Page 33 of Hotwife
I stomped my foot in frustration, coming up with no other alternative. The longer I stood here, the higher the chance that Eva would stick her neck out the door or look through a window at the noise.
“God, you’re so immature!” I stomped again.
“Gotta work on those insults, sweetheart. Still been called worse.” He extended my helmet, and I yanked it away, tugging it on.
With a huff, I tossed my container of muffins into the grass and hopped on the motorcycle. The close contact, feeling him between my thighs and pressed against my breasts, sent a jolt of warmth through my whole body. I ached for this man and I’d tried to ignore it, ignore him, for over a week now.
Kicking up a cloud of dirt behind us, Desmond shot off into the street. Over my shoulder, the mansion disappeared, and I sighed a small breath of relief.
* * *
Wind tangled my hair as we rode, the roar of the motorcycle engine frightening away my anxieties. It was the first time I’d exhaled a true breath of calm in weeks. That was wrong, because Cedric and I were turning over a new leaf, starting fresh, I should be kicking and screaming at my abduction from my meeting. But I wasn’t. A small part of me was excited, hopeful, and impossibly turned on.
I never knew what Des was going to do next. The unpredictability was thrilling.
My explorations of the Seattle area hadn’t taken me far outside the city. The thick, looming redwoods and lush green mosses carried a scent and feeling like none other. Like I had been transported to another planet. I know I teased Desmond about riding a motorcycle in one of the rainiest places in the world, but suddenly I understood it. The freedom from thought, emotion, and the connection to the land while riding a bike were unparalleled.
We curved through a narrow clearing and over a bumpy wooden bridge before stopping on a white, sandy beach in the middle of nowhere. Dismounting, I pulled off my helmet and surveyed our surroundings. The beach was small and enclosed, with overshadowing black rocks on either side. It looked dark and spooky in its gloom and vacancy.
We were alone except for an old man with a long white beard who waved when he saw us.
“Okay, I guess this is really where you kill me,” I muttered.
Des put a firm hand on my lower back and waved back. “Do you trust me, Queen?”
The question shook me in an unexpected way, though I knew what the resounding answer darting through my mind was. “Yes.”
He smiled, dark and sexy. His black hair hung down and free and his stubbled face was a shade darker than the last time I saw him. My hand acted of its own free will and reached up to rub his jaw. “Are you growing this out?” I asked softly.
His palm covered my knuckles, and he leaned into my touch in the most tender gesture I’d ever received from him. My heart expanded at the sight of it.
“If you like it, I am,” he replied fondly before ushering me forward. “Come on, I’ve got a surprise for you before it starts raining again.”
Anticipation bubbled in my body as we walked down to where the elderly gentleman stood. “Mac, it’s good to see you, sir.” Desmond gave the man a hug, towering over him yet being gentle in his squeeze.
“Des, old boy. It’s always a pleasure. You must be Dorthea,” the man said turning his attention to me. “I’m Mac Keller. And I’ve got everything ready for you two.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I replied unsure.
“What’s ready?” I whispered at Des but he ignored me. He thanked his old friend and Mac slowly puttered down the beach.
Desmond nodded over my shoulder. “That.”
Spinning around, my stomach leapt into my throat. “I don’t know how to do that…” Yet as always with Des, excitement burned within me, and I didn’t refuse. “Is it hard?”
“Nah, it’s as easy as painting your nails,” he responded, walking past me.
I trailed behind, happy I’d dressed casually for Eva’s today, in tailored black jeans that outlined my curves and a silk button-up blouse and flats. “Sounds like you know from experience,” I teased, smiling at Desmond’s answering chuckle.
We stopped at our destination, and a strange silence lingered between us. It was so easy being with him. It was like we’d known each other our whole lives. I felt whole with Desmond. He deserved more than me just ignoring him because I didn’t know what to say. “Des, I’m sorry.”
“We need to get moving,” he cut me off, taking my hand and helping me in. “You sit up front, I’ll take the back,” he instructed. I sat, my knees up near my chest. I gripped my paddle. Before I could protest, Desmond launched me with all of his strength forward into the shallow water. The back dipped slightly at Desmond’s weight as he jumped on into the back seat.
An overly girly yelp escaped my throat, followed by giggling. Fear that I’d flip over soon subsided as the kayak felt sturdier then it looked. I paddled forward, feeling Des’s strong presence behind me, his legs on either side of my waist. We were going deeper, leaving the shallows of the shoreline behind.
I could be in any deep, dark waters and feel safe with him. And that was scaring me more than the shadowy ocean.
“Just up here,” he instructed, and I paddled in time with his, though I got the feeling he was doing most of the work. Suddenly, he put a hand on my shoulder and sat his paddle flat so I followed suit.