by Kayti McGee
As the sun was setting, the booze flowing, and the wedding cake being sliced and diced, I eventually saw her standing alone on the back porch, only a little left in her wine glass. The perfect opportunity.
“Can you fix me up something interesting?” I had asked the bartender.
“Sure. Any preference?”
I checked her out once again, as if trying to decipher her body.
“Something…thick. Sweet…” I had said. “Chocolate liqueur. Maybe a little soda. Cream soda.”
“Sure.”
“What else would go with that? Give it a little kick. A little mystery?”
“Hmm. Shot of vodka?”
“No... rum. That’s it. Give me two of those.”
With two glasses in my hand I approached her slowly, appreciating every curve and feature as I drew near. Up close she was even more perfect. Her lips even more hypnotic, her skin even more irresistible, her body even more grabbable. When she noticed me with those big brown eyes, lashes fluttering a little, lowering her head to half-hide her smile beneath that curly hair, it was all I could do to stay gentlemanly.
“For you,” I had said, handing her the drink.
She had glanced at her wine glass and then back at me.
“I have a drink already.”
“You have a generic glass of wine. Same as everyone else is drinking. What I’m offering is custom-made, just for you. It’s bespoke.” I sip mine and lick my lips. Just as delicious as her ass looks in that dress.
“Okay, I’ll bite.” God, I hope so. “What is it?”
“A little cocktail I created. I call it Pirate’s Booty.”
She had smiled. Perfect white teeth framed by those kissable red lips.
“Don’t you mean Pirate’s Bounty?”
“No,” I had said, giving her the smoldering eyes. “That’s a sex position. Pirate’s Booty is a different thing altogether.”
“Guess I’d better rethink my Halloween costume then,” she had said, meeting my gaze even as she took her first tentative sip. Her tongue ran over her lips, mirroring me, sent a message right to my groin.
“If you need any help trying some of those costumes out, I’d love to lend a hand. Or two.”
She had laughed. Dark and husky—as if she wasn’t sexy beyond belief already. I downed the drink, needing it to cool the fire rumbling in my muscles.
“Jonas Ryder…with lines like that, no wonder scandal follows you around.”
“Who says I’m not the one chasing scandal? Scandal is fun.”
She shrugged. “I can think of other ways to have fun.”
“Oh yeah? What’s your idea of fun?”
She downed the rest of the cocktail and handed me the glass.
“Get me another one of those and I might let you find out.”
When I returned with the drinks, the rest of the wedding guests were still cooing over and tucking into the cakes, so the girl and I had the porch to ourselves.
“How do you know the bride?” I asked as I handed it over.
“Natalia? We’ve known each other for years.”
“Years, huh? How come I’ve never met you before, then?”
The girl laughed.
“Maybe she was protecting me.”
I looked out over the small crowd—Nick was feeding a spoonful of cake to his bride, dabbing a bit of cream on her nose and causing soft laughter among the other guests.
Turning back to the girl, I had said, “She’s a little too preoccupied to protect you now.”
The mystery woman had laughed gently, that dark voice making me feel like she was already grabbing me by the balls.
“Yes she is… Whatever will I do?”
“Try out my idea of fun. Let’s make a scandal.”
She leaned forward then, curling her hips toward me. A gentle sway as if her body was aching for movement, for closeness. We gazed at each other for a few moments, the air around us electrified with anticipation of what had to come, what was destined to happen.
“So,” she had said, putting her glass down, “Pirate’s Bounty is a sex position, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“How does it work?”
“Well,” I said, putting mine down too to gesture with my hands, “the woman is on her back and her leg is…the guy…” I stopped myself and laughed, and the woman laughed with me. Out in the garden my brothers were grabbing instruments, like every evening with them always ends up. If I didn’t leave soon I’d be getting dragged up there, too. “It’s a little hard to explain. I’m not the lyricist in the family.”
For the second time, she bit.
“Why don’t you show me, then?”
Her leg on my shoulder, fucking her tight pussy to the sound of stifled gasps and moans, she knows exactly what the Pirate’s Bounty position is now.
She opens her eyes to gaze at me, eyes hard and focused, braced against the oncoming rush. She takes my hand from her breast to put my finger in her mouth, suck it through those red lips, and I can barely hold back. Every quaking, tensing muscle of her body too sexy, her flushed cheeks and tousled hair too gorgeous.
Now I know why she took my finger in her mouth, biting down on it to stifle her scream as she convulses, her leg hooking over my shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as her orgasm slams through her . The sight of it is the hottest thing I’ve seen in so long I can’t help but join her, cock deep inside, her pussy squeezing all resistance out of me. I come in a hot rush, feel the pain of her teeth on my finger, and grit my own teeth against the risk of letting the whole wedding party know how good this is.
I collapse beside her, both of us gasping back air. My finger is practically numb now so I whip it into the air to get the blood back into it. From the open window the sound of one of our old boy band tunes drifts in, half the guests joining in for the chorus, and I guess they’ve probably started dancing.
“You owe me a new finger, Scandal,” I say, and roll my head to the side.
She turns her head on the pillow to look back at me, her face still flushed and soft from the afterglow.
“Would you rather have your brother’s wedding interrupted by me screaming ‘fuck me Jonas’ at the top of my lungs?”
I study her face again, wondering exactly what her screams would sound like if we tested out a few other positions. Wedding or not, I like the idea. But not enough to break my own rules.
“Listen,” I say, my tone changing, “this was—”
“Oh please,” she says, putting a hand on my chest. “Don’t insult me with the talk. I know the drill. You’re Jonas ‘One-Time’ Ryder. And you’ve lived up to your reputation so far. As for me, I’m going to blame this on the Pirate’s Bounty.”
“You mean the Pirate’s Booty?” I ask.
“Both.”
We lay there for a few seconds, listening to the music, and somehow it doesn’t get as uncomfortable as it should.
I say, “I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s probably better that way,” she says, before eventually adding, “I’m Hadley. Hadley Stark.”
I offer my hand.
“Nice to meet you, Hadley.”
“You too,” she says, smiling at the irony of introducing herself only as we’re about to part. She takes my hand. I shake it and then sit up off the bed, sliding off the condom and pulling up my pants. Hadley shimmies the pink dress down over her hips again and stands on the other side of the bed to fix herself.
I put my hand on the doorknob and turn back one last time.
“See you around.”
“Not likely,” she says, back over her shoulder. The briefest glimpse of a smile and I feel like pulling her toward me and starting the whole thing over again. “Then again, you never know.”
I laugh gently, steal one more look at her body, and leave. I’ll be seeing her for sure—in my idle fantasies for months to come, if nothing else.
Also by Kayti McGee
The Ryder Brothers
Want
> More by JD Hawkins (coming soon!)
Close by Laurelin Paige
Written with Laurelin Paige as Laurelin McGee
Miss Match
Love Struck
MisTaken: A Novella
Under the Covers novels
UnderCovers
Topped
Long Shot
Hands Off
Standalone
Screwmates
That Thing You Do
About the Author
Kayti McGee is livin’ deliciously in beautiful Kansas City, Missouri. Go Royals!
She also writes as the latter half of Laurelin McGee. Like her co-author Laurelin Paige, she joined Mensa for no other reason than to make their bios more interesting. Sometimes they podcast as IRL.
[email protected]