I shrugged away the warm feeling I got in my chest that he might have even cared about something like that and grumbled, “Sure.”
He nodded toward the window. “This is a place that hasn’t been marred by man. I bought the island just to watch the sun rise. It’s by far the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done… and the best.”
Soft. Gentle. His voice was back to smooth businessman.
I sat up and wrapped a sheet around myself. “Then, we better get out onto the sand to really see it, right?”
His stare melted as he looked at me and the smile that crossed his face wasn’t at all the ruthlessly delicious man I’d had the night before.
I left my clothes on the floor and opted for just the sheet around me as Bastian slipped on boxers to tell the pilot to lower the stairs.
The sun shone on that beach and made even the sand sparkle. The water swayed in like it always did on every other beach, and I breathed the air I loved best. I’d grown up going near the ocean every day with my dad who’d come from the Caribbean and had a bit of Samoan mixed with his Haitian roots. Loving the ocean was in my blood. “I’ll never think there’s a more beautiful thing in the world than the beach.”
“You may be right about that,” Bastian murmured.
I knew he was staring at me as he said it – I saw him out the corner of my eye. It made me feel special enough to lean into him and stand there watching the waves and the sun for a little while longer.
We made our way back to the plane and we lost my sheet and his boxer briefs along the way.
The lovemaking we did then was softer, and my one night stand rolled into another morning where I got lost in a make believe world.
6
Morina
The low hum of the motor almost lulled me back to sleep.
Until the night’s events flashed through my mind like a bad movie.
“Fuck.” Eyes wide, I jumped up.
The man’s arm locked around my waist wrenched backward from my momentum. He’d been cuddling me?
Oh my God.
This wasn’t just a bad movie. It was a trash one. Complete and utter garbage. I scooted off the bed and grabbed my top off the floor of the jet.
The jet!
“Morina, you really fucked up this time,” I grumbled, scrabbling around the room completely naked looking for my bra. It was red. Of all the colors, how could I not find a red bra?
It had been a spur of the moment addition to my outfit last night. I didn’t fluff things and I didn’t dress for clubs, but I’d prepared for some extra fun after my horoscope had said something along the lines of “pleasure awaits you and then death.”
The horoscope had been right about that.
The aftermath I’d thought was my grandmother’s. I’d spiraled. Completely willing to follow my self destruction and pain off the cliff that was Bastian Armanelli last night. Yet, I’m pretty sure this was the death of my self-respect.
I’d jumped on a jet with a questionable guy to get fucked into oblivion.
I had to admit, he’d done it. My daddy fetish was probably at an all time high right now. The way he’d commanded the room and taken everything what he wanted from me but still managed to make me feel good. The man had known what I wanted more than I even did.
Still, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t hanging out with him again. This was not a happily ever after waiting to happen.
This was a shitshow and a half. A walk of shame of the century.
A flight of shame.
As I tried to shove my boobs back into the dumb lingerie that should have fit much better than it did, his sleep-laced, gravelly voice sounded from behind me: “You’re scrambling to get ready like we don’t have to fly at least half an hour back to the airport.”