by Piper Denna
“Grab your dish.” Britt pointed at the cart with his fork. “I ordered your usual five-protein omelet.” He hung a napkin around his neck–hilarious above his bare chest–sat tall, and tilted his nose up with a little sniff. “Shall we observe the action in the Sweet Spot Lounge while we dine?”
David grinned and put on his own nasal accent. “Yes, let’s.” This was miles more fun than eating at the buffet downstairs with all the other passengers.
Oh, wow. Especially when he saw what was onscreen. His friend Griffin bent that wild cabana girl Peyton over a sofa in the Sweet Spot, and went after it. Man, they were pretty hot together. Giving him wood. And not just because the participants probably didn’t know they were being watched–they had to have signed consent forms acknowledging security cameras anyplace on the ship. The passengers all had. Peyton was a little animal, taking anything Griffin could dish out.
“I gotta run,” Vic called from the patio door. “Catch you guys later.”
“What?” Britt stopped with his toast mid-air between his plate and mouth. “Where you off to?”
Vic was dressed in some fancy peach pantsuit, another one that clung in all the right places. The lady must have a fashion buyer or something. Hair pulled up tight, makeup perfect… Damn.
“Off to get today’s contest all set up, then I’ve got to meet with Mick, and…oh, several other appointments.”
Britt’s mouth hung open, then snapped shut. “Vic, you’ve not eaten, nor have you read our daily blog post. The condom contest was a smashing success!”
“Excellent. I’ll catch up on that later. I can’t think about it now. Bye!” she called over her shoulder, sounding completely casual.
So why did he get the impression she was running off?
Britt stared after her and grumbled. “Bloody appointments. What the blue hell?” When he noticed David staring, he pasted on a bullshit smile. “No worries. How shall we fill the day, then?”
First the alone time in the shower, and then ditching them. What was up with Vic?
David shrugged. “Hey, isn’t there another contest today? The one with the fucking machine?”
“Oh, yes. Shall we go observe? And how about we spend a little time in the casino beforehand? I could do with some serious poker.”
“Poke ’er in the pussy? That’s what my brother always calls it.”
“Best keep those jokes here,” Britt said. “Or at least don’t say them to me while we’re out and about, lest the Gossip Girl is lurking.”
“Is there really no way to stop her?” It seemed hard to believe they couldn’t control it.
“Tech changed the password two mornings ago, just as a shot in the dark. It didn’t stop her that night.”
“Which means it’s somebody on the inside. Who has access to the password?”
“Any number of staff members. Impossible to keep it completely shut down. My legal assistant back at the Mountain delivered a cease and desist to The Scoop and their site owners, but they’re only pulling the blog from a feed. As they pointed out, they’re under no contractual obligation for confidentiality, even if the person composing the blog material is. So it’s between us and her–whoever she is–assuming we can discover her identity.”
“Sounds like an employee if she can get the password.”
“Let’s just hope she’s a one-cruise wonder, and doesn’t return for the next voyage, or Vic might pop her top.”
“She seems to be dealing with it pretty well, this time.” Except for when she first read the posts.
Britt raised his brows. “Aye? Well, she’s had a bit of a diversion, this trip, wouldn’t you say?”
David’s face got hot. A diversion. He didn’t miss the this trip part, either. He was a temporary toy. His breakfast suddenly didn’t look too appealing.
* * * *
Griffin worked his way down the bar, flirting with chicks along the way. Maybe he’d been right when he said cruising as temp help was the way to go.
David chugged his drink and pushed the empty toward the back of the bar, hoping for a refill soon.
Some girl gave Griffin an openmouthed kiss and pulled his hand into her bikini top. Sheesh. Lots of action down here at the bar today. The girls seemed raring to go for the afternoon contest.
Britt had gone looking for Carmyn and Mark, so they could all watch the contest together.
Some time at the bar sounded good. Britt had been downing shots of fine whiskey all day, and it made him talk a lot. Telling all sorts of stories about how hard it’d been to convince Vic it was okay to be in love again. Stories about punching holes in walls when she’d been seeing “that bugger Wyndham,” and about the little kid they’d taken in until his dad could be located. Vic and Britt as parent types? He didn’t really want to imagine that. Mostly because he could never be in that picture, even the background. Fuck, fuck, he was a moron.
Vic was avoiding them, or maybe just him. That much was clear, regardless of how Britt tried to convince him otherwise. Had she understood what he was thinking–What he was feeling?–that morning? Only a fucking doofus like him would go off on a sex cruise and get his heart tangled up. Only a doofus would screw up fantastic sex and try to twist it into something else.
“Need a refill?” Griffin stopped and leaned toward him.
God, he’d love to ask him about his little encounter with Peyton. But that was privileged info, and it’d be a dead giveaway, ID-ing the couple he’d been playing with.
“Sure. Yeah.”
They didn’t have the bar to themselves this time, so Griffin hurried it up with the drink, not speaking again until he pushed a new glass across the bar. “You got that sad-sack look again, bro.”
Fuck it. He might’ve thought he wanted to talk to Griffin when he headed over here, but now he’d rather not. Get a little drunk, watch a few pussies on the fucking machine this afternoon, then go back to the suite for a romp. No thinking or talking necessary.
“So it’s like that?” Griffin didn’t move away. Looked him right in the eye. “You fell for the married broad, didn’t ya?”
He wasn’t saying. Had no obligation to spill his guts to some horny fucking bartender.
Griffin chewed his lip. “That shit happens. Some guys are cut out for fooling around without getting attached, I guess.” He looked across the deck to where Wyndham and his harem were in the midst of foreplay, Miss Peyton watching from the sidelines. “And some of us aren’t.” With a sigh, Griffin clapped him on the shoulder and started polishing mugs.
So Griffin had gotten tangled up, too? “Cabana girl?” he blurted.
Griffin stopped polishing, cocked his head. Nodded with narrowed eyes. “How’d you know?”
Shit. The surveillance… “Heard it through the grapevine.”
“Bullshit! Did she say something?”
“No, no.” Last thing he wanted to do was mess it up for Griffin and his girl. “I gotta go.” He saw Britt across the deck, and didn’t want him to come over, or Griffin might guess the couple he’d been fooling around with. “Later.”
“Later, bro.”
* * * *
Griffin waved at his swimmer friend–Bo the surfer? He didn’t think so–and collected a couple empties from the counter. One thing about bartending, there was always something to do. He’d supported himself through college in Des Moines working in a bar, and met some of the guys from the firehouse there, which was how he’d ended up changing his major and then becoming a fireman. They’d told him it was a good way to pick up chicks. He guessed they were right, but hoped the ole Rescue Syndrome wasn’t the reason Peyton had it bad for him now.
He glanced over at her, heading into her cabana with an older couple. She winked, pointed at him, then tapped her temple. You’re in my head. Yeah, she’d promised him this morning she’d fantasize about him, no matter who she was with. That was all good. He wasn’t wild about thinking of her with other people all day, but hey. At least if he knew she was thinking about him, he c
ould handle it.
She’d run right up to him in the lounge this morning and kissed him. Said it was a thank-you. It felt like his first kiss ever. He’d told her she didn’t have to thank him, though. Basic human decency should be expected, not rewarded. But the next kiss had been less “thank you” and more “I want you.” They’d gone for it right there in the lounge, hot as all fuck together, and made plans to spend the evening together tonight.
Thinking about Peyton would definitely make the rest of the day more colorful.
Chapter 19
Brett crossed his arms over his chest. Nine PM and Vic was still sticking to her work shenanigans. Going to the bridge to check on employee morale? Carrying it too far. By far.
Now she’d returned to the Neon Lounge, where the strip-off was in full swing. For amateurs, the dancers had talent. However, he didn’t care to watch any more pole-humping.
Probably shouldn’t have drunk those last few highballs. He was feeling a bit loopy, but no matter. Time for him to take Vic in hand. He’d left David at the bar outside, and told him to give them thirty minutes.
He approached her in the judging stand, fully aware she’d be in a snit about it. “Ho, there, Vic. Spare a moment for the old ball and chain?”
She looked away from the contest briefly. “I’m judging.”
Along with three other capable people–the judges she’d designated to do the job from day one. She was only an extra, which she must not know he was aware of. “I think you’re done for the night, love. You’re looking a bit peaked.”
Her face flamed red. “I said–”
He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Look. I’ll make a scene if need be, but we’re going to talk this out, either here or in the privacy of our suite.”
Her eyes flashed the fire of hell. He’d pay for this, no doubt, but some things called for immediate action. “Please excuse me,” she said to the other judges, who cast curious glances his way. “I should be right back.”
Wrong about that, love.
Once the suite door had locked behind them, Vic let fly. “What the fuck is this, Britt? We’re here on business. You know that.”
“Business, is it? I recall you having a pretty easy time playing hooky from the business yesterday. What professional bug flew up your arse this morning?”
She tugged her heels off and flung them through the bedroom door. “Obviously I took stock of the situation–”
“And what stock caused you to avoid me and David all day and night, Vic? How long did you intend to stay away? Until we make port?”
She paced to the patio door, opened it, then paced back to him. “You’re drunk.”
“Bloody near it.” Fuck if he understood her behavior, but it smacked entirely too much of her behavior prior to their engagement. “What are you running from?”
“I’m not running.”
“You are.”
She sidled up close, kissed along his neck, sliding a hand down his chest. Ah, just as in the old days, she wanted to divert his attention with sex.
In the old days, he’d have withheld sex as a bargaining chip.
Her fingers found his cock, cupped it through his slacks. Her soft moan left goosebumps along his neck. “How about just us, fast, hard, good?” she asked.
Just us. When David waited right downstairs. “Why?”
“I think this is good enough reason.” She squeezed his cock, nibbled along his jaw to his mouth.
Oh, it was reason enough to have a go. “But why just us?”
“I think it’s better with just us. Let’s have David leave, huh?”
What? “Whoa, Vic.” He captured her hand and stepped back. “You’re running from David now? Why?”
She tried to free her hand, moved closer to him. “I’m not running from–”
“You bloody well are! Why?” He stared into her eyes. “Why?”
“Just let it go, Britt. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s time to end it now.”
“Why?” He held her hand fast, wouldn’t break eye contact.
“You’re playing with fire. Don’t.”
“Tell me.”
She looked away, scanning the room for a way out. When she met his gaze again, her eyes narrowed. “Because I’m obviously deficient in the fucking-around gene. I can’t do it without developing feelings. It’s not supposed to be like this, dammit.”
“Feelings,” he repeated. Swallowed hard. “As in love?”
She looked down, sighed, with a catch in her breath.
“Vic? Are you saying you love him?”
The world seemed to freeze. He could hear his own blood rushing through his ears. Definitely too much sauce tonight.
“Yes.” She sobbed and buried her face against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’ll be over before it starts. We just need to cut the ties. Okay?” Her free arm wrapped around his neck. “I love you. I swear it.”
“Maybe we should sit down.”
They did, on the armchair with her in his lap.
“How long?” he asked.
She wiped tears away. “A couple days. Maybe since the first time. I don’t know. At first I thought it was a-a-attraction. But it was more. I’m sorry. You probably don’t need to hear all this. Are you mad?” She stared into his eyes.
No wonder she’d been out of sorts. She hated emotion because she couldn’t control it, and she had strong feelings for David.
Well, that was a whole new kettle of fish. Not an altogether unappetizing kettle, though.
“Mad? Perhaps.” He felt entirely too calm to be sane. “Angry? No. How can I be angry about how you feel? That makes no sense.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Seriously? How can you be so damned practical about everything? Can’t you get pissed? You go fucking crazy if Rafe so much as looks at me. So I know you can. Your wife just told you she loves another man.”
She had. But he could hardly hold her responsible, when he’d pressed so hard for this menage. “You don’t love him instead of me, do you?”
She punched his arm. “Of course not, dummy.”
Bugger, that stung. Her punch, but not her words. “Right, then. Perhaps it’s fate that we met David–”
“Fate? We pretty much chased him down and cornered him, and talked him into this whole thing. It sure wasn’t fate.”
“So it’s our own fault, then?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” He rubbed his arm where she’d slugged him. Blue hell, it hurt, even through the booze. “It’s our own bloody fault we’ve a new person in our lives to care for. Simply dreadful.”
“Britt! It is awful. It’s unnatural, for one thing, and I’ll be suffering the consequences when it’s over in another thirty-six hours, and… What do you mean ‘we’ve a new person to care for’? What’s this we?”
Given his near-drunken state, that was a direction he should avoid for this conversation. “When you think of it, we’re sort of kindred souls, we three. We’ve left our families for our careers and–”
“Families.” She covered her face again. “That’s the other thing. Can you imagine if your family found out about this? Or David’s?”
Or hers. Not that she’d voice that fear. His chest constricted a bit for her, all the same. Yanks. “I’m not worried what Mum will think.” Unlikely she’d find out, at any rate. “And as for David, that’s his concern.” He pulled her hands away and looked at her face. “Let’s enjoy the time we’ve left with David, and before we leave on Tuesday, we’ll invite him up to the Mountain to visit. That will leave matters in his hands to decide.” If David’s moonstruck face this morning was indication, this new love aspect to the relationship was not single-sided. Surely he’d agree to continuing on.
* * * *
Brett leaned against the cool bedroom wall for a moment, cradling his poor throbbing head in his hands. Damn the bourbon. Woolly mouth, achy body, head in a vise. His body sent a clear message: You’re too bloody old for
this. Keep off the sauce!
Vic and David chattered outside. He’d like to reach them before he keeled over. A few more steps and he made it to the living room armchair. Maybe just a moment here with his feet up…
Ah. That was better.
A small pile of clothing–discarded last night after David had returned–lay nearby. They’d been quite accommodating to his drunken state, right here on the carpet near this chair. The room hadn’t been spinning, but more than a bit wobbly, so he’d managed to convince Vic and David to start their lovemaking without him. He’d leaned over the chair and watched them in the sixty-nine position for ages. Surprising how much he enjoyed seeing Vic with David’s cock in her mouth. With her usual prowess, Vic had orchestrated the grand finale by coaxing him to lie flat on his back on the floor. She’d gotten on all fours with her lovely pussy directly above him, and had David enter her from behind. He’d had the ultimate 3-D experience, seeing, hearing, smelling them so close. Touching her while David thrust. But Vic being Vic, that hadn’t been enough. She’d gone down on him, too, and managed to play them like fine musical instruments, taking them all to a crashing crescendo together.
Despite the hangover, his cock hardened in memory. He’d been close enough to watch David’s balls tighten and disappear, just before Vic showered him.
That position was going on the To Do Again List.
Now he could hear Vic using that lower, seductive voice she never used in mixed company, pausing for David to respond, also in a low voice…and then that sexy laugh. He supposed he should allow them some time alone, but he’d rather know what they were discussing. Besides, being alone rather sucked.
He eased up to his feet and shuffled over to the patio doorway, blinking at the unholy brightness.
They sat at the table, empty breakfast dishes pushed aside–Great Christ, what time was it?–Vic with her feet in David’s lap. David must’ve finally become acclimated, to sit at the breakfast table in his bronzed stark naked glory, stroking Vic’s feet as she kneaded him. And Vic, in her short silk nightgown–that modesty of hers generated its own perverse sexiness somehow–had her knees spread enough, David was obviously getting quite an enchanting view.