Aloha, page 78
“I would have cancelled the wedding, but I only found out the truth yesterday—too late to get any of my father’s money back.” I look at him. “I’m sorry, Dad. Thank you for giving me my dream wedding. Too bad the groom is a cunt, huh?” As the gathered audience titters and murmurs, I continue, “So, anyway, since the reception is already paid for, and everything I’ve planned is going to be amazing and perfect, let’s not waste any of it. Let’s have ourselves a ‘Fuck you, Brayden!’ party—a celebration that I’ve narrowly dodged the worst bullet of my life.”
I turn to look at Delilah in the line of bridesmaids—my guardian angel—and send her a secret wink of thanks, and my honorary sister returns the gesture. If it weren’t for Brayden’s little sister helping me find out the full truth yesterday, this officiant would be pronouncing me Brayden’s wife right this very minute.
“Anyone who wants to celebrate this happy day, other than Brayden and his parents, of course, please head to the reception hall now. I’m going to eat, drink, and dance the night away with you, before hopping onto my scheduled flight to Hawaii tomorrow morning.” I look at Brayden. “Oh, yes. I’m still going to Hawaii to enjoy what should have been our honeymoon. And to be clear, by enjoy, I mean I’m going to drink rum punch like water and get myself railed, every single night, the same way you railed Willow after tasting wedding cakes with me.’”
Part Two
Hello, Handsome Stranger
I talked a good game yesterday in the church about getting myself railed here in Hawaii, but as I trudge up the walkway toward my rented bungalow for the week, the last thing I want to do is hit the bars or the beach or dating apps in search of an appropriate candidate to perform the deed. I feel hung over and exhausted and not the least bit interested in human interaction. I don’t even want to talk to another person, let alone let someone fuck me. All I want to do is spend the next week in solitude. Reading. Sleeping. Looking at the ocean and trying to piece together what went wrong. How I missed the signs.
After double checking the entry code on my phone, I enter the digits on the keypad on the bungalow door, but it doesn’t open. I try again. And again. But, still, nothing. What the heck? I find the phone number connected to my confirmation email. But when I call it, no dice. My call goes straight to voicemail.
As I’m leaving a voicemail, I notice a rock nestled in a cluster of flowers. It looks suspiciously like the fake rock that holds my spare house key back home. I pick it up, and sure enough, it’s as fake as the tits on that exotic dancer on Brayden’s phone. I open the small, plastic door on the bottom of the rock, and, voila, I’ve found a key. Will it fit in the lock on the bungalow door? That’s the question.
I head to the door. Slide in the key. Turn the lock. And just like that, my problem is solved. When I step inside the bungalow, I’m overjoyed and relieved. It’s stunning. Every bit as gorgeous as the photos led me to believe. The perfect place for me to lick my wounds and process the worst betrayal and shame of my life.
First things first, I need to pee. I ditch my rolling suitcase in the middle of the living area and head toward a closed door. Nope. It’s a closet. I try the next door and shriek when I come face to face with a naked, dripping-wet man.
“What the fuck?” he shouts, jerking back, as I scream, “Oh my god!”
I bolt out of the bathroom and straight out the front door. But since I’ve left my suitcase and purse and phone inside the bungalow, I can’t go any farther than that. Jesus Christ. What the hell is he doing here? He’s probably not a burglar, given that he just took a shower. Also, now that I think about it, I saw a suitcase on the bed as I raced past the bedroom on my way out.
I pace in front of the front door, trying to figure out what to do. He was definitely hot, I’ll give him that. In fact, I’ve never seen a naked man who’s that hot, in person. When my friends took me to a male strip show for my bachelorette party in Vegas, some of the dancers were that hot. But I certainly didn’t see them naked. I haven’t seen that many dicks in my twenty-eight years, since I’ve always been a serial monogamist; so I can’t be positive that guy’s dick was as massively thick and long, compared to the general population of dicks, as it seemed to me in the moment. It was definitely bigger than any dick I’ve had inside me, though. That’s for fucking sure. After yesterday’s fiasco, did my bridesmaids quickly chip in to buy me a paid boy toy for my solo week in Hawaii? Did they call the strip club we went to in Vegas and ask if anyone knew anyone in Kauai who might want the job of cheering up a runaway bride?
The front door opens and the fit man from the bathroom comes out in nothing but board shorts. His bare chest is delectable. Tan and muscular. His dark hair is still wet from his shower and slightly curled. His eyes are dark brown and his teeth straight and white.
“Why are you here?” I say.
“I was about to you ask you the same thing.”
“I’ve rented this bungalow for the week.”
“I’ve got this place for the whole week. You must have the wrong address. Or the wrong dates.”
“I can show you,” I say. “My phone is inside.” We head back inside and compare our respective booking confirmations, and quickly realize the unfortunate situation: the rental company has doubled-booked this place. I call the number from before and leave another voicemail. And when that’s done, I sit on the couch with my face in my hands.
“I’ll find another place,” the guy mutters on an exhale. “Is it okay with you if I sit on the couch while searching for somewhere else to go?”
I didn’t expect such chivalry. I thought I’d have a fight on my hands. “Of course, you can sit. I feel bad, though. This isn’t your fault.”
“It’s okay. These things happen. I’ll figure something out. Do you mind if I make myself a drink to enjoy while searching for a new place? I stopped on my way here from the airport to get ingredients for cocktails for the week.”
“You literally just got here?” I say.
“Twenty minutes before you. That’s good, though. At least, I’m not all settled in and drunk off my ass yet. If this was going to happen to me, I’d prefer it happen now.”
He’s handling this cluster fuck remarkably well. If I’d walked into this bungalow with Brayden at my side, as originally planned, and we found this man here, I’m positive Brayden would have turned the situation into something confrontational and combative, without even giving this handsome, laid-back man a chance to react kindly, as he’s doing now.
“Of course, you can make yourself a drink,” I say. “But only if you make one for me, too.”
He smiles. “Deal.”
He heads to the kitchen and gets to work. As he makes the drinks, I ask, “What brings you here for the week?”
“My brother’s cancelled wedding. He was supposed to get married here yesterday, but he found out a week ago his fiancée had cheated on him with one of his friends.”
“Oh no.”
“He couldn’t get his money back for the honeymoon, but he didn’t have the heart to come here alone. So, he gave the place to me.” He chuckles. “Or so he thought. Apparently, not so much.”
During the flight here, I told myself I wouldn’t tell the story of my cancelled wedding to anyone I met in Hawaii. Maybe not to anyone, ever, for the rest of my life. But certainly, not here. In Kauai, I told myself, I’d pretend to be a mysterious, sultry woman on the prowl. A woman who came to Hawaii for nothing but fun. A woman at the top of her game who’s never been rejected in her life.
But suddenly, after hearing this handsome stranger’s tale, I can’t help blurting, “A broken engagement and cancelled honeymoon brought me here, too. Except, in this case, I’m the one who was supposed to get married.”
He looks deeply sympathetic. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He hands me a concoction that looks like paradise in a glass, and we head to the couch with our drinks. Once settled, I tell him the rest of my embarrassing tale. Every single detail of it, including the fact that I told the entire congregation in that church that I planned to go to Hawaii to get myself “railed” every single night of my vacation, the same way Brayden had “railed” the woman on his phone named Willow.
By the time I’m done talking, we’ve both finished our delicious drinks and the handsome stranger sitting next to me has a noticeable bulge in his board shorts. Clearly, his dick is now at full mast, thanks to the last part of my story—the part where I vowed to get myself railed in Hawaii.
When I notice the evidence of his arousal, excitement courses through me. Tingles skate across my skin and awaken the nerve endings between my legs. I put down my empty glass on the coffee table with a smirk and ask, “Are you single, by any chance?”
He matches my smirk. Doesn’t break eye contact. “I am, yes.”
“Please, don’t lie to me about this. I need you to be honest with me.”
“I’m single.” He gnaws on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Actually, it wasn’t my brother who got cheated on by his fiancée. It was me. I was too embarrassed to admit that to a stranger when you first walked in. But in light of what you’ve told me, I feel like you deserve to know the truth. We’re in the same boat.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I am. Truly. But also, I’m not.
He sighs. “Honestly, I came here to lick my wounds for a week. Get shitfaced and feel sorry for myself.”
I wouldn’t normally be this forward, but the man’s visibly hard as a rock behind his shorts. Plus, he handled the double-booking so damned well. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s hot as fuck and makes an incredible tropical cocktail.
“Listen, I don’t know if this is a crazy thing to suggest,” I say. “I don’t know if you’re at all attracted to me, but I’m wondering if you’d like to be the guy who rails me tonight. I’m thinking maybe we could lick each other tonight, rather than licking our wounds.”
One side of his handsome mouth tilts up. “You’re a mind-reader.”
I motion to the bugle in his shorts. “Well, a dick reader, anyway.”
He chuckles. “In this particular moment, they’re one and the same. Yes, I’m attracted to you. Extremely attracted to you. And yes that sounds like a fantastic idea to me.”
“If all goes well tonight, and we’re both feeling it in the morning, maybe you wouldn’t need to look for another place to stay this week. Maybe you could stay here with me and we could have ourselves a weeklong vacation fling—something to help us both get our groove back, so to speak, before we need to go back home and figure out how to return all the wedding presents.”
“What happens in Hawaii stays in Hawaii?”
“Exactly. A fun distraction to make us forget . . .” I stop speaking, as emotion unexpectedly rises up inside me. I take a deep breath and finish my sentence. “All the lies and deceit. Even if it’s only for one night.”
His chest heaves. He rises from the couch and extends his hand. “Come with me. Let me make you feel good.”
I can barely breathe. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom. I want to take a shower first.”
“Take your time. I’ll be waiting for you, naked in bed.
A shock of arousal courses through me. “Sounds good.”
“I'm Mateo, by the way."
I laugh. "Julia. Nice to meet you."
“Nice to meet you, Julia. Meet me in the bedroom, whenever you’re ready.”
Part Three
Mateo’s Got A Big Dick and He Knows How To Use It
I walk into the bedroom, my hair wet from my shower, my naked body wrapped in a skimpy towel. I’ve never had sex on a first date before, let alone within minutes of meeting someone. I don’t even know Mateo’s last name! But in this moment, not knowing anything about him, knowing I’ll never see him again after tonight, or this week, if all goes well, is thrilling. I feel reckless. Sexy. Untethered and uninhibited.
Mateo is on the bed with the bedding pulled back. His tan, naked body looks delectable against the stark white sheet. As I approach, he gets out of bed and takes my face in his palms. The tip of his hard-on nudges my belly as his soft lips meet mine, and we both jolt at the dual connection of our flesh. He smells good. Looks good. I don’t know what he’s like in real life. Why his ex-fiancée wasn’t faithful to him. And I don’t want to know any of it. For me, Mateo is a fantasy. A form of therapy from whom I intend to squeeze every amount of pleasure as possible before returning to reality. The last thing I need this week is for Mateo to know my last name and google me—and then figure out that my father has done exceedingly well for himself and assume, incorrectly, that I’m living a life that’s fancier than my own kindergarten teacher salary affords.
I open my lips slightly, and Mateo slides his tongue inside my mouth. As our tongues tangle and dance, rockets of pleasure shoot through me, all of them zapping me between the legs. With each passing second, I’m getting more and more turned on. More and more certain this was a brilliant idea.
There’s no sense of urgency in our kiss. He’s taking my temperature, I think. Getting a read on me. Luring me in, slowly. And the tactic, if that’s what it is, is impeccably effective. Soon, I’m aching for more. Pulsing, and then pounding, between my legs, as arousal floods me. By the time Mateo guides me to the bed, my most sensitive flesh is swollen. My tip is hard and beating like a steel drum.
From my mouth, Mateo’s lips travel to my cheek, my jawline and neck, as his fingers begin gently stroking between my legs. I can feel myself getting wetter and wetter with his touch, my clit harder and harder and more swollen and aching.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “He’s an idiot.”
Before I walked into this bedroom, I would have assumed any mention of Brayden would be a mistake. A turn off. But as it’s turned out, his comment is sheer perfection. The precise words I needed to hear in this moment; and I let him know it with a loud and husky moan.
His mouth returns to mine, as his fingers begin dipping in and out of me. By the way his fingers are moving with ease, I must be insanely wet down there. Wetter than Brayden ever got me, that’s for sure. If Mateo plunged himself inside me now, he’d burrow into me like a knife in warm butter.
I gyrate into his fingers and deepen our kiss, aching for penetration. But he doesn’t go in. No, he leaves my mouth again and starts kissing his way down my torso, all the way to the bullseye between my legs. He repositions himself between my thighs and gets to work on me in earnest. And in less than a minute, I’m gripping the sheet beneath me and coming with a loud roar that’s surely traveling through the open window to the nearby beach. But I don’t care if random strangers hear me having the best sexual experience of my life. This moment is too delicious to hold back. Fuck anyone who’s clutching their pearls. I’m reborn.
When the waves of pleasure subside, I open my eyes to find Mateo’s glorious hard-on wrapped up and ready to go. He climbs over my body like a panther, grabs my hands and lifts them above my head, and then plunges himself inside me. As his body stretches mine and fills me up, I feel like I’m being injected with a narcotic. Like I’m being transported to a state of bliss on a rocket.
I wrap my thighs around his hips as he gyrates on top of me and match the movement of my pelvis with his, until we’re both moving as one. Maximizing the depth of each and every thrust. It’s sublime. And not only for me, based on the way Mateo is groaning with pleasure.
“Julia,” he whispers into my ear. “You feel so fucking good. Jesus Christ. You’re incredible.”
I’ve never had a lover who talked during sex before. Every partner I’ve ever had goes about his business silently, so I’ve always followed suit. And now I know what I’ve been missing out on, because the groaning dirty talk thing Mateo is doing is taking my pleasure to another level.
We kiss passionately as our bodies move, more and more enthusiastically. With each thrust, and each swirl of my tongue with Mateo’s, I suddenly feel hope that the gashes and wounds in my heart could heal. In fact, I suddenly know, for a fact, I’ll one day soon be as good as new. Better than ever, as a matter of fact. I didn’t even know my body could feel this good. What else have I been missing out on?
Mateo touches my face with urgency and looks at me with blazing eyes, right before he snaps his pelvis forward and releases with a loud growl. When he’s done climaxing, he slides out of me, as expected. But then, he does something I’m not expecting. He kisses me deeply while massaging my clit with his fingers. I’m thinking it’s wishful thinking on his part. I’ve never had two orgasms during sex in my life. But in short order, it’s clear I’m hurtling toward another release. One that’s going to be a good one.
When it comes, it curls my toes and makes me groan, even more loudly than the last time. But when the waves of pleasure subside this time, I realize I’ve got tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Aw, hey,” Mateo coos. He wipes my tears with his thumb. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, not at all. You made me feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life,” I admit. “I’m crying because it felt so good.”
He sighs with relief and kisses me, and we make out for a while . . . until Mateo is suddenly hard and ready to go again. This time, I suck his big cock for a while before mounting him and riding him like a bucking bronco. And to my shock, I wind up having an orgasm with his hard dick still inside me. It’s a first for me—having an orgasm during actual intercourse. A delicious one. One that only makes me want to do it again and again and again.
When we’re both sweaty and spent and in desperate need of water, we head to the kitchen, naked, to fuel up and recharge. I take a seat on a stool with a glass of water, while Mateo cuts up fresh fruit he picked up earlier on his way to the bungalow.
“You don’t need to find another place this week, as far as I’m concerned,” I say. “In fact, I’d really, really, really like it if you’d stay.”
“Are you sure?”
I turn to look at Delilah in the line of bridesmaids—my guardian angel—and send her a secret wink of thanks, and my honorary sister returns the gesture. If it weren’t for Brayden’s little sister helping me find out the full truth yesterday, this officiant would be pronouncing me Brayden’s wife right this very minute.
“Anyone who wants to celebrate this happy day, other than Brayden and his parents, of course, please head to the reception hall now. I’m going to eat, drink, and dance the night away with you, before hopping onto my scheduled flight to Hawaii tomorrow morning.” I look at Brayden. “Oh, yes. I’m still going to Hawaii to enjoy what should have been our honeymoon. And to be clear, by enjoy, I mean I’m going to drink rum punch like water and get myself railed, every single night, the same way you railed Willow after tasting wedding cakes with me.’”
Part Two
Hello, Handsome Stranger
I talked a good game yesterday in the church about getting myself railed here in Hawaii, but as I trudge up the walkway toward my rented bungalow for the week, the last thing I want to do is hit the bars or the beach or dating apps in search of an appropriate candidate to perform the deed. I feel hung over and exhausted and not the least bit interested in human interaction. I don’t even want to talk to another person, let alone let someone fuck me. All I want to do is spend the next week in solitude. Reading. Sleeping. Looking at the ocean and trying to piece together what went wrong. How I missed the signs.
After double checking the entry code on my phone, I enter the digits on the keypad on the bungalow door, but it doesn’t open. I try again. And again. But, still, nothing. What the heck? I find the phone number connected to my confirmation email. But when I call it, no dice. My call goes straight to voicemail.
As I’m leaving a voicemail, I notice a rock nestled in a cluster of flowers. It looks suspiciously like the fake rock that holds my spare house key back home. I pick it up, and sure enough, it’s as fake as the tits on that exotic dancer on Brayden’s phone. I open the small, plastic door on the bottom of the rock, and, voila, I’ve found a key. Will it fit in the lock on the bungalow door? That’s the question.
I head to the door. Slide in the key. Turn the lock. And just like that, my problem is solved. When I step inside the bungalow, I’m overjoyed and relieved. It’s stunning. Every bit as gorgeous as the photos led me to believe. The perfect place for me to lick my wounds and process the worst betrayal and shame of my life.
First things first, I need to pee. I ditch my rolling suitcase in the middle of the living area and head toward a closed door. Nope. It’s a closet. I try the next door and shriek when I come face to face with a naked, dripping-wet man.
“What the fuck?” he shouts, jerking back, as I scream, “Oh my god!”
I bolt out of the bathroom and straight out the front door. But since I’ve left my suitcase and purse and phone inside the bungalow, I can’t go any farther than that. Jesus Christ. What the hell is he doing here? He’s probably not a burglar, given that he just took a shower. Also, now that I think about it, I saw a suitcase on the bed as I raced past the bedroom on my way out.
I pace in front of the front door, trying to figure out what to do. He was definitely hot, I’ll give him that. In fact, I’ve never seen a naked man who’s that hot, in person. When my friends took me to a male strip show for my bachelorette party in Vegas, some of the dancers were that hot. But I certainly didn’t see them naked. I haven’t seen that many dicks in my twenty-eight years, since I’ve always been a serial monogamist; so I can’t be positive that guy’s dick was as massively thick and long, compared to the general population of dicks, as it seemed to me in the moment. It was definitely bigger than any dick I’ve had inside me, though. That’s for fucking sure. After yesterday’s fiasco, did my bridesmaids quickly chip in to buy me a paid boy toy for my solo week in Hawaii? Did they call the strip club we went to in Vegas and ask if anyone knew anyone in Kauai who might want the job of cheering up a runaway bride?
The front door opens and the fit man from the bathroom comes out in nothing but board shorts. His bare chest is delectable. Tan and muscular. His dark hair is still wet from his shower and slightly curled. His eyes are dark brown and his teeth straight and white.
“Why are you here?” I say.
“I was about to you ask you the same thing.”
“I’ve rented this bungalow for the week.”
“I’ve got this place for the whole week. You must have the wrong address. Or the wrong dates.”
“I can show you,” I say. “My phone is inside.” We head back inside and compare our respective booking confirmations, and quickly realize the unfortunate situation: the rental company has doubled-booked this place. I call the number from before and leave another voicemail. And when that’s done, I sit on the couch with my face in my hands.
“I’ll find another place,” the guy mutters on an exhale. “Is it okay with you if I sit on the couch while searching for somewhere else to go?”
I didn’t expect such chivalry. I thought I’d have a fight on my hands. “Of course, you can sit. I feel bad, though. This isn’t your fault.”
“It’s okay. These things happen. I’ll figure something out. Do you mind if I make myself a drink to enjoy while searching for a new place? I stopped on my way here from the airport to get ingredients for cocktails for the week.”
“You literally just got here?” I say.
“Twenty minutes before you. That’s good, though. At least, I’m not all settled in and drunk off my ass yet. If this was going to happen to me, I’d prefer it happen now.”
He’s handling this cluster fuck remarkably well. If I’d walked into this bungalow with Brayden at my side, as originally planned, and we found this man here, I’m positive Brayden would have turned the situation into something confrontational and combative, without even giving this handsome, laid-back man a chance to react kindly, as he’s doing now.
“Of course, you can make yourself a drink,” I say. “But only if you make one for me, too.”
He smiles. “Deal.”
He heads to the kitchen and gets to work. As he makes the drinks, I ask, “What brings you here for the week?”
“My brother’s cancelled wedding. He was supposed to get married here yesterday, but he found out a week ago his fiancée had cheated on him with one of his friends.”
“Oh no.”
“He couldn’t get his money back for the honeymoon, but he didn’t have the heart to come here alone. So, he gave the place to me.” He chuckles. “Or so he thought. Apparently, not so much.”
During the flight here, I told myself I wouldn’t tell the story of my cancelled wedding to anyone I met in Hawaii. Maybe not to anyone, ever, for the rest of my life. But certainly, not here. In Kauai, I told myself, I’d pretend to be a mysterious, sultry woman on the prowl. A woman who came to Hawaii for nothing but fun. A woman at the top of her game who’s never been rejected in her life.
But suddenly, after hearing this handsome stranger’s tale, I can’t help blurting, “A broken engagement and cancelled honeymoon brought me here, too. Except, in this case, I’m the one who was supposed to get married.”
He looks deeply sympathetic. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He hands me a concoction that looks like paradise in a glass, and we head to the couch with our drinks. Once settled, I tell him the rest of my embarrassing tale. Every single detail of it, including the fact that I told the entire congregation in that church that I planned to go to Hawaii to get myself “railed” every single night of my vacation, the same way Brayden had “railed” the woman on his phone named Willow.
By the time I’m done talking, we’ve both finished our delicious drinks and the handsome stranger sitting next to me has a noticeable bulge in his board shorts. Clearly, his dick is now at full mast, thanks to the last part of my story—the part where I vowed to get myself railed in Hawaii.
When I notice the evidence of his arousal, excitement courses through me. Tingles skate across my skin and awaken the nerve endings between my legs. I put down my empty glass on the coffee table with a smirk and ask, “Are you single, by any chance?”
He matches my smirk. Doesn’t break eye contact. “I am, yes.”
“Please, don’t lie to me about this. I need you to be honest with me.”
“I’m single.” He gnaws on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Actually, it wasn’t my brother who got cheated on by his fiancée. It was me. I was too embarrassed to admit that to a stranger when you first walked in. But in light of what you’ve told me, I feel like you deserve to know the truth. We’re in the same boat.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I am. Truly. But also, I’m not.
He sighs. “Honestly, I came here to lick my wounds for a week. Get shitfaced and feel sorry for myself.”
I wouldn’t normally be this forward, but the man’s visibly hard as a rock behind his shorts. Plus, he handled the double-booking so damned well. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s hot as fuck and makes an incredible tropical cocktail.
“Listen, I don’t know if this is a crazy thing to suggest,” I say. “I don’t know if you’re at all attracted to me, but I’m wondering if you’d like to be the guy who rails me tonight. I’m thinking maybe we could lick each other tonight, rather than licking our wounds.”
One side of his handsome mouth tilts up. “You’re a mind-reader.”
I motion to the bugle in his shorts. “Well, a dick reader, anyway.”
He chuckles. “In this particular moment, they’re one and the same. Yes, I’m attracted to you. Extremely attracted to you. And yes that sounds like a fantastic idea to me.”
“If all goes well tonight, and we’re both feeling it in the morning, maybe you wouldn’t need to look for another place to stay this week. Maybe you could stay here with me and we could have ourselves a weeklong vacation fling—something to help us both get our groove back, so to speak, before we need to go back home and figure out how to return all the wedding presents.”
“What happens in Hawaii stays in Hawaii?”
“Exactly. A fun distraction to make us forget . . .” I stop speaking, as emotion unexpectedly rises up inside me. I take a deep breath and finish my sentence. “All the lies and deceit. Even if it’s only for one night.”
His chest heaves. He rises from the couch and extends his hand. “Come with me. Let me make you feel good.”
I can barely breathe. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom. I want to take a shower first.”
“Take your time. I’ll be waiting for you, naked in bed.
A shock of arousal courses through me. “Sounds good.”
“I'm Mateo, by the way."
I laugh. "Julia. Nice to meet you."
“Nice to meet you, Julia. Meet me in the bedroom, whenever you’re ready.”
Part Three
Mateo’s Got A Big Dick and He Knows How To Use It
I walk into the bedroom, my hair wet from my shower, my naked body wrapped in a skimpy towel. I’ve never had sex on a first date before, let alone within minutes of meeting someone. I don’t even know Mateo’s last name! But in this moment, not knowing anything about him, knowing I’ll never see him again after tonight, or this week, if all goes well, is thrilling. I feel reckless. Sexy. Untethered and uninhibited.
Mateo is on the bed with the bedding pulled back. His tan, naked body looks delectable against the stark white sheet. As I approach, he gets out of bed and takes my face in his palms. The tip of his hard-on nudges my belly as his soft lips meet mine, and we both jolt at the dual connection of our flesh. He smells good. Looks good. I don’t know what he’s like in real life. Why his ex-fiancée wasn’t faithful to him. And I don’t want to know any of it. For me, Mateo is a fantasy. A form of therapy from whom I intend to squeeze every amount of pleasure as possible before returning to reality. The last thing I need this week is for Mateo to know my last name and google me—and then figure out that my father has done exceedingly well for himself and assume, incorrectly, that I’m living a life that’s fancier than my own kindergarten teacher salary affords.
I open my lips slightly, and Mateo slides his tongue inside my mouth. As our tongues tangle and dance, rockets of pleasure shoot through me, all of them zapping me between the legs. With each passing second, I’m getting more and more turned on. More and more certain this was a brilliant idea.
There’s no sense of urgency in our kiss. He’s taking my temperature, I think. Getting a read on me. Luring me in, slowly. And the tactic, if that’s what it is, is impeccably effective. Soon, I’m aching for more. Pulsing, and then pounding, between my legs, as arousal floods me. By the time Mateo guides me to the bed, my most sensitive flesh is swollen. My tip is hard and beating like a steel drum.
From my mouth, Mateo’s lips travel to my cheek, my jawline and neck, as his fingers begin gently stroking between my legs. I can feel myself getting wetter and wetter with his touch, my clit harder and harder and more swollen and aching.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “He’s an idiot.”
Before I walked into this bedroom, I would have assumed any mention of Brayden would be a mistake. A turn off. But as it’s turned out, his comment is sheer perfection. The precise words I needed to hear in this moment; and I let him know it with a loud and husky moan.
His mouth returns to mine, as his fingers begin dipping in and out of me. By the way his fingers are moving with ease, I must be insanely wet down there. Wetter than Brayden ever got me, that’s for sure. If Mateo plunged himself inside me now, he’d burrow into me like a knife in warm butter.
I gyrate into his fingers and deepen our kiss, aching for penetration. But he doesn’t go in. No, he leaves my mouth again and starts kissing his way down my torso, all the way to the bullseye between my legs. He repositions himself between my thighs and gets to work on me in earnest. And in less than a minute, I’m gripping the sheet beneath me and coming with a loud roar that’s surely traveling through the open window to the nearby beach. But I don’t care if random strangers hear me having the best sexual experience of my life. This moment is too delicious to hold back. Fuck anyone who’s clutching their pearls. I’m reborn.
When the waves of pleasure subside, I open my eyes to find Mateo’s glorious hard-on wrapped up and ready to go. He climbs over my body like a panther, grabs my hands and lifts them above my head, and then plunges himself inside me. As his body stretches mine and fills me up, I feel like I’m being injected with a narcotic. Like I’m being transported to a state of bliss on a rocket.
I wrap my thighs around his hips as he gyrates on top of me and match the movement of my pelvis with his, until we’re both moving as one. Maximizing the depth of each and every thrust. It’s sublime. And not only for me, based on the way Mateo is groaning with pleasure.
“Julia,” he whispers into my ear. “You feel so fucking good. Jesus Christ. You’re incredible.”
I’ve never had a lover who talked during sex before. Every partner I’ve ever had goes about his business silently, so I’ve always followed suit. And now I know what I’ve been missing out on, because the groaning dirty talk thing Mateo is doing is taking my pleasure to another level.
We kiss passionately as our bodies move, more and more enthusiastically. With each thrust, and each swirl of my tongue with Mateo’s, I suddenly feel hope that the gashes and wounds in my heart could heal. In fact, I suddenly know, for a fact, I’ll one day soon be as good as new. Better than ever, as a matter of fact. I didn’t even know my body could feel this good. What else have I been missing out on?
Mateo touches my face with urgency and looks at me with blazing eyes, right before he snaps his pelvis forward and releases with a loud growl. When he’s done climaxing, he slides out of me, as expected. But then, he does something I’m not expecting. He kisses me deeply while massaging my clit with his fingers. I’m thinking it’s wishful thinking on his part. I’ve never had two orgasms during sex in my life. But in short order, it’s clear I’m hurtling toward another release. One that’s going to be a good one.
When it comes, it curls my toes and makes me groan, even more loudly than the last time. But when the waves of pleasure subside this time, I realize I’ve got tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Aw, hey,” Mateo coos. He wipes my tears with his thumb. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, not at all. You made me feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life,” I admit. “I’m crying because it felt so good.”
He sighs with relief and kisses me, and we make out for a while . . . until Mateo is suddenly hard and ready to go again. This time, I suck his big cock for a while before mounting him and riding him like a bucking bronco. And to my shock, I wind up having an orgasm with his hard dick still inside me. It’s a first for me—having an orgasm during actual intercourse. A delicious one. One that only makes me want to do it again and again and again.
When we’re both sweaty and spent and in desperate need of water, we head to the kitchen, naked, to fuel up and recharge. I take a seat on a stool with a glass of water, while Mateo cuts up fresh fruit he picked up earlier on his way to the bungalow.
“You don’t need to find another place this week, as far as I’m concerned,” I say. “In fact, I’d really, really, really like it if you’d stay.”
“Are you sure?”
