Masquerade (9 page)

For a while he stares at me. Then he nibbles and kisses my neck and says, ‘You’re coming with me tomorrow to my island.’

‘T
here she is,’ Jaron says. ‘All nine and a half acres of her.’

I look out of the window of the seaplane and see a tiny teardrop-shaped island sparkling like a watermelon tourmaline in the hot blue sea. Surrounded by a thin border of white sand it has to be one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen and it is also love at first sight for me.

‘Wow!’ I exclaim. ‘How very lucky you are.’

‘Yes, I am very lucky to have her,’ he shouts over the noise of the plane.

The little plane lands on the water, skimming it like a stone thrown on a lake, and taxies closer to the beach. As soon as it comes to a stop, I don’t wait for the men standing at the wooden pier to come get us by boat, I open the door and throw myself into the water, clothes, shoes and all. I hit the warm water with a splash and a great whoop of joy. I turn on my back and Jaron is looking at me with amusement.

‘Come in,’ I call.

He shakes his head. ‘Thanks, but I’ll pass.’

I swim lazily in the silky water while he goes on to the beach and meets three men who are waiting on the pier. From this far away I can’t see their features, but one of them has long dreadlocks that have been bleached to a coppery color by the sun. They wear colorful clothes. Even from where I am I can see that their bodies are toned and muscular and their skins shine like highly polished wood.

They shake hands with Jaron and then they all turn to look at me. I wave at them, they wave back and then they all go back into the house with our luggage. The men, Jaron has told me, don’t live on the island, and when they return to the mainland Jaron and I will be totally alone on this paradise island.

I kick my sandals off and get out of my heavy, clinging top and trousers. It is strangely liberating to watch them sink. Then I turn around and float dreamily on my back. The sky is blue in a way that it never is in England. A lone seagull high up circles and cries. The fierce sun beats on my face, but there is a cool breeze and the waves lap gently against my relaxed, drifting body. I feel almost hypnotized.

God! This is the life. I could just eat coconuts and stay here forever. I think of Jaron telling me that the motto of island life is: Take your time. No hurry.

Time passes.

‘Hey,’ someone calls. Reluctantly I right myself and tread water. Jaron is standing at the water’s edge a little away from the pier. He is shading his eyes with his hands and not wearing shoes or a shirt.

‘Want some lunch?’ he shouts.

Food? Brilliant idea. Come to think of it I am actually starving hungry. ‘Yeah, I do.’

‘Come on then.’

I start swimming toward him. When I can feel the sand under my feet I start walking toward him. My limbs feel strangely heavy and lethargic. I look at Jaron and he is staring at me with hungry eyes. Must be the heat, but I feel as if there is a powerful coil of need inside me. A powerful desire to fall on him on the beach. The sun is hot on my head and the ground is the softest, whitest, most pristine, fine sand I’ve ever had the pleasure of walking upon. I walk up to him and stop a foot away.

We stare at one another, each mesmerized by the other. He reaches out a hand and glides his finger along my wet cheek. His skin is hot and his touch births a yearning inside me, something new. Something I have never felt before. I feel my cheeks blazing. The air around us shimmers. I look enquiringly into his eyes. But they are fierce wells of green fire that are devoid of any information. I have the impression that my body is on fire. I shake my head slightly. Confused, dazed by the sun. Perhaps it is some sort of heatstroke. I shouldn’t have lain in the midday sun without easing myself into it slowly.

He leans in, catches my face in his hands and lightly brushes his lips against mine. The disconnect between the naked lust in his eyes and the tenderness of his lips disarms me. And suddenly the thought—I’m in love with this man. I am totally, completely and terribly in love with him. The knowledge is like freezing wind on my wet skin. I shiver.
Back up, Billie. Back up.

I say the first thing that comes into my head. ‘Did you say something about lunch?’ My voice is croaky and thick.

He licks the salt from my mouth and says, ‘Mmmm…’

I have to stop him. I need to think about this new…development. It’s not good news. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘Mmmm.’

‘Seriously hungry.’

‘The color of your hair… Your body… You looked like a sea goddess or a mermaid coming out of the water. In this wretched world you are…perfect.’

His voice is like rich, dark golden syrup. It coats my skin. He kisses my ear and glides his lips along the lobe. The action is like being on a familiar road. I’ve traveled it before. Many times. Some part of me even knows where this road leads to. I empty my being of thought and surrender myself to desire. It ripples like a forest fire through me, swift and unstoppable. I press my body against his ever-hard bulge in his trousers.

‘Would you like that balls deep inside that pretty pink pussy of yours, Miss Black?’ he purrs like a dragon seducing a fairy tale princess.

‘Yes, I would, Mr. Rose. Very much indeed.’

His hands go around my back and unclasp my bra.

My breasts spill out into the glorious sunshine. Instinctively I straighten my spine so they show themselves to their best advantage. ‘What about the men?’ I whisper.

‘Gone.’ My bra lands on the sand.

‘Gone where?’ Not that I care, but I couldn’t think of anything more mysterious or alluring to say.

‘To the other side of the island. There is a lagoon there and they’ve gone to catch bone fish.’

My nipples strain hard against the smooth, hot skin of his torso. I fist a shaking hand in his hair and pull his head down to my aching nipples. He doesn’t resist. His mouth on my taut nipple is heady heaven. Heat rushes from his mouth into my body and I feel myself go up in flames. Suddenly the steady sound of the waves disappears and spots dim my vision. I feel dizzy. My knees buckle.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asks, his voice suddenly changed.

Shocked, I sag against him.

‘Heatstroke,’ he says, and putting his hands under my knees carries me to the house.

‘I think I’m fine now,’ I say weakly, but to be honest I do feel quite strange. He takes me into the white house and puts me on a long couch under a lazily whirling fan. He goes away and comes back bearing a young green coconut with the top sawn off and a straw in it. I take a few sips and start to feel better.

He crouches next to me, an expression on his face I have never seen. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Like I could bite your ass.’

He smiles, but that anxious expression remains in his eyes.

‘Do you want to rest for a bit?’

‘I’m fine now,’ I say and it’s true—I am.

‘Are you sure?’

I put my hand out and erase the frown on his face. This is a side of Jaron I did not expect to see. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

He sighs with relief.

‘I’m very hungry, though.’

‘OK, lunch will be ready in five minutes.’ He kisses me lightly on my forehead and pushes upwards. I watch him walk toward what must be the kitchen. I hear the sound of the fridge opening and look around myself. The house is airy and light. The windows are many and are all open. The furniture is mostly painted wood. Funky and totally cool. Long, transparent green curtains flutter at the windows.

I look at it all and wonder what I would have made of it a couple of hours ago. Sometimes life can be clearly divided into before this happened and after this happened. Important things—before my mother died, after I got cancer, after my son was born. For me it will be after I realized for sure that I was in love with Jaron. The air between us seems to have changed.

Now I have a secret. I am in love with a man who is a total stranger to me and who openly confesses to having a girlfriend. But the relationship is so odd that it even almost seems like a lie. And yet it can’t be. Both claim they are in a relationship. Some part of me mourns the loss of my carefree attitude. Another part of me is determined that I will not spoil my time on this paradise island. I am so confused I decide not to think for the next two days.

‘What’s for lunch?’ I ask.

He pops his head around the corner. ‘Goat curry, fava beans and rice.’

‘What? No fucking way am I eating a goat.’

He grins. ‘Just kidding. Mango salad and cold chicken.’

I stand up cautiously. The wooden floor feels cool and smooth under my bare feet. And I feel totally normal so I walk to the kitchen.

‘Who made the food?’

‘Herbert’s wife, Gwen. He’s the guy with the dreadlocks.’

With my palms on either side of me I heave myself up on the counter beside the coffee machine. I dangle my legs. ‘Hmm.’

He looks at me. ‘Jesus, Billie. You’re the only woman I know who would haul yourself onto my kitchen counter as if you were a construction worker. Any other woman would have given it a bit more sex appeal.’

I give my chest a little shimmy and watch his eyes change.

‘You’re going to end up on the end of my cock if you carry on with that much longer.’ His gaze blazes with lust and my pulse starts up.

I feign panic. ‘I’ll have to scream rape.’

‘Go ahead and scream,’ he advises calmly, taking a step toward me.

I feel his big, hot hands grab my breasts and squeeze them. My nipples harden on his palms. Very deliberately he pinches them. A shuddering gasp escapes me. His eyes sparkle as his mouth comes down on my parted lips in a hot, open-mouthed kiss that makes me groan. His lips are demanding and possessive. I am reminded of the way the dog holds his bitch down in a submissive pose before he mounts her.

He increases the pressure on my nipples. I moan and wriggle my hips restlessly. He breaks the kiss and using his teeth, yes, his teeth, cuts my damp knickers clean off at one side. He pulls them off, chucks them behind him and runs his fingers along the slit full of slick, hot moisture. His fingers stop just before they reach the swollen bud and his eyes travel upward and meet mine.

A slow smile touches his lips.

He circles the bud and I throw my head back so far I am looking at the ceiling. The ceiling is sky blue. I close my eyes with arms and legs splayed open, my hips grinding and rocking against his hand. The pleasure builds. And builds. I suck in my breath and then he stops. Just simply stops what he is doing.

I open my eyes and look at him half irritated, half in disbelief.

He has taken a step back and is watching me.

‘Why did you stop?’

‘I thought you wanted lunch.’

‘Oh come on. I can’t eat like this.’

‘Anticipation, Billie. Anticipation.’

‘If you don’t, I’ll sort myself out,’ I threaten and put my hand between my legs.

‘Don’t.’ He knocks my hand away. ‘It won’t hurt you to wait.’

‘Why should I?’

‘Because it will be even better later.’

I take my hand away.

‘Now come and eat.’

‘Come here,’ I say.

He comes closer. I reach out my leg and put my bare foot between his legs. He is as hard as a stone.

‘See. This is harder for me than it is for you,’ he says.

‘You’re driving me crazy.’

‘I want to have lunch with you while you are naked.’

He puts his hands around my waist, lifts me off the counter, and puts me on the ground.

‘Go on outside and I’ll bring the food,’ he says and slaps my plump rump playfully.

My legs feel a bit wobbly, but they still work and with a sultry upward glance at him, I turn away and head toward the door that leads to the garden, purposely and exaggeratedly swaying my hips. He grabs my hand and pulls me back toward him. I crash into him, my breasts squashing on his hard muscles.

‘Anticipation, anticipation,’ I say innocently.

A slow smile spreads across his lips. ‘You’re on.’

I’ve never been naked outdoors before and it is both liberating and odd.

We sit on pretty wooden chairs that have been painted with orange flowers on a blue and green background. Someone has spread a tablecloth on the table and set it with colorful plates, utensils, blue glasses, a pitcher of iced water, and a vase of drooping flowers. He holds out the plate of chicken. I spear a thigh and put it on my plate and help myself to the mango salad as he heaps his plate with chicken.

Jaron winks at me and picking up a chicken leg eats it with relish.

I cut a small piece of chicken. It has been smothered in some kind of blackish-brown seasoning, and I feel pretty sure I will hate it. Jaron chews lustily. I bring the morsel to my mouth and pass it between my lips. To my great surprise it is delicious. I must have been hungrier than I thought. I glance at Jaron and catch him looking at my breasts. When he notices that I am watching him watching me he reaches out a hand and rubs his palm against my nipple. 

I know he is trying to distract and entice me so I pretend to be unmoved by the provocation and carry on eating my salad. He swallows a mouthful of chicken and then suddenly leans sideways and taking my nipple in his mouth sucks it hard.