Chin up, shoulders back, gait confident. Even if my nerves were skittering around, making my heart flutter in my chest, my stomach flip-flop around.
What version of Fenway was going to be taking me on an outing today?
And where the heck were we going?
Maybe the better move would have been to say I was staying home, enjoying the beach and pool.
But what can I say? I wanted to see Indonesia. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I wanted to take all I could get from this experience.
“You look ravishing, darling,” Fenway greeted, waiting for me in absurd, but somehow charming, pink chino shorts with some sort of tiny blue print on them and a white tee.
“What the hell is on your shorts?” I asked, moving closer.
“Well, you could get on your knees and check it out,” he suggested, tone doing that deep, sexy, serious thing again.
The two parts of Fenway I had come to know were starting to blend together more. Which was going to be problematic for me. Because a part of me was starting to like the easy-going and absurd Fenway. The other part was sex-throbbingly obsessed with the idea of screwing the alpha, cocky, serious side of him.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I said, adopting an old, trusty persona. The cool, collected sex kitten. My voice purred, my body swayed, sashayed, moving closer, near enough that our bodies almost touched. Almost. My fingertip touched the hem of his shorts, tracing slowly upward, making sure to tease in at the last moment, gliding up his zipper. “I’ve already gotten all I need from you,” I told him, claiming the pool event as my own, taking the power back. “Now,” I said, pulling away when I was sure his cock was hard again against his shorts, “Where are you taking me today?”
I could tell by the pained look on his face that I had just won an important battle.
And just like I planned, the playboy Fenway followed after me like a puppy dog.
Considering Alvy had no part in arranging the day, Fenway had set up something pretty memorable.
We started the morning at The Sacred Monkey Sanctuary, seeing families of monkeys, giant stone statues, the breathtaking greenery.
Fenway stopped me frequently, insisting it was the perfect spot for a photo op, then taking pictures all from good angles. And it was right in those moments that I remembered how nice it was to travel with someone else, to share the experiences, to get lost in a new area, a new way of life, to catalog those memories for when you are old and your memory was getting spotty.
“That was great,” I admitted as we climbed back in his waiting car. I was even getting used to being driven around which, at first, had felt very awkward and unnecessary.
“How about a trip to the market?” he asked, as if I would turn it down.
“Don’t we need to stop somewhere to get money? What kind of money do they use in Indonesia? I don’t imagine a place referred to as a ‘market’ takes credit cards, right?”
“Rupiah is the type of money. It’s very colorful,” he informed me, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a giant wad of cash held together with a silver manatee clip. “And I keep a stash of it at the house in case of situations just like this. Now, you are not going to deny me the pleasure of buying you some happy, are you?”
“Happiness can’t be bought. At least not in a lasting way. But far be it from me to turn down a little temporary happy,” I added, enjoying the smile he shot me a little bit too much.
“I’m softening you up, aren’t I, darling?”
“Don’t be silly, darling,” I said, patting his thigh. Did I pat him unfairly, torturously high on his thigh? I sure as hell did. And he sure as hell felt it, judging by the indrawn breath that I pretended not to notice. In fact, I pretended not to notice where my hand touched as well, my gaze out the window.
Fenway wasn’t quite ready to let me get away with it, though.
His arm landed across my shoulders, pulling me into his side. His lips moved down near my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver over my skin.
“You and I both know you haven’t gotten everything you truly want from me, darling,” he told me, voice low. “You’re not going to be satisfied until I’m buried deep inside you. Until you come around my cock multiple times. Even then, I suspect, it won’t be enough. Play your games, pretty girl, but we both know where this ends.”
With that, he released me, reaching for his door, pulling it open, making me realize we had somehow gotten to the market and parked without me noticing.
Yes, that was the effect Fenway had on me.