The Sun The Girl And Goodbye Ch 01

Authors note: For once, I'm doing quite a build up for my first series. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. The BDSM and all the rest will come as the story unfolds.

*****

He opens the door.

The heat beat down upon our hero like nothing he ever felt before. It coaxed sweat to the surface of his skin where it could nearly turn it into steam. He dabbed at his forehead with a kerchief, pushed the airport door all the way open, and stepped into Northern Africa for the first time.

After a moment his eyes adjusted to the bright, hot sun and the light that warped everything it touched.

He hailed a cab, holding the palm of his hand up over the sunglasses, wondering when he could adjust to this new found light. If she had been anyone else, anyone at all but her, he couldn't even fathom coming here. Much less staying in the heat a moment longer than needed.

The hotel was splendid and the English of the check-in girl was perfect. It was clear from the moment he entered the room that this place specialized in pampered Europeans. He hardly had enough time to park his suitcase and get in the room before his phone rang.

"You are so very punctual, answering on the second ring." Her voice is like incense smoke. Even through the phone it bounces in his ear and runs over his skin. Somehow, it makes him even hotter than the sun.

"I want to see you tonight." His voice is dark, low with a tight throat.

"You are tired. Your journey must have taken it out of you." She laughs and it is airy, as though she does not fear him at all.

"I want to see you."

"You repeat yourself, My Mister." She tisks and he can feel the weight of her full lips through the phone. Sense them on his face, his chest, his cock. "We did not agree. Please, do not make me more uncomfortable about this meeting than I already am. This is—very difficult for me. I adore that you traveled, that you came. Now please, My Mister, freshen up. Take your evening meal, do you call it supper or dinner? Shower, the soap here is so beautifully perfumed, but do not not use too much. I want to smell you tomorrow."

He is about to break form and beg her, but the click comes before he does.

For a moment he resents her, then pulls himself into the shower, limps to bed in nothing but a towel and falls into a deep, dead sleep before the sun even falls.

He opens the door. Massive and wooden, replete with panels each larger than his head—and there she is.

Her hair is glossy, rich and long. There is no way she would be a surgeon in the States with that kind of hair. It is, amazingly, his first thought about her. Then her neck turns and their eyes meet for the first time. When she smiles, both warm and contained, he is no longer sure what to think, or that he can. His world becomes hotter, heavy and soft around the edges.

The waiter asks him the question again, in the kind of slower, louder English that someone only breaks out when dealing with a particularly stupid tourist and he's pulled out of the fire. "Sorry," our hero says, "I—she is waiting for me." He gestures with his hand, careful not to point and when the waiter sees her, his eyes return to our hero with confusion and doubt. After a second, he nods.

Our hero takes steps so heavy he wonders if he's carrying another person, but through it all, each footfall that leads him up to her—she does not look away. Her eyes are on him, her smile fixed, small and warm and when he arrives she stands. Her breasts bounce within the dress of fabric too thin to constrain her, and her hand is offered up to him. When he tries to shake it she pulls it back and laughs, eyes growing wider, mouth curving into more of a grin.

"You did not think I would make you fly all this way just to have you shake my hand, did you?"

Our hero is not sure what to respond, so she saves him again. She wraps her arms around him, low; at the waist, and constricts him as her face pressing into his chest. And as she takes the air out of him he can no longer breathe in the smoke, is no longer lost. He simply clings to her. And he thinks he can hear her barely whisper the words, "you're mine now." But the moment is not long enough and she breaks the embrace.

Her eyes are warmest, hottest kind of dark he's ever seen and it's only the movement of her hand offering a seat that breaks her gaze.

The waiter returns and asks her something in their native tongue. "Well we'd certainly like more water. And a moment if you'd be kind." The waiter casts our hero a second suspicious glance before pouring to large glasses of ice water as he, and The Girl, lock eyes.

"So, how was your trip! Did you sleep well?" She is framed by the most red sunset he's ever seen and he wonders if she asked for this seat or if it was just another dice roll. "You are so silent, I did not expect this. I think of you as verbal, your mouth always moving. Am I speaking too much? I tend to do that when nervous. When I can't-"

"You're not."

His words hang heavy in the air. She seems to relish them, her eyes closing as she takes a long pull from the glass of water. "Say something else."

"This is where I suppose I'd say the word 'you' and then you'd said it back to me. 'You?' And then I'd say something like, 'Yeah, because you are are something else.' But I don't want to do that. I want to—I have never tried to be more impressive and less of myself than at this moment."

She laughs and it is earnest and free before her guard comes back up. "My Mister. If the core of you wasn't impressive, do you really think you'd be here?" She gestures to the old fort converted into a restaurant with her hand. A place that invaders had conquered and made their own for hundreds of years, maybe longer, now adorned with rich carpets along the wall and trinkets for sale in the lobby.

"I like when you call me 'My Mister.'"

"Then you should say more about it. I love your voice. It is different in person, when I can hear it, feel its little vibrations wash over me."

"I wanted to see you last night."

"I know." She smiles instead of looking down or away. "But I knew it was best that we see each other today."

He takes the slowest pull of water that he's ever had in his life. It is cold and needed, the dust and the heath seeming to sap every bit of moisture from him.

"We are going to reach a point where I will need you to stop knowing what's best and deciding for us."

"I see. Already so aggressive. Terrifying." But her body shifts forward, more of her breasts are revealed and there is nothing scared in her tone. Our hero wonders who should be terrified. "Have you eaten today?"

"Not yet."

"And last night?"

"No, I went right to sleep after a shower."

She tisks and flags the waiter, ordering so quickly and with fluency he could never hope to understand,. "I think you'll like the selection. And perhaps eating will coax you out of your shell. Maybe the dark monster within you is only scary and grumpy because he does not get enough to eat. Well, tonight? Tonight he has the best meal he could have in a long time."

He ignores the obvious bait of sexual banter given that she can retreat from it so easily here. "You didn't ask me what I wanted."

She moans, she shifts in her seat and her thighs rub against one another as she crosses her legs. Then her forefinger and thumb grasp the fabric of her dress just above her navel and pull so that another centimeter of her bust is revealed. "That is because I know exactly what you want."

"I told you that you were going to need to stop deciding for me."

"Yes," she reaches for her glass of water, "and because you asked it I will not-"

He traps her hand between his and the rich, thick table cloth. Pushes it down into the table in such a way that nobody looking on would think anything of it, simply two lovers holding hands, but in a way that she could very much feel. "You have asked me, before I arrived, what is the difference between me and the monster? You seem to have made a mistake, thinking that the monster does not ask and the man does. You are wrong. We both do. The difference is merely how we handle not being—look me in the eyes—how we handle not being heard."

Our hero removes his hand from hers and takes the longest sip of water in his life before placing both palms back on the table. "I will not threaten you. I will not demand anything of you. But I do ask you to remember that I am no fool."

The waiter comes with their food; small portions, finger foods, steaming hot. When he is not responded to in any way he vanishes and our hero speaks with the low, slow growl from the back of his throat that he's rarely heard. "You didn't ask me all this way to be a poor host or a tease. I will have you. If not tonight, then soon. And you will make the travel, the heat and the sun worth it."

She nods, mouth open only a crack, and begins to instruct him on the correct way to eat the first dish.

"I cannot come in tonight." She says it without any kind of hesitation or heaviness. It is simply fact.

She looks away from him as he stares over her immense and ocean-deep beauty before looking around the bar of the hotel lobby. He surmised the building was only a few decades old but the wood in it, older than America, modern republics and saxophones. He wondered if this only worked on tourists, the age and splendor of the carpets and tables. Did the locals find it tacky or warm? Did they find this idea of local tradition being pushed accurate or silly. He wanted to ask but she was shy and he needed to let her be.

"I will wait for you," our hero says. And when she turns to him with surprise he nods with a smile forming. "I have waited this long. What's another night?" He sips the local, Muslim beer that she recommended. "Besides agony, of course."

She laughs. And her laugh is amazing. He has never heard it in any real way and it makes him smile. "Wink for me," she asks.

"Just—wink?"

"Yes, please. It is such a funny think to me. Tell me, what is the difference between a wink and this 'cowboy wink' you always tell me of? Hmm?"

"Well, a wink is just a wink."

And he does and she giggles so loudly that her hands come over her mouth. She's drunk too much, or she can fake it. "You'll forgive me if I'm not entirely seduced."

"Forgiven."

"Now the cowboy wink. Please? Please!?"

She seems to know he'll deny her before he does. "I'm not sure you can fake a cowboy wink. It has to come naturally."

"Well, what is a cowboy wink then?"

He takes another sip of the beer before putting it down, brushing his hands on his hips and leaning forward. "A cowboy wink is honest and dishonest at the same time, like a normal wink. A way to say that something isn't exactly what it seems."

"So what is the difference?" She leans forward.

"Well. When you cowboy wink? It's got a little recoil to it. Like you're firing a gun."

She laughs so loudly that others look over and she covers her mouth. It causes him to grin fully, laugh with her, lean in closer to her than he normally would. She calms herself, takes a deep breath, looks up at him and begs. "Try."

So he summons his feelings for her. So much more than sex and excitement could hold and looks into her eyes like smoke pushed into a bottle. Then he winks like it forces him to tilt his head in the opposite direction while pulling his lip up into a smirk.

And The Girl is breathless for a moment before laughing so hard that she must cover her mouth with both hands. In between gasps she says, "that is the most," before taking more air in, "silly thing I have ever seen." And she hugs him, kisses his cheek while still laughing. Then he feels her lips against his ear. "What does your hotel room look like?"

He opens the door.

It slips open with a beep from the card reader and is too light, or he is too strong. Maybe it is the drink she's made sure was always in his hand. Either way he hits the wall and she giggles, causing him to laugh. Then they move move the hallway together before he kisses her long and full on the lips until she asks him to close it behind them. After he does he turns around to see her making her way to the balcony, sliding open the door and stepping out. The breeze comes to life and moves over her, tossing her coal-black hair around and filling the room with some blessed relief.

Heavy steps take our hero out into the cool air of the terrace and he cannot help but look at her, the sea of her curves more visible as the wind pushes the dress against her form. She turns to smile at him and then leans over the railing. She laughs into the rushing air in such a way that they sing together and then she pulls back to push her back against him, into him and reaches up so that her palm is on her face. "I feel so very terrible now."

"Why?"

"Because we are out here in the cool air and it is very pleasant."

"What does that make you feel terrible."

She strokes his freshly shaven cheek, plays with his earth-toned hair and turns around to lock her stunningly dark eyes on this browns. "Because, when I fuck you? It's going to be so much more hot now."

His hands are slapped away from her writs and then pushes into the mattress as she writhes on top of him. "No. You are always in control, My Mister. Tonight you must wait." She makes sure his hands will stay on the bed before she brings them back to his face. She pushes an index finger into his mouth. "Kiss it. Suck it for me. Make me fall in love with your thick lips all over again."

He inhales her, sucks on just the tip of her finger and then takes it in through the suction of his mouth and nothing else. He licks around it, pushes it in and out with his lips.

"Oh yes, My Mister. That is what I wanted." She pulls the finger out and offers her palm to his hips to kiss before coming down and inviting him. Her tongue invades his, licks up and down his mouth as her breasts push against against him and her hips slide back and forth, grinding him through his clothing, her panties. He's never wanted to reach up and grab something more, so he growls.

"Yes, I want that too. I want to feed that silly little beast in you." Then she kisses below his ear, all up and down his jawline and over his neck.

"It's not silly," he says.

She kisses up her way up to his other ear, gives it a quick lash with her tongue and whispers, "Oh yes it is. Because it has never had me to tempt it. When we are done? When we say goodbye? That beast will have run wild for the first time in its life. I will make it stronger than it's ever been and you? You will love it instead of hiding from it." She pushes her tongue inside his ear as she begins to undo the belt on his slacks. "I love that you dressed up for me, tried to impress me. But I want you to take off the mask now."

Shes over him again in an instant, kissing him as he feels the belt being undone. And that is something that stuns him. The confidence, the knowing, the saying of what will happen instead of what might. Her pussy and the heat he can already feel spilling out it, might be the least enticing thing about her. She intoxicates him more than the travel and the booze ever could and takes the heat of the unforgiving sun from him with her mouth.

His cock is out and the room cools immediately. He feels her panties, just the hint of lips through them, grinding between her and the hardness of his cock. "Oh yes, this is perfect. You are so ready." She laughs and puts her hands against his chest, pushing into his button-up shirt that's thicker than her dress as she climbs up and down the underside of his cock with the thrusts of her hips. "Mmm, is this enough for you, I wonder? Because I could be here all evening. No, you are too patient to push me down and fuck me now. And that is why you peel me apart without even trying." She leans back down to kiss him hard, her lips slightly open in a purr. "You are strong enough to both take and resist me."

Now it's her ass that grinds against the top of her cock, barely bobbing up and down as her eyes look deep and heavy into his. "I cannot believe you have kept your hands to yourself. You are everything you promised and still, I see the monster inside, rousing, ready to conquer. He is almost as sexy as you are." She takes our hero's face in her hands and kisses him again. "I need a condom, My Mister."

As he reaches beneath them for his wallet her lips move back to his ear. Then her tone shifts from the husky, accent-heavy purr that she has been using all night to a more perfect sounding English with a tone much lighter, girl-like. "I'm going to put that wonderfully thick cock in my mouth in such a way that you'll never forget. I'm going to use it to break you. Force you, just by sucking alone, to push your hands onto the back of my head and take my mouth. But tonight, I need you too much. I've been waiting, I've been wanting to feel a man. And you, my sir, my invader, are very much a man."

She takes the wallet from him, pulls the condom out and flings it across the room like it's unneeded, then she rises, moves her thighs on either side of his lap and pries the condom open. She looks him in the eyes as she slides it down him, over him, biting her lip for show and making a little sound. "I can feel you through it. So hot still. Oh, when I finally get your cum in me I fear it may burn me." She pouts, pulls her panties down to her knees and pushes the head of her pussy over his cock.

As he turns his head back to growl, wince, close his eyes he hears her laugh. When he looks back to her, she has not broken contact, her eyes dancing as she slides just the tip of him in and our of her pussy, moving her hips back and forth, up and down in such a way that she takes only a little of him in. When he moans she grins.

"More..." He says in a way that sounds too much like begging to even his own ears.

"More what?" She pouts her lip out and pushes her pussy another two centimeters down. "More water? More beer? More sleep?"

Then with a single motion she slides forward, her hands using his chest for balance and she brings the whole of her pussy around him in a single stroke. She laughs into his growl before closing her eyes and moaning. "You fill me up so nicely. You know that a woman does not need a perfect cock for it to be her favorite—so this is just a bonus." She bends over and offers her lips to him in a long, slow kiss. It is loving, softer and he feels his cock being strangled by that amazing, vibrating pussy.

"Couldn't you stay like this for an hour?" She asks as she breaks the kiss.

"I could."

"Well, I can't."

She pushes into his shoulders and with a single, fluid motion, moves the whole of her body like a wave in the ocean. Her breasts sink down as her back curves and her hips thrust down over him again. He can barely keep her in frame as his eyes close shut and he concentrates on the long, easy pulls of her pussy over him. "Do I feel good, My Mister? Do I feel tight?"

"Yes." He rasps it, can barely get the words out. "Yes, you feel amazing."

"That is good. You should hold onto me now."

He moves his hands up and clings to her back, they sink into her skin and she moans at the touch. And somehow, even through the fabric, he feels closer to her than if it was skin. "Do you know why I told you to hold on?"

"No."

"Because I hadn't started yet."

Her pussy contracts around him like it's made of liquid, as fluid as her movements. He cries out and she does with him as her hips begin to bob up and down. He pulls her into him, clings to her for dear life as his hips move up on their own, legs spreading so that she can push down further. "Oh yes," she says. "Oh yes, this was worth the wait."

She pushes back up off him, easily breaking his hold on her, and settles her legs into the mattress so she can start to push back and forth with hard, more rapid strokes, her hair splashing with every lash of the whip.