Lost in La La Land(44)

When his fingers massaged their way to my nipples, I inhaled sharply.

This was the official point of no return.

I lifted my hands, hurrying to take his uniform off, stripping him of his jacket and shirt and even undoing his pants. We paused, me naked and him partway there, both trembling and unsure of who would make the next move.

It was him.

He lifted me in the air, carrying me to his bed, and laying me down so gently but with such desperation. He kissed my stomach as he dragged off the rest of his clothes until he too was completely naked.

I glanced up, curious as to what sort of man the captain was.

He was much larger than Jonathan in build and everywhere else. His body was smooth and lean, perfect really.

I slid up the bed as he climbed atop it, hovering over me. My mind wandered over things like foreplay and protection and everything else I imagined would be a modern idea of sex.

Our eyes met and all the thoughts and questions faded. I reached up, cupping his face in my hands and pulling him down to me, to lie beside me. The warmth of our bodies made me shiver as I forced him on his back, kissing him with passion. My tongue brushed his lips as I led him into a much more desperate kiss. As his tongue entered my mouth, he pressed me into him and rolled me onto my back, sliding his hands up my torso to my breasts, cupping and massaging.

His lips traveled, leaving mine and adventuring along my neck and chest, joining his hand in caressing my breast. When his warm mouth landed on a nipple I inhaled sharply, tensing and remembering the feeling of a man touching me.

He suckled and flicked, rubbed and teased, until my entire body felt like it might explode. Then, with his cock bobbing between us, he hovered over me again, spreading my legs wide and pushing himself inside me.

It was all too much for a moment, too filling, too heavy, too satisfying.

I clawed at him, grabbing his muscled arms, feeling them tense as he pulled back and pushed into me again, making moaning breaths burst from me.

He bent his head down, kissing me violently as he continued to slide in and out of me, pushing me too far.

My fingers dug into his arms and back as we joined, coupled with each other. Every long rhythmic stroke of him built more and more pressure in my body as our breath turned ragged and our need for pleasure drove us to move in and out of one another in grinding and rotating bliss.

I clung to him, desperately lost in the waves of pleasure that rocked me, me being the ship and he the captain.

When the pleasure climaxed, my body took over, tilting slightly as I reached around, grabbing his ass and pulling him into me, forcing a speed I needed.

I orgasmed violently, clinging to every inch of him.

He cried out, exploding inside me, groaning and gripping me, pinning me to him and him to me, pressing me into the mattress and yet lifting at the same time.

The violence of our affections cooled as we collapsed, both struggling to breathe and find space without leaving the sanctity of the moment.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, not even sure that was the right word.

“Indeed, my lady. Indeed.” He pressed a sweaty kiss against my neck and groaned again.

My brain made an attempt at firing a thousand questions off but my heart swelled, pushing them back.

There was no need to think, everything about this was perfect.





Chapter Twenty


During the first week of the men working on the house, I filled my ten hours of monitoring Lana by checking on her randomly as Mr. Daley and I went over plans. She spent the first shift in the machine and I spent the nights. Far more was expected of me with the reno than I’d been prepared for.

“This website is a good one. They have tons of decorating ideas. If you keep pressing ‘Pin It,’ it’ll build pages of ideas. Good for referencing.” Mr. Daley clicked on the word “save” on the picture of a beautiful rug I’d mentioned I liked.

“Okay, that makes sense. This one’s nice.” I pointed at the screen.

“Click ‘save.’ You have to know how to do this so you can get it done when I’m not here.”

“Okay.” I clicked it and tried not to take offense to the tone with which he spoke all the time. He was impatient.

“How are you finding the work being done?”

“Good. Your men work very fast and hard. It’s impressive to see.”

“That they do.” Mr. Daley laughed almost bitterly. “They wouldn't be my men if they didn't. Jobs are hard to find around here. The economy’s in the toilet, so I’m able to be picky.”

“And as a paying customer I appreciate that,” I remarked, also laughing.

“Well, enough of this chatter and wasting time, I need to get back to work. So you keep scrolling through these sites. You need to create a page, just like I showed you for each room. The decorator will help with a lot of choices and getting us the best prices once he knows what we’re looking for.” He got up and nodded his hatted head at me before leaving the grungy kitchen table.

We spent weeks this way—me, the website, and Mr. Daley’s constant reminders to finish choosing décor for each room.

Even when I thought I had finished one, I would find something better. The sites that Mr. Daley had shown me were all easy to use and the pages I built on the Pinterest for each room were overly stocked with modern and beachy décor.

I recalled the thing Jonathan had said once about our house when we were fixing it up: he would finish it in a way that made him think he was in the Hamptons.