I bend over, practically flashing my bottom half to Scott as I reach for the shell in the sand. It's several shades of white and cream. The edges are rough but the rest of the shell is soft and smooth.
It's perfect.
"You've never seen a shell before?" Scott asks from behind me.
"I have, but not often," I slur drunkenly and turn to face him. "We traveled to the East Coast when I was eleven for my grandmother's funeral. While there we took a trip to the beach. It was my mom and dad's way of helping us mourn the woman I had only met a couple times before. While there I saw some of the most beautiful seashells. I collected a few of my favorites and took them home with me. I've been collecting them ever since."
"That explains your giddy child-like reaction to the shell."
"You don't get it. That was my only time at the ocean. The rest of my shell collection are freshwater shells from Lake Michigan and they're mostly from mussels. They're nothing close to as beautiful as this shell. I need to look for more."
I stumble in the sand as I start my search for more shells to add to my collection.
"Hold on there, Winnie," Scott says as he pulls me back into him, forcing me to stand up straight. "You aren't going to find a lot of shells here. It's too populated. There's a place I surf at further down the beach. It's more isolated with no homes or tourists. You'll find some pretty shells there. I'll take you next time you're in town."
"Okay," I respond as I start to feel a little lightheaded. He's probably right about the shells and I'm too buzzed to even look for more.
"You spending the night or going back to Jared's place?"
I look up at Scott, puzzled by his question. His beautiful gray eyes stare down at me and I lose my train of thought.
What did he ask me?
All I can think about is his beautiful eyes, the scar right above his left eyebrow that gives a slight edgy look to the surfer I met earlier. Then there are his full lips. I've never been a lip girl, but Scott's lips have me licking my own and wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
Screw wondering.
I turn in Scott's arms to face him completely and lift up on my tiptoes. Scott must sense what I'm doing because he leans down to meet me and our lips touch. Holy shit, our lips touch and he tastes so good. I'm suddenly lightheaded, and not from the alcohol.
I move my mouth as my lips caress his, over and over again. It's a soft, delicate kiss. Amazing, absolutely amazing, but I need more.
My arms lift and I wrap them around his neck, pulling myself closer to his body. He's still in just his swim trunks so I feel his hard abs against my chest. My hands pull on his neck as I open my mouth and my tongue slides out, asking for entrance. Scott doesn't hesitate opening his mouth and our tongues meet and devour each other.
God, he tastes so wonderful. His tongue is powerful and the way his body is pressed against mine, it's sending warm sensations to the southern area of my body.
I know this isn't a good idea. I know I should not be making out with him, but all common sense went out the window the second I started downing shots.
His hands lower down my back until he's cupping my ass, lifting me up and nudging my legs with his elbows so that I wrap them around his waist.
I'm insatiable. My lips release his as I kiss my way across his chin and to his ear. I feel us moving, but I don't open my eyes as I'm completely consumed by the salty yet sweet taste of his skin.
Suddenly, I'm being lowered onto one of the Adirondack chairs. This breaks my lustful Scott haze and I open my eyes. Scott's seated on the chair and he's lowered us so I'm straddling his lap.
This could work.
My head lowers back to the crook of his neck so I can resume devouring him, but Scott stops me. His hands start at my knees and slide under my sundress, bringing the dress with it. When his hands reach my waist, he grabs the material and slides it up my body. I raise my arms as he lifts and pulls my sundress off me, leaving me in just my blue bikini.
His hands grab my waist again and I feel his lips move against my collarbone, down my chest, until he's kissing and sucking on the exposed flesh of my breast.
I groan in satisfaction as I start to move my hips, grinding against the growing erection underneath me. His hips start to thrust forward and I can feel the covered tip of his erection against my bikini-covered core with every pump of his hips.
It would be so easy to remove the last two items of clothing between us.
I'm horny. He's hot. And I want horny, hot sex right now.
I lower my hands and caress them against his abs as I make my way down to the waistband of his trunks.
I want to feel him in my hand before I fuck him in this chair.
As my hand starts to slide underneath his trunks my body tenses and I stop all motion completely.
Someone's watching.
I hear someone giggling before Tawny drunkenly says, "Free porn right here on the beach. Who knew you had it in you, Scotty?"
Her words sober me up real fast. How long has she been here? What made me think I could go at it with my sister's boyfriend’s brother right here on the beach?
Why is my hand still down his pants?
I get up quickly, removing my hand from his body as I stand up in the sand. My eyes assess my surroundings; it looks like only Tawny's seen us.
Thank God.
I look down and can see a few bright red marks on my chest from Scott's aggressive attack on them. I'll have some hickeys tomorrow for sure.
What is he, thirteen? Who leaves hickeys?
My brain is mush and I'm stumbling on the right words to find so I can excuse myself from this momentary lapse in judgment. Scott speaks instead.
"Tawny, don't you have somewhere else you could be right now?"
He stands up and I can still see the tent in his shorts. This is the first full visual I've had of his erection and it's very impressive.
Shit. Stop thinking of him that way.
He walks over to me and slips his arm around my waist. I try to pull away but his grip gets tighter.
"Why would I leave, Scotty? You two are so entertaining," she hiccups.
She's drunker than I thought.
"Stop calling me Scotty. Tawny, Winnie and I would really like to be al-"
"I was just leaving," I interrupt.
Scott stiffens next to me and turns to face me. "You're leaving?" He looks a little startled by my words and he lowers his lips to whisper in my ear. "I thought you were coming. I want to make you come."
His words send tingles across my skin and as much as I'd love for him to make me come, mostly because my clit is throbbing and in need of immediate attention, I know that Tawny's interruption was for the best. If we slept together I would regret it in the morning.
I turn into his body and lift up on my toes, brushing my lips against his cheek in a chaste kiss. My lips move towards his ear so Tawny won't overhear.
"I was close to coming, but for the sake of future parties and family get togethers, it's better if I go now instead of come. We wouldn’t want an awkward situation in the morning."
I don’t give him a chance to respond. I push away from his body and say goodnight to Tawny as I pick my sundress up off the sandy beach. I jog back up to the house and slip the sundress over my head, attempting to hide the visible marks on my chest.
Walking up the steps of the deck I can see clearly into the sliding glass door that leads into the living room and has an open view of the kitchen. Jared and Autumn are sitting at the kitchen table, holding hands, and just talking like it's the most natural thing in the world for them. I'm envious of their relationship. Few people ever find someone who is just completely made for them. Jared and Autumn are made for each other. It's obvious to anyone who meets them.
It’s even more evident to me now why Scott and I would never work. I need to find someone who makes me as happy as Jared makes Autumn. Sleeping with or starting a relationship with Scott, when he's part of this extended family
bubble of Autumn's, would be wrong and unnatural. I'm glad Tawny stopped us before we made a huge mistake.
I reach the sliding glass door and open it, walking inside and closing it behind me.
"We were just trying to decide if we should spend the night here or drive back home," Jared says, lifting his head up in my direction. My sister leans into him as Jared's arms open and hold her in a sideways embrace.
"If you both don't mind I'd rather go back to your house, Jared. I need a good night sleep and this house is foreign to me."
"Sure thing, Winnie. Let me just go say goodbye to my brother and thank him for the party. I'll meet you two at the car."
Autumn and I leave out the front door of the house and walk a block over until we reach the car Autumn drove over here. I hop in the back as she gets behind the wheel and starts the car.
"Did you have fun, sis?"
"I had a lot of fun. Your friends are great," I respond as enthusiastically as I can.
"I'm glad. Jared was pretty surprised. It's good for him to still get together with all of his friends when he can. Almost his entire family was here, too. They're a lot of fun. You'll see the more you get to know them."
Oh, I know them. Particularly one of them who's hot, sweet, sexy, kisses like a god, and get's my ovaries working overtime. But I can’t tell her that. I'll never tell her that. In fact, the next time I see him I need to make sure he takes that information to his grave.
We pull into Scott's driveway and Jared's waiting on the walkway. Autumn barely puts the car in park before he opens the door and climbs in the passenger seat.
"That was fast, babe."
"I didn't get a chance to say goodbye."
"Why not?" I interrupt from the backseat.
"He was too busy going at it on the beach with Tawny. I love him, but I easily forget how him and Tawny like to screw each other if no one else is around."
His words puzzle and stun me at the same time and I slump down in my seat. I've been gone for five minutes and he's already hooking up with Tawny? I shouldn't care. I just met him, I turned him down, and he should be able to screw anyone he wants. I made it clear that we can't ever have an intimate relationship.
So why do I feel a pain in my chest after hearing about him hooking up with Tawny?
Chapter Three
"Three hundred eleven, three hundred twelve, three hundred thirteen, three hundred fourteen," I mumble under my breath.
After I tipped out our bartender I still made three hundred and fourteen dollars tonight. Not bad for a late spring break, when most of the college kids are down south.
I push my cash into my purse and throw on my pink velour jumpsuit over my club lingerie. Today I was working a bachelor party and the groom-to-be requested we wear black and red lace lingerie. Although I'm not one of the strippers, I am required to be in lingerie at all times as I serve the men drinks and dance on top of the tables, platforms, and cages.
My friend, Leslie, whose stage name is Peaches, had the privilege of stripping for these rich assholes tonight. Most of the time the men are gentlemen. They don't touch me because they know I'm not the show they paid for, and they don’t touch Leslie because we have rules. Our strippers are allowed to touch you but you can’t touch them unless it's been discussed beforehand and the stripper agrees.
A few of the girls who work at the club allow this but Leslie doesn't, so when a few of the guys got a little out of hand tonight because they wanted the groom to get a private show, I thought I was going to have to call Big Hank, one of our many security guards. Luckily, one of the guys in the party was sober enough to calm his friend down and they ended up having a good time.
And I raked in over three hundred bucks.
Leslie made over five hundred and she deserves it for what she does. I'd love to make that kind of money, too, but I've caught my high school math teacher, the police sheriff, and my assistant pastor in here at different times since I started working. The thought of any of those men seeing me naked has kept me out of the private rooms.
Our club isn't a strip club. There's no big room with an elevated floor and a pole in the center. We're the biggest nightclub in town. Men and women come here to drink and dance. We have stages and cages for the dancers, and I'm one of them. We dance in lingerie as the customers look on and party it up. We have six private rooms upstairs for parties, and that is the only area where we have girls who occasionally strip, give lap dances, and do party tricks with their pussies.
When I'm not dancing, I'm waitressing in the private rooms. It brings in good money.
I say goodnight to Leslie and the other girls before having Hank walk me to my car. An hour later I'm in my room, stripping out of my clothes, and climbing into bed.
Screw washing my make-up off and taking a shower. I'm exhausted.
I've been home from my trip to California for Jared's birthday for about two weeks and I've been working non-stop. My parents’ boat shop opened back up because of the beautiful spring weather we've been having in Michigan. During the day I work there, at night I waitress here in town, and on the weekends I work at the clubs.
I barely have time for a social life.
My eyelids close and I start to drift off to sleep when the buzzing of my phone rattles loud against my nightstand. Groaning, I reach my hand up and retrieve my smartphone. I swipe my finger on the screen to see who's texting me at... four o'clock in the morning.
A ten-digit unknown number flashes across the screen, but the three-one-zero area code tells me it's from the Los Angeles area.
Unknown: Hi
Okay, that's a vague message. I know only three people in California. It wouldn't be Jared because we don't text each other and I have his number in my phone. Tawny's cell is still her Michigan number, and I have Autumn's number programmed in my phone.
Maybe Autumn got a new number?
I'm tired but curiosity gets the best of me and I decide to text back.
Me: Hi. Who is this?
I get three simultaneous texts back right away.
Unknown: I didn't consider the fact that you'd have no idea who this is.
Unknown: This could be fun.
Unknown: Guess???
What the hell? I'm not guessing. It's four in the morning. I'm sending the next text out and going to bed.
Me: Listen, douche nozzle. I'm tired, cranky, and I'm not up for your games. Unless you're my sister, and I seriously doubt you are because she doesn't piss me off this much, I'm going to bed so stop texting me.
I press send, put my phone down next to me and close my eyes, ready to hibernate for the next ten hours since tomorrow is my only day off at the boat shop. My parents shut down the shop on Sundays.
Sunday is God's day.
The phone buzzes next to me but I ignore it. I'm in my happy place, getting ready to dream of the cast of Magic Mike ravishing me and pleasuring me all at the same time. When my phone buzzes five more times, I'm ready to throw it against my wall, but instead I check the messages.
Unknown: Sorry :(
Unknown: Does your bed have room for one more?
Unknown: Douche nozzle? Is that even a word?
Unknown: You don't know the price I had to pay to get your number.
Unknown: Lets just say I owe Tawny a lot of favors.
Unknown: Hello? Are you sleeping and dreaming of me or just ignoring me?
It's Scott. Why would he be texting me? What kind of favors does he owe Tawny?
Why, out of everything he just texted me, is Tawny the only thing that registered?
Even in my complete exhaustion and anger, I can't help the butterflies that have suddenly appeared in my stomach over the knowledge that Scott is texting me. That he went out of his way to get my number to text me. I program his name in my phone and add him as a contact before texting him back.
Me: I've heard all about the favors Tawny and you give each other. You even gave her one the night of Jared's party.
Scott: Jealous? That
could have been you.
Scott: But you turned me down.
Me: I did, didn't I?
Scott: Someone had to take care of my blue balls.
Me: And Tawny was so willing.
Scott: Can we stop talking about Tawny? How are you?
So now we're moving on to small talk? Weird.
Me: Fine.
Scott: I'm fine too. Thanks for asking.
Me: I didn't.
Scott: I know, but you wanted to.
Scott: How's your shell holding up?
My shell? Oh, yeah, the one from the beach.
Me: Lost it. I've learned my lesson. I'm never drinking again.
Scott: Now that's not a reasonable solution. You have to find a way to still collect them and be able to drink.
Me: I'll work on that.
Me: I'm tired so I'm going to have to let you go.
Scott: What are you wearing?
Me: Do you have sexual Tourettes? Sometimes it's okay not to say everything you’re thinking.
Scott: No Tourettes. I just want to know what you're wearing.
This could go one of two ways. Should I lie and be demure, or should I tell the truth and let him know I sleep in my birthday suit? He could get the wrong impression with the truth. Then again, what harm could come from texts? I can flirt with him through texts.
Me: I'm not wearing anything.
Scott: You're shitting me.
Me: I'm not. I always sleep naked. What are you wearing?
Scott: I was in bed in my boxers, but now my boxers are down to my knees and my hand’s around my dick as my other hand frantically texts you.
Playing His Game (The Reynolds Brothers) Page 3