Flash Drive

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  “Shit!” he said as he leveraged off of her. He removed the condom, tied it in a knot and stuffed it into his pants pocket. He stood and zipped up while he found her top, billowing in the sand a few yards away. He rethreaded and buckled his belt, then held out his hand so she could stand to arrange her clothing. He scooped up her panties and quickly pocketed them.

  She frowned at him good-naturedly. “Souvenir?”

  “I won’t need a memento to remember tonight. But maybe I should send them to Roman as proof,” he said with a grin. He bent and picked up the foil wrapper and took a long slug from the water bottle. She patiently waited then took her turn.

  “I think we’d better check out that nest now, before I’m late checking in.”

  He shook out the blanket and folded it. Then he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Remind me to thank Roman for that bra. I hope he had a hefty bet.”

  Laurel laughed. “Knowing him and Philip, he probably did.”

  Chapter Fifty-one

  The nest was secure, but it was showing signs of boiling. Laurel pointed out the differences in the texture of the sand and showed him how the nest was slightly depressed within the hole. “There are eggs underneath that have hatched, and soon the hatchlings are going to be making their way to the top and spilling out onto the beach.”

  “So what’s the next step?”

  “Sound the alarm, get some shovels, build a French corridor, monitor the ghost crabs, shoo away the foxes . . . things like that.”

  “Hmmm. What can I do to help?”

  “I left my cell phone in my purse in the truck. I need to call this in.”

  “Tonight?”

  “I know how all this is done, but this is my first time seeing a nest begin to boil without Carmel being around. It’s too important to wait. Anything can happen. I need to call Carmel and the others.”

  “Okay, I’ll go get the phone.”

  “Great, leave me here alone with the feral foxes.”

  He chucked her under her chin. “I’ll run. All out, for you.”

  She smiled and tugged on his belt buckle. “I noticed you took your belt off and used it to hold me down. Why?”

  “I didn’t want you to get away.”

  “No, really. Tell me.”

  “Sometimes I like to use a form of restraint. One day I may like to tie your hands together, or lash you to a bed frame . . . tonight I just didn’t want you to move. I wanted to hit that button of yours relentlessly. With absolutely no mercy.” He ran a finger down her nose.

  Her eyes flew wide and he saw the flash of interest in them. “Would that have been a problem if I’d bound your hands together?”

  She met his gaze. It was clear she didn’t know how to answer that question. She just blinked, eyes wide.

  “We’ll never do anything you don’t want to do, Laurel. But I’ve been known to kink things up a bit. I’m hoping you’re open-minded enough to consider some of them.”

  He heard the breath whoosh out of her lungs, saw the heat, saw the rosiness flush her face.

  “Anyway, we can talk. But I want you to know I have big plans for you.” He bent and kissed her on the lips, passing her one of his lemon jellybeans in the process. “Be right back.”

  She watched him jog away until she could hardly see him against the dark sky as she sucked on the jellybeans. An outrageously good-looking man, running with an easy grace, his strength and masculinity in perfect symmetry with the majesty of the roaring ocean. She rubbed her well-loved lips as she recalled every single thing he had done to her. She took a deep, cleansing breath. Even if the nest didn’t boil tonight, this was going to be a very memorable night. She realized with a huge grin, that she was happy, deliriously happy, and thrilled about getting to know this exciting man.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Hours later, Garrett stood beside Roman, hands in his pockets, watching Laurel and Tessa, on their hands and knees guiding a woefully disoriented straggler on its way through the corridor they had helped dig.

  Eighteen people had shown up when the call had gone out, arriving within minutes with shovels and cameras, walking toward them in the dark like a ragtag regiment. Using only moonlight, they had all pitched in to make the corridor to the sea, smoothing out the humps in the sand as they went. It was low tide when they’d started so it had been a noble undertaking, but the tide was coming in now and taking some of their hard work with it, as well as helping to launch a hundred and nineteen hatchlings.

  Garrett had to admit it had been touching to see the little flippers so hard at work, and impressive, considering it was the first time they’d ever been used. A few of the baby turtles managed to flip themselves over and had to be righted, but most made it down the chute that had been prepared without incident, and being swept up by the waves to avid clapping. He noticed that many people were moved to tears, oohing and aahing over the adorable new loggerheads.

  “I’m impressed. This is quite a passionate group of supporters. What is it, three or four o’clock?” Garrett asked.

  “Don’t know. Left my watch on the nightstand, and she’ll kill me if I light up my phone to check,” Roman murmured.

  “Yeah, well . . . speaking of grand passion,” Garrett took Laurel’s underwear from his pocket and shoved it at him. “Did you need proof for your bet?” he asked with more than a touch of irritation.

  Roman chuckled. “If I go home with that in my pocket, I’ll be bunking with you. No, no proof is necessary.” He emphasized the last word and because of his brogue it came out as necessorry, and Garrett was reminded that Roman had left his life on the sea to be here with the woman he loved. Still, he didn’t like the idea of this man having a say in Laurel’s sex life.

  “I don’t cotton to the idea of you picking out my girl’s underwear.”

  “Your girl, is she?” Roman said as he turned to look at Garrett with a slightly elevated brow, his distinctive shock of white among the thick black tresses giving him a regal, authoritative mien.

  “She is now.”

  “Good. Then I expect my job is done.”

  “And what job was that?” Garrett asked with a frown.

  “Getting her launched. We’ve had a helluva time of it, she’s refused all our fix-ups two years runnin’.”

  “Hmmph,” Garrett muttered, pleased at that.

  “That’s a fine girl you’re getting. Don’t hurt her.” The steel in his voice was unmistakable.

  “Well, just so you know, the special bra was not necessary.”

  “Maybe not for you,” he said with a wicked smile, “but she needed the confidence. Did you not appreciate the advantage of foregone foreplay?” This time his smile was bland.

  “I can provide whatever she needs in that department.”

  “Glad to hear it, because I suspect you will have a handful in that department.”

  Tessa and Laurel sidled up, “What are you two talking about?” Tessa asked. They were both rubbing their arms briskly. Now that the excitement was over, they were feeling the late night chill.

  Roman gathered Tessa in his arms and tucked her chin under his as he held her close and wrapped his sweater around them both.

  “We were just remarking on the lovely sight you two were providing us, you on your hands and knees, your bottoms in the air. Very inviting indeed,” Roman whispered against Tessa’s ear.

  “Roman!” Tessa hissed, and slapped at the hands that were snaking around to rub her jean-clad bottom.

  “Let’s go home,” he said, “I’m suddenly inspired.”

  He put his hand out to Garrett, “Welcome to the Bewitched, Befuddled, and Beguiled. You may not know it now, but I assure you that after tonight, your life will never be the same again.”

  Garrett took his han
d and shook it. “Oh don’t I know it. I’ve already accepted it.”

  “Good, because we’re all very fond of Laurel, and would not tolerate a player.” This was simply godfather number one asserting himself, Garrett told himself as he watched Roman kiss Laurel on the cheek and whisper something in her ear.

  Garrett was surprised when Tessa grabbed his shoulders and hugged him, but didn’t miss Roman’s upraised brows and look of annoyance at the gesture.

  When he and Laurel got back to his truck, Garrett asked her what Roman had whispered to her.

  He watched her face flush in the meager dash lights, but she didn’t open her mouth, kept it in a firm line.

  “Out with it. I want to know what he said.” They were not going to start this relationship with her keeping secrets, too. The fact that he was, was bad enough.

  “He said, ‘If you’re interested in a man, you’re supposed to let him into your panties, no’ let him have them.’” The fact that she had imitated his brogue down to his use of no’ instead of not, endeared her to him even more.

  He laughed heartily as he put the key in the ignition.

  “Let’s go back to my place so I can see if I can acquire the other piece to the matched set.”

  “I’m tired Garrett, and really dirty.”

  “Then I’ll wash you, and let you sleep first.” He was not leaving her now. Their bond was too tenuous; he had to capitalize on this magical time—he’d shown her he could be masterful and supportive, now he needed her to see that he could be caring, gentle . . . loving even.

  She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then she asked, “Does that include washing my hair?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Can you do all that at my place instead? I’m very particular about my hair products.”

  He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. “Your wish is my command. Just get me through the security gates.”

  She smiled. “I have the code.”

  “Then let’s go get ready for bed.”

  She was asleep, leaning against the door of his truck before he’d pulled off the bridge.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  He marveled at her master bath, so feminine yet simple and functional. Most of the women he knew cluttered their countertops and bathtub rims with soap dishes, brushes, sponges, and all manner of cosmetic marvels. She had one bottle of shampoo, one bottle of conditioner and one bottle of shower gel. There were no cosmetics in sight; the counter held a nickel-plated hand towel holder and a pump bottle of Trader Joe’s Lavender hand soap.

  He was a minimalist, and he liked knowing that she was, too. “Towels?” he asked as he led her into the shower alcove. She pointed to a cabinet in the corner beside the double sinks, and he took out two bath sheets that complimented the dark teal and cream décor.

  He turned on the shower and began removing her clothes, first her shirt . . . he bent and kissed each nipple lightly. Then her capris . . . he kissed her above her pubic hair. He lifted her out of her heeled sandals, then as he stood, he grazed his hands up the back of her legs, stroking her ankles, her calves, the backs of her knees, and finally her thighs. His hands met in the center of her back where he unhooked her bra. He drew off the shoulder straps and gently tugged toward him so that her breasts fell out of the lacy elastic edges of the cups. He frowned at the red circles encompassing the base of each breast.

  “Mmmm, looks like this might not have been very comfortable,” he murmured as his fingertips stroked the red creases.

  She looked down and flushed. “No tighter than a corset or a bustier really.”

  “You own corsets and bustiers?”

  There was a hopeful glint in his eyes and she had to laugh. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I got the impression from Roman that you didn’t even date.”

  “I haven’t since my parents died. But I like to keep up with the current fashions, and I like to look nice, even if it’s just for me.”

  “Believe me, you look nice. Very, very nice.” He allowed his fingertips to coast along the tops of her breasts, his thumbs to lightly flick the tips.

  “C’mon, let’s get you under the water before you collapse on me.” He led her to the arched opening of the tiled-in stall and dropped her hand. “You get under the spray, I’ll be right in.”

  She heard his sandals clunk on the floor followed by his belt pinging against the tiles. Then he was standing behind her, his warm hands pulling her back to his chest. She felt his chest hairs on her back and his erection pressing into her buttocks. He reached over and grabbed the shower gel and began using it on her front. Gentle hands filled with suds circled and caressed as he washed and massaged her. His big hands cupped her breasts, splayed over her belly, and rubbed briskly at her triangle of curls.

  “Spread your legs,” he commanded.

  And she did.

  One hand dove between and cleansed her from the front while the other smoothed soap over her ass and into the hollow. She moaned and threw her head back, resting it on his shoulder.

  “If you keep making noises like that, I’m going to find it very hard to honor my promise to clean you and tuck you in.”

  “What if I want more than to be cleaned and

  tucked in?”

  “I could consider that. I suppose we could renegotiate.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “That’s a hard question to answer, but thoughts of you on your hands and knees, wiggling that cute ass back and forth as you cajoled that last hatchling to the water, come to mind.”

  She gasped and then moaned when he brought his hand down and smacked her playfully on her right cheek. “I think I could find taking you from the rear extremely pleasurable. The view of your pussy as I slide inside you might unman me though,” he groaned as he slid a finger into her slick warmth.

  She moaned and met the thrusts of his finger as it pushed inside her.

  He grabbed his penis and placed it lengthwise along the crack of her ass so he could hold her flush to him, then he breathed into her neck and kissed the tender skin behind her ear. “But first, I have to wash your hair, so put your head under the spray.”

  He pushed her forward and the water cascaded over them both. He poured some shampoo into his palm then smoothed it into her hair. Expert fingers massaged and gathered the long tresses. He enjoyed piling and squeezing the suds through her honey blonde hair. Over and over again, he collected the soapy curls and then watched the white froth cascade down her back. Finally, he rinsed her hair, repeated the process with the conditioner, then he rinsed it again.

  “My turn,” he said as he turned her to face him. “You don’t get to touch though. Not this time. You just get to watch.”

  As she turned, she saw him naked for the first time and was delighted by what she saw. An impressive broad chest with dark wet curls fanning over sculpted pecs, strong muscular arms, and a long corded neck that flexed as he turned his head to search out the soap. She let her eyes drop and followed the darkening trail. His erection, bouncing in the spray, could have kissed his navel if she’d pushed it forward. Tall and thick, it called to her primitive urges and she moved her hand to touch it.

  She was barely able to graze her fingertips along the crest before he slapped her hand. “Uh uh. No touching, remember? You just get to look.”

  He rubbed soap on his chest, over his arms and around his neck. His skin was tanned and smooth, pale where bathing trunks would be, but otherwise an even soft burnished gold. With lathered hands he reached down and cupped his balls from underneath, washed them thoroughly and then palmed his penis with more of the gel. His long fingers, with their impossibly clean white nails looked capable and sensuous as he stroked the long length. He knew exactly what he was doing to her with this unabash
ed display. The sight of this classically handsome, extremely virile man suggestively touching himself in front of her made her throat dry, and the area between her legs wet. When he was satisfied that he was clean, he turned around and handed her the bottle. “You could do my back if you’d like.”

  She took the bottle from him and poured a liberal amount of soap into her hand, then took her time running it up and down and back and forth along his wide shoulders and expansive back. “You have a great body,” she murmured, and then let her hand explore lower.

  “Aaahh,” he breathed out. “No fair,” he hissed as her hand caressed each globe, separating one from the other and squeezing the firm muscles of his ass.

  “Nice,” she whispered, “very nice butt. I could do this all night.”

  He turned and said, “Well, unfortunately for me, the night is about gone, and I promised you sleep.”

  As he faced her, his erection slid right into her hand. She smiled and clasped it. He groaned.

  “Look what I found.”

  He covered her hand and gently removed it. “I said no touching.”

  “It wasn’t my fault, you put it there, right in my hand.”

  He reached up and turned off the shower. “I want to put it someplace else right now.” He took her hand and walked her out of the shower, grabbed both towels and used one to wrap around his waist. He opened the other one and began drying her, starting with her hair. “Are you looking at me?” she asked from under the towel.

  “Yes, I most definitely am.”

  “Well stop.”

  “No way. You are beautiful. Your whole body is lovely.”

  He dried her quickly, top to bottom, then wrapped her in a fresh towel and walked her over to the mirror over the sinks. “What shall I do about your hair? Do you want me to blow dry it?”