by Kira Blakely
Fuck yes. “Beg.”
“Please,” she cried and reached between us, grabbing for the base of my cock. “I need you.”
And it was true. I fucking needed her for god knew what reason.
I savaged her neck, then took my dick from her greedy hands and placed it at her entrance.
Hazel reached back and sought purchase on the wall, then grabbed the back of my jacket instead, tore at the fabric with her nails.
I buried myself in her in with one swift thrust, all the way to the hilt. I made to pull back, slide out and thrust again, but her pussy sucked me back in before I’d pulled an inch.
“Fuck, you’re tight.”
I pulled back hard, then thrust in just as deep again.
She cried out. Her head hit the wall and her tits bounced, caught in the glow of moonlight leaking through the floor-to-ceiling windows beside us.
“More, harder,” she said. “Please. I need it, Bain. I need you.”
My dick pulsed – so submissive, so precious, Christ – and I angled her exactly right, so that the base of my fat cock stroked her clit with each desperate thrust.
I pounded into her, again and again, and she jerked, swayed, moaned. We sucked in breaths, and I focused on her, only her, the parting of her lips, the slickness of her pussy, the sweat beading on her brow and the wildness of her gaze.
“Coming,” she howled. “Bain, I’m – I’m –”
She tightened around me, silken walls as thirsty for my cum as I was for hers. Hazel closed around my cock, released, and tightened up again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes. Mine! I thrust in time to each beat of her orgasm and spilled inside her, lashed her sweet tender walls with my fluids. My mind fucking vanished. My body moved of its own accord, and I disappeared from the face of the planet, into a world that was just Hazel.
Hazel, Hazel, and more Hazel.
I have to have more of this.
Chapter 3
Hazel
Last night had been a dream, not a nightmare. Maybe a wet dream, ha, but a dream nevertheless.
Sex in a penthouse suite with a mystery stripper. Perhaps, the whole troupe of them – was that what strippers were called in a group? – had rented out the place together.
It didn’t matter. I glowed.
I strolled down the white sand beach, just underneath the line of trees that rimmed it, camera in hand. The wedding party was ahead, bridesmaids and groomsmen gathered, wearing jeans and t-shirts – with the wedding set for tonight; everyone was in high spirits.
God damn it, I am too.
This was the last thing I’d expected.
Jacob had dragged my heart through hot lava. He’d stomped on it right after.
But last night, the mystery stripper, Bain – man, what a name – had erased thoughts of that from my mind. He’d scoured Jacob right out and replaced all the pain with ecstasy.
I’m not this person. I don’t have one-night stands.
I snapped a few pictures, not really focusing on what was in the viewfinder of my Canon but swinging it left and right, just clicking the button at the trees, the ocean, the folks on the beach, the resort hotel that reared in the background, a white-gold palace.
For the longest time, all I’d wanted was to be loved, as pathetic as that seemed. I’d longed for something stable. A guy who’d love me for me. I’d thought that I’d had that with Jacob. Boy, had I been wrong.
“Maybe, that was what I needed,” I whispered, to myself and lowered the camera. “Just one night to –”
Footsteps swished through the sands behind me, and I quit talking to myself like a crazy person.
My heart skipped a beat. What if it was him? Bain. Don’t be ridiculous. It was one night, and he probably doesn’t want to see you again. But still, hope unfolded in my chest.
I turned and those hopes crashed down so hard they penetrated the crust of the earth, fell straight through the mantel and buried themselves in the core.
Jacob stopped in front of me, hands tucked in the pockets of his chinos, and that oh-so-smug Jacob-smile ensconced on his lips.
The one I’d fallen for. The same one he’d shown me two days ago during that epic breakup speech.
“There you are,” he said. “Glad to see you’re doing okay.”
“Doing okay?” I stiffened.
“Yeah, you know, after what happened.” He tilted his head to one side. “I heard that you skipped out on the bachelor party last night. Carly was really worried about you.”
Carly happened to be one of Jacob’s best friends. It was the reason her groom had taken him on as the best man. Worst man in my opinion, not least because he’d dumped me but because he’d alluded to the fact that there was definitely someone else during the gut-wrenching conversation.
You were a way to pass time. Why do you think I never took you to meet my family? We weren’t even living together, Hazel. Get real.
His words rang through my head, but I didn’t tear up this time. I shrugged. “Jacob, what do you care what I do? It’s over between us, remember? You’re the one who ended it.”
He blinked chestnut brown eyes at me, and didn’t say a word. Likely, because he’d expected me to grovel at his feet. Or at least cry.
Not today. Today, I wasn’t just Hazel the plain Jane who’d been lucky enough to be with him. I was Hazel, the woman who’d had a one-night stand and couldn’t bring herself to regret it.
Bain. The stripper. I forced away the flicker of doubt. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?” I asked, then lifted my camera. “I’m trying to snap some pictures for the wedding portfolio and you’re in my shot.”
“You’re different,” Jacob said, brow wrinkling up like crepe paper. “You take a Xanax this morning or something?”
“Charming as ever.” I sidestepped to move past him and he followed me, blocked my path.
“Hazel, I know you’re putting up this front because you’re hurting and that’s okay. I just wanted you to know that this is an important weekend for Carly, okay?”
“Yeah, it’s her wedding. I’m aware of that.” I fiddled with the dial on my camera, flicking it from photo mode to playback mode again and again. “What are you insinuating?”
“That you’re not stable, right now,” he replied and brushed fingers through his wavy brown locks. The front of his white button down rippled in the ocean breeze. “I don’t want Carly’s weekend ruined by what you’ve got going on.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding?”
“No. You left her at the bachelorette party last night, and she got super drunk and things could’ve gone badly for her. You should’ve been there to help her. You’re her bridesmaid,” he said.
But I wasn’t the Maid of Honor, and he had no right to lecture me about my duties to my friend. I opened my mouth to tell him as much, but the words wouldn’t come out. A mixture of anger and shame swirled through me.
He’d always had this effect on me. He managed to make me feel like I was in the wrong, all the time. I’d be so confident of my convictions, ready to defend my decisions, and he’d waltz in and twist everything on its head and make me look like the bad guy.
“I’ve got to go,” I said and spun on my heel, tracking across the sands as fast as my feet would carry me. Not exactly a mic drop, but at least I wouldn’t have to deal with him right now.
Jacob didn’t call out for me, didn’t follow, and I didn’t look back.
He wouldn’t be standing there if I did.
Tears blurred the sand into a long fuzzy white strip, bordered by a fluffy blue ocean. I blinked and lowered my gaze, focusing on my bare feet and pink painted toenails.
For a second there, I’d almost been confident enough to tell him to get bent, but he’d done it again. Reduced me to the weepy annoying chick I despised, and he did, too. Ugh!
I passed a line of palm trees, and a shadow moved toward me; a hand took hold of mine and flooded me with warmth.
“There you are.”
The voice, that same rumble, slid through my ears and sent a shiver down my spine. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” I said and scrubbed the tears from my cheeks. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Bain drew me into his arms and squeezed me against his chest, enveloping me in light, citrusy cologne. “I’ve been looking for you all morning. You ran out on me.”
“I didn’t want to overstay my welcome,” I said and cleared my throat. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t some weepy wretch who couldn’t keep it together. Except, right now, you are. And who can blame you?
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Hell no! Could anything be more embarrassing than that? Yeah, uh, I only fell into bed with you because my heart is broken and the guy I was in love with is here, possibly with some other chick.
That’d go down well.
I pulled out of his grasp and brushed the front of my lemon-yellow dress, then tucked my hair behind my ear. “Listen, you don’t need to do this. I know how these types of things work. Maybe not super personally, but I know that a one-night stand is a one-night stand. You don’t need to pretend to care just because we’re trapped on the same island.” And I didn’t particularly relish the thought of him whipping off his pants for another bachelorette party tonight, either.
“Huh?” His ran a finger down that slightly crooked nose. “Trapped?”
“Yeah, I’m here until the wedding’s over and you’re here until whenever you and your stripper guys have to, um, leave. I don’t know how it works or how long you’ll be here for, and let’s face it, this is just a –”
He pressed a finger to my lips. “Quiet. Stop overthinking things. Walk with me instead.”
“What, now?” I asked, keenly aware of his presence and the way his gaze swept up and down my body, landed on my chest, and flicked to my face again.
“No, next week,” he replied. “Of course, now. Come.” He held out an arm.
I stared at it.
What could it hurt? This was harmless fun, and I wasn’t some snob that I’d turn up my nose at his profession. It wasn’t a problem for me that he did what he did. I didn’t enjoy watching that, but –
Ramble, ramble, ramble! Just do it!
I slipped my arm through his, and he rewarded me with a toe-curling smile.
“Let’s go,” he said and guided me out across the beach, my camera flapping on the end of its strap.
Chapter 4
Bain
I was the type of guy who always got what I wanted.
The same guy who’d seen that Mustang GT sitting out on the street, boosted and stolen it at the ripe age of sixteen. The one who’d been banished from the fucking family for it, made to look an ass in comparison to my younger brother.
And now, I was the dude who made shit happen.
All of that fell away at the sight of Hazel with tears on her cheeks.
Who the fuck did this to her? Why?
We walked down the beach in silence, the waves brushing the white sand and chasing up it to tickle our toes. She gasped and jostled out of the water, directly into me, and I caught her and laughed.
“You don’t like the water?” I asked.
“No, I do. I just don’t like the cold,” she replied and lowered her head, probably to hide the cute pink flush on the apples of her cheeks.
“So,” I said and slipped my arm around her waist. It was a comfort to do that. She still made my dick unbearably hard, but everything between us felt natural, easy.
Relax, dick, it’s just a weekend with a gorgeous woman. Nothing more and nothing less.
“So, what?” Hazel asked and looked up at me. “What do you mean, so?”
“Are you always this nervous?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “My mom used to call me a worry wart growing up. I guess that was warranted. I worry and I talk too much. That was what she said.”
“That’s a pretty nasty thing to say to a kid.” And I could sympathize. I’d been labeled a couple of shitty things by my parents. Nothing that I’d let fuck with my head, though. They’d always favored my little brother over me. Jacob was the saint, and I was the sinner. “Is that why you’re crying? You’re worrying about something?”
She spun and looked up at me, skin flaming up again so that I wanted to kiss her, make the anger or pain disappear. “I’m not crying, see?” She poked either cheek. “I’m all good. It was a momentary lapse.”
“Over what?” I asked.
“You really want to know this shit?” she asked and rolled her eyes. “Like I said, you don’t have to do this.”
“I don’t do anything I don’t wanna do.” Plain and simple truth, apart from one thing. Serving time in juvie.
“All right,” she said.
We walked up to a spot slightly removed from the beach, behind a rocky outcropping and right up against the trees. The resort was farther down, and the sounds of laughter and music drifted along the sand, audible above the rush of waves.
I helped Hazel onto a rock and took a seat beside her, looped my arm around her again, tugged her tight to my side. I couldn’t not touch her.
“I don’t even know you,” she said, “and I’m about to tell you my sob story.”
“That just makes it easier,” I replied and watched her.
She made a show of looking out over the ocean, likely because she was afraid she’d break if she looked my way.
I waited it out. Let her think this through.
“It’s nothing big,” she said, at last. “I’m crying because I feel a little – I don’t know. I was with a guy who made me feel less than what I was? Maybe that’s not fair.”
“Why?”
She worried that luscious bottom lip with her teeth. “Because I’ve always been a little insecure. Least attractive quality ever, I know.”
“What did this guy do that made you feel this way?”
Hazel gave a small laugh and I squeezed her, afforded her some strength. “Well, for starters, he broke up with me the minute we arrived here. Just told me there was someone else and it was time for us to move on because things hadn’t been working out for either of us.” Another smile, and thankfully, tearless – I didn’t like that she was hurting or that another man had touched her in the first place. “Funny thing is, I thought everything was fine, ya know, apart from the fact that he wouldn’t introduce me to anyone. We have the same friends but I’ve never even met his family.”
“Wow,” I said and kissed her shoulder. “I’m sorry about that, Hazel. You deserve better.”
“Do I?” She looked at me at last. Christ, she was beautiful. Her blond curls danced with the breeze, eyes the color of a clouded sky. “I don’t know that I do. I mean, clearly he thought he deserved better than me.”
“Hazel.”
“Seriously,” she continued. “I could be an axe murderer or something. You don’t even know me.”
“Ten bucks says you can’t even wield an axe,” I replied.
“And you can? What are you, the lumberjack stripper?” A smile lifted the corners of her lips, and the overwhelming urge to kiss her swam through my gut. Or was it my dick?
I couldn’t bear to break her illusion of me. Maybe she needed to think I was a stripper to make sense of this.
The sooner I told her the truth, the sooner the illusion would shatter. The mystery would be gone. The romance with it.
“You’d be surprised. There’s a lot of things I know how to do,” I said, after a minute.
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
Like steal cars, get clean, build billionaire dollar businesses. Like avoid complicated emotions. “You sure you want to know?” I asked. “I can show you, right now. Right here.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “What is it?”
I grinned at her innocence, then rose from the rock, hopped down and turned, offering her a hand. “Come on,” I said.
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere. Right here. To paradise.” She t
ook my hand and I helped her down, then pressed her against my chest. Slowly, I swayed from side to side and turned in circles.
Her bare feet, toenails painted as pink as her lips, crossed the sand. She mis-stepped a couple times.
I spun her around on the spot, dipped her and lifted her upright again.
“Oh, my gosh,” she said. “Dancing. I love dancing. I mean, I can’t dance, but I love it.”
I laughed, low in my throat, and swung her closer, held her flush against my loose cotton shirt. “It’s all rhythm. The moves don’t matter that much.”
“See? That’s my problem. No rhythm. Two left feet.” She separated from me and pointed down at her wriggling toes.
I drew her back into my embrace again. “I’ll teach you,” I said, then slid my hands down the cotton back of her dress and rested them on her ass. “Rhythm starts in the soul, and it shows in the hips.”
Her breath hitched in her chest. “That’s not my soul. Or my hips.”
“Move with me,” I said and wound my hips in a slow circle, a trick I’d picked up in Cuba. I’d traveled a lot over the past ten years, one country to another, and in between meetings I’d fully appreciated the culture of each place I’d visited. “Just like that. Press your body into mine.”
The breeze wasn’t cool enough for us. Tension and heat swam in the tiny spaces separating our bodies.
“That’s right,” I said.
Her nipples puckered beneath the cotton. I admired them, then her, and the slack-jawed expression she bore, looking down at the space between us where my throbbing erection, trapped beneath chinos, rubbed against the front of her dress.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Wow is fucking right. “You’re doing great,” I said.
She looked up at me, then, and slung her arms around my neck. “Who are you, really?”
“Does it matter?” I asked. Maybe it does. Maybe it should matter. Christ, one night and I want to tell this chick my entire life story. Too soppy. I can think of way better uses for our time together. “All that matters now is this moment, Hazel. How do you feel?”
She pouted a little, and I squeezed her ass, encouraging her to grind on. Grind right up against me, drive me through the fucking roof with that winding movement.