Derailed II (2 page)

“Sarah, do wanna play Frisbee with us after lunch?” The sound of Ben’s sweet voice saved me from having to say anything further to Ari’s snide sister. Wearing one of those multi-colored surfer-dude bathing suits and holding a red Frisbee, the little boy hoisted himself onto a stool and grabbed a sandwich.

“Sure.” My lips curled into a smile under Gwen’s watchful eyes. She went back to reading her
New York Times.

“I’m looking forward to playing with you, Saarah,” came a deep, sultry voice.

I twisted my almost naked torso around, my breasts almost falling out of the skimpy top. Ari. Dressed in khaki shorts, his golden skin tight around his bare sculpted chest and washboard abs. There was a glimmer of mischief in his blue eyes as they surveyed my bikini-clad body. A tingle rippled through me, leaving me hungry for something other than lunch.

After helping himself to a sandwich, he strode over to a pantry and returned holding a tube of SPF 50 suntan lotion. He squirted some on my back and began slathering it in circles across my shoulder blades, then all the way down to the edge of my bikini bottom. I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, and my skin prickled under his touch. Gwen kept one eye on her newspaper, the other on me.

“Saarah,” he murmured in my ear but loud enough for his sister to hear, “I don’t want to see you get burnt.”

“Thank you, for the protection.”

The flash of a smirk on my face did not go unnoticed by Gwen.

The sand beneath the soles of my feet felt like a warm foot massage, and the chorus of squawking sea gulls mixed with crashing waves made for perfect background music. We were playing Frisbee—Ben tossing the saucer to Ari and me, each competing to be the one to catch it.

For a six-year-old, Ben had a damn good arm. I could tell from Ari’s lit up face that he was incredibly proud of his son. Standing at least fifty feet away from us, the little boy flung the Frisbee with the strength and precision of someone much older. It spun in the air. I had no idea where it might land, given the ocean breeze.

“It’s mine,” shouted Ari, running toward it.

“No, it’s mine,” I countered, running toward it.

And then we clashed, the Frisbee flying by both of us.

I tumbled to the sand, my body crashing upon his. Skin to skin, organ to organ. The heat of his body coursed through mine, and his warm breath heated my already flushed cheeks. My scantily robed breasts rubbed against his taut, bare chest. As it rose and fell beneath me, my nipples hardened.

His strong hands hugged my waist, and his ocean-blue eyes burned into mine as strong as the sun. “So, Saarah, you play to win.” His rod hardened beneath me.

I would have said, “Game over,” had not Ben run over to us and burst out in laughter. “You guys look so funny.”

Ari scrambled to his feet, pulling me up with him. “Let’s go into the ocean.”

Ben was the first one in. As he frolicked in the waves, I watched as Ari pulled down his shorts, revealing one of those spandex Speedo suits worn by athletes. With his broad shoulders, lean muscular build, and that rock-hard perfect ass, this godly man could easily be mistaken for an Olympian. Even the shimmering mysterious scar on his back could not take away from his beauty. He turned to face me. My eyes gravitated to the package between his legs. Holy cow! I swear the spandex made it look more sizeable than it already was. I met his gaze and felt myself heating up. He knew I was mentally undressing him and curled his lips into a sexy crooked smile. I was getting all tingly again, the nerves between my legs twitching with lust. With a wink, he sprinted into the water, diving head first into a frothy wave.

“Come on in, Sarah!” shouted Ben.

At the shoreline, I dipped my big toe into the water. An icy sting shot up my leg. God, the water was cold.

“It’s too cold,” I shouted back.

Rising from the water, like a sea god, all wet and glistening under the burning sun, Ari sloshed toward me. His eyes gleaming, he scooped me up with his powerful arms and flung me over his right shoulder. An arm pressed tight against the back of my thighs, right under my buttocks, locking me against him. “My pretty princess, you’re coming in,” he growled.

“Put me down. Now!” I barked back at him. I kicked furiously and pounded his muscular back, my eyes all the while riveted on his in-my-face perfect ass. But he was already marching back into the sea, giving me no choice but to enjoy the ride. Blood rushed to my head. I felt tingly hot when I should feel chilled against his cold, wet body.

Ahead of us, I could hear Ben laughing his head off at the sight of us.

The water up to his waist, Ari said, “Saarah, I like it when you’re all wet.”

Before I could say a word, I was flying in the air and, seconds later, thrashing beneath the frigid ocean. I alternated between gripping my bikini bottom and skimpy top, fearful the sea would claim them.

When I resurfaced and was able to regain my balance, Ari was standing right beside me, now chest-deep in the water and holding Ben in his arms. He clasped my hand, and we began jumping waves, each one bigger than the one before.

“I love big waves,” squealed Ben.

Ari squeezed my hand and shot me a smile. “The bigger, the better.”

Waves of desire mingled with those of the sea and I thought: The more, the better.

The waves licked my clit as I jumped over them, making me long for the erotic sea of waves this man could drown me in. As I brushed up against him, I wondered what the rest of this weekend would bring.

Ari spent the rest of the afternoon inside the house, catching up on business-related matters while I decided to spend it with my sketchpad at the pool. Ben frolicked in the water under the watchful eye of Vadim, who I was convinced was some kind of bodyguard. Just as I pulled out my sketchpad from my messenger bag, Ari’s sister took the chaise next to mine. She was wearing a black bandeau one-piece bathing suit that was cut in a way that made her long, lean legs look even longer and a large, stylish floppy hat. The latest
Vanity Fair
was in her hand. Good. She was going to read. I wouldn’t have to talk to her and could do some sketching. At least, that was what I thought.

“My brother seems to like you,” she began. Her voice was cold and calculating.

I was taken aback. “We get along,” I replied, finding my voice.
And we fuck
really well together.

“You’re the wrong kind of woman for him.” Her tone went from cold to cutting. Each word was a knife to my heart. I was glad I wearing the Ray-Bans so that she couldn’t see the hurt in my eyes.

“He needs someone mature, independent, and with class. Someone who can take an active role in society, host dinner parties, and know what private schools are best for his son.”

His mother
. He already had one and didn’t need another. Anger was rising in me like bread in an oven.

Her eyes narrowed into sharp slithers of glass. “I’d like you to consider dropping him, and I will make it worth your while.”

Was she bribing me?

“Help!” The word sounded loudly in my ear before I could respond.

Gwen jumped to her feet. “Oh my God,” I heard her mutter.

My eyes darted to the pool. Ben was in the deep end, flailing his arms. “Help!” he screamed again as his head sunk into the water.

Vadim, fully clothed, was in the water too, swimming toward the child at Olympian speed. I held my breath while Gwen cupped both hands over her mouth, her face awash with terror.

My eyes didn’t blink once as I watched Vadim pull the limp child out of the pool and onto the concrete. His mouth pressed against the child’s mouth as he pumped his large hands against his slender chest. My heart was in my throat… and then the little boy squirmed and bolted up. Gwen and I breathed loud sighs of relief in unison.

“Oh, God. He almost drowned once before.”

“How?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“His mother took a combination of sedatives and alcohol and fell asleep out here. When she was out, Ben fell into the pool; he was only a toddler. Had Olga not been bringing out lunch, we would have lost him.”

I drank in her words. The picture of his ex-wife was getting clearer in my head. What other terrible things did she do to Ben… and Ari? Loathing for this woman was seeping through my veins.

In the distance, Ben was back to his playful self, high-fiving Vadim. Turning to me, Gwen hissed, “Sarah, my brother needs someone responsible. You’re practically a child who still likes to play with toys.”

Her words stung me like the wasp that was buzzing around me. She had no clue of who I was. Of what I was capable of. Of what I had done to take care of both myself and my mother.

“Consider my offer, Sarah. I’ll draw up a contract.” She rolled up her magazine. “And one last thing, please don’t tell my brother about this incident. Ari would rather die than lose that child.”

She strutted back to the house, leaving me with decisions to make.

When I got back to the house feeling rather unnerved, I learned that Ari was taking me to a cocktail party at the home of one of his clients. Gwen was staying put, looking forward to a quiet evening with Ben and Olga’s homemade pierogies for dinner. I was glad she was not coming along.

Before I headed back to the guesthouse to shower and change, Ari whispered in my ear. “Wear the jeans and a tee. And the only panty line I want to see is that of your tan.”

No panties. No bra. No surprise.

Returning to my quarters, the first thing I did was call my mother again. Fortunately, this time she picked up; I inwardly sighed a breath of relief. Though she sounded weary, it was good to hear her voice. I told her I was at the beach; she was pleased to hear that I was enjoying myself. I didn’t tell her I was spending the weekend with a stranger on a train. After I said good-bye to her, I immediately called Mrs. Blumberg and asked her to feed Jo-Jo. She had a spare set of keys to my apartment, allowing her access. Of course, the busy body wanted to know where I was. I told her I was visiting a girlfriend. She didn’t believe me and went on about the dangers of going away with men you didn’t know. “Didn’t you read in the
New York Post
about that poor girl who got stabbed to death my some
meshugenah
she met on the Internet?” Rolling my eyes, I told her to stop worrying, that I was fine.

It was time to get ready for the party. The shower--with its state-of-the-art massage showerhead--was divine. But lonely. As the hot, pulsing water poured over me, kneading my muscles, I fantasized my Trainman sharing the shower with me. Closing my eyes, I arched my head. I could see his face--those sexy, sapphire eyes-- and feel his hard body against mine, his hands soaping me up all over. The space between my inner thighs ached for his thick cock. And the stroke of his long fingers.

Craving his stimulation, I rubbed my soapy hand over my mound--just like he did it. Pleasure? I wasn’t sure. I needed to come, and the only way I could was by imagining him. The orgasm came quickly, but not with the magnitude, endurance, or divine ecstasy he could give me. I was only placating myself, compensating for the emptiness I felt inside me. Masturbation had its place but not its glory.