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“What are you doing here, Laura?” he asked bluntly. “Not really your scene, is it?”
“I was on the beach. I saw you come in here and I thought…I might as well…since I’ve still got your sunglasses…”
“You can keep them,” he said unsmilingly. “With my compliments.”
She leaned her bottom back on the windowsill and thrust out her chest in its green wet-look bikini top. “I’ve been looking out for you,” she said softly. She stretched one leg out in front of her, flexing her ankle in his direction.
“And now you’ve found me. You can stop looking.”
“Are you going to disappear on me again?”
“Laura…” He unfolded his arms in exasperation and came to sit near her, on the bed. “I’m not sure what you want from me, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t anything I can offer.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” she told him, edging her foot near his, so that her bare toes brushed his big black boots. “Except what you want to give.”
“Well, that’s just as well. Because I’m not somebody you can take home to Dad. Especially your Dad.”
“I don’t want that. I don’t want walks along the beach. I just want your body.”
The direct approach had never failed Laura, and she could see from his involuntary reactions that she was on to something here.
He laughed disbelievingly. “Laura, you’ve got balls as well as beauty, but all the same…”
“I like that!” she beamed at him, running her toes up his boot to where it turned into tight leather wrapped around his calf. “Balls as well as beauty. Can I quote that in my portfolio letter of introduction?”
“Quote away,” he said, grabbing her ankle in one hand. “I can see that you are used to getting everything you want, Miss Trewin, am I right?”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head,” she said, letting him lift her ankle and place it on his lap, where he proceeded to massage her sandy foot and coral-pink-painted toes. “When I want something, I see that I get it. I like shiny things, Rocky. Cars and diamonds and Jimmy Choos are lovely, of course, but my favourite thing of all is a cock that’s hard for me. Like this one here.”
She ground her heel into his crotch and the leather strained in a way that made her want to whoop with joy.
And then his hand closed around her ankle and yanked, hard and fast, pulling her into a stumble, and before she knew it she was pinned to the horrible nylon bedspread by her wrists while Rocky crouched over her, straddling her hips, a spray of his black hair tickling her face.
“Be careful what you wish for, Laura.” The words, so commonplace, were like a dirty caress, an irresistible threat. “You might just get what’s coming to you.”
“Oh, I hope so,” she hissed, baring her teeth to show him combat held no fears for her. “I suppose you think you can show me how it’s done, do you?”
“I know I can, sweetheart. The question is, can you take it?”
Laura exerted every iota of her strength to try and extricate herself from his grasp, but he held her in place with offensive ease, grinning and laughing at her efforts, until he simply let go and held his hands in the air, shuffling back down her legs so that she could, should she want to, remove them too. But she didn’t want to!
“Walk away, Laura,” he said. “My livelihood and your relationship with your Dad are a lot to risk for an impulse fuck. I’m not worth it, and neither are you. Go back to the beach.”
He had done it now. Now she was going to have to have him, no matter what.
She reared up like a striking cobra and hooked her arm around his neck, wrestling him into a tearing, searing kiss, hanging on for grim death while he tried to dislodge her, but his efforts were half-hearted at best, and within seconds he was pushing his tongue against hers, taking bruising great fistfuls of her hips and bum, pummelling his captive cock against the knot of her sarong, and then it was undone and flung over the side, leaving her in her thong bikini, loving the feel of his hot leathery legs against her bare sun-lotioned thighs.
The punishing kiss continued through the plundering of her bikini cups and the thrust of his hand down the front of her briefs; he carried on gagging her with his tongue while his thumbs worked deftly on her clit or nipples or both. She scrunched her fingers up on his chest and arms and shoulders, rubbing herself against his trouser crotch in blatant invitation. She was going to come soon, so soon, and she wanted to get his tongue out of her mouth to tell him so, but he was remorseless in his invasion of her inner spaces. She began to whimper into his mouth, to push at his face, to pull his hair, then finally, when none of this worked, she bit down on his lower lip, hard.
“Fuck! Ouch!” he bellowed, putting his hand to his lip, where she had drawn blood. “You little hellcat!”
“I thought you’d forgotten I was a person. I thought you thought I was lunch,” she reproached.
“You are my fucking lunch,” he growled, flipping her down on her back and ripping off her bikini bottoms.
“Get those trousers off!” she urged, since by now it was making her sweat just looking at them, and the icky nylon against her skin was exacerbating it all by a factor of a hundred. “You must be boiling!”
“Thought you’d never ask,” he muttered, peeling them carefully down over legs that reminded Laura of the Greek God sculpture she saw on the school trip to Athens that time. As she remembered, the God’s cock was surprisingly disappointing – not in this case though. Apollo, or whoever it was, had nothing on Rocky the Rider.
“I want that.” She pointed at it, as if she were a kid in a sweetshop and his staunch member a jar of bullseyes. Bull’s somethings, at any rate.
He flung off his T-shirt and hunkered down over her, too close – she wanted him a little further away, so she could get a good eyeful of all that masculine gloriousness.
“How much do you want it?”
Oh, he was a bastard! But her kind of bastard. One who could stand up to her.
She reached down and wrapped the fingers of her right hand around it, giving it a squeeze, testing it for resilience. It passed the test.
“As much as this wants me,” she countered. “Which, by the feel of it, is quite a lot.”
“I bet you click your fingers and the boys come running,” he said, and there was dislike in his tone, but that just turned her on even more. He couldn’t help himself. Resistance was futile when Goldsands’ own Helen of Troy had set her sights on you. Laura demanded his allegiance, craved his worship. She had him by the cock already – the affection and all that could come later.
“That’s right, Rocky,” she smiled. “But I send them away. I don’t want boys. I want a man. You’re a man, aren’t you?”
His words caught and mutated in his throat; he opted instead to swan dive on to a breast and suckle at it, harshly but sweetly.
“If you’re a man, Rocky,” she pursued, “prove it. Prove you’ve got what it takes to satisfy me. Because I’ll let you into a secret – I’ve never had an orgasm during sex. Never. Not once. Not in the six years since I popped my cherry. I want one sooo badly, Rocky. I really want to come with a hard cock inside me, I really want to, soooo badly…”
He surrendered with an almighty moan, bucking upright once more, lifting her thighs to angle her pussy then plunging with one sweet, smooth swordstroke inside.
He was hers, now, hers for the taking, and every particle of her body sang with victorious joy. Call that a fight? Call that resistance? Pathetic effort, Rocky – you are as weak as the rest of them. Just better-looking, oh, and doesn’t that make the difference.
“Go on, make me come,” she goaded, echoing the ‘Make me, make me’ with every thrust until he was almost crazy with determination. Sweat dripped from his brow to hers while his fingerprints formed bruisemarks wherever they pressed flesh – shoulders, hips, buttocks. His cock lammed and slammed until the room was steamy humid and filled with the wet slapping sound of the vigorous and salutory fucking he was giving her. She sucked it up, lapped it up, loving the violence, loving the aggression, loving the adversarial brutality of it, glorying in the chafing and the rawness.
The broken bedsprings creaked and groaned, the headboard whacked against the wall, his fingertips pushed her button and her bell began to ring, clanging, discordant, shrill, but oh god, yes, he was making her, he was making her…
“Go on, come,” snarled Rocky, “come good and hard.”
Laura yelled and thrashed beneath him, almost entirely melted away, crushed down into an essence of orgasm. Her surrender spurred him towards his crisis and he emptied into her with a roar, rammed right up to the hilt until he had ridden it through.
They lay gasping beneath the flyblown window, unable to move or speak until their breathing quietened and they could hear the mechanical jingling music of the beach carousel outside again.
“You asked for that,” he said, flopping on to his back and staring up at the ceiling.
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