Page 21 of Privilege
“You loved it here,” I say. “I can tell. You wouldn’t have brought me here if you didn’t. So tell me why.”
I don’t expect him to answer. He’s never been great at answering questions, usually takes a while to circle back to them. In the beginning, when we first started dating, I’d poke and prod, but all it did was frustrate him. He’d usually find an unrelated excuse to leave shortly afterward.
Eventually, I figured out that all he needs is time. That he’ll always answer me, just not alwaysright now.
To show him I understand, that I’d like to know the story someday but that I’m not putting him on the spot, I push him backwards into the post.
“Fuck me,” I tell him. “Right here. Right now.”
His eyes darken. “Cara, I don’t think—”
I mimic his motion from the balcony and reach up to clap a hand over his mouth. “I’m high. And horny. And we are all alone on this beach. So you can either fuck me, or sit back and watch me fuck myself.”
He’s all over me before I’ve even finished speaking, and hitches me up around his hips.
“Good choice,” I mutter, as he shoves me against the post.
He frantically undoes his belt buckle with one hand while I scramble to find leverage and hold myself up. The slit in the dress is high enough that we don’t have a problem, but I can’t find anything to hold on to.
“Hold on to me,” he says with a grin. “Iama varsity athlete, you know.”
I nip his lower lip while he adjusts our bodies and grips my ass to notch me properly to the right spot.
“Cara,” he moans, when he realizes I’m not wearing any panties. He shifts against me and groans.
“Yessssss,” I hiss, as his cock spears into me. No foreplay, no preamble, and lord knows I don’t need it. The sea breeze on my pussy, the rough wood at my back, and the sight of Rich’s blown pupils focused entirely on me is more than enough to have me ready for him.
He starts to thrust upward, his grunts louder than they should be in a public space but who am I to say so? It’s so fucking good, the way the base of his cock rocks against my g spot.
“Put your hands up,” he growls. I reach up and scramble to hold onto the round post while he steps a few inches backward and adjusts my hips like I weighnothing. He stretches me out between his body and the pillar, my back at a forty-five degree angle with the sand, and rolls me around his cock like I’m a damn hula hoop.
“Holy fuck Rich.” I’m breathless, and losing my strength. My thighs and calves start to shake from pleasure. “What are you doing? How are you doing that?”
“You’re so fucking perfect,” is all he mumbles, but it doesn’t matter—we’re both lost to the rhythm, his control over my hips a scream-worthy affair while he rubs me against his dick over, and over, and over until we tumble over the edge together.
My pussy milks him dry.
When I finally let my legs drop, he eases me off his dick and helps me stand. My legs are a little wobbly, like a newborn deer. I brush my palms over the silk dress and smooth it into place; my skin is sensitive from the weed and the fuck and the very expensive fabric. I shiver at the feeling of his cum inside of me as we walk slowly back towards the resort.
He gives me a boost up onto the fire escape ladder so we can make a sneaky re-entry and pretend we never left, but just before I reach the last few rungs, he grabs my ankle.
“Wait,” he whispers.
He climbs a few more, his head in line with my shoulders, and dives beneath the slit in my dress.
“What are youdoing?!”
But his fingers have already made their way to my pussy, where he pushes all of his cum that has dripped out of me on the walk back inside.
“Fuck.” I’m not sure if I say it out loud or not.
When he’s done, he nudges me forward and I step up onto the balcony distinctly more flustered than I’d planned.
“Rich!” some middle aged man calls, wandering over. “I’ve been looking for you!”
He stares straight at me when he reaches out and shakes the man’s hand. My cheeks flare, but his eyes sparkle with mischief for the first time in too long.
On the car ride home, Arnold at the helm, he stares absently out the window.
