Page 58 of Sticky Fingers
“Don’t worry, they’ll be right behind us with everything.”
“Aren’t you curious? Who knows, Malcolm? Maybe what you’re looking for is inside one of those boxes.”
“Did you bring a clone of you? Because I wouldn’t mind a threeso—”
“Asshole,” she says with a laugh, the sound of her voice drowned out by the loud roar of the engine as we cross the island.
Despite the dirt roads, it doesn’t take us more than twenty minutes to arrive at the other side of the island, the beach front estate seemingly popping out of nowhere.
“Holy shit.” Jumping out of the Jeep, Sonia places one hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun as she gazes at the estate. “All this just for the two of us?”
“Well, there’s the staff…but aside from them, yeah, it’s just us.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” she quips, glancing at me sideways. “I’m already getting all itchy imagining all the women that you—”
“You’re actually the first one I brought here,” I tell her as we walk up the hardwood stairs, the sound of the waves gently crashing against the shore coming at us from down below.
She stares at me with that comment. I keep my focus straight.
I still remember when I made my first million—still far from becoming a billionaire—and how I imagined I would finally start living it up once I became richer than God.
I’d get a yacht, a fleet of private jets, and a private island where I’d keep a steady retinue of hot, tight, and slutty-as-fuck models.
Thing is, I never got around to do all that, and that’s because I simply wasn’t interested. Why would I bother sharing this place with women whose name I probably wouldn’t remember? I’d rather be making money than waste my time sharing a hammock with some girl whose breasts have an higher IQ that her brain.
But now, with Sonia by my side, I wouldn’t mind sharing that hammock.
“Look at the view!” she cries out as we finally get to the top of stairs, reaching the terraced entrance.
From here, we can see half the coast of the island, the white beach meeting the blue sea right below us. Breaking the landscape into two, a long but narrow dock jutting out of a bungalow extends into the ocean, a few small boats tied to the wooden posts.
We’re close enough that, if I threw a pebble from here with enough strength, it’d land right where the waves fold unto themselves.
“Glad you like it,” I whisper into her ear, one of my hands going down from her neck to her hips.
Being this close to her reminds me that I never really christened this island—and, yes, I’m talking about sex.
Turning around on her heels to face me, she goes on tiptoes and brushes her lips against mine.
“Take me inside,” she whispers, her eyes locked on mine as she gives my chest a gentle push, forcing me back against the double doors that lead to the master bedroom at the top of the estate.
“Why?” I grin slyly. “Do you want to check out the artwork inside? No Picassos on the island for you to steal, I’m afraid.”
“Are you sure?” she whispers once more, gazing to her side as we hear the staff’s van arriving with the boxes down below.
“No,” I confess. “But truth be told…I couldn’t care less.”
With that, I grab her by the hips and pull her into me, crushing my mouth against hers. Using the sole of my right foot, I push the doors open and we stumble inside, the shadows inside covering us as we rip the clothes off each other bodies.
Picasso or no Picasso, Sonia’s the only masterpiece I care about right now.
* * *
“Don’tyou ever miss it? A normal life, I mean.”
Stroking the nape of her neck gently, I open my eyes as we gently rock back and forth on the hammock we set up next to the docks and the bungalow. Sonia’s feet dangle from it, caressing the clear water right under us, and I watch her smile as the setting sun paints her lips in a smooth orange tone.
A few feet away from us, right on the sand, a bright fire pushes back the cold breeze that settles on the island at night.
