| |
The light from the window hits my face, waking me from a deep slumber. I stretch my body gently and cry from the muscle pain. I look behind me and find no traces of the man again.
What is he doing to me? Is it what he calls playing? He's rough one moment and suddenly reverts to being gentle. Like last night?
Sir started giving me orders like I'm nothing but his slave. But he suddenly changed and made love to me like I'm his woman.
I rise from the bed, wrap the sheet around me, and walk out to the porch.
The man is in the middle of the garden, shirtless. He talks on the phone while exercising. My throat dries as I watch his sweaty skin shine. His butt tightens as he squats. The lines of his back muscles deepen as he stretches his arms. Sir does his routine with ease.
A surgeon has to have good stamina from his shoulder to his legs. Some surgeries can last for almost twelve hours. Judging from Sir's face, he must have been a surgeon for about ten years. His back, hips, and knees can endure standing for hours. No wonder he doesn’t get tired grinding his hips against me, too.
My muscles tremble as memories of how we made love flash in my head. I'm already aware of how sex feels that I let myself go and enjoy it. Sir also guided me in learning new things. My cheeks burn upon remembering how he maneuvered me into different positions. I allowed him, too. And God! I can still remember how I moaned from everything he did to me.
Had I not passed out, Sir could have taken my ass, too. Carmen! Is it because he started it on our first night that I'm curious about how it'll feel? Stop it!
I look around to know the time, but there's no clock in the room. It's one of Sir's rules. I look back at him and smile as I understand the reason for it.
This island is his free space. I haven't done any surgery yet, but I know how surgeons always chase every second. A patient's condition can change in a blink of an eye. Hence, the surgeon should act faster. He wants this island to be free of clocks and to forget that pressure. I blow a loud sigh. Just who the hell is he?
When he felt so good while having sex with me, he called me by my name. But I can't call him. I only called him "Sir" the whole night. I'm getting used to it now, but I want to call him by his name, too.
"Are you okay?" I yell from the balcony when he suddenly slips and falls on his hand.
Sir grunts in pain when he raises his right hand. Panic pounds my heart. I securely wrap the sheet around me and hurry downstairs. I stop when he meets me at the stairs.
"I'm fine," Sir tells me and convinces me by twisting his wrist.
I take his hand and press a joint. He flinches and takes his hand from me. "It's nothing. Just a muscle sprain."
“Are you sure? You’re a surgeon. People’s lives depend on your hands,” I don’t know what got into me, but I’m acting like I’m a panicking wife. I blush after realizing it. I redden even more when I find Sir gently smiling at me. “Just be careful.”
He snorts and suddenly kisses me. I reply to him like it's already my instinct to kiss him back. But his kiss is different. My heart skips some beats and pounds so hard that it deafens me. The kiss wasn't to initiate having sex with me or to show his lust. It was only to calm my worries, but it's sweeter than the kisses before it.
The man – Sir – pulls away and looks at me with gentle eyes, enough for me to believe he’s in love with me. But his eyebrows crook as he suddenly frowns.
“I told you not to talk about another man or yourself,” Sir reminds me. He looks at me sharply and adds, “I also don’t want you to tell me who you think I am.”
"I'm..." I want to argue with him but hesitate. He'll just give me the 'you're my pet' argument, and I'll be hurt more. I contain my dismay and say, "I'm sorry."
Sir's frown fades, and an apologetic look appears in his eyes. He hides it from me and walks past me. He stops for a moment and looks at his hand. I take a few steps on the stairs, still worried that he hurt it. But Sir shakes his hand and walks into his room.
