Dirty Aristocrat: British Billionaire Bad Boy Romance (26 page)

The boat stopped at the jetty. The water was so crystal clear that you could see the grains of white sand at the bottom. I turned to Ivan and my breath caught. The wind had ruffled his hair and the sun was shining on his face. God, it was distracting to be with a man who was such a sight for sore eyes. I wanted to push my fingers through his hair.

I suddenly remembered seeing him at the cemetery for Robert’s funeral. Then too, his hair had been ruffled by the wind, but he had seemed so distant, so unreachable. A cold, unknowable stranger in a cold, bleak landscape. So much had happened since then. That time seemed like part of an unhappy dream.

‘Like it?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s phenomenal to find a place so unspoilt.’

‘Come on. I’ll take you to the house first. The sanctuary is on the other side of the island.’

I jumped into the water.

‘What’s the jetty for?’ he asked with a laugh.

‘It’s more fun this way.’

So he dropped into the water with me and we waded to shore laughing.

Rosli, one of the four permanent staff on the island, picked up our bags and hauled them onto the wooden platform.

‘I take the bags to the house,’ he said with a wide grin.

‘Thanks,’ I said, and he jumped next to the bags with the agility of a monkey. He was soon nearly halfway up the beach. It was the most wonderful sensation to feel my feet sinking into wet sand again. For a moment I felt a pang of sadness. I will never come here with Robert again.

‘What’s the matter?’ Ivan asked.

I shook my head. ‘Nothing.’

He turned towards me and took my small hands in his large ones. ‘You miss him don’t you?’

I looked up at him, trying my best not to cry, but tears filled my eyes. ‘All the time.’

‘Hey,’ he said gruffly and pulled me against his chest.

‘I’m sorry,’ I sniffed.

‘It’s OK. I know you loved him … in your own way.’

I smiled at him. ‘Yes, I did. I really did.’

He used his thumbs to wipe away the tears from my cheek.

Then I took his hand and led him up the beach as we walked to the house.

We climbed the stone steps to the front door as Rosli was coming down.

‘I’ll be on the other side of the island if you need me,’ he said.

‘Thanks, Rosli,’ I said again as he waved and went his way.

I looked at Ivan. He was gazing at the tall bamboo trees that surrounded the house and bent over it, their leaves leaning down to touch the roof and walls.

‘Come on,’ I said skipping up the steps. I stood at the threshold of a large rectangular living space nestled among the trees. There were no walls, just a sandstone floor and old ironwood posts to hold up a thatched roof. It had an open floor plan with low sofas, a coffee table, a dining area, and at the back end, a kitchen. I turned around to watch Ivan’s reaction. He looked at his surroundings then back again at me.

‘No walls?’ he asked looking at balustrades made from matted coconut leaves that edged the space.

I shook my head. ‘No walls,’ I confirmed.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Interesting.’

‘It’s a great way to maximize the outdoor living experience. We wanted to be able to see the sea from wherever we stood inside the house.’

‘Must be a job keeping the elements and the mosquitoes from the forest out? How do you do it?’

‘You can say that again. It’s a full time job getting rid of the leaves flying around. I’m afraid nature is constantly trying to regain its ground.’ I grinned. ‘There are ferns growing out of the wood in the kitchen, we have bee holes in some of the teak wood, and it is a nightmare with spiders.’

I pointed towards the rolled-up blinds.

‘At night we pull down those white nets you see over there. When there is no one here, wood panels are fitted into those slots to weatherproof it.’

Ivan walked away from me and stood by one of the posts looking down. He turned around to look at me with surprise on his face. ‘This house is hanging over a river-valley.’

 ‘Do you like it?’ I asked breathlessly. I don’t know why it seemed so important that this powerfully contained, beautiful being should approve of my dream holiday home.

‘It’s fabulous,’ he said.

‘Let me show you the best part of the house.’

‘Lead the way.’

I walked to the far end of the room and turned around. ‘Ready to see my bedroom?’

‘I’m always ready to see your bedroom, babe.’ His voice was rich and throaty.

I descended the stairs and stood on the platform below the floor we had come from. ‘Here we are.’

‘You’re kidding,’ he said with a laugh.

‘Nope.’

‘What do you do when you’re drunk?’

‘You sleep upstairs,’ I said very seriously.

He came down the ladder-like steps and joined me on the platform. He looked down at the river rushing thirty feet below.

‘I hope we get a windy night while we are here. It’s simply fantastic,’ I said.

He looked up at the iron moldings holding the massive swing bed. ‘Are you sure it is safe?’

I grinned. ‘Try it … Tarzan.’

He gave me a very dirty look, grasped the thick ropes, then hopped onto the swing platform with the king size bed on it. It jerked violently and he had to widen his stance, bend his knees, and throw his arms up to regain his balance. ‘Fuuuuck,’ he said.

I tried not to giggle at that precious momentary look of panic on his normally cocky, arrogant face.

‘We’re actually going to have sex here?’ he asked doubtfully.

‘That would be completely acceptable.’

‘What if these ropes break?’

‘It is not just the ropes. The underlying suspension system was engineered to take the weight of a Boeing 747.’

His mouth curved into a slow, wicked smile. ‘That’s good to know because I have very sweaty, dirty nights planned for us.’

An electric tingle coursed through me. It would be a long time before I got used to the thought that Lord Greystoke, that mysterious, cold stranger who could barely bring himself to be polite to me, wanted me with the kind of intensity that Ivan showed.

‘Where did Robert sleep?’ he asked casually.

‘Upstairs. He was a big coward. There’s another bedroom on the side of the kitchen,’ I said pointing up to my left. ‘I tried to get him to come down here, but he always refused. On windy nights he used to keep waking up in the middle of the night and lean over the balustrade with a storm lantern to look down and check if I was still hanging on. I’m like a tick. No getting rid of me, I told him.’

He just laughed without making any comment. 

‘Come on, I’ll show you the second best part of the house.’

He hopped off the platform and we went up the steps to solid ground again. I took him to the far end of the house out to the open air, heated pool made of old andesite stone from Java. Rosli had already filled it up with fresh water. It looked beautiful with the afternoon sun hitting the large dragon waterspout sculpture.

‘Just what we need tonight,’ he said.

Strange that after everything we had done I was suddenly shy. ‘Now we really should hit the shower then make our way over to the other side of the island. I want you to meet everybody and I’ve got chocolates to distribute.’

 We bathed outside in the custom-made rainforest shower. I arched my neck back, the water pounding on my face, my forearms pressed into the sweaty copper walls, and reveled in the sensation of Ivan’s cock thrusting deep inside me. He bent his head over my face, his eyes glittering hotly as he kissed my mouth.

CHAPTER 31

Tawny Greystoke

I
slipped into a T-shirt, boy-shorts and flip-flops, let down all the net blinds, and went to look for Ivan. He was standing at the edge of the water.

‘Hey,’ I said.

He turned to look at me and for a moment there was such a sad look in his eyes that I took a step back.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.

He shook his head. ‘I was thinking of Robert,’ he said. I think part of me knew that he was not really thinking of Robert, but something connected to Robert.

A wave lapped at my feet. I squeezed my toes. ‘Why were you thinking about him?’

He shrugged. ‘Just how little I knew him. How he had this whole other life that I knew nothing about.’

‘Yeah. Robert was special.’

‘You still miss Robert very much, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Wasn’t it awkward with your age difference?’

‘No.’ I smiled thinking about Robert. ‘Neither of us cared what anybody else thought. We used to go places where people would mistake us for father and daughter and we’d just laugh and tell them we were husband and wife.’

He nodded. ‘Hmmm …’

‘We should get going. They’ve probably prepared a barbeque for us. They always have a lovely bonfire.’

‘Ah, bonfire,’ he said mildly.

‘I’m from the South. It’s in my nature to
love
a bonfire.’

‘Let’s go to this bonfire then.’

We walked to the back of the house and took the narrow path that cut across the island. Once I nearly tripped on some roots and Ivan caught me. ‘Be careful,’ he warned with a scowl on his face. ‘I’d hate to see even a scratch on you.’

As we neared the beach on the opposite side of the island, we could hear the sound of laughter and music and smell the food they were cooking. When we arrived in the clearing where the volunteers all lived they gathered around us, and I introduced Ivan to everyone. It was not breeding season for the sea turtles so it was a smaller crew, but they were a young, lively and idealistic group. Two Australians, a French boy, three British lads, a couple of German girls and some students from the local universities.

We distributed the chocolates, drank ice-cold beer, and ate fish grilled with curry and rice. Then they turned the music up loud and some of them danced around the fire. Ivan and I didn’t dance. We sat close to each other and just listened to the others. Their stories.

All I knew was that I was happy. Ecstatically so.

By nine the bonfire was put out and everybody left. Part of the group went to bed to prepare for the second shift of the night. The others went to the different locations on the island to guard the nest eggs. They made nightly patrols around the island to check for evidence of sea turtles. If they found any nests they collected the eggs and took them to the incubation center. 

Ivan and I walked back. I was feeling pleasantly tipsy, happier than I had ever felt in my life. I looked up at him hardly able to hide the way I felt about him.

As we walked into our house all the lights suddenly went out and all the big fans stopped blowing.

‘What the hell?’ Ivan said.

‘Oh, darn it,’ I said. ‘The generator has stopped working and it gets hotter than hell at night around here.’

‘Where is it? Let me have a look.’

‘Let me get a torch,’ I said. It was a moonlit night so I quickly found my way to the kitchen drawer, fumbling around before I found one.

Carrying it we went out behind the house to have a look, but there is nothing to see. Just a massive, ominously still, silent, locked, grey container.

‘We can go back to the volunteers’ hall and sleep with them tonight. Rosli will call someone to come and repair it tomorrow,’ I suggested unhappily.

‘Er … no.’

I bit my lip and thought of what else we could do. ‘There is another generator that keeps the fridge working. Maybe we can keep the fridge door open and sleep in front of it.’

He grinned, his teeth gleaming whitely in the dark. ‘Sure, I can have sex in front of an open fridge.’

‘You want to have sex in this heat? I don’t think you know how hot it can get without the giant fans.’

‘I haven’t given up on the idea yet.’

We went back into the house and lit some storm lanterns. The white nets surrounding us billowed in the gentle breeze giving the scene a hazy, unreal atmosphere.

‘God, it’s so damn hot. I’m having a cold beer. You want one?’ I asked.

‘Sure,’ he said.

I opened the fridge door, took one out and rolled it along my neck. The bottle was wonderfully cold and I sighed with pleasure. I turned around to find Ivan looking at me.

‘Mmmm …’ I gave him a sultry look. I reached for the bottle opener that was hanging by a string next to the fridge and removed the top. It clattered on the stone.

He said nothing, just stared at me.

Then I knew what I wanted to do. I’d seen this in a Tarantino movie once. She had given the killer a lap dance. I would improvise and use my bottle instead.

I arched my neck and dragged the bottle down to my chest. I pulled the neckline of my T-shirt and stroked the heated skin on my shoulder with the bottle. I let the cool glass travel slowly down to my cleavage.

The dark lust in his eyes made my breath come in short gasps.

I grasped the edge of my T-shirt, lifted it as I rubbed the bottle on my stomach. It was no longer ice-cold, but since I was not actually doing it to cool myself … Slowly gyrating my hips I threw my head back and poured the cold frothy liquid onto my chest.

That did it. He began to peel the clothes off his spectacular body. He walked over to one of the low sofas and sat with his knees spread wide apart and his cock pointing up.

‘Come here,’ he said, his voice thick and full of wanting.

I put the bottle on the table before walking up to him and, putting my bare foot between his legs, almost touch his balls.

‘Talk dirty to me,’ he invited, his eyes half-hooded.

I had never talked dirty with anyone, but I didn’t want to spoil the mood. In the sexiest voice I could manage, I said, ‘Mmm … when you say talk dirty what do you actually mean?’

Something flickered in his eyes as if he had expected a totally different reaction from me. ‘Do you like my cock? Tell me what you see. Talk about it. Describe it. Go a little over the top,’ he encouraged.

‘OK,’ I said slowly. Describe his cock. I decoded that as praise my cock. Mama used to say all men are in love with their own cocks. That should be easy enough. In fact, I could be great at going over the top.