138
The last few days have been like some erotic fantasy with endless days of sex, sunbathing, and frolicking in the sea. We’ve been wrapped up like a couple on their honeymoon. He was right about coming away; we needed this time to be together and get used to our new roles as a couple and no longer fight our feelings. Time to heal the hurt. It’s been more about bonding and getting comfortable, talking through the misunderstandings, and just learning to co-exist in a new dynamic, uninterrupted, with eyes only for each other, time just to be.
On the rare occasions when we’ve left our bedroom, we’ve been swimming, sunbathing, reading, and eating on the loungers on the upper deck. The staff has given us space, and it feels like we’re on the cruiser alone. I guess Jake has given orders to be left in peace since we tend to have sex wherever he sees fit. We’ve christened every sun lounger, flat space on deck, and most of the boats' rooms.
As I’ve learned, Jake’s sex drive is never fading; it has kept us up late almost every night and in bed until late every morning. He’s made love to me several times every day until my body constantly tingles and glows with his attention. I never knew it could feel this way, be this way, that someone could make me believe I am so desirable and beautiful, or that I could trust a man enough to let him do any of this to me. I would never have guessed that I’d have any reason to appreciate his past, littered with affairs and constant one-night stands, but now I see its benefits. He’s honed his skills for years, and now I’m reaping the rewards with a competent lover.
With his lack of inhibition in trying new things and his superior confidence in being able to pleasure the female body, he’s shown me so many ways I can be pleasured. He’s taught me so much in such a short time, taking me forward into my own journey of sexual awakening, as I trust him more than I ever thought possible. I’m finding confidence in being in my own skin. He has a way of taking away my shy awkwardness and replacing it with a hot, wanton version of myself who wants to be adventurous. I’m flowering beneath his capable hands, coming into my own, learning new things, and growing within myself. I’m finally putting part of my past to bed in ways I never thought I could, but it’s because of him. The trust and love I have for him make me capable of it; he’s healing me just by loving me.
Our relationship has come on so much further than I would have imagined it could. Talking endlessly about things we like, hate, small talk, and life in general. Even before, when I thought we were the closest friends, we never had the conversations or laughs we’ve had the last few days. We talk about the vaguest things and laugh at each other’s lame jokes, and we have grown closer than I ever thought possible. I feel like I’ve finally gotten to know him in ways denied me previously, the inner workings of his mind, and how he truly feels.
I’ve learned that Jake isn’t all the ‘Mr. Confident’ he portrays, and his humor is sometimes used to cover what he’s really feeling. All those endless jokes and sexual innuendos were his way of testing the waters, probing to see if I loved him back, this childish part of him that I would sometimes see, so at odds with the alpha male everyone else saw. He has insecurities about love too, and about himself, but he always seems able to shrug them down, ignoring them for the most part and letting his stubborn nature tramp all over them. Letting me in and letting us happen has revealed a whole new side to him, a vulnerable and scared side, the part of him who was too afraid to tell me he loved me. And it makes me want him all the more.
We’re not so different after all.
Jake has opened up about things that I never knew. He’s never shy about being honest with me and coaxing me to question him on anything I want to know. I’ve met the gentle, attentive lover, the guy forever touching me, cuddling, holding hands, and kissing me. With me, he’s patient now, never pushing me to talk about things anymore, giving me time just to let it happen, and not saying anything when I can’t. He tells me he knows it will take time, and I’m floating in the clouds for now.
* * *
It’s late afternoon, and I’m pacing on the upper deck in a mix of agitation and anger. I’m filled with a turmoil of emotions, and I want to scream.
“I’m not talking to you!” I pout childishly, rage beginning to grow inside me at his confession. Turning away from him on the boat's main deck, I pull my sarong tightly around my waist and tie it off with an angry tug.
“Bambina, please.” He tries to catch my arm, but I storm away. He stifles a laugh and comes at me again, “You’re really mad at me?” He sounds like he’s in disbelief that I could actually be angry over this.
I forgot how obtuse he could be.
He catches my face in his hands, trying to bring me to him, and croons at me softly, his baby voice coming on strong. It only makes me madder, so I shove his hands off and glare at him.
“Baby? Bambina? Don’t be like that.” He tries to kiss me, sucking my bottom lip seductively, but I shrug him off and bat him away. His doe-eyed, faux boyish look is completely lost on me while I’m furious beyond words.
Forget it, Carrero. That does nothing for me right now.
“Go away, leave me alone,” I snap and walk toward the metal railing of the boat. I want to smack him over the head; instead, I grip the railing with a vengeance until my knuckles turn white. He has no idea how insane he can make me.
He had no right to interfere without even asking me. He should have told me long before now.
“Emma? You didn’t want him in your life. I did what I thought you’d want. He wanted money, so I gave it to him on the understanding he would stay away.” He catches my arm this time and hauls me around to face him. “Il mio tesoro, bambina, ti amo.” He’s trying to sweet-talk me.
“Fuck off with your fancy foreign words,” I spit childishly, pushing him away, my hands flat on his exposed torso. “I can’t even speak Italian, so for all I know, you’re calling me names!” I try to tug my arm out of his grasp, but he only pulls me closer, smiling indulgently as though I’m a child throwing a tantrum. In a way, I feel like one and could easily stamp my feet all over his right now. I’m seething.
“Do you want to see him?” he asks, trying a different approach to distract me from what he’s done. He raises his eyebrows in question, and I hesitate.
Not a chance, Carrero. I’m seething with you!
“No! But it still gave you no right to pay off that asshole. He’s my biological father; it should have been up to me to cut him off for good.” I give up trying to pull my arm free and turn my body away, so I don’t have to look at him as tears fill my eyes.
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