All I Want

by Lush, Tamara

  Wait. I know what it is. I’m not working tonight, so I’m not stressed. I’m not worried about what others think. Not concerned about getting the perfect photo for my social media pages. Don’t give a crap about looking perfect.

  I haven’t felt like this for months. Since before I started my social media influencer business. It’s almost like I’m twenty-two and not a couple of years shy of thirty.

  Gathering the hood of Max’s sweatshirt in my hands, I turn my head and take a sniff, then allow my eyes to flutter shut and swoon. Then I reach into my purse for a mint, because I suspect a kiss is coming soon. I pop it into my mouth.

  With a huge grin on my face, I emerge from the bathroom.

  “I was thinking,” I say, hooking my arm into Max’s, “You should take me on a grand tour of the island, since you grew up here and all.”

  He looks down at me. “I like that idea. I think we can work that in. In fact, let’s start tonight. I’d like to show you something on the beach a little ways from the bonfire. Walk with me?”

  “Of course.”

  We stroll away from the bonfire party, into the hushed darkness of the beach. The sand is cool against my bare feet, but Max’s body is warm, warm, warm.

  “So, a bit of history,” he says, a hint of laughter in his voice almost drowned out by the surf. “Paradise Beach was formed about six thousand years ago. It was shaped by centuries of storm activity.”

  “I know you said you’re a businessman, but I like this professor side of you.” It’s easy to picture him in a classroom, and a porny student-teacher fantasy comes to mind. Maybe it does for him, too, because he chuckles almost as if I’ve said something dirty.

  Max is adorably uptight.

  “A small tribe of Calusa Indians were the first known residents. Then a Spanish explorer arrived in the 1500s. Lore has it he was trying to find St. Augustine. But that’s on the other coast.” Max gestures away from the Gulf of Mexico, to the east. Or I think it’s the east. “The explorer abandoned his ship and crew because he fell in love with a beautiful Calusa. He sent the ship away, not wanting to compete for the affections of the woman.”

  “What was so alluring about the Calusa woman?”

  “Well, she had long, dark hair. Kind of curly. And these beautiful green eyes, a color that was unusual in a Native American girl.”

  I have long, dark hair and green eyes. I smirk. “I see. Seems a little implausible and possibly whitewashing the narrative. But go on.”

  He grins. “Perhaps the legend has grown over the years. But, according to the story, she was adventurous. More than anyone else in the area.”

  I laugh. “Adventurous how?”

  “She’d…” His voice trails off, and he waves his free hand in the air. “She’d go canoeing by herself to other islands. And swim with dolphins. And she allegedly had the capability to talk to manatees. The explorer thought manatees were mermaids. So maybe she was a mermaid, he thought.”

  “Those are attractive qualities.”

  “And she had the sexiest voice. Almost like a kitten purr. Oh, and she smelled incredible. Like a flower bomb.”

  “A flower bomb?” The backs of our hands brush together.

  “Yeah, like jasmine and orange blossom and maybe patchouli.”

  Okay, he’s describing my perfume to a T. “I didn’t know they had patchouli in Florida back in the 1500s.”

  His laugh is infectious, and we’re both giggling. We’re near a line of beach cabanas, the kind that are like wide beds with blue canopies. Max slows his gait and then stops. My heart begins to pound. I want a kiss. Now.

  He gestures to the sand. “Right about here is supposedly where the explorer came ashore. It’s why our resort puts these beach chairs in this spot. And legend has it that because of how fast the explorer fell in love, a spell was cast on the beach. Which is why newcomers often find love when they first arrive on Paradise Beach.”

  I boldly run my hand down his broad chest, feeling his muscles underneath his thin blue T-shirt. “Oh they do, do they? Did you learn the story in elementary school, or is this something you often tell all the women who visit here on vacation?”

  He grins wickedly. “My mom used to tell tourists this story. They loved it. She claims to have heard it from an island historian years ago. He’s long since died, so we can’t independently verify.”

  We’re about an inch apart, and I’m staring up into his face, stroking his chest with both hands. His hands are rubbing my shoulders, and little sparks of desire float through my body.

  Oh, there are my nipples, tightening against my sundress in anticipation of what’s about to happen. Hello there.

  “Well. Do you think there’s any truth to the legend?” I ask in a coy voice.

  This is so much fun, not caring about my image, what others think, about how it will all play on social media. It’s only me and a gorgeous guy on the beach. In the dark. So simple, yet so wonderful.

  “Why don’t we find out?” he murmurs, all while staring at my mouth.

  And that’s when he dips his head and kisses me. His lips, and then his tongue, send waves of arousal through my veins, down my chest, into my core. A squirmy, achy feeling spreads through my core. Ooh, he’s an amazing kisser. I suspect people on boats in the Gulf can see my body light up from all the pleasurable tingles shooting through it right now.

  I smile against his mouth.

  “What?” he whispers.

  “I love first kisses.”

  He grabs my ass and hauls me even closer, growling a little. “I love second kisses even more.”

  Eight

  Max

  I have four rules when it comes to women. Hell, when it comes to life in general.

  Don’t ghost. Don’t lie. Be a gentleman.

  Also: turn into an animal, when needed.

  “Don’t stop kissing me,” Lauren whispers.

  Now that her beautiful, pouty mouth is slipping and sliding against mine in the most erotic way—and that she’s giving me green lights for miles—I’m about to launch from rule three into rule four. I’m like a werewolf in a tuxedo. Refined, yet wild.

  The idea makes me grin against her mouth.

  Shit, there’s even a full moon perfectly illuminating the beach. And the way I feel right now—filled with pent-up lust because I haven’t gotten laid in months—I could practically howl every time I glance down and see Lauren’s gorgeous, full tits in that tight dress or each time I taste the sweetness of her mouth. There’s a sugary-wintergreen flavor on her tongue.

  “Let’s take this into my office, er, my office cabana.” Yeah, I’d intentionally planned on coming here so we could stretch out on the lounger on the beach and have some privacy.

  I sit, and she launches herself into my lap. I adore women who know what they want sexually.

  “You have excellent ideas, Mr. Hastings. And I like what you’ve done with your office. Casual, yet practical.”

  Her hands are in my hair, and her mouth’s back on mine. There’s absolutely nothing better than an enthusiastic hookup partner.

  We tumble back onto the lounger, the blue canopy like a shell over our bodies and casting a dark shadow over us. We’re instantly in our own private sex cocoon. Sweet.

  Instead of me immediately sliding on top and dry humping her, I stretch out on my side, and she does the same. Can’t appear too eager, even though I am. Not only have I not gotten laid in a while, but I haven’t been with a woman as beautiful as Lauren in, well, maybe ever.

  She’s almost intimidatingly gorgeous, the kind of woman who looks like she would appear in the pages of Vogue. Maybe even a bit out of my league, truth be told, but I’d never admit it to anyone.

  I stroke her cheek with the backs of my fingers, and she smiles, all sweetness and light.

  Jesus, I adore her face. And her body. I like women of all sizes and shapes, but if I could pick a perfect woman, Lauren’s pretty damned close with her bronze skin, her dark hair, her big tits, and a n
ice, cushy ass. Her eyes are rimmed with a smoky kohl liner, and I love how it makes her looks sultry.

  Earlier, Damien had to tell me to stop staring at her ass so much, otherwise I’d seem like a creeper. Now I’m alone with her, I’m contemplating asking her to roll over so I can slide her skirt up to her waist and openly ogle her curves.

  That might have to wait, pervert.

  I smooth her hair back and kiss her softly. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, and that’s the least interesting thing about you.”

  “I’m sure you say that to all the women you hook up with.”

  Not too far from the truth, but tonight feels different.

  “I believe in compliments. And I don’t lie to women. About anything. You’re damned interesting.”

  “Oh yeah?” Her smile is somehow innocent, but she’s eyeing me like a starving cat preys on a fat mouse, and it’s a knockout combination. “So tell me this: honestly, are you single?”

  “Absolutely. One hundred percent. You?”

  “A thousand percent. But shouldn’t a guy like you be married? You seem like you have the world by the balls. Great career, New York apartment, lots of world travel.”

  I shrug. “Maybe I picked the wrong women along the way.”

  “What do you mean by that?” She props herself on her elbow and traces my jaw. “Your face. I like it, by the way.”

  “Thanks. My last girlfriend decided to move to Australia. I don’t do long-distance relationships.” I don’t tell her my ex also waited until the last possible moment to tell me about the move and withheld lots of other crucial details—like about her Australian lover. I’m all about honesty, and sometimes it seems like it’s difficult to find a partner who values that quality as much as I do.

  I’m not the kind to swear off relationships because I’ve been burned, but I am cautious. Wary but not bitter. I’m also upfront. The women I’ve dated know work often comes first. Okay, almost always comes first.

  “Hmm. We might have to discuss that later. Do you do short-term relationships?”

  I grin. “Like how short?”

  She holds up her fingers. “Like…four days? Over the course of a wedding weekend?”

  “I’d prefer something longer, but if that’s what’s presented to me, I’ll gladly accept.”

  She kisses me softly. “Good. I like you already.”

  “I don’t lead women on, don’t make promises, and don’t lie. So when I say you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen in a long time, maybe ever, I mean it.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  Jesus, she’s adorable. “And thanks for not thinking the worst of me after walking in on me naked earlier. I wasn’t pleasuring myself, by the way. That happened after I saw you.”

  Her jaw drops. “You seem so straight-laced, and then you come out with that.”

  “Kidding!”

  I tickle her side. She giggles, and the sound makes me grin like crazy.

  “Maybe I’m here with you because of earlier,” she says, all husky-voiced. “Maybe I really like the idea of you doing…ah…what you claim you weren’t doing.”

  Our bare legs tangle together, and a little internal shiver goes through me as I feel how smooth her skin is against mine.

  “So, you’re saying you like the idea of me jerking off while thinking of you?”

  She laughs, a genuine, throaty sound. “Ooh. Yes. Is that a problem? Or do you like your women virginal and pure in thought?”

  “I decidedly do not like virginal women or ones who have pure thoughts. The dirtier the better. Especially if I’m going to be walking down the aisle with them.”

  “Then you and I will get along real well. Because I have a lot of dirty thoughts about the best man in this weekend’s wedding.” She slides her hand on my face and pulls me toward her. I move on top of her and within seconds, we’re kissing hard, breathing hard, and I’m rock hard. Her dress is somewhere around her waist, and we’re all but fucking—if it weren’t for my shorts and her panties.

  “Oh, you do? Tell me one.”

  Her lips brush my ear, and a massive wave of lust practically pulls me under. “The first dirty thought was watching you jerk off with that massive cock of yours while you watch me get myself off.”

  I groan. “Are you the woman of my dreams? Christ, babe, you’re speaking my language.”

  We dissolve into laughter and kisses for several long and blissful minutes. The way she kisses is unhurried, sensual, electric.

  Then we stop. The silence and how we’re staring at each other is thickly erotic, something I’m not used to this early on in a hookup. I prop myself on my hands and press my hard dick into her.

  “Did you to do this a lot when you were in high school? Bring girls to the beach? I’m intrigued by the younger Max and how he came to be the man who seduced me into a beach cabana.”

  “A lot? No. Once or twice, if I was lucky.” I dip to kiss her. “The difference between now and then, though, is that I have more patience. And more discerning taste. I don’t bring any random person back to a beach cabana. It’s been…”

  I tilt my head.

  “It’s been close to twenty years since I’ve kissed on this beach. Jesus, I’m old.”

  Her hands slide under my T-shirt, and I suck in a breath at the sensation of her warm fingers on my skin.

  “Good thing for you I like older men. More patience?”

  “Back when I was a teenager, I’d want to fuck, immediately. I was horny as hell.”

  “And you’re not horny as hell now?” She gathers the hem of my shirt and slides it up my torso. I sit and pull it off, admiring her long hair spread over the lounge bed. The air in the cabana seems to have gotten about ten degrees warmer.

  “If you’re asking whether I want to fuck you, the answer is yes. But I’m loving the build up. Aren’t you?”

  She laughs and pulls me toward her again. “I do love the tease. And as adventurous as I am, I don’t think I want to do it here on the beach. There’s already sand from this lounger creeping into my panties.”

  “That means we’ll have to shower later. Together.”

  “I like a man with solutions to every problem.”

  “I’m definitely a problem-solver.”

  I take her wrists in my hands and pin her, kissing her slow, deliberate. She’s an incredible kisser, and already I know we’re going to be hot together in bed. I usually can tell what kind of hookup it will be from the way the woman kisses.

  Lauren is putting her everything into her kiss. She’s kissing without hesitancy. Exploring my mouth. And when she rakes her nails down my bare back, I groan.

  “Fuck, baby. Maybe I don’t have patience around you.”

  Until now, I’ve been focused on her mouth and pressing my dick into her. I glance down to see her cleavage.

  Oh, right. She’s got incredible tits, too. I shift a little so I can cup one in my hand. Normally I’m pretty methodical when I’m with a woman.

  First, a kiss. Then the neck nibble. Tits, hips, ass.

  Lauren’s not my usual. I want to lick and touch and kiss every inch of her right now. When my hand slides the thin strap of her dress down her shoulder, exposing her left breast, I suck in a breath.

  “We’re going to have to return to my room.” I take her nipple in my mouth and grunt. Yeah, the things I want to do with her won’t work here in this cabana. We need space to move around.

  And I don’t have condoms with me. Or if I do, I only have one, and we’ll definitely need more than that.

  She lets out a little mewl as I suck her nipple, and Jesus Christ, I didn’t think my dick could get any harder.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?” I blow on her nipple, and she arches into me.

  “Max, yes,” she whispers. “Don’t fucking stop.”

  I grin against her skin. Lauren’s got a dirty streak, I can tell. This weekend’s going to be incredible. Exactly what I need to unwind. I’ll forget about the fact that my
brother’s making a stupid-ass mistake. Enough to forget I’ve been working non-stop and have nothing to greet me back in New York in six weeks except for some moldy cheese in my fridge and my too-cold office.

  “You want to return to the hotel?” she murmurs.

  “I do, but first,” I slide the other strap off her other shoulder, “I need to do this. I can’t neglect this side.”

  Both of her breasts are exposed, and my mouth goes to her other nipple as I cup the other.

  “No. Don’t neglect. Please.” Her voice is shaky. “I’m glad you’re so diligent.”

  I run my tongue around her taut peak. “I’m going to take care of every part of you tonight, cupcake.”

  She giggles. “Cupcake?”

  “Sweet, edible, decadent.” I gently bite her nipple and pinch the other, and she lets out a moan that makes me almost come right here.

  “What flavor cupcake?”

  I look up, trapping her nipple between two of my fingers, then dip my head for a lick. “Red velvet with vanilla frosting.”

  “A man after my own heart. Or some part of my body.” She guides my head back to her nipple, and I happily oblige.

  As she’s moving my hand down her stomach, someone yells my name.

  “Max!”

  I raise my head from Lauren’s tits. She scrambles to sit up, pulling her dress to cover herself.

  “Max!”

  Christ, it’s my brother.

  I scoot out of the cabana and stand, the cool air hitting my bare chest.

  Remy’s running toward me at full speed and skids to a stop a few feet from the cabana, kicking up sand in the process. “Max, there you are. Shit. I was looking all over for you.”

  “What’s going on?” I stick my hands in my shorts pockets in hopes of hiding my erection. This had better be good.

  “Sorry to interrupt bro, but have you seen Lauren?”

  “She’s…” I look down to see Lauren poking her head out of the cabana.

  “I’m right here.”

  Remy is either oblivious to what we’re doing or pretends not to notice her disheveled hair and pink-flushed face.