Three things seemed to happen at once: a surge of wind swept up from the sea, taking my hair in a funnel and whipping it around my head in true mania, flames of chestnut brown and sparks of auburn; I caught the crackling giggles; and lightning speared across the sky, flashing the entire island white before thunder rolled and vibrated the sand beneath our feet.
“I be tellin’ you, man!” Agwe said, slowly rising from his roost. “She be hypnotizing! Doom! Doom is upon us! Look at the sky! She has called the lightning, man!”
I started to laugh even harder, wrecked by drink and the sheer absurdity of his words. Was he joking? Apparently not.
His buddies were not so slow to move. They dispersed in a flurry of sand, running like rats about to drown on the sinking ship. Even Captain O’Malley took his guitar, bidding Brando a good night, before he scuttled off with his shellbacks. Aunt Lola and Uncle Tito—less wary of my powers and more concerned with getting back to theirburewithout getting soaked or electrocuted—joined the disbanded group and hopped in one of their speedboats to be delivered to their beachfront doorstep.
Brando and I stood there, staring out over a beach full of fire and leftover seafood carcasses. Suddenly void of people.
“I’ve never seen men run that fast,” Brando said, stunned. Then he exploded with laughter at the same time another strike of lightning rode the sky, forking out at its end. Thunder boomed a second later.
“Oh, now that happens!” I said, starting to shake from laughter too. But my voice was still indignant. “Ifyouwould’ve summoned the sky, you would’ve been hailed the lightning slayer!”
“B-baby!” he said, hardly able to contain himself. “Or should I call you Neptune’s wooden angel? Or how about your sea highness? You were l-leading those men to their d-doom!”
He wrapped an arm around my neck—he was truly euphoric at the thought that men were running away from me out of fear—and we snuffed the fires (all of the trash, besides the shells, had been collected earlier) before making our way toward thebure. The entire time we walked, he made up songs about my wicked powers and how they should catch on. “Too bad they all can’t besailors!” he sang, trying for high-pitched. It was the total opposite of his voice, so deep.
I laughed with him, but the closer we came to thebure, the lower my spirits fell. This time tomorrow, we would be on a plane back to Italy. I didn’t want to ruin Brando’s jolly ole time, so I kept quiet, but after his last round of “why can’t they all be sailors,” he noticed.
“Not ready to leave.”
“No,” I shook my head, coming in closer to his side. I hadn’t had many panic attacks, but I felt one coming on. Or perhaps it was that I felt desperate for him. I used his shirt to pull him down, kissing him frantically. He responded in kind, if not as awkward.
In the breath between kisses, words came in desperate pleas. “I need you,” I panted. “Please.”
“I fucking love when you get like this. Like I’ve never been inside of you before.”
“I want the taste of me to be the only one you remember, Brando Fausti.”
He moved me, but not in the direction of thebure. We were headed toward an outside shower with privacy panels. My back slammed against the wood and I lost my breath, and not because of the bang.
Brando’s knees hit the sand and he untied the belt from around my waist. He looked up at me with eyes that made me reach for support, though my back was against the wall. My body came forward when he ripped the thin panties from my hips, sticking them in his back pocket.
“The taste of you is all I know,” he whispered. “Making love to you. Fucking you.” His warm mouth on my sensitive flesh made me forget all but him. The world shrunk to a central pinpoint in time.
The wind became a whistle. The coolness of it rising from the sea caressed bare flesh with a tender breath. In extreme contrast, my husband was being far from tender. His pressure and rhythm increased, his fingers joining his mouth. The intense sensory overload felt like a thrilling shock.
I came apart, came for him, fast and hard, and if lightning wouldn’t have cracked and thunder roared, the noise I made would have echoed for miles. The sky opened up, driving rain coming down in thick sheets, hundreds of sparks striking the water.
Through the gaping openness, all of me seemed to float toward him, and I lost all will to stand. I collapsed over his shoulders, using him as support.
He didn’t stay down for long. After setting me straight again, and running his tongue along my thighs, he picked me up, urging my legs around his waist.
His eyes closed tight and he sucked in a breath when he entered me. “You’re so fucking hot and slick.” Almost desperate, he took me fast and hard, knowing exactly how and when to move—where to reach me. Below the surface, one body spoke to another in a language that we had no choice but to obey. His relentless pace built the tension, live wires still sensitive from the last release. I was helpless to it. But even though I was powerless, my body joined in the assault, wanting, forever wanting more of him.
“In the rain, all wet, you are—” He groaned so hard that I felt the rattle in his chest down to my bones. I found the strength to open my eyes, to see him. Our eyes met, and our breath became even more jagged. His eyes commanded mine to look, to see what he was doing to me, knowing it would push me over the edge.
In an explosion that forced the rest of me outside of myself, my physical boundaries, and straight to him, I came apart. My undoing became his. It turned him on when I watched as he possessed me. It turned me on even more. He came to me right after, filling me with his heat, and the guttural noise that came from his throat echoed around us.
His forehead came to my chest, his breath washing over me fast and warm. We stood joined, allowing the rain to wash us clean.
“I can’t move,” was all I could say. The statement seemed more like a plea, a pant.
“Time, baby. I gave you all of me.”
I understood exactly what he meant. All of his pieces had taken a hold of mine, pulling them toward him, while my own gravity pulled at his. I assumed the same phenomenon happened to him. Push and pull.
“From here on out, no matter what happens, it's us or nothing. If you get fucking mad at me, you want to get back at me, invite me into the ring, and I’ll take your wrath like a man. Your man.” He spoke straight to my heart. “Your word, Scarlett.”
