Page 32 of Serena
“Ahh.” She cries out.
“This is for trying to run away.” Her cries turn into a low moan. I do it again, and a louder moan escapes her lips. Fuck me. She likes it. And that thought turns me feral. I dive back in, fucking her with my mouth, then I decide to add two fingers because one won’t be enough. I push inside her, and she becomes needy. Her back arches, and she moves her hand to my head, pulling me closer. My fingers fuck her while I lick her juices. Jesus, I’m about to come in my pants.
“Ohhh Ian… I’m so close… More, please,” she begs.
I can feel how close she is; fuck, I need my cock inside her. I feel her pussy clench around my fingers as she comes, but I don’t let up; I take everything she gives me. I stand up and bring my mouth to hers. I love her arousal on me, but I love when she tastes herself on me even more. I pull away from our kiss.
“Next time you want to run, remember how good it feels to have me between your legs.” I devour her with another kiss. “Now get ready. We have somewhere to be.” I help her off the table and look at the discarded clothes that are on the floor with a sense of pride. On shaky legs, she nods and starts to walk toward her room. And just because I know she likes it, and I want to tease her, I slap her ass hard.
“Ian, that hurts.” I don’t miss the moan that escapes. Damn it, I need a cold shower—again.
All I can think about is last night and this morning and all the other things I'd like to do to her. My dick’s been hard all day. I've caught her staring at me on and off all day, her eyes wandering below my waist. She’s fighting so hard, but the harder she fights, the harder she’ll fall. Today my plan is to just be with her, enjoy our time together, because knowing her, the moment we get back home, she’ll try to freeze me out.
This morning, we had breakfast by the beach, followed by some shopping, which I insisted on paying for. One, because I want to spoil her, and two, because I plan on ripping all herclothes from her body, and it doesn’t seem fair to make her pay for them. I don’t think she noticed how her breathing turned shallow, how her cheeks flushed, and how her nipples seemed to harden when she held the small knife between our hands. I notice, because when it comes to her, I notice everything. After arguing in front of the cashier for five minutes about who would pay, she conceded and let me. It bothers me that she can’t allow herself to be taken care of by others. Others, being me, and only me.
We make our way along the outdoor shops, and Serena spots a man on the sidewalk. He’s selling fruits and shaved ice.
“Do you want something?” she asks me.
“Um, no thanks.” Truth be told, this is new to me.
“What’s your favorite fruit?”
“I don’t have one.”
She looks at me as if I’ve committed a felony for my lack of choice.
“Una orden de sandía y una de jícama con todo, por favor.”
The man selects a watermelon from his range of fruits and chops it up, adds lime and chili powder, then does the same with the jícama and hands it to Serena. She pays him, and we carry on walking.
“You seem like a watermelon type of guy. Let me know if you like it.”
I take a bite, savoring the fresh fruit. It’s different from anything I’ve tasted before. Refreshing and sweet, but the lime and chili combination gives a unique, smoky taste.
“I really like it.”
She smiles. The sound of music replaces the sound of the ocean, and Serena walks toward it. Following her, we gather around a small crowd in the middle of the promenade. There are lounging chairs facing the guitarist, inviting the audience to sit and enjoy the show. I lead Serena toward an open seat, my handon the small of her back, so gentle but possessive. I live for these moments until I can have her completely, which won’t be long now.
We sit and listen to the music, when a waiter approaches our table, offering a menu.
“Hungry?” I ask. “How does pizza sound?” She turns to look at me with a smile.
“Sounds perfect.” Then her gaze returns to the guitarist. A couple of songs later, our food arrives, and the artist goes on a break. “I love the sound of a guitar being played,” she shares as she takes a bite of the pizza slice.
“What else do you like?” I’m curious.
“Hmmm. Regarding food?”
“Anything and everything.” I’m trying not to sound so eager and fail miserably.
“My favorite dish is chicken enchiladas, but I can’t make the sauces, well, not like my grandmother. I hate kiwis, hate shopping, unless it’s for a work function, which is mostly the case. My least favorite jewel is a diamond. Although I have received them as gifts. I always exchange them for something else or don’t wear them. Let's see…what else? I’d rather stay in than go out.”
“You don’t like diamonds? I know women who would kill for them.” I laugh.
“Well, Mr. Kayde, I’m not all women.”
“That’s true. Can I ask why not?” I ignore the change in my name. I can see her body language transforming from casual and relaxed to alert. She takes a deep breath. “You promise not to ask more about this if I answer your question?”No, I want to say.
