by Selena Kitt
He sighed. “Does this mean the Ice Queen has returned to her throne?”
Carrie froze and she could almost hear his grin, see the challenging look in his eyes. “I’ll be there,” she snapped and hung up.
* * * *
Carrie’d had to explain away her “I’ll be there” comment to Maureen. “I’ll be in Key West,” she said to her friend. “That’s what I meant.” Of course, Maureen was thrilled that Doc would be coming along, at the prospect of double dates and Carrie not feeling like a third wheel when James was around.
Carrie didn’t know how she felt about it.
She still didn’t know as her alarm woke her at two-fifty-five a.m. and she reached for it before it woke Maureen. Her friend was breathing deeply, still asleep.
What am I doing? Carrie thought, pulling on her robe and sliding out of her room, closing the door quietly behind her. The dorm was silent, eerily so. Bars closed at two, so even those breaking the midnight curfew were probably sleeping it off in their beds.
She padded down the hall and slipped down the stairwell. It was only when she neared the men’s bathroom that she hesitated, her eyes still adjusting to the overhead fluorescents, her brain fuzzy from sleep.
Was he there? Cock throbbing and hard in his hand, thinking about her...? She was already soaking wet—had been, since he first suggested this clandestine meeting.
She crept into the bathroom, barely breathing, trying to listen. Nothing. Just one of the sinks dripping water, a tinny “plink, plink” sound. She dared to venture a little further, glancing behind her just in case—if some guy decided to come in to take a drunk piss, she was going to take off running.
“Oh yeah, Carrie, your little pussy is so tight!”
The sound of her name in his throat made her freeze—he was here. Same shower stall. She was sure, although she couldn’t see him—yet—that his cock was hard in his hand, and this time she knew exactly who he was imagining. It was both exciting and embarrassing, to know he was picturing her.
“Come on, baby, please. I want you so bad.”
Oh God.
It was as if her cunt had a mind of its own, propelling her forward. She inched toward the closed brown curtain where she now heard the distinct sound of his jerking off, his hand shuttling up and down his stiff length.
“Ohhhhhhhh fuck,” he groaned, sounding pained, and she held her breath as she drew the curtain quietly aside, wanting to see him, needing to, before he knew she was there.
He was laid out on the bench, still now, his fist wrapped tightly around the tip of his dick, squeezing hard. His lower lip was drawn between his teeth, arm thrown over his eyes. Slowly, he released the vice-grip he had on his cock, letting out a shaky breath. The tip was wet with pre-cum and she had a sudden urge to lick it off.
“That’s it, baby,” he urged, whispering, his hips beginning to thrust up into his hand. “Squeeze my dick with that hot little cunt.”
She bit her lip, moving in to get a closer look, her pussy more than sopping now. If she wasn’t wearing panties, her juices would be dripping down her thighs. As it was, the crotch was soaked—she knew, not only because her pussy felt swollen, but because she was cupping her mound through her panties, idly rubbing herself.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, his hand moving faster again now. “Fuck me. Ride that cock. Oh God yeah, just like that.”
She swallowed, hearing the click in her own throat, waiting for him to feel her presence, but he was too engrossed in his fantasy—his fantasy of her. She stood fully in the shower stall with him now, right beside his thrusting hips, watching his cock appear through the clench of his fist again and again. His balls, she noticed, were drawn up tight. He’d been at this for a while, she realized.
“Oh baby, I want your mouth,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb over the head, spreading pre-cum everywhere. “Please, suck me off.”
Carrie couldn’t resist. She dropped quickly to her knees, taking the head of his cock between her lips and sucking. Doc let out a gasp, half-sitting up on his elbows, and she gave a throaty laugh, taking him in as deep as she could manage, her eyes meeting his.
“Jesus,” he croaked, his hand moving in her hair. “Don’t do that!”
“You want me to stop?” She sat back on her heels, biting her lip. “Are you sure?”
He groaned and pressed her head back toward his crotch. “No, not that. Don’t ever stop doing that.”
She smiled and slid her fist down his shaft, following with her mouth and tongue, breathing in the fully masculine scent of him, letting it fill her senses. He reached for her, lifting her t-shirt and cupping a breast, rubbing her hard nipple with his palm. She gave a soft moan, her other hand wedging the crotch of her panties between her swollen lips, gasping when her fingers reached her clit, throbbing and aching for release. But she didn’t want to climax yet. Not yet.
Just the feel of his cock in her mouth, the way his hips pressed up, his hand groping her breast, made her want to come. She sucked him eagerly and, using just her index fingernail, began to scratch her itch through the crotch of her panties—faster and faster over that little nub, back and forth, scratch scratch scratch.
She could barely concentrate on what she was doing, his cock moving wildly, a thick, wet frenzy as her breath came in hot, quick pants. Her finger was pressing now, rubbing her clit in delicious, familiar circles, her pussy pulsing. Close. Too close.
“Oh Doc, I’m gonna come for you,” she gasped, her hips jutting toward the bench, and he grabbed her, holding on tight as her whole hand scissored between her legs, shoving her panties deep between her sopping pussy lips. She let him hold her up, clenching her between his thighs, supporting her with strong arms as her orgasm seared through her and she faded to black for a moment, nearly collapsing from the pleasure.
“Oh yes,” he whispered, pulling her close, his cock like a brand against her belly. “Oh my God, yes, yes.” He rained kisses against the top of her head as she shivered in his arms.
“More.” She reached between them, seizing the swell of his cock. “Please.”
“Anything you want,” he murmured as she took him back into her mouth, licking all around the head. “Oh God, you’re really fucking good at that...”
She smiled even though her mouth was full, giving him the full treatment, using her tongue, her lips, her hand. He gasped in surprise, his eyes opening wide.
“Your pussy,” he insisted, leaning back on the bench and pulling her up onto it with him. “Please, I have to fuck you.”
She wasn’t sure she was ready for that. It had been years since she’d had a cock inside of her, and while she wanted it—wanted him—she was also a little afraid. Instead, she slipped off her panties, turned around and straddled his face. He moaned his approval, burying his face between her legs as she continued to suck his cock.
“Oh Doc,” she whispered as his tongue found her clit, flicking it back and forth, teasing. “That’s so good.”
“Mmmm,” he agreed, his lips closing over her, sucking gently, making her quiver on top of him. He was distracting her, making her almost forget the pulsing cock thrusting into her mouth, pumping in her fist. Oh God, he was too good, his tongue relentless, his fingers parting her, sliding easily into her wetness.
“Please,” she begged, eyes closing, her cheek resting against his thigh, using only her hand on him now, led too far astray by the sweet press of his tongue. She couldn’t believe he could make her come so fast, but he was, he was... “Ohhhh God, Doc, you’re gonna make me come all over your face,” she moaned loudly, not thinking, not caring where they were, that they could be caught at any moment. She didn’t know anything but the feel of his mouth covering her slippery wet cunt.
“Ooohhhhh now now!” she cried, convulsing on top of him, his hands gripping her hips hard, fingers digging in deep, her whole body on fire as she climaxed, grinding her wetness against his face. She couldn’t stop—he was making her come and come, the hot whip of his to
ngue not letting her go.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, shuddering as his tongue made wet trails over her pubic hair, his nose nudging her now overly-sensitive clit. “I can’t... please...”
She felt him chuckle, but that turned to a groan when she grabbed his cock in both hands, giving it a tight squeeze.
“Your turn,” she insisted, sliding around to face him and straddle his thighs. His gaze met hers as she began to pump his slick cock, two-fisted, a low growl escaping him. He wasn’t passive, though—he lifted her t-shirt over her breasts, fingering her nipples, making her squirm when he tugged gently and twisted.
“I love your cock,” she whispered, watching the tip appear between her fingers over and over, feeling the hard rise of him in her hands. “I think about it all the time. Sucking it. Fucking it.”
He groaned, his fingers searching out and finding her wetness, shoving two fingers up inside of her, making her whimper.
“I want to fuck that little cunt,” he murmured, fingering her, deeper, harder. She bit her lip, imagining him pounding into her, fucking her right here in the men’s bathroom shower stall until she was screaming, begging to come.
“I can’t,” she pleaded, stroking him faster. “Please, oh, Doc, please come for me.” She put her face down by his cock, licking him as she stroked, pressing her tongue flat against the head. “Please, please, I promise I’ll swallow it all like a good girl.”
That did it. He let out a low groan and grabbed her hair, shoving his cock deep into her throat and letting go with a cry of utter, final release. She couldn’t do anything but swallow the thick spray of his cum as it filled her mouth and wait for the next, which came with a fierce cry from him and another deep thrust, depositing the next fiery stream of the stuff way back in her throat. She gagged a little but managed to take it, swallowing around his length. The next rush of cum was smaller, his body rigid as he gave her the last of it, holding her head there for a moment, making a low noise in his throat.
“Oh, my God.” He grabbed her and pulled her on top of him, hugging her close and burying his face in her hair. “You are something else.”
She just smiled, snuggling up against him so that no part of her was touching the bench and she was curled up against his chest.
“You’re not running away this time.” He wrapped his arms around her as if he were trying to bundle her up into a tight little package.
“Doc, I—”
“Shh!” He quickly pressed his fingers to her lips, shaking his head. Then she heard it—the distinct sound of someone urinating. Her body went stiff, her eyes wide as the toilet flushed. There was no sound of water running—he didn’t wash his hands—but they both heard the door swing shut. Clearly, both of them had been too distracted to hear it open when he came in.
“I have to go,” she whispered, rolling off him so quickly he didn’t have time to grab her.
“Wait,” he hissed back, reaching for her, but she slipped out of the curtain and toward the bathroom door, opening it a crack to make sure there was no one in the hallway before hurrying back to her room.
* * * *
“A man that beautiful has to be gay,” Maureen slurred, watching the admittedly gorgeous bartender drawing a draught of beer at the other end of the bar.
“We’re in Key West.” Carrie sipped at her fruity girl-drink and winced as she watched her friend tip back another shot of tequila, straight up, no chaser. “Half the island is gay.”
“Goddamnit!” Maureen slapped the bar, her voice rising even above the jukebox in the corner playing Jimmy Buffet that was competing with the band playing their last set on stage. “I told you we should have gone to Cancun!”
Carrie inwardly cringed again and looked over at the bartender who had caught her friend’s interest, wondering if she looked as helpless as she felt. “At least we can drink the water in Key West.”
“That’s not what I’m drinking,” Maureen muttered, holding up and studying her empty glass, her mouth drawn tight. Her words came out more like “Thas nawot I drinkin,” the liquor anesthetizing her speech much better than the emotions she was attempting to drown.
“Come on, Mo,” Carrie encouraged gently, putting her drink down and slinging her purse over her shoulder in an effort to sway her friend. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”
“Night’s not over.” Maureen’s dark eyes were red-rimmed and watery. “Tell that choice hunk of beef down there I want some more.”
Carrie sighed, sitting back on the stool and calling him over in spite of her better judgment. “Bartender!”
He made his way down slowly, stopping to wipe down the counter and fill the order of a busty blonde in Daisy Duke shorts and a crop top. Carrie noticed her plump feet were bare when she turned to take two beers back to a table in the corner near the jukebox where a guy in a leather jacket was waiting. Hot for leather, she thought, but then again, it was Key West. It was always hot—and there was a plethora of leather pretty much everywhere.
“What can I get you?” The bartender’s gaze flicked over to Maureen who had pulled out a compact to thickly paint on cherry lip gloss.
“Hey girls!” The familiar voice startled Carrie, making her forget the bartender altogether. It was Steve Baumgartner, his smile bright and easy, creating the sweetest dimples.
“Uh, hi, Doc...” Carrie blinked, surprised in spite of the fact that she’d known he was part of the group going to Key West. She hadn’t really expected to run into him—had, in fact, avoided seeing him altogether as much as possible.
The bartender cleared his throat impatiently and she remembered the reason she’d called him in the first place. “I... uh... can we get another shot? Tequila, straight up.”
“Two!” Maureen drew the word out loudly, “Twooooo!” and snapped her compact closed, smiling at the bartender and batting her eyelashes. Jesus, she actually bat her damned eyelashes at him. “Bring me two, stud!” Of course, it came out, “Brimmetwo, stuhhhhd!”
The bartender sighed and shook his head. Doc took one look at Maureen and leaned into Carrie, close enough she could smell cinnamon and Polo—gum and aftershave, respectively. He smelled as delicious as he looked. And she didn’t want to look. “Don’t you think maybe she’s had enough?”
Carrie looked over at Maureen, who had her compact back out again and was trying, not too successfully, to apply eyeliner under her lower lashes, the effect more raccoon than not. Still, she was a beautiful girl, even drunk and pissed and looking for trouble.
“We can walk to our hotel.” Carrie sounded apologetic, and she was, finding herself trying to explain. She leaned closer, whispering into the shell of Doc’s ear, “Her boyfriend broke up with her tonight.”
But the bartender agreed with Doc. “Are you sure she can walk?”
Carrie shrugged. “She might need a little help...”
Doc glanced at his watch. “They’re closing up shop here in half an hour.”
She gave the bartender what felt like a sheepish smile, avoiding his eyes, and said, “One last call for alcohol?”
Doc crossed his arms over his chest—his t-shirt was black and it did nothing but accentuate the meaty flex of his biceps. Carrie didn’t look at his face. She didn’t even want to look at her own watch. Her body told her it was beyond-late. James and Maureen’s fight had been loud and public at two in the morning somewhere between the last bar and this one.
“No driving?” The bartender looked genuinely concerned, but it was probably just his job. “You promise?”
“Scouts honor.” Carrie held up two fingers by her forehead.
“That’s the boy scout salute.” Doc laughed and the sound made her spine straighten, her ass clench.
“I had a little brother and a case of boy scout envy,” she confessed as the bartender began to pour the shots.
“That’s silly,” Doc insisted “You would look fantastic in a girl scout uniform.”
She couldn’t resist. “Hey Mister, do you want to buy some cook
ies?” Doc grinned and was about to reply when the bartender interrupted them.
“Uh-oh, looks like your friend is about to toss some...”
Maureen was up and stumbling in the direction of the bathroom. “I think I’m gonna ralph!”
“Oh, crap.” Carrie guided her quickly into the women’s room, barely getting her into a stall before Maureen did, indeed, toss her cookies. Carrie held her hair back until she was done and then helped her wash her face. Mascara and eyeliner smeared everywhere.
“He’s never going to marry me now.” Maureen groaned, banging her head gently back against the tiles. “I’m so stupid. Why am I so stupid?”
“Are you sure he’s what you want?” Carrie tried to clean up Maureen’s smeared make-up with a wet paper towel. “I mean, he’s got some pretty strict standards.” This wasn’t the first time they’d had a conversation about James and his moral values.
“I’m not fit to wipe his boots.” Maureen sniffed, pushing Carrie away. “I need to straighten up and fly right. That’s what I need to do.”
“Maybe you should start with sobering up.” Carrie took her friend’s hand. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel.”
“I’m going to accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior,” Maureen declared as Carrie led her out of the bathroom. “Right here and now!”
“Can’t it wait until we get back to the hotel?” Carrie muttered, seeing Doc waiting outside the door.
He grabbed Maureen’s other side as she was about to go down. “Whoopsie daisy,” he said, getting a shoulder under her arm. “Need some help?”
“Jesus loves me, this I know...” Maureen sang over the jukebox, practically over the band. “For the bible tells me so...”
Doc looked at her, surprised, and Carrie almost laughed. “Crisis of faith.”
“Perfect place for one,” he agreed, bending low and getting Maureen up over both of his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Show me the way and we’ll see if we can lead this little lamb back home to Jesus.”
“I’m going to be a minister’s wife!” Maureen called out to the bartender, waving at him, upside down. “Tell me the truth—are you gay?”