I was also grateful for his reaction to my virginity. Really, I had been sexually active for years and it had felt wrong to misled Sinclair by labeling myself a novice. But I was also loath to validate those sexual experiences, the hands and face and acts of a man who had used me for years. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the tiles, letting the water sluice down my head and back. Was it foolish to believe that Sinclair could erase those memories? I could still feel his hands on my skin so it was easy to believe in their potential power to eradicate all touches before them.
Regardless, I had five more days with the man, and ignoring the shadow of foresight at the corner of my bliss, I vowed to enjoy every moment of it.
When I arrived in the lobby ten minutes later, Sinclair was frowning at the screen of his Blackberry. I stopped for a minute to study him, the way his gleaming chestnut hair fell over his forehead and the deliciously narrow set of his hips. He looked up suddenly, straightening to his full height as if he was a hunter that had just scented his prey. The look that sparked in his blue eyes was just as feral, triumphant. If I could have teared my eyes away from the sight of him, I would have checked to make sure no one was staring. As he stalked towards me, I could feel my heartbeat kick up and the absurd desire to flee seized me.
“Hi,” I breathed when he came to a stop just before me. I had to tilt my head to continue looking into his vivid gaze, the only windows into his otherwise inscrutable expression.
“Hello, yourself.” One of his fingers smoothed down my neck, tickling the heavy beat of my pulse there. “Nervous?”
My laugh was unusually shrill but I rolled my shoulders and forced myself to relax. This was a man that had just been inside me; why the hell was I behaving like an awkward stranger?
Sinclair’s eyes narrowed and his fingers threaded through my hair and tugged until my head was forced back and he towered over me. “Tell me what is going on behind those grays, Elle, or I’ll take you over my knee and we can forget all about the surprise adventure.”
A shiver of excitement raced up my spine and I bit my lip at the thought of being spread over his lap, exposed like I had been last night. He must have felt the shudder and his brows rose in silent question but I shook my head.
“I don’t know why but I feel shy around you this morning,” I said.
His head tilted as he studied me, his fingers now firmly massaging my scalp. Each stroke of his fingers released one of the knots of tension pinching my shoulders together.
“We are no longer strangers but we aren’t lovers yet, not after one night. Normally, this might be awkward but not for us, not when I own you.” He marked the downward quirk of my mouth and responded with a sharp tug on the roots of my hair. “You are embarrassed because you liked it, being taken by a stranger, being ordered to come.”
I shifted restlessly on my sandaled feet as liquid desire pooled between my legs.
A slight smirk tilted his lips as he leaned forward to speak against my lips. “Are you wet now, Elle? Just from hearing my voice?”
I groaned, unwilling to admit the power he held over me.
A couple passed by us, talking happily as they dragged their suitcases into the lobby. The man, a short, older gentleman with a thick helmet of grey hair, turned to us sharply and his nostrils flared as if he could smell me. Sinclair turned his head slightly to stare at him and used his free hand to tug my bottom until I was pressed against him. The grey haired stranger smiled and winked at me before patting his own partner’s bum affectionately.
When he was gone, I tried to push Sinclair away. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
His grip was firm and the lines o
f his body against mine were made of steel. I wanted to rub up against him like a cat, scratch him and nuzzle him until he stroked me.
Somehow, he had read my thoughts. “I can do whatever I want to you. The night you agreed to our holiday affair, you knowingly entered into my world.”
I briefly remembered his words, “You belong to me for the next six days,” and my anxiety upped another notch.
I licked my parched lips. “That doesn’t sound very fair.”
“No,” he mused. “It isn’t. No mortal man should hold a siren in his arms, but you’ve given me the opportunity of a life time.”
My heart tapped a quick dance against my rib cage, delighted and surprised by his poetry but as I watched his eyes darken, the beat moved lower, pulsing now in my belly.
“I want to push you, Elle, see how far I can take you. By day seven, you’ll be begging for me to take you in ways you can’t even imagine now.”
I gasped, my mind racing with possibilities. I was so preoccupied that I almost stumbled when he suddenly pulled away from me. He frowned at me, catching my hand and winding it around his arm.
“Sore?” he asked and though there was no hint of emotion in his beautiful profile, he sounded a little amused, maybe even smug.
I blushed and tried to take my hand from him. “Not a bit.”
Unable to even wriggle under his strong fingers, I sighed and allowed myself to be pulled outside the main doors to the front of the resort. The same long black car from the night before idled in front of us. Sinclair opened the door for me to slip in so that I faced him, backwards to the momentum of the car. He was quiet for the duration of the drive, his eyes on the glowing screen of his phone as he read emails and conducted business but I was glad for the quiet.
I rested my head against the plush seat and stared out at the blurring colors of Los Cabos slipping by. My camera was strapped across my body and without hesitation, I swung it into my hands to snap the abstract smear of Mexican scenery.
We stopped at a light beside a bus station where a young woman, only a few years younger than me, slouched against a pole, a soft roll of brown belly exposed by her small white shirt and tight blue jeans. Her skin was dewy with sweat and her slightly unkempt hair stuck to the dampness between her breasts. She stared at me insolently with large eyes the color of molasses and when I raised my camera to capture her strangely erotic sloth, her pale tongue poked out and caught a bead of sweat caught in the downy hairs above her top lip. My shutter clicked and my heart palpitated with triumph as the car pulled into the traffic a second later. I recalled the photograph to the screen of my Canon and found exactly that moment of lazy sex, her belly exposed, sweaty breasts plumped up. I wasn’t sure if I would have normally found sexiness in the image, in the girl, but the darker recesses of my mind were cracking open. I wondered how many different kinds of sultry there were, how many types of sex and fantasy.