Blasphemous (Torn #3)(8)
Bass was relentless and had no care in the world. “It’s just us here. Now, be nice and smile for the camera.” He was pushing us towards the blanket until we were sitting on it. “Now say, Bass, I’m crazy about you.”
Seriously? I could do better than that. I bit my lip, blushing profusely, but instead of looking into the camera, I sought his eyes. “I love you.”
He made a guttural sound while shoving the phone to the side, kissing me whilst laughing like we were teenagers. “You’ve made me the happiest man on the planet.” He then planted kisses all over my face. “I’m so relieved to let that off my chest. I thought I was going to suffocate with it. I couldn’t hold off any longer.”
“I’m glad that’s out. I was going batty with it, too,” I managed to say before he devoured my lips again. He started to decline his body until his back hit the blanket.
“Beautiful,” he murmured as his eyes roved over me. “Ride my face, moro mou. I want to worship you with my tongue.”
His hands were holding my hips as I lowered myself against his lips. His hot tongue snaked out, focusing on my sensitive core before he sucked on it, groaning like a famished man. I was biting my lip as I watched him, watching me. Without breaking our gaze, his hands went behind my butt cheeks, gripping them with his fingers as he gently rocked it against his hungry mouth. It felt weird, but good.
“Stop thinking and just enjoy it, moro mou.”
This time when he pushed me down on his mouth, his tongue stabbed inside my wet channel, making me gasp for more. I felt myself get wetter as he grounded in between my hips and I endured the fierce lashings of his tongue. My hips started to move slowly, gradually, as my senses centered on one place. His tongue and the magic it brought out of my body... I threw my head back when the motion became faster. The more I became frenzied, the harder his ministrations became. The heavy knotting of my womb was intense as my body prepared for release.
“Bass,” I yelled as my face burned from the heat of the sun and from the heat my body was generating this instant. I bellowed his name into the sky when his fingers roughly tugged on my nipples, opening the gates to my ecstasy.
With a shaky body, I slid off him and rolled onto my back, exhausted. I was panting wildly when Bass decided to whisper into my ear. “You look so beautifully wild and impassioned.”
Gazing up to the man who made me believe again, I felt content, happy and satisfied with him. Out here, just the two of us, with our love and our laughter. I wanted us to stay like this, forever. “You’ve turned me into a sex fiend, Bass. Always aching and throbbing for you.”
“It throbs because I don’t give your cunt time to recover after orgasms. Usually, it takes a couple of days to heal, but I don’t give you that concession. I need it wanting, throbbing and pulsing as it awaits my return.”
I smacked the side of his head with my bikini top. “God, you’re so cocky. Don’t you ever get tired?”
“Hey! Don’t condemn the person who only speaks the truth.”
“Are you insinuating that my vagina is a Basswhore?”
“Only whore to me and no other man’s, Emma.”
“Yep, you are cocky, indeed.”
The rest of the afternoon, we spent eating, swimming and enjoying each other’s company. He even brought one of his aged paperback collections. Reading me A Lemon by Pablo Neruda, delivering it with no staccato.
He preferred the musky scented prints instead of the brand new ones or the e-readers. He even told me that every time he’s in Paris, he usually spent a lot of it in bookstores. Bass was a deep person and, at times, his passionate nature still surprised me. I wasn’t sure if it was the European way of schooling, but I noticed how Dimitris, Taylor and Bass discussed Puccini like it was a normal pastime. For the life of me, I couldn’t picture the guys in my school, like Cooper or Brody, talking about anything other than sports and women.
Just before sundown, we started to pack up to leave this memorable island, but before hopping back on the speedboat, I unceremoniously gave him a hug. “Thank you for this amazing date, Bass. I will never forget this.”
Or lemons for that matter.
From here on out, each time I see a lemon, I will be forever reminded of him and this treasured memory.
Chapter 4
A week later…
“Love involves a peculiar unfathomable combination of understanding and misunderstanding.”
-Diane Arbus
Emma
I suppose things were just running too sweet around here, I should’ve expected little waves of arguments between us, but I didn’t and haven’t thought of it because I was in my happy place. However, I was wrong about the little waves because what was coming towards me wasn’t little, it was a blasted, f*uking tsunami.
I was in the kitchen, trying to open a bottle of wine, when Bass slammed papers on the counter. Images of Carter and me in the British Museum were printed out in some magazine article headlined New Actress Takes A Break Filming Blasphemous to be with Long Time Beau. Bass looked at me with murder in his eyes, nose flaring, ready to attack. “You’re a great actress, Emma. I give credit where credit’s due. You even had me fooled.”
Oh, f*uk. Dropping the metal opener in shock, I started to reason with him. “Bass, this is not what it looks like. I swear to you! Carter surprised me when he wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. That picture—it’s not—I wasn’t happy about it. These photos are deceiving.”