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Amy emerged from the water to the sight of the full moon glistening over the endless volcanic sand. The bright illumination shone on her honey-blonde hair, and she brushed her fingers through it to separate the wet strands. The day of travelling had left her tired, and the warm water eased her aching muscles that had been cramped by the budget flight. This was her first holiday in many years because aspiring writers didn’t tend to have the money to travel. Nor dancers in a gentlemen's club, forced to work just to make ends meet. But it wasn't as bad a job as it sounded because she was well protected. Her uncle ran it and made sure she was sheltered from the seedier side of the profession. She enjoyed the dancing side, it was her second passion after writing. Her uncle, Stephen, paid for this holiday to Lanzarote as a twenty-first birthday present. Ever since her parents died in a car crash two years ago, he’d looked out for her. He was the only family she had left, and she respected him and trusted him implicitly.
She took a towel and wrapped it around her body, the aroma of the freshly caught fish being cooked in town was everywhere and made her mouth water in anticipation. She decided on a small tavern which was filled with more locals than tourists. She wasn't big on the mass-market tourism of the island and preferred places of culture and history, but as the holiday was a gift, she couldn't refuse it. She ordered the grilled catch of the day with salad and a glass of the local La Geria wine. As she watched the sun slowly set over the shimmering waves, the tension in her shoulders began to dissipate.
When she had finished her delicious meal, Amy ordered another glass of wine and pulled out a little notebook from her bag to begin writing down some of the details of the island so far. She liked to bring her personal experiences into her writing. She wanted to get everything noted down, in case she should need it for future stories.
She’d just finished a passage on the chaotic wait for her luggage at the airport when an uneasy tingling warmed her skin, as though she were being watched. Looking up, she met the alluring sky blue eyes of a man sitting across the room. Had he just arrived? Or how had she not noticed him previously? He too was sitting alone with a glass of wine for company. Upon making eye-contact, she couldn't help but blush. He was exquisitely handsome. He’d a rugged, yet, smart look; a defined jawline; and short dark hair, which he ran his fingers through as he watched her. The top few buttons of his blue linen shirt were undone and revealed a muscular upper body, which oozed a primal masculinity. His stare was intense, and she felt herself being drawn into it even more. When his lip twitched at her blatantly checking him out, she pushed the other chair at her table out with her gladiator-sandalled foot and looked up. She smiled at him with a cheeky grin, masking her excitement. For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to move, but then, he got to his feet. Even the way he walked was sexy. She was glad she was sitting down as her legs felt like jelly at his presence. He took a seat and held his hand up to the waiter, who promptly took his order for a more expensive bottle of wine. Neither of them spoke at first. They continued to take each other in.
"James." His voice was deep and inviting, and she was pleased to note he was speaking English.
"Amy." Her voice was smooth and possibly a little bit too sexy when she spoke.
"Well, if this isn't awkward." He ruffled his hands through his hair again. The bottle of wine arrived, and the waiter poured them each a glass.
"Shall we start again? I'm Amy. I'm twenty-one. I come from London, and this is my first holiday in a while. I’ve come away to finish writing my first novel."
"I’m James. I’m twenty-eight. I also come from London, well Kent initially. I haven't had a holiday myself for a while. I tend to be a workaholic."
"What do you do?"
"I work in property. It’s all very boring, I’m sure you don't want to hear about it. So, a novel? Is it all hush-hush, or can you tell me something about it?" He sat back in the chair, his left leg resting over his right, the wine glass tantalisingly resting at his full lips. Lips that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from. She wondered what they’d taste of, if she kissed him? He seemed happier to be asking questions than answering them, so she decided to respond to him to continue that line of conversation.
She chuckled and took a mouthful of her wine. "It’s a classic boy meets girl, boy loses the girl, boy wins the girl back forever."
"Interesting. So this boy? What’s he like?"
"Tall, dark, and handsome."
James nodded with genuine interest.
"And the girl?"
"I like this story already."
"Told you it was a classic."
"Certainly is." He raised his eyebrow as he spoke. "So, is the man proficient in the bedroom?"
"That’s a little presumptuous isn't it?"
"Why?" He chuckled, as he refilled the glasses that they both seemed to have drunk rather quickly.
"They’ve only just met."
He shrugged, "Why should they waste time, if there’s an attraction between them?" James reached forward and took her hand. Their eyes met in an intense stare, as sparks of electricity flowed through them both. She wasn't drunk, so it wasn't that. "Are you staying nearby?"
The question hung thickly in the air between them.
She’d had only one previous partner, and that was a boyfriend of four years. Strange as it seemed, she felt that she already knew James, even though they’d only set eyes on each other not fifteen minutes before. "Yes, the Rivera apartments."
"Do you want me to walk you home?"
She didn't doubt from the look on his face that this would turn to sex if he did. But something about him, something about the mystery of his tone prevented her from saying no. He had a presence about him that drew her under his spell.
James pulled out his wallet and put forty euros on the table. The walk back was short, and they talked a little more. Just general facts, where they grew up, favourite foods, drinks, and a particularly funny story about an encounter that he’d had with a flock of seagulls in Brighton. She didn't tell him she worked in a Gentleman's Club.
When they entered her apartment, she was suddenly nervous. James took a seat on the cream sofa, and she went to look in the kitchen for a drink. She found two glasses and a semi-chilled bottle of wine and returned to the lounge. His big body was so commanding in the small lounge.
"Sorry, it isn't more. I only arrived today."
"It’s fine. I still haven't bought any wine for my apartment, so you’re a step ahead of me."
"How long have you been here?"
"A week now. I’ve just a few days left. How long are you here?"
"Only a week."
"Not long to finish that novel then."
"No. Not really. I’ll have to forgo sunbathing and do lots of writing."
She put the bottle down on the table, because she needed a corkscrew to open it. "I won't be a minute. Just have to figure out which drawer the corkscrew is in." She turned back to walk into the kitchen but stopped as James called out 'wait'. It was the way he said it—it sent shivers of anticipation down her spine. Slowly, she turned and looked at him, her eyes wide. He’d risen from the sofa and was walking towards her.
"Take your dress off."
"Take your dress off."
She had no answer. Her mind was telling her this was crazy, but her body was doing as he asked, completely disobeying the part that was telling her to tell him to fuck off. She reached down to the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head. She wasn't big breasted, so underneath the summer dress, she hadn't worn a bra. She stood in front of him in a pair of white lace panties. He walked around her, studying her, taking in every inch of her prickling flesh. She could feel the heat of his gaze marking her. She was never naked in front of the clients at the club, although she did wear revealing clothing, but that could not prepare her for what she was feeling right now. He leaned over her and took a deep breath, he was smelling her.
"You’re beautiful." His tone was calm but had a stern undercurrent to it.
"I was supposed to be getting you wine."
He laughed. "I’m going to kiss you now. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I don't think I’d be standing in front of you in my panties if I didn't. Now, are you going to remove some of your clothing?"
"Eager. I like it. But we will do this my way." James pulled his shirt over his head, and she noted that she was indeed correct about his superbly toned chest. She couldn't see his back, but she saw on his left arm he had a tattoo. It looked like the tips of wings.
"What’s your tattoo?"
His face went momentarily blank. He didn’t answer but pressed his body closer to hers. He leaned in and kissed her. Tender at first, and then with intense passion. She could feel her knees weakening as she was pushed back against the wall. "Place your hands above your head and don’t move them." Again with that authoritative tone.
"Will you do as I asked? Or should I leave now? I told you, we will do this my way. You’ll enjoy it. Don't worry." A hot kiss was again pressed to her lips and without thinking anymore, she moved her hands above her head. "Good girl. You’ll be rewarded for that later."
Rewarded? James moved his mouth from her lips down to the peaking tips of her nipples. His tongue swirled around the sensitive buds, and she let out a yearning moan. He looked up at her, a mischievous look in his eyes, and began to lower his body to trail his tongue down the flat line of her stomach until he knelt on the floor in front of her. He placed his hands on either side of her panties, and in one fluid motion, ripped them from her body. She was breathing fast now. This whole experience was so damn intense it almost seemed like a dream. Her body was on fire, and she longed for him to touch her.
James put his hands between her legs and parted them to reveal her neatly trimmed sex. He groaned. "I haven't even touched you, yet, and you’re ready for me. Have you been like this all night? I can even smell your arousal."
She sure as hell wasn't going to let him know that he was turning her on more than she ever had been before. "You know how to kiss a lady and get her excited. It’s a good start but it all depends on what skills you have now."
He gave her a little tap on the top of her thigh which brought a scream from her, and then ran a finger over her displayed folds before moving it slowly into her inner channel.
"If you doubt my skills again, I’ll put you over my knee." Her body writhed against his hand, and she found herself being excited about having her bottom spanked.
Holy hell. Where had that come from?
His thumb found the hidden bundle of nerves between her thighs and teased it. She could feel the heat within her starting to build. "If you don't stop doing that, I’m going to come all over your hand." James abruptly withdrew his finger and got to his feet with a tutting sound.
"No. Not yet. You’ll come when I tell you that you can." He looked her in the eyes, and it was almost like he was controlling her body with his words.
"You’re not in charge of me, you know that right?"
He didn't answer, only sniggered. He reached into the pocket of his trousers, brought out his wallet, and retrieved a condom from it. The wallet was then tossed aside. She watched him lower his trousers and pants to reveal a substantially thick cock which he then covered with the condom. It was jutting up towards his stomach and was a work of art. It should have been framed and hung in an art gallery. It was that perfect. She was panting now. Although she was terrified that the length and girth of his manhood was going to hurt, at the same time, she needed him buried deeply inside her. Now! She wanted to know what he felt like. She pulled her hands down and reached out to touch the muscular sinews of James’s shoulders.
"No. You don't touch me, unless I give you permission." He slammed her hands back against the wall and held them there with one hand. With the other, he lifted her leg from the floor and in one slow thrust pushed inside her.
"Oh God," she groaned. This was nothing like she’d felt before. Her ex-boyfriend wasn't small, but sex between them had always been something that they seemed to do just because they were boyfriend and girlfriend. This was different. It was raw, and it was dangerous. James began to move slowly. Their eyes locked together as with each long movement he stroked against the sweet spot deep within her.
Their lips joined in a tango of passion. His hand still held her in place, and she was glad for it, because she was barely able to support her weight. She felt the build-up of her climax again. She tried to suppress the feeling. James had told her that she couldn't come until he gave her permission, and she wanted to please him.
Jesus, what was this man doing to her? This was her body. Why was it responding to his control like this?
He seemed to know she was close and trying to control herself; she could tell by the little curl of his lip. She wanted to hit him. She wished he’d let her release. He finally let her out of her misery when he leaned forward and collected her lip between his teeth. He nodded consent, and she exploded around him. Wave after wave of earth-shattering pleasure rolled over her shaking body. She called out, and he joined her over the precipice as he released himself into her.
They were both covered in sweat. They were breathing rapidly, and their legs were quivering. James lowered her leg to the floor and withdrew from her, checking the filled condom as he did so.
"Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?" She shook her head. She couldn't find her voice just yet. "Good." He pressed another kiss to her now-bruised lips and looked into her eyes. At that moment, something within him changed. She saw it. Gone was the dominantly splendid lover he’d been; he withdrew into himself. He pulled up his trousers, quickly found his shirt and put it on. "I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done that." And with that, he left her: confused, standing naked, covered with the scent of the best sex she’d ever had, and her hands still above her head.