Buck Moon Party on the Beach

by Alice May Ball

  The package has the other two bikinis from Surf Sup. The discreet one and the really, really sexy one I didn’t dare to wear out in the shop. They’re wrapped in a lovely sheer silk sarong. I gasp when I see the watercolor print on the silk is a red admiral butterfly, just like the one on my notebook.

  I know it’s from him. It has to be. I’m putting the bikinis and the silk aside with the wrapping paper when a card falls out.

  “Hope I’ll see you at the party.” He didn’t sign it, but I know it’s written by his hand. Strong handwriting. Big, fast and assertive. Fast and elegant.

  I still don’t want to go to a party.

  Shimmering in the moonlight, the streets, the bikes and cars, even all the people, look kind of unreal. It’s a roaring sound, with crackles and yells coming from the Blood Moon Beach. As I get closer, I hear the pump of hard techno, but with laid back and lazy Caribbean slinkiness woven into the beat. And it must be coming from the beach.

  When I get to the beach, it’s completely covered in fantastic looking bodies, moving and shaking, waves of rhythm in a sea of bodies. Everybody seems to be patterned with vivid, fluorescent colors. Most people don’t seem to be wearing much else, either.

  With the sheer silk wrap over my bikini, I feel overdressed. And I don’t have any paint, either.

  I move toward the middle of the beach where I can make out a stage with the DJ and the decks. Dancers smile and part to me let through, but there are so many people moving, shuffling, jumping and swaying to the beat, it’s hard to keep track of where I am.

  As I weave through the crowd, meeting smiling eyes and barely avoiding happy hands, my hips sway. My feet find the beat. My shoulders roll, and I’m my ass begins to flick, just like Poppy’s did. My steps are more rhythmic and my waist winds in circles as I move.

  The more I dance, the friendlier everybody looks. But I’m losing my bearings. I’m so deep in the crowd I can hardly even work out which way the sea is.

  Beats move me and I’m carried along on the rhythm. Then I look up and I’m face-to-face with Poppy.

  “Man,” she shakes as she smiles, “I knew you’d find your way here. Looks like you been practicing those moves we showed you,” she nods with an approving lift of her eyebrows, “You stole ‘em off for yourself and made them yours.” She takes my hand, “You’re looking pretty fine, my girl.”

  I’m pleased to see her and I get a thrill from her approval, even if she’s just being nice. She puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me to her for a hug.

  “It is an amazing party,” I tell her, “everybody looks so great with all the paint.”

  “I was going to mention it,” she says with a sly grin, “Come with me gal, we’ll get some colors on you.”

  I’m about to tell her I’m just coming here to meet Banger and the DJ, but she’s taken my hand and she leads me through the dance.

  She leads me to the bar in Surf Sup and through the crowd there, to a space in the back behind the pool table. “That bikini is so hot on you,” and she looks into my eyes, “and you’re sensational in it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So. you and the Highlander…”

  I hold up a hand. “There is no me and the Highlander.” She cocks her head on one side. “A sort of a thing, somehow, might have happened. Accidentally, but it was just a way to clear the air. There’s nothing more.”

  Her head tips to the other side and she cocks an eyebrow.

  “Seriously. End of story. Move along. Nothing to see.”

  After a moment, she shrugs and smiles, “Okay. First things first, I got some Slippery Pole Plunge made up in this shaker.” She pours me a long glass. “No room for coconut shells tonight. We stripped down. Combat ready.”

  I take a sip. She lifts a glass. The cocktail is delicious with all kinds of kicks.

  “Now,” she opens a drawer and takes out brushes and tubes of paint. The lights are low. She squeezes a tube and thick, pink paint glows as it snakes out on her fingers. Her eyes flash as she runs the cool paint in a waving line, from the corner of my jaw in a curving line, down the side of my throat, down to where my breasts part.

  She licks her lips and takes more colors, purple, turquoise, green and silver. Her eyes widen as she draws faster, longer patterns in the colors. She makes two, three lines at a time, over the tops of my breasts, down from my stomach, and over my thighs.

  “You’re quite an artist with those paints,” I gasp and take a long sip of the cocktail as she reaches round in the back of my thigh at the top.

  Poppy paints my arms, my hands, my back, and my legs, before she stands in front of me to make patterns all over my face and my forehead.

  “You look great,” she tells me and her eyes shine.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s go meet Banger and Rob McCain.”

  Fireworks burst like neon flowers over the heads of the dancers and light up the bay. The air blows hot and heavy with perfume and sex and smoke.

  Getting up on the podium with the DJ feels like I’m in a video.

  Rob the D has headphones off one ear and a hand in the air. He smiles at Banger, then Poppy. “Rob,” Banger tells him, “this lovely young lady is Amber Purdue, and she’s dying to meet you. Amber, Rob McCain.”

  “The set is amazing, Rob. Unbelievable. But I have to be honest. I’m here on a mission. My friend is desperate, and I mean desperate, to get a one-on-one interview with a friend of yours. She’s really a serious journalist, she’s no glossy, gossip, paparazzi type. And I would love it if you could find a way to help her get in touch with your friend.”

  Jock steps up from the other side to join us.

  “If I can help, sure, I’ll be happy to. Who is it you want—your friend wants to interview?”

  “Jack McCaber.” His smile freezes. As the words leave my mouth, in the middle of the loud, banging party, somehow a little bubble of silence falls in the DJ booth. There’s a sensation, something in the air. And so powerful. Banger looks at Jock. Rob looks at Jock, too. Then they all look at me.

  They all start to laugh. “Wait…” It can’t be true. Oh, no!

  As it sinks in, as I realize I’ve made a terrible blunder, spilling his name, although it hardly matters because I’m obviously the only person there who doesn’t know. Even Poppy is bent over, helpless with giggling.

  The elusive billionaire, the recluse who everyone’s looking for, one of the richest men in the world, the laird or whatever he is of McCaber clan, the chieftain—is the man who’s been pursuing me all over Pole Island.

  Stinging red and glowing from head to foot, I spin on my heel without thinking and I run.

  Chapter Seven

  She’s gone, into the crowd in an instant. I run after her. On a moonlit beach, jammed with laid back party people, relaxing in the Bahamian style, a girl running isn’t so hard to follow. Flashing lights, body paint and fireworks don’t make it easier, but that girl’s not getting away from me.

  A trail in the crowd, like waves in the wake of a powerboat, follows behind her. Especially as the idea passes through the mass that an uncommonly big rugby player is coming along after her.

  When she breaks free of the crowd, she’s near the water’s edge. She runs straight into the sea. I run headlong after her. As soon as the water’s up to her thighs, she dives in. I’m just a short way behind her.

  Amber is a strong swimmer. So am I. She swims out into the bay and I’m gaining on her. When she turns to the left, I don’t know if she’s read the current or if she studied the bay. Either way, it gives her an advantage. She’s making for a tiny, isolated beach, I know this bay like the palm of my hand. The current there is strong and it can carry you to the rocks.

  She’s almost made it to the shore. I think she’s going to do it. Then an undertow takes her. I see her drift right and I have to reach her. I still don’t even know if she knows I’m here. I shout after her, but she’ll never hear me over the crash of the waves.

  Surging fo
rward as hard and as fast as I can, I see her swept into a fierce swirling eddy toward sharp, jagged rocks.

  She turns and there’s panic in her eyes. Maybe it’s just from the sight of me. Maybe she doesn’t know the terrible danger she’s in.

  Just in time, I grab her. But she hasn’t realized what’s happening, and she tries to fight me off. If I can’t subdue her, we’ll both be dashed. I throw my arm over her and pull her to me. Holding her with her back to me, I swim hard for the shore. She’s struggling. It’s instinct. I understand. But I have to keep going.

  Swimming with one arm, gripping her tight, I get her to the shore. She coughs and gasps. Then, immediately, she’s up and swinging at me. I can’t help laughing.

  She’s strong, and she’s furious. “Let go of me!” and she’s serious, lashing out.

  I’m laughing because I understand.

  I try to hold her wrists but I can’t and she’s swinging her fists.

  “Get,” smack, “away,” slap, “from,” punch in the eye. Ow! That hurt, “Me!”

  I try to tell her I was protecting her. She was in danger from the rocks. We both were. But she’s hammering too hard and shouting too much and, anyway, I’m laughing too hard. And that makes her hit me harder. And I understand that, too, and it makes me laugh even harder.

  She shouts, “Why didn’t you tell me?” but I know she doesn’t want an answer and anyway I have to duck as she swings hard at my head. So I’m down low, I might as well fling her over my shoulder. At least I can get her onto the softer sand where she’s not going to get either of our heads banged against a rock.

  Her voice rises in pitch, and she hammers her fists hard on my back. I hold her by the backs of her soft thighs and feel her breasts bounce on my back. My hand wants to stretch up, slip up her thighs. Grab her fabulous ass. But I don’t. Not yet.

  I throw her onto the sand on her back and I’m still almost helpless laughing.

  Her skin is hot and slick against mine. Hot and wet. Her soft breasts squash between us. I’m still laughing, She’s still not. My body covers hers and she feels me shake as I try not to laugh.

  “It’s not funny!” She grabs my hair as I lean over her. I shake my head, watching the fire in her eyes. “Woman, you may be a fury straight from hell, but damn, you’re wonderful.”

  Her breath rasps, hard and hot on my neck and my face. There’s no other sound but the waves crashing on the shore.

  “You bastard!” and she tugs on my hair, pulling me to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  In the silver-blue moonlight, she’s a fierce beauty. A raw, animal spirit.

  Her lips are so near to mine. I tell her, “I can taste the salt on your breath.” Her face screws up as she slaps mine. “And a Slippery Pole Plunge, if I’m not mistaken.”

  A glow shines in her cheeks as she slaps me again. I’m starting to like it. I sniff and make a guess, “Was it Poppy who mixed it for you, by any chance? She always adds extra something.” Her eyes blaze, “I think it’s nutmeg.”

  The sides of her fists hammer on my shoulders and at the same time her face comes near and her mouth fastens on mine.

  Our bodies melt together and roll into one as I take a kiss. Deep. Hard. And another. Fierce and long. We roll over in the soft, cool sand. I roll us again to put her on her back.

  I press my body harder against her, feeling her breasts and the rock of her ass, shoving her pussy against my cock.

  My voice is low in her ear, “I’m having you.” Her hips push up against me and rock, scraping her harder along the ridges of my cock.

  “I’m going to fuck you, little minx. You are about to be mine.”

  Her neck cranes and her face turns toward me. I take another kiss before I follow down the line of her throat with my lips, kissing her from her ear down to her chest. I peel and scoop her breast out of the bikini top.

  I grip and squeeze her breast and my tongue flicks around and over her nipple. My other hand slides down her stomach, onto her mound and over the heat of her pussy.

  She moans and her back arcs as I suck on her tit. Her body rises, and she unhooks the bikini top, freeing the other.

  My face is already on the way down her stomach and she moans as I slide her bikini bottom off and pull her thighs wide apart.

  “This is what I’ve been waiting for.” There she is. Glistening wet, swollen and trembling in the moonlight. Open and hot for me. Her perfect pussy, waiting for me to feast on it.

  Her pelvis jerks as I slip my hands under her ass and lift the soft globes, pulling her mound to my waiting mouth. She shakes as I lick and suck and trill my tongue up the insides of her thighs.

  Her breath quivers. I flick my tongue over her lips and her hood. Fasten my lips over her. Suck and pull. Squeezing her ass in rhythms to chase hers.

  The tip of my tongue presses up into her folds. Her pelvis rocks hard. I scrape deeper in. She twitches and shakes. Then I suck around her clit and she lets out a moan as her body folds around me.

  Sucking and pulling with my lips, I flick the base of her clit with my flattened tongue. She grabs my hair and grips, hard. Her fingers tremble as she pulls my head hard against her pussy, shaking and vibrating as she jams her lips against me. Sawing her pussy against my mouth.

  “Not so shy now, eh, lassie?” Her juices stream onto my tongue.

  She moans and her fingers twist in my hair.

  “Now you get what you want. Out comes the true woman.” Her thighs part wider, then slam around my head.

  I suck rhythmically and her thighs shake and vibrate. Her ass cheeks clench and tremble in my hands. She’s swollen long, buzzing and trembling in my lips.

  “Amber,” I rasp. “Girl you really do have the long pearl.”

  I lift her hips higher. Plunge my tongue deeper. Press my lips wider. Suck harder. She cries out as she comes again. This time, her muscles spasm and she shudders, gripping, clenching and falling in a cascade of two, three, four peaks.

  Each time, dragging her up to a higher precipice. Each time a faster, deeper plunge as she bursts inside.

  She’s still trembling. I take her and cradle her in my arms, holding her close. She buries her head in my chest, brushing her lips against my hot skin. She bites and nibbles on me. I pull her close. I stroke her all over, tenderly feeling every part.

  “I’ll make you mine completely now,” I whisper.

  Winding herself around me and looking up from my chest, she asks, “Should I call you ‘Jock’ or ‘Jack’?”

  “Call me your man.” I’m starting to rise, longer and harder than ever. “Call me master.” I pull her head back to look into her eyes,

  I hug her hard and kiss her, deep and long.

  “Master…” she whispers.

  I flip her over, onto her hands and knees. “Louder, lassie.”

  “Master.”

  I pull her thighs apart. Her ass rolls and her spine flexes. I reach up between her legs.

  “Aye, you’re ready.”

  “I’ll always be ready for you,” she says, her voice cracking. “Master.”

  “Call me chieftain.”

  I move up behind her. Hold her hot mound and run my thumb down her channel, stopping at the top of her entrance. Pulling her open to let her know what’s coming.

  “Oh,” she moans, “Please…”

  And I spear her. She shouts, “Oh, God!”

  She jolts. I hold her hair to pull back her head. Grip her by her hips and ram her.

  * * *

  The roll and smack of her ass as it bounces against my thighs spurs me on. I pull her ass up higher.

  Ram her hard. Hammering steady. Getting faster, hotter. Deeper. Higher with each slide inside her. Move her as I need, as my hunger demands. Splitting her.

  My cock aims for the tender folds, high inside at the front of her walls.

  “I’ll spark you a bairn this time, woman.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll make you pregnant. Have my baby, Amber.” Alr
eady, my thighs and my stomach are tightening. My ass clenches as my back rolls, strong, fast, and fluid. Her weeping pussy clamps on my shaft. Suckling. Needing.

  “You’re mine, Amber Purdue. You’re my lady. Completely!”

  “Yes!” her voice shakes uncontrollably and her body trembles in waves. “Yes, master!”

  Chapter Eight

  He stretches me hard and fills me, driving deep. The thick, rigid heat of him slams high inside me.

  My hungry, hot lips reach as far along him as I can slip, slide and slam, trying to reach the base of him.

  His balls slap against my mound and it spurs me to rock harder. Kiss him, wet around the throbbing base of his huge cock. All the way inside me, all the way up me. I want to feel every inch, every vein and ridge of him.

  My thighs flex and tense and my ass clenches. Rivers of electric, trickling tingles splash through me and a swirl of sensation starts in my core, gathers and simmers. As he breaks me open, splits me wide, penetrates high and deep, a rush of feelings boils, brims and swells ready to spill over and burst.

  My hands claw and my toes curl and cramp. I’m shouting, clinging, wrapped tight around my man. My master. The thought sends me over. My hands claw at his back and beat on his shoulders.

  Hard swelling rings form at the base of his cock, the blast, one after another along the length of his shaft, from his balls and out, blasting me, flooding me with hot, salty bolts of thick spunk. Sticky batter, charged with life.

  Glowing algae light up the surf as the waves crash behind us, flashing in shimmers like live, organic fireworks.

  Resting in his arms, I murmur, “What is all this about the long pearl?”

  “Something in the water,” he looks at me with tenderness. He almost makes me weep. He strokes my face. “Or maybe in the air. Makes the female bud blossom to a bigger and much more powerful nerve center.”