The Two Week Stand by Samantha Towle

nineteen

Dillon

The sky is bright blue and clear, and the sun is shining down. I’m snuggled up on a hammock with West, who is currently asleep.

We did some morning yoga and then went for breakfast. After, we took a walk around the island, and we ended up here at the hammock, which is set out on a stretch of sand that runs through a lagoon. It’s really peaceful and private.

West nodded off about twenty minutes ago, and I’ve just been lying here, listening to the waves of the ocean. The steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. Wishing I could stay here forever. With him.

Yeah, I know. I’m dumb.

I have feelings for him. But it’s just a crush though. Nothing major.

But it’s still stupid of me to even have a crush on him because I knew from the start what this was with us. A fling. A two-week stand. Nothing more. I won’t see him after we leave here. And I was on board with that. Totally. Because I’m not in the right headspace to even be thinking of another relationship. I’m still working through the debris from the explosion of my last relationship.

And it’s not even what he wants. West has given me no signals that he sees me as anything more than his fuck buddy that he’ll say good-bye to at the end of his holiday.

Therefore, I have to keep this little crush of mine to myself. I want to keep having sex with him. I want to spend the rest of my time here with him.

I just need to push down any little happy, wandering thoughts that I might have of West and me sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the baby in a baby carriage.

Yeah. None of that.

Act like I don’t have a crush on him. Keep on enjoying the sex and the time I have with him.

Then mourn my crush once I get back home.

God. Home.

I really do not want to go home. I know my city is fairly big. Maybe more medium-sized. So, it’s not like I have to ever see Tim or my mum again.

But it can also be a really small place. And I just know that Sod’s Law will guarantee that I bump into either one or both of them.

I’m so far from ready for that.

Maybe I’ll just stay here on the island. I could move here permanently.

And do what?

I could write. And earn not enough to even pay for a tent on the beach.

Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.

A crab skitters past, catching my attention, and I see it has the number ten written on its shell. I chuckle quietly to myself. Must be one of the crabs from the race the other day. Still walking around in its little numbered shell. Wonder where my number fourteen losing crab is. Probably off napping somewhere.

I tip my head back and look at West. He looks totally peaceful. Man, he’s just so damn pretty. And why am I just only now noticing how long his lashes are? I have to pay for extensions if I want to look like that.

But seriously, how did I get so lucky to land a guy like him to have a fling with?

I mean, I know I’m not hideous. But he’s out of my league. He’s out of most people’s leagues, to be honest, except for maybe Bella Hadid. She is beautiful.

And here’s little old me, getting to do lots of dirty things to him and with him.

I’m taking this as my cosmic payment for having such a shitty mother. Two weeks in paradise, being screwed into oblivion by West.

Well, I’ve definitely earned it.

This is getting a little boring though. Not the staring at him. No, I could do that all day. I just mean, lying here while he sleeps and I’ve nothing to do. I don’t even have my phone with me. I left it back at the villa. No pockets on my bikini to put it in.

Someone needs to invent that. A phone pocket on a bikini.

Maybe I will, and it’ll sell millions. Then, I can stop working crap jobs to support myself while I try to make it as a writer.

And I’m still staring at him like a little stalker because there’s nothing else to do. Can I be classed as a stalker if I’m here by invitation? Not that he invited me here, but you know what I mean.

I don’t think this classifies me as a stalker. Still, I think watching him sleep would definitely stick me in the creeper category.

“Are you watching me sleep?”

“What? No!” I nearly crap myself, jumping out of my skin. My voice is all high-pitched, clearly giving away that I was in fact watching him sleep. Also, is he a frigging psychic or something?

He blinks open his eyes and smiles lazily at me. “You’re a terrible liar, Double D.”

“Am not.”

“So, you admit that you’re lying?”

“Nope.”

He stretches, yawning at the same time, and then his hand rubs at his abs. “What were you doing then?”

“Just lying here … contemplating life.”

“You were contemplating life?”

“Yep.”

“How’d that go?”

“Okay.”

“You figure anything out?”

“About what?”

“Life.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Was it to lie about watching the incredibly good-looking guy sleeping next to you?”

“Ugh! You’re such a jerk.”

I give him a shove in the chest, and he laughs.

“A hot jerk who’s right.”

“A jerk who’s wrong.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Just letting you know though … if roles were reversed, I’d have definitely been watching you sleep.”

I stare at his gorgeous face, untrusting of that innocent look he’s giving me. “You’re only saying that so I’ll say I was watching you sleep.”

“No, I’m not. I’m being serious.”

He moves his arm up over his head, and my eyes are drawn to his tattoo. It’s a small cross that’s entwined with rosary beads and surrounded by what I think is holly. Perfect subject change. I’ve never asked him about that or the one on his back before, and now seems like a good time. So we can get off the me watching him sleep subject.

I reach my finger out and touch it. “I like this tattoo. Is that holly around the cross?”

“Yeah.”

“When did you have it done?”

“When I was eighteen.”

“What about the one on your back?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Do either of them have any meanings? I know not all tattoos do, but I know some people get them for specific reasons.”

“I got the one on my back after I was drafted into the NFL.”

“It’s a raven, right?”

“Yeah. That’s my team. The Baltimore Ravens. They drafted me straight out of college.”

“And you still play for them now?”

“Yeah.”

“What about this one?” I’m still tracing it with my fingertip.

“My mom’s name was Holly.”

Was.

“When did she die?” I ask softly. I stop tracing the tattoo and instead curl my fingers around his bicep.

“When I was fifteen. She started getting these headaches. Finally, she went to the doctor. There was a tumor … she was gone six weeks later.”

“West …”

He stares up at the sky. “It was a long time ago, Dillon.”

“I know. But … it’s still shit though. Still unfair.” I take a breath. “My dad died when I was a baby.”

His eyes come back to mine. “I know. You told me that first night.”

“Figures. Did I tell you when and how he died?”

“No. Just that you were a baby.”

“I was eleven months old. He was eighteen. He was on his motorbike on his way to work. A car pulled out, didn’t see him. He died from his injuries while he was in the hospital. He and my mum weren’t together. They’d broken up before she even knew she was pregnant. They were just kids when they had me. But from what I’ve been told from my aunt Jenny, he really stepped up as a dad. I spent more time with him those first eleven months of my life than I did my mum. I don’t think she ever really wanted me.”

“Your mom is a fucking idiot.”

Can’t argue with that.

“Were you close to your mom?”

“Yeah.” A smile touches his eyes. “She was awesome.”

“What about your dad?”

I feel his body tense up.

“I still see him. But we’re not close.”

I can tell there’s a story there, but I don’t push the subject.

“What about brothers and sisters? You got any?”

His lips curve into a grin.

“We’ve had this conversation already, haven’t we?”

“Yep.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I sigh. “And what was your answer to that question?”

“Only child.”

“Same.”

“I know.”

“Of course you do. I wish I had a video recording of that night, so I’d know everything that I told you.”

“I wish I had one too. For a totally different reason.”

“So you could watch it and laugh at me?”

“Yep.”

“Twat.”

He chuckles, and I’m glad I made him laugh since I’d bummed him out when talking about his mum and dad.

“Any clue what time it is?” he asks me.

“No clue. I left my phone back at the villa.” I kind of like that about here. Not needing to constantly have my phone with me. Spending time away from the real world and the pressures of social media.

“Probably well after lunch now.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“You hungry?”

“Not really.”

I’ve eaten and drunk my body weight and probably West’s since I got here. If I haven’t gained weight, it’ll be a damn miracle. I’m just holding on to hope that any weight I might have gained, I’ve sweated out from the insane heat.

“You did eat enough at breakfast to feed a small family, so not surprising.”

“Hey.” I poke him in the side, and he jumps a little. “You’re ticklish.” I grin.

“Of course I am because I’m normal. Unlike you.”

I run my fingernails over his abs and down to the trail of hair that leads to my happy place. I get nothing from that. So, I do the same to his side, where I just poked him, and he jumps again. The hammock rocks a little.

“You wanna tickle me? Fine. But just remember that we’re lying in a hammock together. Any big movements, and we’re both going out of this thing. And when I’m being tickled, I make some pretty big movements.”

I don’t fancy landing on my arse. But tickling him is so tempting.

“Good thing I wasn’t planning on tickling you then,” I lie.

Instead, I decide to do something else. Because he makes some pretty big movements when we do this, too, and I’m wondering if this is also out of the question.

I slip the tips of my fingers into the waistband of his shorts.

I hear his sharp inhalation of breath.

Smiling to myself, I slide my hand right inside his shorts and wrap my fingers around his hot, hard cock. “No big sudden movements, you say?” I move my hand up and down his thickening shaft. “So, I guess sex is out of the question.”

Eyelids half-mast, he hisses out a moan. He rolls to his side. His hand cups my breast over my bikini, and his mouth descends on mine. “Sex is never out of the question,” he rumbles right before he takes my mouth in a deep, sultry kiss.

Lust bolts straight to my center.

“But we could fall,” I murmur against his lips.

“So we fall. Nothing could stop me from fucking you right now.”

“What if I die from the fall?”

“You’d fall onto sand. I think you’re good.”

“It’s a biggish drop though. I could sprain something.”

“It’s a couple of feet. You’d be fine. And you can still fuck through a sprain.”

“Your concern for me is overwhelming.”

“I know. Now, take my dick out of my shorts, so I can fuck you.”

I do as he told me, and I free his cock from his shorts.

“Do you have a condom?”

His brow rises, answering my question. Of course he has one. He doesn’t go anywhere on this island with me without a condom in his pocket.

We have a hell of a lot of sex.

He slides his hand in the pocket of his trunks and pulls out the familiar foil wrapper. Just seeing it has my insides tightening with anticipation.

A quick tear, and he’s rolling it on. Then, he unties the string on the side of my bikini bottoms and pushes it out of the way. Taking hold of my thigh, he hooks it over his hip, and he slides inside me.

He fucks me with slow, shallow thrusts. The base of his cock drags over my clit while he makes love to my mouth with his tongue.

Just when I think sex with him can’t get any better, that we’ve finally reached our peak, he goes and proves me wrong with hammock sex.

There is literally nowhere that he won’t screw me.

I’m fairly sure he’d do me on the table at breakfast if I gave him the green light to go ahead.

I don’t know if he just has an insatiable sexual appetite or if he has this appetite for me, but whatever it is, I’m grateful for it. And for all the orgasms that he gives me.

I know that in just this past week, I’ve had so many more orgasms than I had in my entire relationship with Tim.

I’ve never wanted sex as much as I want it with West either.

I just can’t seem to get enough of him.

I’m in the middle of paradise, and it’s hard to care about any of it when I’m with West. All I can see is him, and it’s scary as hell.

I need to keep reminding myself that this is a holiday fling and nothing more.

And when it’s time for us to both go home, we’ll part on good terms, and I’ll go back to England with a smile on my face and an entire suitcase full of memories of my time with him and all the sex we had.

But in the meantime, I’m still here, and he’s inside me, making me feel amazing.

His hand slides over my butt, gripping it.

Our breathing grows heavier. My breasts brush against his chest. The material of my bikini top feels harsh against my nipples.

I reach up and untie the string around my neck, allowing my breasts to be free. I know how much of a boob man he is.

West immediately ducks his head and wraps his mouth around a nipple, sending a bolt of desire straight through me and to my clit.

“Jesus,” I gasp.

He’s all over me. Inside me. His smell. His taste. Him. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

When my orgasm hits, I have to bite my lip to stop from screaming. My inner muscles clamp tight around his dick.

“Fuck, Dillon. You’re making me come.” He presses his forehead to mine, and I feel his cock start to jerk inside of me.

His eyes are on mine, and we’re just staring at each other. I worry he can see my feelings in my eyes, so I close them.

He makes no move to pull out of me, and I don’t want him to. I like having him inside of me.

His rough fingertips trace a path over my cheek, and he tucks my hair behind my ear. “So fucking pretty.”

I blink open my eyes. He’s still watching me.

“So are you.”

“Handsome, Double D. I’m handsome.”

“That as well.”

He smiles that gorgeous smile of his before bringing his lips to mine again. “I like you,” he says, his lips brushing over mine.

And honestly, his words surprise me.

“I like you too,” I tell him quietly.

“I don’t like many people.”

“So, I’m one of the lucky ones then.”

“Obviously. But so am I. You’re like no one I’ve ever met before.”

I don’t know what else to say. I only know how it makes me feel, and it’s scary. Everything about this moment is scary. Because I know he doesn’t mean it in the way my heart wants to take it.

But thankfully, he kisses me again and again, and then I feel his dick starting to thicken and harden inside me, so I stop thinking and instead just feel the things he does to my body.