Bad Boy Rich

His wet hair is smooth as I run my hands through it, moaning softly as our tongues battle feverishly on this warm summer night. Our bodies were like magnets, drawn to each other, a force so strong that neither of us had any control.

Wesley Rich was an addiction I just couldn’t stop.

Underwater, his knees bump against mine, forcing my legs apart. I gasp, holding in my breath as he enters me, keeping his pace nice and slow. Extending my arms back, I place my hands on the edge of the pool for support, riding him with my body half out of the water.

With my body a light weight beneath the water, Wesley wraps his hand around my waist, thrusting himself into me and freeing his other hand to tug on my nipples as they come out of the water.

“God,” he whispers, out of breath. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re innocent. I bet you’ve thought about this. Fucking a man like me in a pool.”

My head falls back, exposing my neck as I allow my body to experience this pleasurable moment. My hips buckle forward, grinding against him and demanding he go in deeper. When my eyes begin to flutter, the kiss of his lips between my breasts sparks a violent finish as my orgasm rips through me.

“Yes,” I cry, my body possessed in the moment. “You…I want you…forever.”

The high begins to come down yet remains steady as he slams into me and shouts a string of profanities that echo in the dark night.

“Fuck.” He breathes in and out, holding me tight and still inside me. “You’re amazing.”

Two simple words that comforted me.

“Let’s go to bed,” I suggest, easing myself off.

He leans in, kissing me softly. “I have you all night.”

“Yes.” I smile.

Wesley’s sheets were cotton; Egyptian thread count of some number that Mom once told me only the rich experience. Inside his embrace—I felt safe.

“What happened with the girls…that almost drowned?” I whisper in the dark, my head resting on his chest.

He doesn’t answer immediately; his sigh loud in the dead quiet of his bedroom.

“We met these girls at some producer’s party. They were groupies, the typical girls that latched onto us everywhere we went. I have the bad habit of shouting people drinks but I didn’t know the bartender had slipped something in their champagnes and well…you know what happens.”

I choose my words carefully. “You didn’t murder them.”

Okay, dumb choice of words.

“I fucked Janet, the blonde. I didn’t know she had taken anything and I didn’t know she would go for a swim in the ocean in the middle of the night.”

It hurt, though I asked and could not blame him for sharing this with me.

“And Farrah?”

He lets out a groan. “What about her?”

“You know what”—I stretch my head, kissing his lips—“I don’t want to know.”

“Good, because I don’t want to waste another moment discussing her.”

The exhaustion begins to creep in and my eyelids become so heavy that I cannot keep them open nor carry a conversation. My limbs feel like jelly, and slowly—I fall asleep.

My eyes open wide as a noise wakes me from my deep sleep. Wesley is snoring softly beside me. The noise is voices, a few of them, coming from outside. I nudge Wesley softly, which prompts him to roll over. I call his name, shaking him to wake up.

He finally reacts, annoyed as I tell him there’s voices outside. Without saying a word, he gets out of bed and places a robe on, leaving the room. I’m utterly exhausted, worried, though trying to keep my eyes open. Again, my eyes open wide when Wesley kisses my lips.

“The voices,” I croak.

“Shh,” he whispers, “I’ll take care of it.”