing against her clit. Hardly able to catch her breath,
she inhaled the scent of their mingled juices. The musky aroma only spurred on
her arousal.

Turning her head to one side, she could see their reflection
in the bathroom mirror. He had her splayed open, his ass flexing as he pumped
in and out of her. A jolt of excitement passed through her and she couldn’t
stop watching her husband fuck her even if she’d wanted to…but she didn’t want
to. The sight thrilled her as her tits bounced, Mika’s back rippling. God, he
was so fucking sexy.

He turned his head, a smile on his lips, his gaze meeting
hers in the mirror. “You like watching us together?”

“Love it.”

Licking his lips, he thrust harder and faster. Her back was
crushed against the wall to the point of hurting, but the slight pain took her
higher.

“Yes, like that.” She watched a red flush creep into her
cheeks, her lips parted with panted breath.

Fingers sinking into her soft hips, he worked his cock at
different angles. Her cunt clamped around his shaft, small contractions
spreading throughout her center.

“I’m close,” she murmured, gaze still fixed on their
reflection.

He didn’t break rhythm though beads of sweat dotted his
forehead; clearly he was determined to get her there.

“Yes, Mika.” She leaned forward, biting his shoulder, the
sensation now too much to bear.

The first wave of pleasure hit her like a tsunami, rushing
over her, dragging her under. She cried out, tilting her head back, gripping
his back. Still, he didn’t slow down. Thrust after thrust took her higher as
the orgasm reached its peak. She shook, her whole body racked with ecstasy. Her
cunt spasmed over and over, echoed by the quaking of her thighs and abdomen.
She struggled to suck in enough air, moans and whimpers catching in her throat.

As the climax receded a little at a time, Mika still pounded
her pussy, the aftershocks sucking at his cock. Letting her body go limp
against his, she continued to watch in the mirror as he grew closer to coming.
At first there were little hitches in his rhythm, but then his movements grew
stiff and jerky until he finally slammed into her, unloading hot spurts deep
inside.

She rode the undulations of his orgasm, kissing his neck and
collarbone, the rumbling of his muted groans vibrating against her lips. When
he came to a halt, he pressed her against the wall, his cock still buried
inside her. His chest heaved and his arms trembled. Surely he was exhausted
from holding her up.

Easing her legs from around his hips, she found her footing,
carefully sliding his cock out before she stood with her feet flat on the
floor. Her thighs quivered, her knees threatening to buckle. She leaned against
Mika, who still shivered from time to time.

He drew her face up with one hand and kissed her. Lazy,
sloppy swipes of his tongue spoke to his fatigue, his heavy exhalations rushing
over her cheeks.

“You too tired to cook?” she asked, grazing her lips over
his chin. “We could go out to breakfast.”

“Nah, I just need a second.” He blew out a deep breath,
wiping the sweat from his brow. “That was quite the workout.”

“I’m sure.” Her stomach rumbled. “But seriously…you have to
feed me.”

He mussed her hair. “All right, all right. I’ll be in the
kitchen.”

After he righted his underwear, he grabbed a towel and
continued to dry rivulets of sweat.

She watched his backside as he turned the corner into the
hallway of their studio apartment. That his form still turned her head was not
lost on her. In December, they’d celebrate their seventh anniversary together.
Four years in college and three as a married couple. She’d fallen in love with
him the moment they’d met.