Trust Me (11 page)

“What’s
a mirror-mirror thing?”

“You
know, girl to girl or guy to guy. I have nothing against it, it’s not my way. I’m very much into girls, but I do not have a wife and kids waiting for me back home, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m very single.”

“Have
you ever had a serious relationship?” she asked, and immediately regretted it. She didn’t think she wanted to know that he had been in love before.

“I’ve
had a couple, but not the whole alter, white veil or flowers sort of thing.”

“Have
you ever been in love?” she asked with a blush.

“I
thought I was once. I was seventeen and she was sixteen, the daughter of a neighbor. Her father was German, a quiet man, but big, really big. All the local kids were afraid of him, but his daughter was absolutely gorgeous. Her mother died giving her birth, which made him very protective of her; she was his only child.” He smiled as old memories began to filter in front of his eyes.

“She
had long blonde hair and big blue eyes and a cute little figure. I spent nearly a month during early spring trying to get her attention, before she finally acknowledged me.”

“Were
you lovers?” Sandra watched his lip twitch in an amused smile.

“Yes,
she was my first and I was hers. It was an absolute disaster.” He laughed, causing her to smile as he relived his first sexual experience. “She invited me into her barn one day. She kissed me and led me to the loft, where she would spend most of her days hiding from her father, masturbating.” Sandra blushed scarlet when she heard this.

“She
had an unquenchable appetite; loved orgasms. We had the worst sex any two people could possibly have. It was too quick and far too one sided. I really didn’t think I’d ever see her again, but a few days later she showed up at my bedroom window around midnight. She said she had thought about it and felt we needed more practice.”

“So
did you, practice I mean?”

“Yes,
nearly every day for about six months, until her father found us. He nearly killed me; he beat me so hard. I spent two weeks in hospital and another six at home recovering from my wounds and a year of plastic surgery to return my back to normal. When I was finally able to move again, I learned she had gone to Paris to an all- girl’s boarding school. Her father moved back to Germany before I came home from hospital.”

“You
never saw her again?” she asked, feeling sorry for the boy who had lost his first love.

“I
was at University in London, when she showed up on my doorstep, completely unexpected. She said she had thought a lot about me over the years. She wanted to help me, so I would know how to please a girl properly. It seemed she learned a great deal at her girl’s school. She spent the next three days teaching me things I never knew was possible. I learned the most incredible techniques and discovered things about a woman’s body that I have never regretted learning.”

“Like
what?” She couldn’t believe she had just asked him that. Creighton smiled very seductively and leaned across the table, his eyes capturing hers as a willing prisoner.

“Things
that would drive you wild,” he whispered, standing up and reaching his hand out to her. “We have to go, or we’re going to be late.”

She
took his hand and stood on very shaky legs. As they headed toward the street, to the black Mercedes convertible, she made a remarkable discovery that shocked and excited her to her very core. Creighton Ashford was the adventure she had spent her life looking for and she wanted him to drive her wild.

Sandra reclined on the soft chaise lounge smiling to
herself; her eyes closed to the sights and sounds around her. The aroma of the sea filtered through her senses, while she relaxed under the evening stars aboard Creighton’s luxurious, refurbished yacht. She couldn’t believe all that they have done in one simple afternoon, the memories made her feel the tingle of excitement all over again.

After their lunch, they went to Monte Carlo where Creighton had reservations for them to go parasailing. It was amazing, flying above the Mediterranean Sea on the strings of a kite. At first she refused, she was terrified and all she could think of was the old adage
if man was meant to fly he’d have been born with winds
, but after a considerable amount of persuasion and several heart stopping smiles, Creighton had her agreeing to try it and she discovered it really was quite simple. He was a magnificent instructor and within a very short time she was up in the air alone, flying behind the rental boat, the wind blowing through her hair and she at last understood what it felt like to be cloud. She couldn’t remember a time when she had smiled so much or laughed until her sides ached.

The ocean was crystal clear and the most beautiful shade of blue she had ever seen. Looking down a hundred feet above the earth’s surface was very surreal. She often had dreams of flying, but she never imagined actually doing it; she felt free, as though she were floating on the wings of the breeze. It was an experience she would never forget as long as she lived.

Shortly before supper, Creighton suggested they try water-skiing and after flying like a bird she had the courage to try everything he suggested. This was almost as incredible as parasailing had been and she found she enjoyed it just as much. Her friend, Amanda Barrett, invited her to go snow skiing in Colorado when she was a senior in high school, but she was too afraid to accept. The idea of lacing large Popsicle sticks on your feet and sliding down a mountain filled with snow and ice wasn’t her idea of having fun; but this, this was exciting and having Creighton right beside her, teaching her and guiding her, was exhilarating. Every time she fell off the skies, he was there in the water with her helping her back up and hugging her tightly. She felt like a drowned rat by the time they finally went back to the pier, but she had to admit, she would willingly do it again.

The afternoon sped by much too quickly and they soon found themselves speeding along the coastline to Nice where they had supper at a little French bistro before visiting the
Matisse Museum
with its two floors and eighteen rooms of eighty pieces of works, comprised of several different mediums and techniques, with works reflecting every period of Matisse’s life. Creighton seemed to know each and every one intimately, telling her about them and helping her to understand the articulate details as only a skilled eye could see.

They walked the beach talking about their day, gathering seashells and skipping an occasional stone across the water’s surface. Her hand remained tucked inside his for what seemed like hours and she felt treasured, cherished and excited; warm waves of anticipation caressing her body, bringing with it hopes and dreams of a fantasy come true.

Sandra was completely exhausted by the time they finally left Nice, shortly before eleven o’clock. She sighed a contented breath as she stretched out her legs, wiggling her toes and circling her ankles. Her feet hurt, her legs felt like she had run twenty miles and she could feel the sunburn stinging her cheeks and shoulders, but she didn’t care. This was the type of vacation that she had always dreamed of having; loads of adventure and a very, very handsome man by her side to show her the local attractions.

Creighton’s crew had brought his yacht down to Nice and she found herself once again sitting on the upper deck, sipping
Chablis
and snacking on cheese and pastries while talking with Creighton about everything from music to politics. The crew retired early, leaving them alone on deck to enjoy each other’s company in private; the closeness causing her heart to skip a beat. She turned her head and glanced at the man stretched out on the lounge chair next to her, a quiet jazz arrangement echoed from the stereo speakers, his long fingers wrapped gently around a crystal glass. He was positively perfect, more handsome than any man had the right to be. His profile showed his chiseled nose and sculptured cheekbones, chin and jaw. His skin was flawless and tanned; the usual light dusting of a beard lay across his jaw and upper lip. He looked primal and viral; just like the heroes in her books had been described.

His eyes were closed, giving her the opportunity to admire him without hesitation. His chest was hidden beneath a gray tee-shirt that hugged his muscular arms and torso, his long legs were encased in a pair of dark blue jeans, his feet bare and crossed at the ankles. His jeans seemed to hug him in just the right way that made a woman’s heart race; his muscled arms and a flat, tight stomach made her fingers itch. She smiled and bit her lower lip as she glanced back up to his face making certain his eyes were still closed and then back down, allowing her gaze to travel slightly lower than his stomach, to the bulge that seemed to beckon her attention.

With his eyes closed Sandra could inspect him all she wanted without feeling the usual sting of embarrassment. She couldn’t believe how fortunate she was; out of all the beautiful women the French Riviera offered, she was the one he had chosen to speak with and yet he had done very little more than kiss her.

“You keep staring at me like that and we’re both going to be in trouble,” he whispered from behind his closed eyes, a slight smile caressing his full lips. Sandra felt it; the magenta color tinting
her face, neck and ears as he turned his face toward her. “I don’t mind you looking, I've done it often enough to you so I suppose it’s only fair.” The color in her cheeks darkened, she could feel it as the heat made her sunburn sting.

“Oh,” she whispered. What else could she say?

“Are you still hungry?” he asked, pulling his long frame up from the lounge chair, walking toward the table that held a platter of pastries.

“No, thank you, I’ve had enough.” She watched him pick up the bottle of wine, pouring a little more into his glass before walking back to her, holding the bottle up. She instinctly reached her glass toward him though she didn't really want any more to drink, but she didn't want the day to end, either.

“Are you tired?” he asked as she yawned.

“A little,” she lied. She didn’t want to say anything that might make him take her back to the hotel.

“Liar,” he accused lightly as he placed the bottle of wine on the deck floor between them and sat on the edge of her lounge chair. “You’re exhausted and you can barely keep your eyes open.” He paused and looked at her seriously. “Do you want to go back to your hotel, or would you like to stay here.” She was wide-awake now. She nodded and he drew a deep breath.

“I’ll get the captain to drive us back.” He stood from his seat and she realized he had misunderstood her answer.

“No,” she nearly shouted, swinging her legs over the edge of the chaise and stood up. “I mean, I’d like to stay.” He looked down at her, his eyes darker than normal in the evening light, making the heat soar through her veins, her heart pounding beneath her breast.

“Then let’s get you to bed,” he said in a soft whisper. “I have very special plans for us for tomorrow and you’re going to need all the sleep you can get.” He leaned into her and kissed her briefly before walking with her through the parlor and down the hall. He stopped outside the door to the master bedroom and looked down at her again, a strange twinkle in his eyes that caused her stomach to lurch unexpectedly.

“Here, or one of the other rooms?” he asked her and she immediately understood. She bit her lower lip as she reached for the handle to the door and pushed it open. She couldn’t keep the smile from her lips when she saw the expression cross his face. He looked shocked, exhilarated and thrilled and without a second thought, she was lifted into his strong arms and carried across the threshold. As he kicked the door shut, she felt her heart start a wild tango with her breathing, his lips finding hers and in an instant they were falling slowly to the cool covers of the large bed, his long leg crossing over hers, holding her in place against the mattress.

She slid her arms around his neck holding him tight; she didn't want him stopping this time, she wanted to know more, go further and explore these strange and exciting new feelings. As though understanding her desire, he intensified his kiss and softly pressed his erection against her outer thigh, his chest covered the top part of her body as he shifted slightly, holding her prisoner beneath him. She moaned deep within her throat, his tongue invading her mouth, tasting and caressing the deep, wine sweet recesses. Courage quickly overtook her and she began to imitate his movements, sparring with him in an oral battle; her hands sliding across his muscular chest and down to his waist. This felt wonderful, she thought, incredible and wicked. The fire of his kiss ignited her desire, traveling down her body and filling every corner of it with a need she had never known.

With a hesitant moan, Creighton removed her fingers from the hem of his shirt and kissed the tip of each in turn before lifting her hands above her head, holding them firmly, making it difficult for her to move as his lips trailed hot kisses across her cheek to her ear and down her neck to her collarbone. Her heart began to race inside her chest, an erotic rhythm that nearly deafened her as it thrummed within her ears. Creighton tugged and sucked gently on her earlobe, tracing the outer rim with his tongue.

The sensation drove her desires higher and she moved her head to the side to give him further access, which he took immediate advantage of, kissing and licking the side of her neck, trailing small bites down the length. He released her hands momentarily and then wrapped them securely and gently within the fingers of his large left hand, his right hand traveled down her chest, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt where he caressed and massaged her waist and stomach. She felt the small buttons of her top begin to pop open one at a time, slowly as they revealed her breasts to his eager explorations.