Page 57 of Enslaved

I crooked my finger at him. “Come back here.”

“No. Let it burn, let it ache. The more it burns, the better it will be when I put the fire out. Edging. You remember that lesson, don’t you my dove?”

“Ugh.” My hands punched the mattress.“Can’t you just, help me out here, now?”

“No, my dove, I can’t. I waited weeks for you…I know something about edging, sweeting. Trust me.”

And I did, I trusted him. God, what a fool I was for making that mistake.

“That was delicious.” Warm juice from the fresh fig he just fed me dribbled down my chin. He set up a blanket in the shade, opened a picnic basket full of fresh fruit, different types of cheeses, nuts, and of course, champagne. He looked stunning in his boxer swim trunks. The chances of running into people out here was slim, but the crew on the luxury yachts knew of all the hidden spots to take their guests for private beach time. I knew he was referring to the wealthy men who took their mistresses away from prying eyes so that they could have their trysts. I lounged next to him in a white halter top bikini. Christos had thought of everything when he knew I was still in Capri. He had food, clothing…, toys all delivered to his secret yacht, lying in wait for us.

“Favorite book?” I asked continuing our game of one hundred questions.

“I only read financial reports. No emotions or drama. Numbers don’t have feelings…I can relate.”

I smacked him playfully on the arm. “Be serious; I want to get to know more than your…”

“I read Hemingway in Prep School. He was direct. His talent was writing directly without too much prose. I envied him, how he felt love, how he described it on the pages he wrote. I could understand the text; it helped me imagine what that emotion might feel like.”

I stared incredulously at him. My beast was more human than he thought.

“What’s yours?” He fed me a red grape this time.

I chewed, pondering this. Favorite book? I’ve devoured so many. My face turned red,“Unscripted, by Jax Hart.”

“Who’s that? I’ve never heard of him.”

“He’s my cousin who lives in Seattle. He writes dirty romance books. Favorite movie?”

“I don’t watch movies.”

“What? Never?”

“A few…I can’t connect. Comedies don’t make me laugh; romance is lost on me…”

“I’d say, you’re doing pretty well right now. Well, mine’s Dirty Dancing.”

“I guess, ‘Everybody Knows’ wasn’t that bad,” he shrugs, trying to stop my questions by feeding me more, but I evade the grapes hovering above my mouth.

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“I saw it in Cannes with Alex last May.”

“You went to the Cannes film festival?”

He shrugged, “Alex and I are on the VIP list every year.”

“Favorite song?”

“Chopin. Nocturne in E flat. Listening to it soothes me.”

“We are worlds apart. I like Taylor Swift, Netflix, scrubbing decks, and smut books. You have, ‘I was raised privileged’, stamped all over you.”

“I’d rather have you all over me.” He reached for me, laid back and lifted me to straddle his hips. I tasted the sweet-tart flavor from the cherries he was eating as we kissed. Sitting on his hard thighs increased the pressure in my bum.

“Christos…,”

“Not yet. We need to leave soon. We’re going back to Capri tonight. I’ll take care of you then.”

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