by Melinda Minx
I hear her sigh. That means she’ll do it.
Ximena moves in again. I wait for Earl to attack, but I keep my arms in to defend, not wanting him to grab hold of me. I’ll let him tire himself out some.
I wait until Ximena brings him in closer to try to get a good hit on me. I act like I’m trying to swing at him, but I just let him grab hold of me instead. He gets a firm grasp on both my arms, and then I press my heel into Rita’s side.
She lets go.
I leap off her, trying to dive into Earl. I lose all momentum, though, and instead of toppling into him, I just fall into the water while he holds onto me. I bring him down with me and we both plummet into the water.
When I come back up, Rita and Ximena are laughing.
My fans are booing me.
“Shit” I say. “That move was way cooler in my head.”
“You thought you’d be able to make me hit the water first like that?” Earl asks. “That’s pretty optimistic.”
“I like to take risks,” I say, grinning.
“We surrender,” Rita says.
“It’s one to one, though,” I say. “We said best two out of three.”
“Yeah,” Rita says. “But I’m too tired to keep going.”
I stretch out my arms in a gesture of defeat. “Alright, you guys win. I guess I deserve to lose for pulling a move like that.”
“You guys wanna go in the hot tub?” Ximena asks, smiling.
I nod enthusiastically.
I help Rita out of the pool and notice just how good her body looks when it’s all wet and on display in the moonlight. I try not to look too long, but I am only human. After having her pressed up against me for so long, it doesn’t feel as bad to look at what I’d been feeling pressed up against me.
“What do you do in a hot tub?” Rita asks. “There’s no crazy game, right?”
“Nah,” I say, laughing. “You just relax.”
I see her let out a relieved sigh.
The four of us climb into the hot tub, and as soon as we’re in and sitting, Earl wraps his arm around Ximena, and she pushes right up against him.
Shit, Rita and I are supposed to be married, and those two aren’t even engaged. It will look weird if we sit there in the hot tub on our honeymoon with a big wide space between us.
I wrap my arm around Rita and pull her up against me. I expect her to resist, sigh, or squirm away, but surprisingly she slides up against me with no resistance.
Maybe I’m making some progress.
“You guys going to have kids soon?” Earl asks.
I grin. “I got a kid already, with my first wife. Her name’s Elsie, I love her to death.”
“Oh,” Ximena says. “I mean, that’s great. How do you get along with her, Rita?”
Rita smiles, “Well, I met Deacon because his sister is my best friend. I’ve known Elsie since she was a baby...we get along pretty well. I think she’s a bit confused, though, about Deacon being married again.”
“She doesn’t really remember her mom,” I say. “She died when she was really young. So yeah, it’s a bit confusing.”
“How old is she?” Earl asks.
“Six,” I say.
“Ah,” Ximena says. “She’ll be fine. Young kids like that adapt really fast. You’ll be a great family.”
I bring my arm down to Rita’s waist and squeeze. She doesn’t swat my hand away, or anything.
We talk to Earl and Ximena for a while, but they eventually leave after getting my number so we can hang out another time.
Once they are gone, I realize that Rita is still pressed up against me, and my hand is still on her waist. It suddenly feels awkward. It’s like we were doing this as a show for Earl and Ximena, but now that they are gone, it feels like I should let go of her. But letting go is the last thing I want to do.
12
Rita
God, I could stay like this all night. With his hand wrapped around me like that, it feels like he’s claimed me as his. Like I belong to him.
He slides his hand away from my waist, though, and glances over at me, “So…wanna get out?”
No, I didn’t want to get out. But I don’t know how we could have justified staying in the hot tub like that. It’s not like we were going to start making out...though that would have been nice.
“Do you want to?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says.
“I was...comfortable.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
I nod and smile.
He puts his arm around me again, and I rest my head against his shoulder.
“I thought you might not—”
“Shh,” I say. “Just don’t say anything, okay?”
“Okay,” he says.
I lie leaned up against him for a long time, and I remember the way he touched my leg when I was on his shoulders. He did it absentmindedly, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Maybe he didn’t even realize he was doing it, but I long for him to touch me again like that. I just don’t know how to make it happen.
Maybe you don’t make stuff like that happen. Maybe it has to happen naturally.
“Why were you always such a jerk to me, Deacon?” I ask.
“What?” he asks, and I feel his body tighten up a bit against me.
“You always were just so...you were a jerk.”
“I was?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “You teased me, pretty bad.”
I feel his chest expand as he takes in a deep breath.
“I guess I’m just like that,” he says, finally.
“Really, Deacon?” I ask, taking my head off his shoulder, our eyes meeting. “That’s the best excuse you’ve got?”
“It’s not an excuse,” he says. “If that’s how I am, that’s how I am. Take it or leave it.”
I laugh. “You asshole. How convenient, just explain away any bad behavior as a built-in character flaw—it’s my fault if I don’t like it.”
He shrugs. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I didn’t make you feel bad, did I?”
I look away from him. Not wanting to admit anything. Why did I even bring this up at all? If I say that his teasing bothered me, it’s the same as admitting that I kind of liked him. That’s too embarrassing to admit. I won’t.
“It didn’t bother me,” I say.
“Don’t lie.”
He gently grasps my chin and pulls it toward him, forcing me to turn my gaze toward him so I have to look at him.
“Tell me again it didn’t bother you,” he says.
“It didn’t,” I say. I’m so bad at lying, I can hear how disingenuous I sound even as the words come out of my mouth.
“It did bother you,” he says. “And I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought it hurt your feelings.”
My lip trembles. He’s still holding my chin, and our faces are just inches apart.
The passion is burning deep in my heart, just like the Bible said, and we’re married, so screw it.
This time it’s me who goes in. I press my lips against his, and I wait for him to take control like he did last time. I’ll start the kiss, yes, but I like it when he’s in control.
I wait, and he wraps his hands around my body, and then his tongue presses into my mouth. My lips part for him, and I close my eyes. The water is warm, but not as warm as Deacon’s kiss.
It’s just as good as last time, but different. I know him better now, and it feels more intimate.
I hear a splash, and someone laughs.
We break the kiss and look up to see that two guys have invaded the hot tub. “Don’t let us stop you,” one says.
Deacon laughs, takes my hand, and helps me up and out of the water. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Do you mean…” I mumble.
“I just mean let’s get out of here,” he says. “That’s all.”
I wouldn’t have minded kissing him a bit longer, but I don’t know where we would go from there. It seems really dumb and reckles
s to keep doing this with him. This was supposed to be a platonic arrangement between the two of us, and now his saliva is still wet on my lips, and I can still smell him on me.
“Let’s check out the bar,” he says. “We get a $20 drink credit every day, and it’s use it or lose it.”
“Sure,” I say.
I’m not a big drinker, but every now and then I don’t mind having a nice drink. I also wouldn’t mind drinking something to make me feel a bit less like a nervous wreck. My heart is racing, and every time I make eye contact with Deacon, it feels like I run out of breath.
I start to grab my clothes off the pool chair.
“No need,” Deacon says, putting a hand on the small of my back and pointing ahead of us. “Poolside bar.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling a bit nervous about walking around and doing normal stuff with my boobs and ass basically hanging out and on full display.
Though watching Deacon go around shirtless makes it almost worth it.
We get to the bar and grab some menus.
“What do you like to drink?” Deacon asks me. “I don’t think we’ve ever even had a drink together, have we?”
I remember that one time on the porch. We almost had a drink together once.
I shake my head. “Sometimes Anna and I will make margaritas.”
“Cool,” Deacon says. “I usually don’t drink such a frilly drink, but since we’re in the Caribbean, I’ll go with it.” Deacon turns toward the bartender. “Two margaritas, please, and put them on cabin number 763.”
“Yes, sir,” the bartender says.
I look at the menu, and see that a single margarita costs $16.
“Are you kidding me?” I say, pointing. “Sixteen bucks for a single drink! The whole bottle of margarita mix at the grocery store is like $8!”
Deacon laughs, then whispers to me, “And I gotta tip this guy like four bucks per drink, which means our $20 use it or lose it is only good for a single drink. They don’t want people getting gross drunk on the ship. It’s cool.”
I sigh. I’m not the kind of person who enjoys stuff just because it’s expensive. If anything, the more overpriced something is, the harder it is for me to actually relax and enjoy it. I convince myself that it’s use it or lose it—this money was only good for drinks, and the drinks are all overpriced. Technically we aren’t paying a thing for them. They are free.
That gets me in the mood.
The bartender slides my glass over first, then Deacon’s.
He holds his glass up and waits for me. I lift my glass and clink it against his, looking at the salt crystals clustered all along the rim of our glasses.
“Come on, Rita,” he says.
“What?”
“You didn’t even look at me.”
“Huh?”
He smiles at me, then says, “In Germany, if you don’t make eye contact when toasting, it means you’ll have bad sex for seven years.”
“We’re...we’re...not in Germany.”
He laughs. “I get superstitious sometimes, I’m like a sponge for superstition. Hopefully I won’t pick up any new ones in the Bahamas. Let’s do it again, though, just in case.” He winks at me.
I lift my glass nervously again, and I make sure to look right into his big blue eyes as we clink the glasses together a second time.
“Nice,” he says. “No one wants seven years of bad sex, am I right?”
I laugh even more nervously, thinking that I lost my virginity just about seven years ago, and that I’ve only ever had bad sex. I suddenly am feeling very superstitious—I’ve never locked eyes with someone while toasting.
“You dated that one guy for a while,” Deacon says, sipping his margarita. “What was that dude’s name again? Ryan?”
“Brian,” I say.
“Ahh, yeah, that’s it,” he says.
He starts to probe me a bit with those big blue eyes, his mouth opens a few times, but then it closes, no words coming out. He looks extremely deep in thought.
“Just ask me,” I say.
He grins. “Shit, am I that easy to read?”
“Not usually,” I say. “But I can tell you really wanted to ask me something.”
“I feel like it’s maybe, uh, a bit forward? You are my wife and all, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”
“You’re making me uncomfortable by dragging the question out so long, so just ask.”
I take a long swig of my drink, steeling myself for what I fear the question may be.
“You, uh, you’re pretty religious, so—”
“I’m not a virgin, Deacon.”
“Ahh,” he says, looking down into his drink.
“Sorry,” he says. “I probably didn’t need to ask that. You know I’m not a virgin, though, since I’ve got a kid. That means I’ve done it at least one time.”
I laugh. “I guess we’re even now, huh? We both know.”
“So what happened with Brian?” he asks.
He’s suddenly getting really nosy.
I shrug. “I thought I wanted a nice Christian guy, but he wasn’t really that nice, you know? It’s like he acted a certain way on the outside, and he kept that appearance up in the beginning. So at first he seemed nice, but maybe a little, uh, lacking substance? The more I got to know him, though, the more he dropped that polite exterior, and the more I got to actually know him.”
Deacon grins. “So you don’t want a nice Christian guy now, huh?”
“You’re not Christian?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “It’s hard to believe in something like that when you lose your wife to cancer.”
I bite my lip. I don’t want to preach to him. I’ve never gone through anything like that, so how can I lecture him?
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“You don’t have to be,” he says. “If God was really looking out for us, then why did he have to take Elsie’s mom away? Even if we’d been given another year or two, she’d at least have some memories of her...but she was denied even that.”
I find my hand on his back, and I rest my head against his shoulder. “Good things can still happen for you and Elsie, Deacon, don’t lose hope.”
He runs a hand through my hair, and I can feel his smile against my hair. “Don’t worry, I never lose hope. I’m a father, and Elsie deserves a father who will never give up.”
She also deserves a real mother. How can that happen while I’m here? Deacon said I’d probably only need to do this for a year or so. His lawyer didn’t think Stacy’s parents could take the case to court twice.
We finish our drinks, and then decide it’s time to head to our cabin to go to sleep.
I feel immediately awkward as we enter the cabin, and the one bed stares me down. Luckily I have some pajamas that completely cover all of my skin except for my hands, feet, and head.
“Sorry they messed up the bed thing,” Deacon says, grinning nervously. “I can sleep on the couch.”
“No,” I say. “It’s fine.”
I’m not...opposed...to seeing where things go with Deacon. I’m not ready to do it with him tonight. But I also don’t want to insist that he sleep on the couch, as it might send him the message that I’m not interested at all.
“I usually sleep naked,” he says, smirking. “But I’ll keep my boxers on tonight.”
I let out a nervous laugh, and I feel my cheeks flushing.
We brush our teeth, and I comb my hair while Deacon goes back into the main part of the cabin. I comb nervously for a long time. I want him to already be in bed—with the lights out—when I go back in there. I change into my pajamas with the bathroom door locked, and I hang up my bikini in the shower to dry. I fold up the rest of my clothes neatly, and go back into the bedroom.
The lights are still on, and Deacon is lying in bed, the covers down to his waist. I can see his entire tattooed chest and ripped six-pack. His biceps are bulging and his hands are tucked behind his head.
“I left the lights on for you,” he sa
ys.
I smile. “Thanks.”
I put my dirty clothes into a compartment in my suitcase.
“You usually sleep in pajamas?” he asks.
“Uh,” I mumble. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” he says. “Those look pretty comfortable, but I’d be too lazy to have to wash them all the time. Elsie’s clothes alone are a struggle. Though at least now she can eat without spilling half the food all over herself.
“She’s growing up fast,” I say, approaching the bed.
Deacon lifts the blankets up so I can get underneath, and I see his boxers. They are thin, and I can see the outline of his cock against his leg. It’s thick. I thought I felt it against me when he was on my shoulders, but seeing it is something else. It’s so much bigger than Brian’s was.
I quickly look away and jump into bed. I pull the blankets up, and I make sure that the blanket goes down between the middle of us, creating a barrier.
“I won’t bite,” he says.
“I’m not…” I stammer. “Don’t take it the wrong way. I just...not yet, okay?”
He narrows his eyes at me, trying to figure out what the hell I’m talking about. “You mean...are you saying that—”
“Shh,” I say, putting a finger to my lips. “Not yet, okay?”
A big grin fills his face. “Okay, I think I got you.”
Gosh. I can’t believe I was just so forward.
“Can you turn out the light?” I ask.
I roll over so I won’t be tempted to look at him when he gets up, and a few moments later I hear a click, and then it’s totally dark. I fall asleep almost straight away.
13
Deacon
I wake up with Rita’s body pressed against me. Her head is on my chest, and her big breasts are pressing into my sides. Even her legs are wrapped over me. Over my—
My cock is rock fucking hard. It’s harder than a diamond mine. And Rita’s thigh is draped over it. No wonder I’m hard.
I stifle a laugh. I guess she got cold last night, or lonely. Or both. I won’t complain.
She’ll freak out if she wakes up like this, won’t she? If my dick wasn’t so hard and pressed against her leg, it might be okay, but I don’t want to press her boundaries too much. Just a little, though.