“It’s very charming. I imagine the view is spectacular out the back.”
“Oh, it is,” I said. “We can sit out there after we’ve eaten dinner. It’s lovely to see the lighthouse shining over the water even if it’s a bit chilly. We can bring a blanket.”
“Let’s do that then.” He spoke right up against my neck, pressing into me from behind. I could feel the hard length of his whole body. His impressive erection solidly against my arse, too. This attraction with Caleb was crazy.
Insanely. Wickedly. Crazy.
But, care—I did not. Not anymore. How could I have ignored the man? He had wooed me. I didn’t believe he had wooed me for sex, either. My experience was limited, but it didn’t feel like I was a conquest to him. Caleb was different in that way.
The key in the lock to my front door finally gave in to my attentions and turned. As it fell open, Caleb pressed us both forward. I heard bags dropping onto the floor along with my keys and the flowers—and then I was swallowed up by Caleb. I was lifted by strong arms that knew how to hold my body with care as he propped me up against the wall, and pushed in between my legs.
“Aaahhh,” I moaned when I felt the press of his cock against my clit. I was already moving my hips against him, desperately needing him inside. “Please, Caleb . . . I—I want you.”
“Sweet music to my ears, baby.” He slipped two fingers inside my knickers and started swirling them over my sensitive flesh. “Oh, fuck, you’re ready,” he said harshly before setting me down to stand on my own. “I have to put this on first.” He brought a condom packet out from his trouser pocket and shook it lightly back and forth.
I snatched it out of his hand and ripped it open. “Give me your cock.” I was all business in my request. Which was: give it to me now, Caleb.
He got the message. Thank. God.
Caleb had his zipper open and his cock presented to me in under two seconds. I could feel him watching me as I sheathed the part of him that would be deep inside me in another moment and gathered he was enjoying the show. I was all about efficiency, hurrying to finish my task. His hands were up my dress while I toiled with the condom, already tugging down my knickers and working them out over one boot, lest we waste time. I didn’t want to know why he was so skilled at the mechanics of sex, just grateful for his forward thinking.
I was lifted a second time, my back stationed flat to the wall, my legs split wide by his hips. I felt his hard shaft at my belly and nearly sobbed at the awareness of him so close. He was so big, consuming, and perfectly lovely. “Oh, God,” I groaned as he positioned the tip at my entrance and impaled me deep.
“Fuck, it’s good. You feel—” He lost the rest of his words as he dropped his mouth to mine and kissed me with the same zealous abandon he was giving me down below with his thrusting cock. It went on and on, both of us frantic and wild. Lost in the movements—seeking the blissful end of release. He pulled his mouth away and stared into my eyes as we fucked. It’s never been like this. It was beautiful and savage—it was filthy and precious. I willed my climax to take me because it all became too much, too close, too wonderful to process. “I want you to come all over my cock, baby. Go ahead.” His fingers found their way to my clit again and started circling. “Say my name, Brooke,” he said, his neck muscles straining from holding me up with only one arm.
I let go and felt myself fall over the edge into paradise . . . on the whisper of his name. “Caaleeeeb.” A whisper was all I could manage, because he wasn’t finished. He was watching me, and I was glad for it because I knew the look of ecstasy on my face had been formed by him. It was his handiwork.
I enjoyed watching the expression of pure pleasure appear when he came about a minute later.
He kissed me for a long time, our bodies merged up against the wall until it was time to surface back into reality.
Reality was an annoying bastard sometimes.
“BROOKE can cook,” he said with his signature smirk, totally sweet and pleased with his little rhyming verse. He also seemed pleased with the French bread pizza I’d thrown together as we sat across from one another, the pretty flowers he’d brought me perking up in a vase of water between us.
“Yes, well it becomes a necessary skill when you live alone.”
“I live alone and I can’t cook,” he said.
“Yes, but you have the luxury of employing someone to cook for you, or do you eat out all the time?”
“I eat out about half of the time and usually because I’m traveling. When I’m not traveling, I like to stay at home as much as possible, which is probably the case with most people who have to travel a lot for work. You crave what you don’t have. Ann, my housekeeper slash cook, makes meals for me and freezes them with instructions, or if I tell her in advance, she’ll have something ready for me when I get home. Isaac is her husband, and they live in the same building on the floor below mine.”
The relationship was clear in my mind between Caleb and his staff. I saw it when he spoke to Nan. Respect. He didn’t see himself above Ann and Isaac, and seemed to appreciate their involvement in his world. I couldn’t help wonder if some of that had come from having Nan in his life. She was a strong woman, and although she would have known her place, she would have had a firm but loving hand with Caleb and his siblings. Of that I was certain. But I was curious now that I had access to this delectable man.
“What is your family like?”
He obliged me and seemed not to mind. I could tell Caleb loved his family with every word he spoke.
“My father was JW, John William, and he died of stomach cancer last year after a long battle.” I could see the strain in his expression as he held back his grief. I understood that all too well. “I took over his business interests when he got sick. My mother is Madelaine, formerly Lafarge, an old Boston family, before she married my dad. I’m the oldest, and I have two brothers and two sisters. My brothers are twenty months younger than me and identical twins: Wyatt and Lucas. Lucas is the one who lives here on the island year-round. He’s a game designer and created iInVidiosa, if that name rings a bell for you. He knew exactly who you were when I asked him who the girl named Brooke, living on the island with her grandmother, with an English accent, was.” He winked at me.
“Why does that not surprise me a bit? Your stalking tendencies at work.”
“His twin, Wyatt, lives in New York City and keeps pretty quiet about his activities. I think he doesn’t want our mom to know how he makes his money.”
“How does he make his money?” I asked.
“I suspect it might be in the video entertainment sector. Read that as soft porn, or the stuff they show in hotels. I can safely say he just owns the distribution companies, and is not involved in the production of films.” He drew one hand through his hair as if he was fidgeting. “I think. I’m not sure I really want to know.”