Magnificent Ruin (Everlasting Series Book 2) (11 page)

I simultaneously get excited about another Tomas mystery while dialing Sophia to cancel for tomorrow night. Apparently, I’ve learned nothing.

Chapter 13

T
here are several sailboats and yachts moored on buoys out in the water and only a few moored on floating walkways connected to the land. I look around uncertain as to where I should look for Tomas. His instructions were vague and I was dumb enough to let my pride get the better of me and not call him to ask for specifications. Instead, I sent a short text to say I’d meet him here, at the Petra Marina, in the morning like he asked.

The water is so tranquil and quiet it looks like vegetable oil. There are some people on boats but the marina is empty otherwise.

My heart leaps in my chest when a hand takes hold of my right arm. I turn around and there he is, tall and handsome as always, despite the bruising around his nose. He’s dressed in a white shirt and Bermuda shorts, with spiky hair and dark sunglasses on.

“You’re late,” he says as if I’m a child that needs to be reprimanded.

“I took the wrong turn,” I say, exasperated. “Did you know there are barely any legible signs on the way here? I ended up on a thousand-year-old gravel road and, guess what, I got a fucking flat tire. It took me forever to get help so don’t even start with me. A farmer with no teeth wanted me to meet his family.”

“Don’t be a snob, Taylor,” he says. I consider slapping him for about a hundred reasons. He lowers his sunglasses to glance at me curiously. “You do look awful,” he adds, winking at me. “And you should be able to change your own tire.”

I could honestly kill him with my bare hands. “Why am I even here?”

“Hold that thought,” he says, pointing at the phone in his hand and then bringing it to his ear.

“Give me patience,” I say as he starts talking on the phone with a freaking English accent. Who the hell falls for a con man when they know he’s a con man? Taylor, that’s who. The world’s dumbest female.

He pulls me by the arm to one of the floating walkways all the way to a luxurious yacht named Felicity, the whole time talking on the phone.

I lean over the deck rail while he speaks, staring at a school of fish in the water swimming back and forth as if trying to locate something they have lost.

Random words from his conversation reach my ears, words like
appointment
and
resolution
but overall he does his best not to be heard.

After ten minutes of this I walk over to him and give him an angry look. He immediately walks to the opposite side of the deck, turning his back on me.

This cannot be happening! Two miserable hours to get to the marina and now he won’t even talk to me.

Another ten minutes go by before I make up my mind to get up and go. I pick up my purse and head for the stairs. I’ve barely taken two steps when he catches up with me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he says.

“I see you have more interesting things to do than tell me why you asked me to meet you.”

The moment I’m done talking, he lifts me up and sits me on the deck rail, his hands on my waist.

I get uneasy and put my palms on his chest to push him back so I can get down. He just increases the strength of his grip, keeping me immobile.

“Do you trust me?” he says, taking his sunglasses off to lock his eyes on mine.

“Is that a serious question?” I snap back.

He considers my words, amused. “Do you think I’d ever hurt you on purpose?”

“I think you should get back to your phone call.”

“Fuck the phone call,” he says. “In fact, fuck the phone.”

He tosses the phone over the railing and into the water. Before I have a chance to absorb the meaning of his action, his lips crush on mine, hot and heavy, his tongue pushing its way inside my mouth forcefully.

I let him in for a second but then I come to my senses and push him off with both hands, still struggling to get out from under the spell of his hypnotizing green eyes.

He glares at me and then grips my wrist, pulling me closer to him.

I slap him on his chest and he finally lets go of me. I hop off the rail, slapping his pecs one more time.

“You’re an asshole,” I say.

“And you’re beautiful.”

Right.
“You’re a double asshole.”

“And you’re …”

I stop him, putting my hand on his mouth. “Goddammit,” I say. “You’re so irritating. What are you doing?”

“I’m done pretending. I hurt you and I can’t stand the thought one more second.”

“So what? You’re going to pity-fuck me?”

“Who’s the asshole now?”

Okay, yes, it’s me. “I’m getting tired of this game, Tomas. What do you want from me?”

“I want to fuck you, baby. But it’s not out of pity.” He takes my hand and lays it on his engorged manhood. He’s rock-hard and pulsating with anticipation. Yes, he wants me. Crudely, but it’s progress.

“Why then, Shakespeare?” I say, pulling my hand away.

He tilts his head to kiss my neck. “Because you’re breathtaking.”

His tongue leaves hot marks across my skin as he licks my neck, his soft breath tingling my ear.

“Just say no and I’ll stop,” he whispers.

“Yes
,”
I say, a low gasping
yes
that escapes my lips almost involuntarily. I swear my mind meant to say the opposite. My lips betrayed me.

He lifts me up with one arm like a doll, placing the other arm under my knees. I wrap my arms around his strong neck as he carries me downstairs to the cabin.

I take a furtive look around the room which is bigger than I thought it would be although the ceiling is quite low. I’ve never been in a yacht cabin before but I can say with certainty that this here is one of the best: expensive furniture, appliances and décor that makes it feel like a luxury hotel suite.

Tomas sets me down on the big couch. The velvety fabric feels incredibly soft under my legs.

Standing in front of me, he takes his shirt off, his hot muscles extending and contracting like they have a life of their own. He’s so beautiful and masculine. All I want is to taste him again, touch him, hear him groan, smell his scents, watch him climax. All my senses claim their turn.

His mouth finds mine, strong and demanding. He pulls back to tug my shirt over my head. I move forward to find his mouth again and my need for him intensifies to infinity.

He slides his hands inside my shorts and pulls them down roughly, stealing a gasp from my lips.

“Wow,” he says, staring at my panties with his teasing eyes. “Booty shorts? My lord, how cute are those on you?”

He pulls me up to my feet and sits himself on the couch, keeping his eyes on me. He turns me around to kiss the fabric on my butt cheeks, first the one then the other, hands on my hips.

He spins me around a couple of times until I start to feel dizzy with anticipation. In my disorientation, I find myself on my knees on the couch, bent over the couch back, with Tomas standing behind me, his knee forcing my legs slightly apart.

My heart pounds like a locomotive as it becomes impossible to ignore the growing throbbing sensation between my legs. The thought of being at his mercy sends shivers of pleasure and dread down my spine.

A zipper goes down and then his Bermuda shorts come off. I twist my neck to peek at him with nothing but his black boxer briefs on.

His erection is perfectly outlined under the fabric, long, thick and threatening. How on Earth did I take him in last time? Because right now I’m scared to the bone and excited at the same time.

He forces my head down with one hand while the other hand rubs my butt as if priming me for his purposes.

Both hands are on my ass now, grabbing and massaging my cheeks with almost rhythmical precision.

He leans over me, clutching my panties firmly. His fingernails scrape my skin a little as he yanks them down to my knees. “Kick them away,” he breathes in my ear and I comply like an obedient pupil.

His hands move to my back, unclasping my bra but still holding tight onto the band. Not knowing what he will do next makes me more and more desperate. I don’t care. I want to experience everything that he wants me to experience.

He lays his bare chest against my back to sink his teeth in the soft part between my neck and shoulder. I cry out with pain, instinctively arching my body to escape his embrace but then his teeth are gone and he lets go of the bra band. The bra slides down my arms and my breasts swing free and heavy for a moment before he cups them.

He rubs my breasts gently, feeling them up, while his erection presses against my ass. He massages my shoulders and arms with a patience I didn’t know he possessed. Every muscle relaxes and my skin tingles with pleasure.

“Mmm, it’s so good,” I say. “More.”

He slaps my ass so hard it stings. “You’re not allowed to tell me what to do,” he says. “Not unless I ask.”

“Ouch, you didn’t have to do that. Just let me in on the rules of the game.”

A second slap, even harder than the first one. “I could do this all day,” he says. “Just keep testing me.”

I pant heavily. I don’t know how to react and I honestly never know when Tomas is serious or when he’s playing. I’d rather play it safe.

All thoughts are pushed aside when his hands return to my breasts, his thumbs rubbing against my nipples.

“You have great tits,” he says. “And nipples to die for. Big and responsive, just the way I like them.”

I’m not going to show any reaction that might lead to more spanking. I keep my mouth shut and let him do with me as he pleases.

His breathing quickens as he kisses my shoulder, pinching my nipples hard enough to make me gasp. This time the pain comes with tinges of pleasure that make my feminine parts swell achingly.

He cups my whole breasts again, squeezing them together as he presses his erection against my ass, driving me crazy with lust and need.

I grind my hips against him in search of some much needed friction but he pushes them back so that I can feel his hardness but not be able to get anything out of it.

I might be mad as hell in my mind but my body wants him with a fierce passion.

His knee gets between my legs, kicking them apart, wide enough for my lips to part. Wild exhilaration mixed with hot embarrassment courses through my veins, blinding me, as I feel something hot and liquid drip down my thigh.

Here I am, legs spread apart, wet as fuck, ass up in the air, completely his for the taking and he’s just staring at me. If this is a plan to make me beg him, it’s working. It won’t be long before I’m on my knees begging him to touch me, to take me any way he desires.

Finally, his hands start roaming my body again, first along the sides of my breasts, then on my hips, then on my inner thighs.

I shudder when his fingers make contact with my aching flesh, petting and brushing for a second or two. I can barely hold back my disappointment when his fingers leave me again. The only thing that keeps me from turning around to scratch his face is the stinging memory of his palm against my ass.

“Do you feel like hurting me right now?” he pants in my ear, reading my thoughts, his hand finding my swollen lips again, tickling my opening. He presses against my flesh, on the verge of slipping a finger inside my wetness, but it never happens.

My clit begins to throb like it has a heartbeat of its own. The bastard is playing with me like a cat with a mouse. There’s no way I’m winning this game and I fucking like it.

His hands circle my nipples and then slide down my belly to touch my pussy again.

“Just fucking own me,” I say, unable to control myself anymore.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Finger fuck me, you asshole,” I say, having lost any sense of shame or dignity.

He laughs at my outburst and then runs a hand up and down my thigh but when he reaches my lips, he still doesn’t push his fingers inside. Instead, he grabs both cheeks, pulling my ass back and onto his hard cock.

I moan as I realize the boxer briefs are gone and it’s skin against skin now. All that manly goodness is within reach but when I try to reach back to feel him, my hand is slapped and my ass pushed back onto the couch.

Just as I begin to fear the teasing will go on until I’m too exhausted to properly enjoy anything, his fingertips find my clit. For the first time, his breathing turns into something guttural, and a groan escapes his lips. The bastard enjoys what he’s doing to me.

He rubs my swollen nub gently and it’s not enough, it’s nowhere near enough. I grind myself against his hand, aching to get more contact, more friction, more of him, really.

“If you don’t watch it, you’ll get spanked again,” he whispers in my ear, all too pleased with himself.

If he thinks he’ll scare me into submission, he’s got another thing coming. “Do it,” I dare him, “I don’t fucking care anymore. Spank my ass and then make me come.”

“You know,” he says, “if I was not so nice, I’d spank the shit out of you right now.”

But he doesn’t spank me. Instead, he eases a finger inside me and I just about melt into a puddle of ecstasy. That’s it, one finger and I’m ready to surrender to him, body and soul.