Karibu Heat (Sequel to Kabana Heat)

by Titania Ladley

  “No, sugar, we all three win. Now go back to your room, shower and pick out your sexiest outfit for our Three’s Company contest.”

  “Outfit? Men don’t wear outfits.”

  “Precisely my point. Buck-naked is how I want you both.”

  Chapter Six

  Jager didn’t have any “outfits” other than the polos, button-ups, t-shirts, Levi’s and various shorts he’d angrily thrown into his suitcase back in L.A. And coming up with something appropriate for a silly stripper-pole contest proved about as useless as trying to keep his dick in his pants around those two.

  He gave up and slipped on a pair of cargo shorts and a ribbed tank top, all the while pretty much accepting the fact that he really was going to go through with this three-way affair—at least during his Karibu stay. How could he not? An image of the two swam before him, one petite, gorgeous and womanly, the other dark, handsome and manly in a biker-guy sort of way. His tongue tingled and a delicious throbbing took up residence in his loins. He wasn’t stupid. He knew a once-in-a-lifetime offer when he saw one, no matter who the subjects or what they’d done.

  He wasn’t an idiot, either. He knew a sexual bribe when he saw one, too. Oh, yeah, he got what they were trying to do. But little did they know their tawdry scheme to seduce him into forgetting Anjelee’s discretions, and giving up the chase, would prove futile in the end. But he wouldn’t be telling them that. No, again, he was no idiot. He was going to enjoy the hell out of himself and pretend to be gullible. He’d relive his threesome past, which had always included himself, one hot chick and a bisexual stud, and then promptly see her behind bars where she belonged.

  Jager closed his eyes. A mental image of her slim arms above her head with her wrists shackled to the bars of a jail cell flooded his mind. In the fantasy, Keefer had his head buried between her legs forcing her to heights she’d never reached before. He waved, coaxing Jager into the cell with them, inviting him to sample Keefer at the same time Keefer overpowered Anjelee. Jesus, before making love to her and prior to meeting Keefer, that jail cell in Jager’s dreams would have been locked and the key thrown away.

  But now…

  No. He shook his head. He wasn’t going to allow them to seduce him into letting her go. He couldn’t. His livelihood and his career depended on him following through with her punishment and Mitch’s vindication.

  But what the hell? Two—or rather three—could play at their game. If they really thought they could get away with dangling a coveted man-on-man-on-woman ménage in front of him and think that would excuse Anjelee’s illegal behavior, they both had another think coming. Oh, he’d enjoy himself in the process all right, but he wasn’t going to continue with convenient amnesia once they got back to the States. He couldn’t afford to, damn it, no matter how much he might wish it otherwise.

  Therefore, since they were offering, and since he couldn’t really do anything with her until he got her feet back on the soil of the proper jurisdiction anyway, then why not have a little fun while he waited for the day they returned to L.A.? That way he could really keep a close eye on her. So what in the hell was he to do but take them up on their proposition and join them in some pleasure?

  He swatted aside a buzz of nagging guilt at what Mitch would think of him cavorting with the enemy. Eh, never mind that. Mitch would never know. Besides, he could sort of say this was all for Mitch’s sake. Yeah, Jager would make up for his little undercover, Karibu break one way or the other. Once he had Anjelee back in the U.S., well, there was no way around it. He had to alert the authorities as well as Mitch.

  But really, he didn’t want to think of the sticky legal and business aspects at the moment. The allure of this wicked resort pulled at him. It called to him like some magical siren set on corrupting him, or ruining his life. His mind kept wandering back to that phenomenal sex he’d had with Anjelee in the gym earlier today, and Keefer’s smoldering eyes watching them while he jacked off on the other side of the window in broad daylight.

  Hell, had it ever fired Jager’s libido up like never before. And probably even more so than in Keefer’s case, Jager was a true-blue bisexual at heart. It was why he’d been such a staunch proponent of protecting Mitch’s reputation in the first place, and helping to deflect the gay rumors that had nearly ruined his acting career. Shit, if he hadn’t been Mitch’s business partner, Jager would have gone for Mitch years ago when he’d first met him. He was one of those kinds of icons that exuded that sqeaky-clean, boy-next-door kind of image while at the same time making fans—and Jager—fantasize about having wild, no-holds-barred sex with him.

  He slipped on his sandals, slapped on some cologne and took one quick inspection of himself in the mirror. “Shit, you look like some slobbering, eager teen headed out the door to his first date with the damn prom queen.”

  Jager rolled his eyes and swiped up the key card from the dresser. Prom queen? Anjelee? He laughed, let himself out of the room and walked out onto the balconied corridor and into the thick, humid night air.

  He halted his steps. “Oh, hey.”

  “Hey back,” Anjelee said huskily as she pulled their door shut. “What’s so funny?”

  Naughty Anjelee playing chaste prom queen, that’s what.

  “Nothing. Nothing.”

  She and Keefer were just emerging from their room. She wore a teeny black leather…dress? Jager wasn’t certain that’s what the barely-there garment would be classified as in a fashion catalogue, but at least the lace-up mini-skirt portion of it had him thinking “dress”. He scanned the strategically placed, crisscrossed straps and small triangles covering her nipples and crotch. She slinked a step ahead on six-inch, spiked black heels and he got a full-on view of her little ass peeping out from yet more crossed straps. He could see the shadowed crevice between her ass cheeks, and a white stone of some sort winked at him from the top of t-back panties.

  A tingle raced from the tip of his cock and settled deep inside his loins. Jesus, she looked good enough to eat.

  “Ready for the contest?” Keefer asked, falling in step beside Jager. Anjelee sashayed ahead of them. She shook her rear end and flipped her loose hair behind her shoulders.

  Jager gave Keefer a sweeping look from head, to flip-flops, to head again. He had his long, dark hair secured back in a low ponytail. He thought of a wild and free American Indian racing across the plains on an Appaloosa. Keefer wore a white knit tank top similar to the one Jager had chosen for himself, and it emphasized every bulging muscle and rippled plane of his torso. Whoa, and his beautifully tattooed arms stood out and spoke for themselves, screaming, “Power. Strength. Domination”. Jager could well imagine them wrapped around his hips holding him hostage while that full mouth closed around Jager’s cock and deep-throated him the way many men had in his past.

  Yet somehow he knew intimate contact with this man would be different. Better. Way, way better.

  Jager’s heart fluttered behind his breastbone. The tingling in his groin increased to a low roar. His shaft started to fill with blood and tented his shorts.

  Get a hold of yourself, man.

  He ran his gaze down the profile of Keefer’s firm ass. Ah, yes, one way or another, he sensed this man would be unlike any other man Jager had indulged in before now. Aside from the slightly full lips, there wasn’t a single, even vaguely feminine quality about him.

  He exuded all man, just the way Jager liked his men.

  Then there was the way he liked his women...

  Jager’s eyes moved back to Anjelee as she daintily gripped the stair railing, her long fingernails painted with blood-red polish. He rushed to her side and reached for her hand to assist her down the steps.

  Now, she wasn’t his usual type. But hell, she sure did intrigue him.

  “Thank you,” she offered with a wink of her heavily outlined eyes. Her pouty lips were colored red to match her nails, and he imagined what it would be like to look down and see that mouth ringed around his erection while those fuck-me eyes peer
ed up at him with an innocent animal’s hunger. It suddenly occurred to him that despite her tough-girl attitude, she was somehow more woman than any he’d ever known in his entire thirty-four years of life.

  He licked his lips and took a deep breath to calm the excitement building in his gut. Oh, yeah, combine her overt sensuality with Keefer’s extreme manliness, and Jager was so in for it.

  “To answer your question, Keefer,” he said over his shoulder while the satiny texture of her hand caressed his palm, “no, I’m not ready to get on stage. Never will be for something like that. I’m used to working for entertainers, not being one myself. Typically stay in the background for damn sure. Watching. I like to watch, kind of like you, I guess.”

  His eyes rose to the level a few steps above Anjelee and met Keefer’s penetrating stare. The fathomless pools twinkled back at Jager, and he knew Keefer understood that Jager referred to Keefer’s voyeurism at the gym.

  “Mmm, yeah,” Keefer agreed. “Watching’s almost as exciting as participating.”

  They took another half-flight of stairs down to the lower level and crossed a large patio to the beachside terrace dining area. Music and laughter floated on the humid night air. The briny scent of sea entwined with tropical fruits and the aroma of roasting pig and spicy jerk chicken. Jager’s stomach growled. He was hungry. In more ways than one.

  “Let’s hit the bar, then, if you’re a bit anxious about the contest,” Keefer suggested. He veered toward the little hut-style bar set up beneath the stars and overlooking the surf. “Get a few in you and you’ll be stripping off your clothes on stage in no time.”

  Jager chuckled. “Uh, no, that’ll never happen. But a nice, stiff martini’ll work wonders, I’m sure.”

  “Stiff, huh?” Keefer and Anjelee asked in unison. They followed it with harmonious laughter and a deep look into each other’s eyes that spoke of admiration, mutual understanding and many years of acquaintance. In that one glance, warmth poured out between them, and an instinctual connection was revealed, one that only lifetime lovers or friends would know without having to speak the words.

  Jager fielded a peculiar stab of jealousy. It emphasized the fact that he stood on the outside looking in on something envious, something precious. Not exactly the kind of voyeurism he preferred. Silly, he knew, but there it was. Suppressing the annoying new sensation, he slid onto a bamboo barstool and caught a whiff of Anjelee’s sexy perfume when she sat to his right. Keefer claimed the seat on her right, sandwiching her between the two men.

  “Well, will ya just look at this place—no, specifically, look at the company I’m keeping. Who wouldn’t be stiff?” Jager asked, waving the bartender over.

  “Wow, thanks. Somewhere in there, I think that was just about the best compliment I’ve ever had in my life,” Anjelee replied with a devastating grin. To the bartender, she said, “Three chocolate martinis, please.”

  Jager leaned forward to include Keefer in his line of vision. “Chocolate?”

  “Yeah, it’s her favorite. But don’t worry, it’s no pussy drink,” Keefer offered, shaking his head. “Man, talk about stiff. After one or two, especially the way Devon makes them, you’ll be all warmed up and ready to perform on stage all night long.”

  Jager shook his head. “Uh, I don’t think so.”

  “Ha. Just wait and see,” Anjelee warned as she readjusted her skimpy outfit and pushed up her perky breasts.

  “Yep, she’s right. Anj is always right.” As he spoke, Keefer watched Devon mix the ingredients in a stainless steel container and give it a shake. Devon poured the pale-brown, milky liquid in three glasses while Keefer reached into his pocket and drew out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Jager generally wasn’t attracted to smokers, but then he scrutinized Keefer clamping the cigarette between his teeth. He flicked on the lighter, cupped the flame and inhaled to ignite the tip. Keefer tossed aside the lighter and blew out a puff of smoke. He peered at Jager through the dissipating gray cloud, so male, so good-looking, so damn appealing.

  Ah, there went his balls, tightening and throbbing in approval.

  In spite of Jager’s main purpose for being here, what happened next couldn’t be stopped. But Jager realized that he didn’t want to stop it, not at that moment anyway. His eyes met Keefer’s, their souls practically joined. In that instant, something passed between them, an understanding, a clicking of minds, a mutual attraction for each other that couldn’t be denied. They broke the spell and briefly touched their gazes to Anjelee, who sat chattering away about how happy Karibu Resort made her and how much she loved the Jamaican culture and atmosphere. Their eyes met again, and it was then that Jager knew it was unanimous knowledge that Anjelee was the one special link that drew the men together and held them in place. Neither man—both admittedly bisexual and in need of a man and a woman—could be together without her as their glue. She would be the central heat of this unique relationship that was forming.

  One he was helpless to stop.

  Uh-oh. I’m in for it.

  The bartender placed the drinks on the tiled bartop. He grinned, his teeth blinding white against the deep cocoa of his skin. In that Jamaican accent Jager was already beginning to love, Devon said, “Oh yeah, mon. Irie. Once you sample my famous chocolate martini, you gonna be doing things you never thought you’d do before now. Wicked things.” Then he chuckled in a low, devilish tone. He danced a jig and moved to the other end of the bar to take another vacationer’s order.

  Anjelee picked up her glass and raised it for a toast. “To us and the wicked, exciting night ahead of us. Cheers!” She tipped her head back and took a deep swallow. She smacked her lips and sighed, “Ah, yes, that’s it.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Keefer raised his martini, leaned across Anjelee and clinked the rim of his glass to Jager’s. She tapped her glass to theirs for another toast. Keefer and Anjelee drew a long sip of their drink.

  “All right, why not? I guess I’ll give Devon’s black magic a try.” Jager took a long draw on the cocktail and swallowed just in time before the burning liquor forced him to cough. He scrubbed a hand over his face and let the fire spread in his belly. “Holy shit. Gotta admit, that’s some martini.”

  “Pussy. I bet I could drink you under the bar.” Anjelee gave him a sidelong, impish grin and took another long draw of her drink. Her beauty hit him like a punch in the gut. He sucked in a breath. A strange emotion washed through him as the potent martini coursed through his system and her unique attractiveness intoxicated him.

  “You’re on.” Jager lifted his glass in salute and drained the remainder of the “wicked” cocktail. He set it aside, barely noticing as Devon began to prepare another round. Jager twisted in his barstool and faced her. Dragging a hand down her bare, silky back, he murmured, “By the way, did I tell you yet how stunningly gorgeous you look tonight?”

  She tilted her head and twisted the stem of the empty glass, pausing only long enough to allow Devon to refill it. “No, you somehow neglected to mention that. But in my opinion, it’s never too late to compliment a woman…”

  Are you crazy? You can’t do this. Not the sentimental shit, anyway.

  He ignored the shouting voice in his head and murmured, “All right, then, I’ll say it again. You look stunningly gorgeous tonight.” And like a besotted fool, he leaned over and brushed a kiss across her mouth. He caught the faint scent of her perfume mixed with her apple-scented shampoo, while the chocolate flavor of her martini burst in his mouth more flavorful than drinking his own straight.

  Okay, so he’d go ahead and do the sentimental shit for now. Have fun, set aside their differences, forget what she did to Mitch and let himself have a real vacation. He had to remember the motto: What happens at Karibu Resort, stays at Karibu Resort. But once he returned to reality, he’d have to do what he’d have to do.

  And hope like hell Mitch didn’t find out Jager betrayed had him.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. The dim light of the bar competed with the tropical m
oonlight and caused her irises to glitter like emeralds. She gazed deep into his eyes, the jewels heavy lidded with desire and deep attraction. “I think I’m kinda starting to like you, Jager Manning.”

  “Never thought I’d say this, but you’re kind of starting to grow on me, too, Anjelee Montrose.”

  He kissed her again, deep and possessively. Their tongues swirled in a slow and sensual dance. He could hear the palm fronds from the surrounding trees clicking and swishing overhead in the night breeze amid the rush and ebb of the tide and the reggae band playing on a stage in the dining area. Her chocolate flavor became stronger on his tongue and her dangerous essence, along with the sharp smell of Keefer’s smoke, filled the space around him. He slid a hand up to her jaw and tipped her head to get at her at a better angle. His fingers went deeper, sinking into the thick tresses at the nape of her neck. He caressed her skull, holding her mouth captive against his while their breath mingled and they panted together as one. The smoldering fire in his loins ignited and he imagined making love to her on the nearby beach…ah, yes, making love to them both.

  “Uh-hem.” As if to read Jager’s mind, Keefer cleared his throat. They broke the kiss and turned to stare at Keefer. He grinned good-naturedly and followed a long swig of his drink with a drag on his cigarette. “Don’t forget, I’m part of this threesome, too.”

  “Yeah, but it’s going to start with an on-stage ménage.” She leaped from the barstool and drained her martini. “Come on, let’s go get a table. We can order another round from the waiter while we’re eating.”

  “Yikes.” Jager groaned and set aside his drink. Actually, the martinis were tasty and potent as hell. His head was starting to spin, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the drinks or the company.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Anjelee whirled back, snatched up Jager’s half-full glass and held it to his lips. She tipped it for him while he downed the strong liquid. “Drink up. I want you all loose and sexy on stage so we win the contest. I’ve got my sights set on that VIP suite for the night. Then we’ll really be threesome-ing it up tonight.”