Unsportsmanlike Conduct

by Sophia Henry

  When my head popped through, I pushed the heavy veil of hair out of my eyes and immediately scanned the water for Pasha. He was treading water a few feet from me with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for my reaction.

  “That was amazing!” I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I swam to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. Without a second thought I smashed my lips on his. He had to keep treading water since I’d affixed myself to his chest leech-style, but he didn’t seem to mind being the one who had to keep us afloat.

  “Wanna do that again?” Pasha asked when I removed my lips from his.

  “Yes!” I wanted to spend the rest of the day jumping off this cliff. With him.

  He tilted his head and pressed his lips on mine, claiming my mouth. His tongue parted my lips and explored, tangling with mine. I tightened my arms around his neck, bringing his entire body closer. Which was difficult, since we were already inappropriately entwined.

  “I thought you meant jump again.” My lips brushed his as I spoke.

  “I cannot think about anything,” Pasha said, his fingers skimming the swimsuit fabric against my hip, “except getting this off you.” He pulled the elastic at the leg opening of my suit and let it go.

  An intense shiver sailed through my body when the elastic smacked against the sensitive skin on my backside.

  My loins screamed, Why couldn’t we have been born in the time of free love? In the days when no one thought about protection or diseases or babies? Ugh! But my brain screamed, At least pretend you’re smarter than that! Idiot!

  Where the hell did “loins” come from? Weirdo.

  “Let’s jump again.” I let go of Pasha, treading on my own as I scanned the water for the easiest place to climb out.

  —

  I followed Kristen, pinching playfully at the back of her knees as we swam. The closest place to exit the water was a huge patch of coral, but we would cut the hell out of our feet if we tried to climb it. When Kristen looked back at me for guidance, I gestured toward a sandy part of the shoreline. It would mean a longer walk back to the cliff, but it’d be well worth it.

  “You did well,” I said, taking her hand as we walked back to our friends.

  “That was amazing. Absolutely amazing. I never thought I’d ever do something like that.”

  “You said you wanted life-threatening adventure. Was this too much?”

  She leaned in and kissed my cheek quickly. “It was perfect. Thank you.”

  The desire that had been building up over the last two days came to a head. I grabbed Kristen’s waist and pulled her down into the sand, making sure to land first to give her a cushion to fall on. I hit the warm sand with a grunt, then laughed when her body weight fell onto my stomach.

  “You are so light. Like a leaf,” I told her.

  She splayed her palms across my bare chest and lifted herself up. Her wet hair hung around her face, the ends curling onto her fingers.

  She patted my pecs. “Are all pilots this fit?”

  “Most,” I answered honestly. Though she didn’t realize we weren’t talking about the same kind of Pilots.

  My hands roamed across her back, from her shoulder blades down to her butt, where I stopped. Her bathing suit had ridden up in our fall, so I had a handful of soft skin. I clutched her firm cheeks and positioned her body so she could feel exactly how much I wanted her.

  I didn’t move, didn’t try to push her into anything she wasn’t comfortable with. It was her decision to make. If she wanted to continue, she’d make a move. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t. Simple as that. I moved my hands from her butt to her waist and seized her lips with mine. She groaned and grabbed my hair with both hands, then ground her torso into me. I lifted my hips, pressing against her.

  Innocent touches. Hungry kisses. Breathtaking friction.

  Living life to the fullest.

  Almost.

  There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to fuck her. Right here, on a random beach in Barbados.

  “We need a condom,” she whispered between swift breaths. Then she took my earlobe between her teeth and pulled.

  We kicked up shards of smashed seashells as we writhed around. I rolled us over until her back hit the warm sand. Then I inched down and lowered my head, pressing a kiss onto the fabric covering her belly button.

  A million ideas raced through my head, things I wanted to do to her, but all of that could wait for a more comfortable place. Instead, I slid my hands across her hips and down the outside of her thighs. Then I reached between us and slid two fingers into her bathing suit. Her stomach tightened and she curled into me, so I added my thumb, and circled on top of her suit.

  “Pasha. Pasha. Pasha!” Kristen cried out, writhing next to me as I increased my speed, using my fingers and thumb to attack all of her senses at once.

  I didn’t give a fuck if peeping tourists could see us. The only thing I cared about was making her happy.

  —

  “What took you guys so long?” Lena asked when we returned to the top of the cliff.

  No one else had jumped off the cliff except Kristen and me. Which is what I’d figured would be the case until we got back and gave a full report of the experience. But it ended up being a great thing, because if someone had jumped in after us, we wouldn’t have been able to enjoy a sexy, sandy hook-up. Not that we cared, I guess. It’s not like we’d waited to check if anyone else had made the jump.

  “We didn’t want to climb up the coral, so we walked all the way from the beach at the resort,” Kristen said, reciting the answer she’d rehearsed on our walk back. I hadn’t rehearsed anything because I wanted to tell everyone I’d made her come with my fingers in less than two minutes.

  But I guess that’s not something girls brag about.

  “Yeah. That’s it.” Lena plucked at Kristen’s head as we walked by.

  She waved Lena’s hand away. “What?”

  “Must be seaweed,” I said, grabbing her waist and pulling her into me. I slid my arms around her and kissed her neck.

  “Dry, sandy seaweed? Looks more like beach grass,” Lena teased.

  “Who else is jumping?” Kristen asked.

  Over the rest of the morning, Lena and Blake both jumped multiple times with Kristen and me, while Sia took over camera duties, catching every jump on video.

  “How much time do we have before we need to be back at the ship?” Kristen asked.

  Sia pulled out her cellphone. “About two hours.”

  “Let’s find a place to get some drinks and appetizers,” Blake suggested.

  Because we hung out with our friends the rest of the day, Kristen and I never had another chance to be alone together. Lena had taken it upon herself to keep Kristen occupied so that we couldn’t slip away. Despite her cousin’s efforts to cool our connection, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, touching, hugging, and kissing at every chance.

  Luckily we were on the same page physically, and if we didn’t ditch the cock blockers soon, the entire crew would be getting an eyeful.

  Chapter 10

  By the time we got back to the ship, the simple act of standing next to Kristen had me panting in anticipation for the moment we’d be alone again.

  “Shower, change, and meet back down here in an hour for dinner?” Lena asked, her travel-agent mode in full swing.

  “Sounds good,” Sia answered as she dropped her sunglasses in her bag.

  Instead of answering, I grabbed Kristen’s hand and tugged her toward the elevators, away from our friends.

  “I’m out,” Blake said. “I’m gonna barf if I watch those two maul each other any more today.”

  I knew I should’ve felt bad for leaving Blake, because he’d counted on being my wingman on this cruise so he could find a girl. Then I looked at Kristen, and any thought of being a good friend completely slipped my mind. As it should when a man is about to fuck a particularly hot girl. It’s one of the first lessons in Bro Rules 101. Blake knew that.

 
“Where are you guys going?” Lena called after us. “Are you going to meet us for dinner?”

  Kristen turned around to respond, but she only had time to wave in reply, because I increased our speed. Once we reached the elevators, I grabbed her hips, slammed her against the wall, and crushed my lips on hers. The only time I let go of her was to press the UP button.

  Then my hands were on her again, slipping under the skirt thing she’d wrapped around her hips after cliff diving. When I squeezed her butt, her hips thrust toward me, making contact with the front of my shorts and everything underneath. She giggled softly, then bit her lip. I knew she was holding back, so I didn’t press her, though I did like seeing her cheeks light up with excitement.

  We only unhooked ourselves long enough to get into the elevator, get off, and walk to my room. A simple journey that took longer than normal, because I couldn’t help but stop every three steps to press my lips on her neck or chest.

  Once inside, Kristen surprised me by taking charge. She pushed the door shut and dropped to her knees in front of me, hooking her fingertips under my waistband. My abs tightened under her touch.

  A hundred girls I didn’t give a fuck about have had their mouths on my dick. I’m not proud of it, but that’s what those girls were there for—a quick blow job that meant nothing.

  Kristen was completely different.

  I grabbed her hair and jerked her head back. “Get off your knees.”

  She didn’t stand right away. Instead she pushed the hair away from her face and lifted her eyes to me, squinting in confusion.

  “You are worth more than that,” I said softly, loosening my grip on her hair. “Stand up. Please.”

  She rose slowly, as if I were a snake that might strike at any minute.

  “You don’t like doing that, right?” I asked.

  Her top lip rose in disgust. “It’s not my favorite thing,” she said.

  Her response made me snort and my chest shook with laughter. “Stay there,” I commanded, leaving her just inside the entrance of my room.

  I jogged to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and unzipped my toiletry kit. I always carried condoms.

  Always.

  I removed one and returned to Kristen. She looked beautiful as the moonlight streaming in through multiple windows in my suite gave her bronzed skin an angelic glow. Even after I turned out the bathroom light, I could see her standing near the doorway, head held high, ready for whatever came next.

  When I reached her, I didn’t touch her. Didn’t kiss her. I just waited, holding the condom between us like a question.

  “I don’t believe in forever,” I said.

  Maybe it was a dickbag thing to tell her before I fucked her against the wall, but I liked her too much to let her get attached. She deserved better than forever with someone like me anyway.

  “Good. Because I don’t have forever,” she answered.

  That’s all it took for me to shift from neutral to drive.

  I claimed her mouth, rattling the generic framed seascape print hanging beside our heads when I slammed her back against the wall. She rose to her toes, lessening the difference between our heights and giving me easier access to her. Excitement filled me as I grabbed her waist and lifted her up. She hitched both legs around my hips like a pro. I lowered my head and pressed my mouth to her neck. Kissing, licking, biting.

  When I flicked my tongue against her neck, her eyes rolled back and her head dropped to the side. Watching her enjoy the moment almost made me blow my load. I worked feverishly, tearing open the condom as she squeezed my hips to hang on. She panted, desperate with need, spurring me on.

  But before I pushed into her, I had to know that she was sober and understood exactly what we were doing.

  I looked into her eyes. “Are you drunk?”

  “I’ve had three drinks all day,” she answered breathlessly.

  Then she lowered her eyes to the space between our bodies, where I had begun rolling the condom onto myself, and the sight of her watching me was so hot that I had to stop and squeeze my dick before I blew.

  Once I’d secured the condom, I cupped her chin with my free hand and lifted her face to mine. Our eyes connected.

  “Are you drunk?” I asked again, making sure my tone was sharp and serious.

  Kristen didn’t blink. “No.”

  “Good. You will remember how I feel inside you.”

  That’s when I reached between her legs and pushed her bathing suit aside before slamming into her. She buried her head in my neck and sank her teeth into my shoulder.

  —

  Still slick and sweaty from an amazing round of wall sex, Pasha cupped his hands under my butt and carried me to the bathroom. How the hell he had the stamina and strength to walk, let alone carry my weight, was beyond me. I wasn’t sure if I’d even be able to stand when he put me down, and my legs had been wrapped around him the entire time.

  He lowered me to the floor carefully, letting my feet touch the floor before he leaned over and twisted the water on, allowing the shower to run until it was warm enough to step under. While we waited, Pasha yanked the tie at my waist, which held up my sarong. Then he slid the straps of my bathing suit down my arms. He didn’t stop until the one-piece lay at my feet.

  Pasha traced his index finger over the angry slash across my stomach. I winced and placed my hand over his, though the pain wasn’t physical.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

  “No.”

  After more than twenty years, the scar had had plenty of time to heal. The act of showing it to someone was what was painful. I hadn’t been completely naked in front of a guy since my high school boyfriend, who knew where the scar came from. Since then, keeping clothes on was easier. Not having to explain the genetic disorder wreaking havoc on my body gave me enough reason not to take intimate situations too far.

  Being naked in front of someone meant much more than trusting him enough to have sex. Standing completely naked in the stark bathroom highlighted everything I’d worked so hard to keep hidden. My scar glowed and my bones showed through my skin, side effects of a disease that barely let me gain weight. I tried to make it a positive. I kept my body healthy. Yet the first time I ever wore a bikini, I’d heard the hateful comments from random girls about starving myself to be thin. I’d worn a one-piece suit ever since.

  Pasha lifted his hand and ran his palm over my hair and all the way to the middle of my back. My skin prickled with a mix of fear and embarrassment at his touch. He guided me into the shower and under the stream of hot water. Then he removed his swim trunks and stepped in behind me, closing the glass door behind him.

  My heart skipped with the click. I wanted to flee. We stood toe to toe, snug in the limited space. Pasha put his hands on my waist and I froze.

  I’d let him see my scar. Touch my bones. The disgust of letting that happen swirled in my stomach, building up in my throat until I wanted to throw up. I tried to turn away from him.

  “What’s wrong?” Pasha asked, holding my waist firmly.

  “I don’t want you to see—” I stopped, light-headed from my fears and the steam filling up the small space. I wrapped my arms around my abdomen, covering my scar. “I can’t.”

  “You are beautiful, Kristen. Every inch.”

  Instead of continuing my escape, I burrowed into him, pressing my forehead into his chest. The stream of water pelted the back of my head. Pasha removed his hands from my waist. The next time I felt them, they were in my hair, rubbing shampoo through soothingly. When he massaged the top of my head and behind my ears like a pro at a salon, I looked up. Creamy lather ran down his arms, but he didn’t stop working the shampoo into my hair.

  Our eyes met and Pasha’s lips turned up, giving me a gentle smile. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around his waist. With our bodies meshed together, I felt every inch of him against every inch of me. He spun us slowly, so I stood under the stream while he rinsed the shampoo from my ha
ir. Then he reached up and grabbed another bottle off the shelf in the corner. I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as he squeezed a dollop of high-end conditioner into his palm.

  “You use better products than I do,” I teased.

  He set the bottle back on the shelf and ran a hand over the patch of hair on top of his head, slicked back from the pounding stream of water. “This deserves the best.”

  Relaxation set in as Pasha worked the conditioner into my hair with soft, even strokes. Instead of rinsing me right away, he let it sit while he washed and conditioned his own hair.

  Showering with a European dude was an amazing experience for my split ends.

  After he finished, I grabbed the red bottle of body wash off the shelf and squeezed some into my hands. I rubbed his chest, then turned him around and rubbed his back with long sweeping strokes like the masseuse I’d wanted to be when I started college. That was before I’d taken anatomy and physiology and withdrawn because I realized I’d never be able to remember the names of all the bones and muscles.

  Rubbing Pasha’s body made me want to screw him again.

  Pasha arched his back, which informed me I’d hit a spot where he needed a particular kink worked out. After he’d relaxed completely, I changed my focus to his shoulders. I reached around to “clean” his front, and he arched again. But I continued, the body wash acting as a lubricant as I slid my hand over him.

  Pasha turned his head and growled, “I tried to make this experience sweet.”

  I didn’t let up, increasing the pace of my hand instead. “You don’t bring out my sweet side.”

  Pasha tensed and grabbed my hand, bringing it to a complete halt as he held his breath. As he exhaled, he shut off the water and guided me out of the shower.

  He retrieved a towel from the rack next to the shower and handed it to me. “Bed. Now.”

  When I heard the familiar zip of wherever he’d gotten that first condom, I grinned and gathered the towel around myself. I’d barely made it to the bed when he tackled me onto the soft mattress.