She's All That: Club 3, Book 3

by Cathryn Cade

  This time her heart stopped. “You do? Really, Jake?”

  He nodded. “Really. Semper fi, baby. You got my heart tied up in a set of ropes so tight I’ll never get loose. Not that I want to. Must be love.”

  She smiled at him, even as tears filled her eyes and spilled down her face. “Must be.”

  “Aw, baby, don’t cry,” he begged, pulling her close, her face against his. “This is good, right? You and me?”

  His heart was pounding against her breasts, and he was stroking her back as if trying to comfort her.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding against his cheek. “It’s good. It’s the best. I mean you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. But I’m a woman, and women cry when we’re happy and sad. Better get used to it, Marine.”

  “So this is what I’m lettin’ myself in for, huh?” But then he captured her mouth in another, even hotter kiss, giving the lie to his wry words.

  Then he tugged on her hair. She lifted her head obediently. “What?”

  Jake had a gleam in his eye that she recognized. “Tell you what—wanna hear it again, only this time, when you’re sitting on my face.”

  Her pussy clenched even as she drew back. “But, Jake, we just did it. Shouldn’t I wash up first?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You arguing with me, baby?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “If you’re sure you want me to do that.”

  “I’m sure. You deciding maybe you’re not sure?”

  “Jake! About us? Of course I’m sure.”

  When his lips turned up, she knew she’d been had. “Good, then climb on up here and let me lick you.”

  With alternating shivers of anticipation and dismay, Carlie did as she was told.

  When she was kneeling astride his head, holding on to the headboard, his hands on her ass, Jake immediately sniffed her, and then gave a rumble of pleasure. “Mmm, pussy.”

  When she stiffened, he laughed. “Baby, you gotta get over bein’ so prissy. I like fuckin’ you, I like the way you smell after I do it, and I like the taste of you on my tongue, anytime. Now be a good subbie and bring that pussy down here where I can eat it.”

  So she did, and with the tender lash of his tongue on her clitoris, this time she moaned the words he wanted to hear.

  He responded by rolling her onto her back and pulling her underneath him, his cock driving into her still-spasming core.

  “Now I’m gonna fuck you till you say it again,” he promised.

  Carlie wrapped her arms and legs around him and hung on as he took her hard. If she got any happier, she was going to burst like a piñata.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she chanted breathlessly.

  Then he kissed her, and she had to stop, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “Baby?” he asked some time later, an odd note in his voice.

  She lifted her head. “What?”

  He pushed her hair back, tucking it carefully behind her shoulder. “I think we should make this official. You and me. I hate you havin’ to leave my bed and go home alone. I want you here.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded. “But I don’t think your parents would appreciate us ‘living in sin’. So we’ll get married.”

  Carlie stared, her mouth open. Vaguely she registered that a strand of hair was stuck to her lashes, as it tickled when she blinked. “We will?” she asked faintly.

  He nodded. “Yup. We’ll go pick out a ring this week, get it on your finger, then you can see about gettin’ out of your lease.”

  Carlie closed her mouth and leaned her head on her hand, because she suddenly felt dizzy. Maybe that was because she’d forgotten to breathe. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “Jake. Did you just…propose marriage to me?”

  His brows shot together. “Yeah,” he growled, a defensive cast to his wide jaw. “You got any objection to that?”

  Carlie dropped her head on his chest and let her mirth bubble up, snickering against his warm, smooth skin. “No,” she managed. “I j-just thought maybe when I received my first proposal, it would be in the form of a question.” Also that it might contain fewer expletives. But that was her Marine.

  She lifted her head and smiled at him. “Should’ve known it would be different with you.”

  He relaxed. “Hell, yeah. We’ll do that romantic shit when we go pick out the ring. Dinner, walk along the river, the works. Okay, baby?”

  “Okay,” she whispered. Then she snuggled close to him, her cheek over his heart. “I’m so happy, Jake.”

  “That mean you’re gonna cry some more?”

  She nodded, tears already falling on his skin.

  He gathered her close, his arms safe and strong. “Rock on, baby. I got you, and I ain’t lettin’ go. Ever.”

  Sara was just walking out of the sprawling building that housed River Oaks middle school when her phone rang in the backpack she carried to work instead of a purse. She could fit her lunch, water bottle, workout clothes and all sorts of other stuff inside, with her phone and sunglasses in the handy outside pocket.

  This backpack was green, with a Hawaiian-themed flowered background, a birthday gift from Daisy and Carlie, who had said if she was going to carry a pack all the time, it should at least be cute. They’d stuffed it full of fun things—new undies, a couple of erotic romances and chocolate. She loved it.

  “Hello,” she said, checking the parking lot for traffic before crossing the driving lane to her car.

  “Hi, yourself,” called Carlie. “How are you?”

  Sara grinned to herself as she stopped by her little white Camry and clicked the door locks. “I’m fine. How are you?”

  Carlie made a sound of sheer excitement. “Fabulous, but I called, so you have to dish first. I hear you spent the weekend with tall, blond and handsome. Is this true?”

  “Yes,” Sara said simply. Then she waited. She wasn’t disappointed.

  “Sara! Tell me what happened,” Carlie demanded.

  Sara grinned. “Well, a lot happened.”

  Carlie gasped. “Did you…?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my gawd. I need to know more. Crap, I’m driving. Let me think. Um, it’s Monday, so it’s not gym night. Can you meet at Zellaby’s for a drink, or supper or both?”

  “Sure,” Sara decided. “Because I have the feeling you have things to tell also.”

  Carlie made that sound again, like a little kid who’d been told she was getting a pony or something equally splendid. “Oh, girl, do I ever. So, see you there? Five thirty? I’ll call Daisy.”

  “Works for me.” This would give Sara time to go home, shower and change into the new skirt and top Trace had bought her. She couldn’t wait to see her friends’ reaction to her semi-makeover.

  She’d gotten more than a few double takes today at work with her new hairdo, including a couple of inappropriate remarks from seventh grade boys. Her personal favorite had been, “Ms. James, you look ha-awwt!” Followed by the lanky boy pretending he had scorch marks all over his torso which he had to slap out. His friends had howled with laughter, until Sara threatened them all with extra laps around the gym. Later, she and the culprit had had a friendly conversation about how to give a compliment appropriately. Since the teen’s eyes had twinkled the entire time, Sara wasn’t positive her advice had sunk in.

  She shook her head at the memory as she drove out of the parking lot and onto the winding street that would take her down the hill and into the heart of Beaverton. She liked teaching well enough, but the thought of doing it for twenty more years didn’t fill her with excitement. She was already tired of reluctant preteens and preferred clients who were excited about being there.

  Too bad most fitness instructors didn’t make more, as she loved the times she spent with Carlie and Daisy at Big Iron, putting them through exercise routines to shape up and grow stronger. Just walking into Big Iron, the new gym full of people working hard to attain personal goals, charged her up. And not just because Trace
was often there, she thought with a naughty grin.

  Daisy and Carlie were already there when she walked into Zellaby’s. They waved from the bar as she paused inside the doors to look around, so she bypassed the clusters of people waiting in the lobby and turned left, threading her way through the hanging ferns and chotchkes hanging above the booths to the bar area in the center of the restaurant.

  The place was full as usual, with hanging televisions showing baseball and early season football games. Luckily for conversation, the sound was turned low.

  She stopped by the tall table to hug Carlie, in another one of her sexy yet refined linen sundresses, this one coral and cap-sleeved, then hopped onto a chair beside Daisy, who wore a flowered halter-top sundress and flower-topped flip-flops, and gave her a hug too. They both stared at her, mouths open.

  “Look at you,” Daisy said. “Love the hair.”

  “And is that a new outfit I see?” Carlie added. “Which I’m sure I saw on a display at Nordstrom’s. What bug got into you?”

  Daisy snickered. “Bet I know. And it wasn’t no bug.”

  Sara nudged her leg with a foot. “Shut up. This is a family restaurant.”

  “Well,” Daisy protested. “Can’t be that wholesome, as the guys eat here all the time.”

  All three of them laughed at this.

  Carlie, the first to calm, put her hand on Sara’s. “Please, please tell us about your weekend with Trace.”

  Daisy nodded vehemently.

  So, Sara told them. A highly edited version, of course. But when heat filled her face as she admitted having sex with him, Daisy and Carlie exchanged a meaningful look.

  “I’m thinking it was not vanilla,” Carlie whispered, leaning over the table. “Am I right?”

  Sara blew out a breath. “You’re right.”

  Daisy squealed, dancing in her seat. “Oh, I’m so happy. I’ve wanted you two to get together for months. Ever since he said hello at the gym, and you scowled at him. You never do that to guys. I knew you were attracted to him—I knew it.”

  “And vice-versa,” Carlie added wisely. “He went gonzo when you were hurt.”

  Daisy nodded, sobering. “Dack said he was afraid Trace was going to kill that creepy Kevin.”

  “Listen,” Sara said uneasily. “I don’t know how this thing with Trace is going to go, or for how long. I…I really like him, and he totally does it for me in bed, but other than that—” She shrugged. “So don’t read romance into it, okay?”

  Carlie nodded. “We’ll back off, sweetie.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Daisy grumbled, but she winked at Sara. “I just want you to be as happy as I am.”

  The waitress arrived just then with ice water and menus, so they had to curtail their conversation long enough to order drinks. Sara ordered a Corona-rita and then gave Carlie a look.

  “Okay, enough about me. What’s your big news?” She had a pretty good idea, but wasn’t about to steal her friend’s moment.

  Carlie didn’t disappoint her. The tall blonde smiled mistily. “Jake and I are engaged.”

  “Holy cow,” Daisy blurted, her green eyes wide. “Already?”

  Carlie nodded. “I know, I kind of can’t believe it either. I keep wanting to say ‘pinch me’.” Then she held out a warning finger to Daisy, who drew back with a giggle.

  “So how did he ask you?” Sara asked, leaning her chin on her hand in anticipation of a good story.

  Carlie snorted. “This is Jake we’re talking about. He didn’t ask me, he told me. Yup, he said, ‘So, I don’t like you going back to your place. I want you here. We’ll get married. Yeah, that’s it.’” Her imitation of his deep voice was ridiculous but funny.

  “Then when I complained just a teensy bit, he told me he was saving all the ‘romantic shit’ for the day we pick out a ring.”

  Sara and Daisy cracked up again, and Carlie joined them.

  “That man so needs you,” Daisy said. “You’ll have him eating with a cloth napkin and wearing a tie in no time.”

  Carlie rolled her eyes, but she did it smiling. “That’ll never happen. Fortunately, I love my Marine just the way he is.”

  Their drinks arrived, and Sara lifted her glass. “A toast, to Carlie and Jake.”

  The three of them clinked glasses and drank. Sara thought back to her own engagement. Sheesh, she’d been so young and so clueless. She’d thought Jason hung the moon just because he wanted to spend time with her, then marry her. It had taken the heartbreak and humiliation of learning from mutual acquaintances that his late nights out weren’t at work, as he claimed, but at a popular nightclub with a variety of very young women, to make her realize that she’d been so hungry for a man’s attention she’d accepted the wrong one. He was a serial cheater just like her father, only at least her father hadn’t bothered to lie about it.

  She’d picked the wrong guy again with Kevin, in a way. Trace had been right when he said she saw herself as undeserving of more.

  Now she saw that she’d accepted crumbs when she deserved, if not the finest feast, at least a place at the table. Daisy and Carlie had both worked through their fears about their own worth and held out for men who believed they were worthy of respect and admiration—and love.

  Had Sara found this in Trace, or was it too soon to even dream that he might want her as more than one of many submissive lovers? And was he what she wanted? She thought so, but somehow she wasn’t sure that what they had was enough.

  But what could possibly be missing?

  And then there were her feelings for Kai. When she saw him, her heart always gave a happy little hiccup and she couldn’t help smiling.

  He’d been gone for four days, out to the Oregon coast, to explore and do some thinking, he’d told her Wednesday. She’d told him she would be gone too, with a friend.

  Things had surely changed since they last saw each other. She hoped for the better for him too. Had he found the courage to finally get in touch with his old lover?

  Chapter Twelve

  Kai wasn’t sure he’d found anything by coming to the beach, but at least he was beside the ocean. It always brought him peace, even this chilly northern stretch of the Pacific. He sat in the warm sand on Cannon Beach.

  People thronged the long beach, but unlike a Hawaiian beach, they weren’t stripped down to bikinis. They wore shirts and slacks or shorts. Some of the elderly even wore jackets. The sun was warm, but the air blowing in off the sea was so cool that Kai shivered from time to time in his long-sleeved T-shirt and shorts.

  A few surfers in full wet suits were trying their luck with the waves, but mostly sitting and paddling, waiting for a big one. He’d been in for a swim himself. It had been brief—Oregon waters were cold.

  Hotels, condos and private homes lined up behind the dunes. A little way to the south, Haystack Rock rose from the edge of the sea like a monolith. People wandered the tide pools at its foot and seabirds flocked to the serrated top and sides.

  He had been here eight years ago, with his lover. They’d paused there after riding the length of the beach in rented pedal sand buggies, laughing as they rode in crazy circles on the firm, damp tidal sands. Afterward, they’d enjoyed ice-cream cones as they wandered through the souvenir shops.

  Best of all, they’d then driven south to a tiny town called Yah-ha-something. They’d spent the night in a little hotel room on the rocky shore and made love to the thunder of the incoming surf, over and over again until they were exhausted and sore.

  It had been one of the best times Kai could remember.

  He rose, dusted off his shorts and jogged back through the sand to the cement steps leading up to the parking lot. A trio of teen girls giggled as he passed. He sent them a smile, then jogged up the steps to the street level.

  He stopped at the first ice-cream shop he came to and bought a large chocolate cone, studded with macadamia. He licked the cold treat until it was gone, but it didn’t taste as good as he remembered.

  And later, in what
he thought might be the same hotel room, with the window once again open to the surf below, he took his own cock in his lubed-up hand, remembering a handsome face looking down at him as his lover fucked his ass, long slow strokes that turned Kai inside out, made him beg for mercy in one breath, then for more in the next.

  He stroked harder and harder, remembering. But that, of course, wasn’t enough either. He came, but it was physical relief, like scratching an itch. Not the pulsing joy of another man’s strong hand enclosing his cock, giving Kai the same pleasure he took.

  And the emotion that surged with his come was grief, sharp and poignant. Tears flooded his eyes, and he wept for all he’d given up and all he’d failed to find as a consequence. His family expected him to always stay the boy he’d been, not a man with a life and dreams of his own. They would never accept the real him.

  He lay for a long time, listening to the surge of the waves outside. He was done trying to fit in to the strictures of his life on the island, tightly woven as a native basket. He would go back to Portland and to his lover.

  And see if the man he still loved still wanted him.

  Sara would approve of his bold move, he thought drowsily, curling into the blankets. She was a sweet wahine, not only hot but a genuinely nice person.

  He’d make sure to stay in touch with her, no matter what.

  Daisy had survived lingerie night at Club 3. Sara just wished her first night here with Trace wasn’t a night in which she had to give up her cover-up in the lobby.

  But when she asked if she could wear her tan raincoat at least into the locker room, Rochelle shook her head.

  The receptionist wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “Sorry. All subs have to leave their wraps here tonight. It’s one of the Lingerie Night rules.” She leaned closer. “It’s hard the first few times, I know. But you’ll do great.”

  “Right.” Okay, she could do this. Her ensemble tonight wasn’t that much different than the Lycra sports bras and shorts she wore to work out. Quickly, before she could chicken out and dash for the outside door behind her, Sara untied the belt and whipped her coat off, holding it out to Rochelle.