13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Ophelia

" O h shit!"

That's how I wake at stupid o'clock in the morning after getting my vagina punished last night, over and over again. I wish I could say I'm gracious and sexy as I sit upright so fast my head spins and my bladder threatens to empty out right on the mattress. I have no doubt it's early since the sunrise is coming through the open window. That's another thing, May in Michigan isn't exactly hot and this body was not made for arctic weather.

But that's not the point. The point is…I have to pee like it's nobody's business. Disoriented for a second, I search for the bathroom. Thankfully, I don't have to look very long since it's just in the corner of the room.

The relief is instant and once my mind is no longer fixated on my bodily needs, I remember I shouldn't be alone right now. The fact I woke up with the other half of the bed empty makes me wonder if Rhett is back downstairs making breakfast. I wouldn't complain, that's for damn sure. Although, I can't say I'm a fan of all of these pesky feelings watching him taking care of me elicits. It's like…butterflies? I mean, seriously, who gets giddy at the sight of food? Even though it's true he looks mighty fucking fine when he's half naked while pouring me coffee.

Distance will make my heart get a grip and my pussy less greedy.

Only twelve more hours, give or take a couple judging by the light of the sun spilling through the window.

After I wash my hands and face, then brush my teeth, I stop everything and listen. Not a single sound downstairs. Unlike last night, I hear no cooking or coffee pouring. No steps or humming—he apparently likes to do that while doing housework—and no clinking of silverware or the fridge opening and closing. I'm surrounded by complete and total silence. And if I'm honest, it's freaking me out a little.

Peeking through the sheer curtains, I realize the silence is due to the fact that Rhett is outside on the pier.

Shirtless.

With the rising sun as a backdrop and its rays shining down on him like it's their only focus, he looks golden and ethereal. And fucking buff. Like a god bathed in holy light. Damn, I now understand why it was so easy for him to carry me like I weighed nothing.

As Rhett crouches down before placing his palms on the deck, holding his body up with the help of his toes, I try not to drool when he begins a series of push-ups. Even from this distance, I can appreciate every one of his muscles as they flex with his rhythm. When he's finished—and no, I have no idea how many he did, but it'll never be enough to stop staring—he turns to the side, pauses for a second, then grabs the two ropes attached at the end of the pier.

That's when this motherfucker starts a set of heavy ropes, his back to me, making my entire body buzz with the same intense need I had last night when the butt plug was deep inside my ass. Goddamn, his back is carved like he's been made out of marble and I have to lick my lips to assuage the sudden dryness.

"Asshole probably knows I'm watching." Great, now I'm talking to myself. Out loud, even.

That thought makes me pause. I need to move, just in case I'm not wrong. His ego is already annoying. If he realizes I'm up here gawking, it'll just make him even cockier. Fuck that. Taking a step back from the window, I give a quick glance over at Rhett, to make sure he's okay, before I search out one of his T-shirts and shrug it on. It smells like him, earthy and commanding.

Jesus, he smells like a fucking dominant. Didn't realize that was a thing.

I'm opting against panties or a bra, deciding instead that if I have to control myself with the X-rated show he's giving me, then he can deal with the fact that my pussy is easy pickings.

Or my ass, apparently, because, fuck me, last night was hot. Every moment of it. Well, except for the cuddling. I definitely did not like that part. All the warmth and sense of calm was just fatigue. I was tired, I would have fallen asleep anywhere, regardless of whether or not he was holding me. Or carrying me. I was definitely not loving the way his fingers danced across my skin while we stared at the moon.

Pfft, moons are overrated. His body is overrated. This whole orgasmic weekend is overrated.

Glancing back, once more, at the window, I decide this is a great time to snoop around. Who knows when I'll get as good a chance as this one? Except, I find nothing. Like, nothing. No wallet, no phone, no papers inside his duffle bag, although, there are a lot of fucking toys in there.

I'm not sure why I'm so curious. He means nothing. And soon, he'll be in my rear window.

So why am I down in the kitchen now, making him a cup of coffee? Hmm, no. I'm making myself a cup and because it's wasteful to let it get cold in the pot, I share. That's right. I'm a sharer.

With my shoulders back and my head held high, I feel confident as I make my way out of the house and down what seems to be a newly rebuilt pier.

Rhett is done with his rope shit and is now stretching with his hands pushing the railing and his left leg back and fuck my life, I think it might be even hotter than the actual exercising.

"Is that for me, sweetheart?" I sip from my coffee cup, black like my soul, and try my best not to flinch at the idea that he's caught me staring.

"Well, I happened to make coffee and figured I'd share. You know, since you've been feeding me."

"And giving you orgasms galore." Cocky bastard. "What'd ya bring me?" He doesn't even turn around to acknowledge me, just keeps on stretching one leg, then the other, as the sun rises higher and higher, making him look hotter and hotter.

"Um, I just told you. Coffee." Maybe all that sporting shit is making his hearing go. Hell, maybe it's just his age. Although, you wouldn't know it from his body.

Fuck, Ophelia, stop staring at the man. It's not like he hasn't had his dick in every single one of your holes.

And now I'm talking to myself in the third person. Great, this just keeps getting better and better.

"Sorry, sweetheart." When he does turn around, I take a step back from the blinding beauty of him. Also, there's a sun ray catching the simple chain around his neck and literally blinding me. "I don't drink coffee."

Bringing my hand to shield my eyes, I frown. Surely I heard wrong.

"Who doesn't like coffee?" My gaze falls to his lips as he takes a step to the side and grins like a fucking predator. At least now I'm not facing the sun, so small mercies.

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

Bringing my coffee to my lips, I wonder if I can double fist these cups and drink two in one go. That would be weird, right? Yeah, it would be too weird.

"No. I'm genuinely curious about what kind of person on this planet who has a job or life or responsibilities could survive an entire fucking day without caffeine." I'm sure I'd die.

Rhett takes a step closer and I can smell the body wash on him with a hint of sweat and morning sun.

"Tea has caffeine, sweetheart. Gets the job done." But…no. Just…no.

"Tea is flavored water, it doesn't satisfy the palette like coffee." It's all herbal and shit.

Now he's right here, in front of me, close enough that I can see the mirth dancing in his hazel eyes. They remind me of a forest. As green as the leaves on the trees when he's focused and light-hearted but turning a deep shade of earthy brown, like bark, when he's ready to fuck.

And right now, he's all trunk and no leaves.

"You're not wearing knickers." Not a question. Does he have some kind of x-ray vision? "We leave at ten thirty tonight, plenty of time for me to fuck your insults away." I hate that I don't hate him. In fact, I'm a little annoyed at myself that one sentence from him makes me forget my coffee and instead of drinking it , I'm drinking him in.

I bet I get it from my mother, bless her soul. There's a reason she lasted as long as she did with my father. Being his submissive—no, that's not right. Being his slave had become her entire identity and she didn't know how to live beyond that. Beyond him. Not even for me.

"My vagina needs to rest, you heathen." Although I could probably go another round or three.

Reaching out, he takes both of my coffee cups from me and places them on the railing of the pier. When he faces me again, I swear to fuck my entire body tenses with fear. Not the kind that says if he catches you, it's going to be deadly. The kind that warns that if he catches you, it might be the worst yet most amazing experience of your life.

Because the way he's looking at me is predatory, and I'm the lamb about to get caught in the wolf's teeth. I know, I'm usually him in this scenario, so being on the other side is fucking exhilarating.

"Your cunt will rest when you're dead." I know he's just using the popular idiom about sleeping when you're dead, but my spine erupts in chills nonetheless. The way he says it, the curl of his lip as the last word is put out there into the universe; it's scary as fuck.

It's a good thing there's a fucking contract that specifically says that both parties must return safely from this weekend or else I'd throat punch him. With a knife.

This time, I'm the one getting in his space and making sure he knows I won't be intimidated. Not by him or any man, for that matter.

"Well, that'll be a shame, London, because we both know that once this weekend is over, your dick won't ever settle for any other pussy. That's gonna suck for you."

One more step from him and we're practically touching, our mouths so close we're speaking with the same breath.

"Oh, Kitten, in twelve hours this will all be behind us but your ass will still feel me every time you try to sit." Then he buries his fingers in my blonde hair and squeezes until I gasp, allowing his tongue to plunder inside my mouth.

The kiss is desperate, almost trying to catch up on lost time, and when we pull apart, we're both panting messes just staring at one another.

Still, he doesn't release me, and oddly enough, it does things to my belly that I don't completely hate. Maybe it's indigestion, or maybe it's the fact that I'm truly attracted to this man. I mean, what straight woman wouldn't be, right? I just need to make sure it stays this way. An attraction, nothing more.

"Now listen." I don't answer, just narrow my eyes at him. "I'm going to step away then count to twenty. That's how much time you have."

What?

"Time for what?" My brain is reeling trying to follow this guy's train of thought.

"Time…" He pauses, brings his lips to mine and whispers right against my mouth, "To run." As promised, he releases me so fast I almost lose my footing and it takes my mind a second to understand what the fuck he's talking about. But as soon as he starts counting, my body goes into fight or flight and I take off running like my life depends on it.

I don't know why I'm running. I don't know what he'll do to me when he catches me. I don't know if maybe I want to be caught. The only thing I do know is that I'm crazy competitive and, if anything, I'm going to run like a fucking Olympian just so I can win.

Whatever the prize will be. Probably his dick somewhere inside me, which, in all logic, should be categorized as a win for him not me.

My feet are flying across the planks of the pier as I eye the house and decide which side I want to take. Behind me, Rhett is counting off, louder and louder until I can barely hear him since I'm heading for the tree line and scanning for places to hide. I'm not fucking stupid, the guy just did a crack-of-fucking-dawn workout for only he knows how long. When he starts running, he'll catch up in no time.

Which means I need to hide. And do it exactly right.

That plan goes to shit when it dawns on me that I have no shoes on.

I have no fucking shoes on. That bastard.

It doesn't take long for my feet to scream in agony when I step on my first pine cone and almost fly to the ground. Catching myself with my other foot, I bite my tongue to keep from crying out and giving away my position, but one thing is certain: I'll be bruised and scraped by the time this stupid game is over.

Just ahead I see a huge tree trunk and my first instinct is to try to climb it but there are no branches low enough for me to grab on to. And let's be clear, the only trees I grew up around were palm and nobody in my entourage climbs those tall fuckers.

Hiding behind the trunk, I try to regulate my breathing so I can hear him coming. He may be stealthy but there's no way he can walk around the woods and not step on a stick or a cone. I'll hear him and when I do…I'll be fucked. Quite literally, I'm sure.

"Why did you call me London?" I press myself against the tree when his voice comes from a few yards behind and to the right. I scootch to the left so I'm well hidden and, obviously, don't answer. Not just because I don't want him to find me, but also because my answer is ridiculous. Like I'm a common bitch. London, England. That's it. There are thousands of places from which he could be but my only guess was London. Maybe I'll learn something.

"I ask because I wasn't sure if you'd guessed correctly or if you recognized my accent." Fuck, he's getting closer, and no, you fucking weirdo, I didn't recognize your accent. Brit is Brit…right?

"I think you're just assuming…" A stick cracks and I know…I fucking know he's so close he can smell me. So, instead of staying like a sitting duck, I decide to be that girl. I run, ignoring the soles of my feet as they suffer through leaves and mud and sharp branches fallen to the ground.

His feet are making the same noises but that fucker has tennis shoes on. I know he does, I saw them. What does a twenty second advantage mean when you're racing someone in bare feet?

Just as I'm rounding a cluster of trees, my wrist is caught inside a vice that feels a lot like Rhett's fingers digging into my flesh.

"Ahhh!" We both fall to the ground, me on top of him until seconds later, he twists us around so that he's lying on top of me. With his front to my back, as I try like a fucking idiot to claw my way out from under him, he presses the side of my face to a patch of humid leaves on the ground, his face so close to mine I can hear the excitement in his voice.

"Gotcha. The fact you're wearing my shirt is making my dick so fucking hard." He's not kidding, I can feel it between my ass cheeks. His workout shorts aren't that thick and his cock definitely is.

"I'm not in the mood to fuck, Rhett." Yeah, I don't even believe myself, not with my voice so breathy and my ass searching out for more friction from him.

"The lady doth protest too much." Oh, he thinks he's cute getting all Shakespearian on me. Well, it's not working.

"This lady thinks you should fuck right off." I get no warning. Not the sound of a zipper—spoiler alert, he's wearing workout shorts—not a gasp or even the intake of a breath.

One second he's growling in my ear and the next his dick is inside my pussy and he's thrusting in and out like a fucking animal. It's so raw and unexpected that my body reacts in an instant. I don't try to run this time. Instead, I push back, toward him, begging without saying a single word for him to fuck me harder.

"I aim to please, Kitten. You tell me to fuck off and I fuck right off. Inside your cunt." His cock pistons inside me without mercy, hitting my cervix over and over again as the sounds of the forest disappear and are replaced only by the filthy sound of my pussy getting wetter and wetter with every plunge of his cock. "Maybe next time, I'll fuck your arse again. Or maybe…" Pushing my face harder against the ground, he brings his teeth to my ear and bites my lobe. It's sharp and it tears a painful gasp from my lungs. "I'll just fuck your mouth until you choke from the force of it."

If only his words had the desired effect of turning me off. They don't. Every dirty accusation, every degrading thrust inside me, only makes me hornier until I begin to seriously question my sanity.

Then he changes our position so that I'm straddling him and holy fuck, him giving me the reins lights a fire inside me that I didn't realize existed. Sex has always been a means to an end. The orgasm being my sweet reward.

But with Rhett, the whole fucking trip is the prize. From the way he fucks to the how hard he makes me want to come. And now, this. Giving me an ounce of control while he still fucks me from the bottom.

"I want to watch you come. Hurry up, Kitten. If I come before you, you lose." This motherfucker knows exactly what to say to me.

"If I get there before you, you'll be spraying the ground with your cum." One palm pressed to his chest and the other on the ground beside his head, I grind myself against him, giving my clit the workout she deserves as he drives inside me from below.

We're both grunting and gasping, our eyes locked and our mouths slightly open from the exertion.

We fuck hard, both running for the finish line, until I feel him tense and my body just flies right off into bliss. I come hard on his cock while he coats the walls of my pussy with his seed.

According to his rules, nobody won. But really…we can't say anyone lost either.